#bawww

WORDSTUCK.CO.VU PROMPTS

SAUDADE: a deep, nostalgic, and melancholic longing for something or someone, often accompanied with denied fact that what one longs for will never come back.

Her hands touched the monument and it was so frigidly cold, biting right through her gloves. The sight was clear before her: the great city-state of Ishgard loomed ahead, a massive edifice of stone, but Ahlis did not care to gaze upon it.

He must have done so frequently in the past, she was sure. It was why such a marker was placed where it was, fresh flowers always a presence there just beside it, petals and leaves rimmed with frost.

They had been close. Far closer than she dared believe. But now there was nothing left. Just memories, and feelings. It felt too short a time to feel the nostalgia of their time together. After all it had only been…

Ahlis took a sharp breath of air into her nose. She wanted to throw every curse she knew at the monument before her, her disbelief that after everything, after giving her the very idea that there was still hope for her heart to find a place to belong, and to find a people worth sacrificing for–that he could truly be gone.

Her chest grew tight and she knew the tears would not be long in coming.

Didn’t feel like properly lining / coloring this but hey, quick concept art redraw I did this morning for Numbuh 274, aka ‘the best’ KND there ever was

FIRST THREE IN MY INBOX GET KISSES

The morning sun pours into the Dutchman’s quarters, flooding the room with a warm, orange glow. The light, along with the draft from the balcony door left open, forgotten, causes Serafina to stir in an unfamiliar bed. She breathes in deeply, her skull pounding in time with her heartbeat from the alcohol the night before -- right, there’s the hangover. Her eyes finally open, just barely to save her unadjusted vision from the harsh sunlight, and she takes a moment to scan the room, her body splayed out and only her lower half covered by a thin sheet. And there, immediately to her left as her cheek hits the pillow, is Jan, still soundly asleep. Or at least she hopes that he is unconscious.

The Italian is frozen as to not rouse her bedmate, not quite ready to face the consequences of their...entanglement. Perhaps this was all a mistake, they had no business sleeping together -- what the fuck were you thinking, Sera? Any panic is quelled by the fact, she reminds herself, that their meeting was purely physical. They had used each other to satisfy individual frustrations. Last night meant nothing...and yet she cannot remove her gaze from his face.

Her chest lurches when she realizes she has been staring -- this does not bode well. She has to go, now.

As gracefully and quietly as she can, Sera arranges her escape, keeping her footsteps light against the floor as she searches for her scattered clothing. He wouldn’t miss that old dress shirt, would he? She doesn’t want to risk being caught back in the guest room readying herself, and so back in her long overcoat she slinks for the door...and pauses. One last look wouldn’t hurt...

Jan. His annoyingly handsome, peaceful expression and his position unchanged from when she first spied him, his back rising and falling rhythmically while he sleeps on his stomach. And those muscles, goddamnit.

Hurriedly, Sera creeps back over to his side of the bed and hovers over the man, her cheeks embarrassingly flushed as she is practically enthralled. She leans in quickly and presses a kiss to the hair fallen across his temple, and that was that, and she was gone.