#blxxditout

Glaring down at the thick blackish trail of sludge just beyond his shoes, Vergil's noise wrinkles. Such stench of demonic creatures never fails to make the hunter cringe in some shape or form. But in this case it is getting ridiculous. Since coming to this place, strange activities, or anything in particular, have been low to moderate. Now all the sudden there's a fluctuation of said monsters are turning out to be animals infected with demonic energy or somehow got a hold of a artifact. Concerning? Yes. Obviously. He did not want Lil Nero running around at the playground to be suddenly attacked when the babysitter is busy petting a dog.

Which explains why Vergil is even out here in the chilly evening air, hunting down a pest that dared come too close to his apartment... But oddly enough it was somewhat injured, explaining the reason there is random streaks of blood on the sidewalk. Sighs, rubbing his eyes as he would really, REALLY rather be at home buried into two pairs of arms instead of doing pets control. Tapping the hilt of Yamato's sheath, Vergil walks in a set direction, boots rather quiet on damp pavement.

It was cold in Dravania, nothing like Coerthas’ constant snowstorms, but too cool nonetheless. Thancred, who was used to the bright sun of La Noscea and the deserts of Thanalan, wished he had put together something with better sleeves. Even the warmth of the fire did not help him much against the icy winds this far north.

The others were well asleep by now, huddled in their tents. Their next destination was Anyx Trine, for some such reason – Thancred had not been paying attention to the details. He had not been paying attention to much of anything since he had learned that Minfilia was missing.

Missing! He had rested easy in the knowledge that she had escaped with the Warrior of Light, but knowing that she had been left behind to deal with the guards herself – no, he knew that was not the case, but he could not help but feel some ire for the Warrior who escaped at her expense. All of this had been to protect her, to make up for the mistakes he had made in her life, to make sure that she had a fulfilled life.

And she was missing!

So deep in his brooding was he that he did not notice Sid exit his tent until the other man was sitting near him. He glanced up, focusing on Sid with his one good eye, and gave him a half smile.

being an allegedly dead fugitive wasn’t something tom took pride in. yet, for the past month, that's exactly what he had become. he never planned on living a nomadic existence, marked by constant city changes and cheap bus rides.

but hey, life is unfair, right?

that, in itself, was the spotless summary of his current reality   —   a picture-perfect reflection of the remorse suffocating him. the embodiment of guilt and shame that lingered with every pill he swallowed.  nevertheless, could a young man like him really be blamed for resenting this new path?  harmony’s history of gruesome violence had spread across the state like an infection, and it had driven tommy to abscond, seeking refuge in anonymity. 

so there he was, sharing this little ol’ abandoned haven with a stranger who looked . . . oddly familiar, for some reason. ashy eyebrows furrowed and verdant irises fixed on the man before him, his questioning gaze softened by a veil of long eyelashes. 

" …  fuck, you bet i do, "  tom echoed with a marked inflection. then, with a reflexive motion, he jabbed a calloused finger in the other's face.  “ well, i’ll be damned!  " the blonde exclaimed, " . . .  you’re the fucker i’ve been seeing everywhere. "

Coerthas wasn't always the cold, desolate wasteland it was now. Five years ago, before the Calamity, it was as green as Gridania during the springs and summers.

But that was five years ago, and it hasn't stopped snowing in Coerthas since.

One might think an Ishgardian would have ample experience dealing with the ice and the cold, and they would be right to think so. In particular, military personnel had rigorous survival training, having to camp out in the cold from time to time to face any particular threat.

...which is why it was so humiliating that Aymeric had gotten turned around in a snowstorm and had to be rescued by a Scion of the Seventh Dawn.

But here he was, so cold he wasn't even shivering anymore (bad sign), as Sid carried him on chocobo back toward Whitebrim, which was apparently the closest safe haven. (Also a bad sign. He had been headed for Camp Dragonhead.) He had lost Lucia in the heavy snows too, which was particularly worrisome.

And now Sid was pushing him toward the large fireplace in the first building he could find in Whitebrim – looked like a dining hall of sorts – and calling for a chirurgeon while he feebly protested.

send me   ‘ grab ‘   for my muse to silently, frantically, grab at your muse’s hand during an intense emotional moment.  @blxxditout

Thancred is somewhat startled by the gesture, but he makes no move to pull away, even as he feels Sid's grip tightening on his hand. In fact, he welcomes it, giving a gentle squeeze in return.

|| Shikiya / Sid Headcanons ||

×🩸× Being that Sid was round, soft, and very cuddly looking in Shiki’s eyes, this conjured a twisted kind of recurring daydream. He vowed to be there the moment the other being passed on–better yet if he were the cause of his demise. To feast? As common of a goal that was to him; no. He wanted to carefully skin him, faithfully preserve that skin, and stuff him. The universe’s greatest teddy bear, if you will. It was probably better not to guess how many nights Shiki has cuddled up to a pillow while gleefully swimming through these lucid thoughts.

×🩸× Sid’s eyes are actually a weakness for the old crow. They were undoubtedly beautiful and captivating, but what he loved most was the inhuman comfort they gave. The comfort was natural of Sid, but the almost monster-like quality the hue held added a vague kinship only a grotesquerie like Shiki would feel. It wasn't too uncommon for him to miss some of what Sid says during moments of being lost in his eyes… not that the tengu would admit it.

[WOUND]: after the receiver has been wounded, the sender tries to keep them calm and conscious by cupping their face in their hands and talking to them to keep them focused. (+reversed, if possible!)

✿ ⧽ reasons to cup a face .

❥ Warm hands are placed upon the others cheeks. Kiwa’s fingers gently ran across the skin on his face in an attempt to distract from the pain she was sure he had to be feeling. “Hey,” her voice is soft, but still somewhat stern. She’s trying to keep his attention. “Focus on me, okay? It’ll be okay, pinky promise.”

   june  should  have  looked  at  the  forecast  for  the  day.  had  she  known  rain  would  be  a  possibility?  well  -  she'd  not  have  gone  out.  as  it  is  -  she's  caught  up  in  the  downpour,  and  looking  for  anywhere  to  take  some  shelter.  it's  awkward  as  hell  when  the  only  spot  is  a  very  small  bus  stop  waiting  shelter.  she  eases  herself  in,  taking  to  the  farthest  corner,  trying  to  not  cause  too  much  trouble  for  the  person  already  in  there. 

   she's  soaked,  and  quite  miserable.  the  bus  sure  as  hell  won't  go  anywhere  close  to  her  family  farm  -  she's  been  walking  the  whole  day.  she  scoots  toward  the  glass,  peering  up  at  the  sky.  it  doesn't  look  like  it's  clearing  anytime  soon.  she  sets  her  grocery  bag  on  the  bench  within  the  shelter,  sighing  as  she  peers  inside  at  some  of  the  rain  water  collected  within  it.  well.  so  much  for  the  flour  she'd  bought. 

   she  reaches  up  to  her  hair,  bundling  it  together  and  squeezing  some  of  the  water  out  of  it,  before  flicking  it  back  over  her  shoulder.  she  starts  to  pull  the  groceries  from  the  bag.  eggs,  a  load  of  bread,  flour  -  which  ends  up  simply  ripping  and  spilling  out  all  over  the  interior  of  the  grocery  bag,  causing  june  to  stand  in  disbelief. 

   “fuck.” 

   the  word  is  out  before  she  can  stop  it  and  she  straightens  herself  up,  hazel  eyes  wide,  a  hand  going  over  her  mouth.  you  are  not  supposed  to  swear  in  public.  she  turns  finally  to  the  other  person  there  with  her  and  gives  a  guilt  ridden  apologetic  smile.