#blcdecaller

intrigue //  xayah  // sleep :   my  muse  falls  asleep  on  your  muse,  making  it  hard  for my  muse  to  leave.°☆

THE WORLD; how vast and strange— no? How it had come to be that this stranger, one of pure radiance and exhaustion, was now currently VULNERABLE with her head upon her shoulder? What a tale, what a tale indeed she thinks— half tempted to rap her on the forehead and point her to a bed or at the very least the cot in the corner. 

She’d been sitting in her station, uncomfortable on her haunches, for far too long in BLISTERING silence when the blades and whirs had collected themselves beside her home; when a squabble turned into a war, and when the étrangère took refuge beside her in the dark. Perhaps she should have refused such a thing, but it did not interfere with her work and just a tickle of grace reminds her of HOME ( what a concept to a widow of death; was such a thing even appropriate to believe in … ? )— reminds her of the beauty of center stage, the feathers of THE SWAN reflecting these shimmering wings sprawled out and resting so earnestly beside her. 

“ SOMBRA…” a quick glance and her partner is already at work, piecing together their guest’s ambitions ( of course she was, she’d probably been bored for hours up until now— poor little loud mouth ). Whatever had brought her here was of no concern so long as it remained separate from her target. Still, she couldn’t help but see l’ éclat ( the spark ) that lit this one, when she stumbled into her CHÂTEAU, pitiful and brilliant at the same time. “ I don’t know what it is you are fighting for ” she whispers to the sleeping lump now slumping down and draped over her thigh, “...but I know Talon can help you achieve it. ”  

SEND A URL AND I WILL ANSWER THE FOLLOWING; || still accepting

Unprompted asks | (always accepting.)

“I didn’t take you for one that’d do such a thing.”

Honestly, she never even expected such question, or that she’d care about it at all.

blcdecaller said: smash or pass + xayah

There’s a proud, aggressive, almost hungry grin on Sett’s face as he eyes the much narrower shoulders of the Vastayan girl. The blade caller had a different effect on him than the other girls. Perhaps it was because he say much of himself reflected on her -- his pride, arrogance, the violence -- and perhaps it was the difficulties in pursuing her that made it all the more exciting. 

Maybe genetics had a little to do with it, too, because gods did he love that scent. 

Sett runs his fingers through her feathery hair, hiding none of his brutish nature as he takes a deep whiff of it and exhales a hungry sigh. 

An ugly snarl splitting his expression, he lunges forwards to shove the Lhotlan against the wall, a gauntleted hand wrapping itself tight around her neck in retaliation.