#bindinglxght

I think this was like! acts of affection? | @binding-lxght

He was somewhere far away in the moment, in a world that mirrored this one in the best and worst ways. How long had it been? How many years? Decades? Centuries...

He was a man without roots. A man who existed everywhere and no where at once. And if he just... relaxed, if he let his focus drift, maybe he would become a man who vanished.

-- a thought that was interrupted by the gentle touch and tug to one sleeve.

A curious noise escaped him as he glanced down to see Ryne there, flower held tightly in hand before she offered it up to him. It looked to be one from Il Mheg, likely one she had snagged before thinking to bring it back to him. There was no real reason for her to think of him... yet still she had.

His eyes, glowing a near-supernatural gold from the unearthly amounts of aether that had flooded his form, were narrowed as he glared at the woman in front of him. The Warrior of Light. A figure that he had known long before now, one he had known from his own childhood.

Mina Oronir. Varis’ lapdog.

Lightheaded/Fainting Starters | @binding-lxght

Ah, she had noticed. Despite the fact that he had done his best to try to hide how much his recent efforts had taken out of him, there was no easy way to hide how pale he seemed. It seemed even more stark up against the bright blue that danced along most of his body now; truly at this point he wasn’t sure if he really was more man or crystal.

He was running out of time. The Tower was going to win and claim him, and before that happened he just-- he had to make sure... he had to make sure the Scions were able to return home. It would leave him here, alone.

Not alone. He had his life, his family built in the First. And he wasn’t the only one who would be left behind, whose life had been changed by the Warrior of Darkness and the Scions. Ryne would feel that loss even more keenly as her life had only truly begun with them.

Lightheaded/Fainting Starter | @binding-lxght

“It isn’t, hun.” His voice came out soft as he crouched next to the auri. One hand was on her back, the other gently resting against leg, and his expression was a mixture of love and concern, with a small dash of something-- maybe... alarm? Anger? 

No not quite anger. Disappointment. 

❥     𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖  𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐄   𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍   𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐓𝐒   . | @binding-lxght

Her words burned along his skin as G’raha flushed a shade near identical to his hair. Mina was hardly subtle about her affections or desires. It was new for him, near electrifying, and he wasn’t sure he would ever get used to it. Honestly, he wasn’t sure he even wanted to get used to it. 

He loved her. She loved him. It was almost overwhelming how intense they felt about each other. 

Random Asks for Hilda! | @binding-lxght

The statement had him flushing a brilliant shade of red as G’raha pressed a hand over his mouth as if to silence himself. His eyes were wide-- because no, had someone really seen him...? Not that it was much of a secret that he was with Mina, but-!

The wording of... passionate kisses was... concerning.

Lightheaded/Fainting Starter | @binding-lxght

Considering how much blood was coming from the stab wound on his side, G’raha was inclined to believe Mina. Pulling the dagger out had probably been a mistake, even with his own innate healing skill. He should have waited for someone else to check it out. Should have not acted so impulsively.

But he had been worried about Mina. He couldn’t stop himself from jumping between her and danger, couldn’t stop himself from immediately ripping the weapon out and tossing it to the ground, couldn’t stop himself from grabbing her wrist and drag her along to make sure no one else could get close to her. 

Oh, but this had been a mistake.

Send “trace” to purposely touch one of my muse’s scars | @binding-lxght

He was lying on his stomach on his bed. Their bed, at least for the evening. His short was off, pants were off, leaving him in only sleeping shorts. Despite the cold that plagued Ishgard, the fireplace in his room gave more than enough heat, and he was content to stare into the flickering flames for a few moments as his thoughts just drifted. Not quite here, not quite there, not quite anywhere.

Aymeric didn’t jump when he felt the body weight settling beside him, and his gaze shifted to a hazy half-lidded one as he felt light fingers beginning to gently trace patterns along his back. Or maybe to state that it was around his back would be more accurate. The thick welts that crossed his back in erratic fashion were near impossible to miss.

The same could be said for the mark burned into his shoulder. 

When her fingers grazed that one, Aymeric’s break hitched for a moment. It didn’t hurt but it felt raw-- sensitive. Physically and emotionally. This was part of him no one was ever meant to see, but part of him that she would always know.

He could still recall the scent of burning flesh and just it didn’t hurt, not at first. His shoulder just felt nothing as he stared at his father, unable to fully grasp just what was happening to him.

That he was being branded as the worst of Ishgard simply because of his unending love for Ishgard.