#burntscars

sooner or later , it comes down to fate . ⸻ @burntscars

❝   ya   think   .ᐣ.ᐣ   ❞

𝐭𝐡𝐞   𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭   𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐝   𝐨𝐟   𝐬𝐦𝐨𝐤𝐞   𝐰𝐚𝐬   𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐝   𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦   𝐡𝐢𝐬   𝐦𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐡   as   he   crushed   the   cigarette   head   against   the   metallic   railing   that   acted   like   a   fence   around   the   building   they   had   been   in   ⸻   a   bar.   stanley   had   enough   to   drink   for   the   night   &   needed   out   from   the   overly   loud   atmosphere   that   was   beginning   to   brew   within   the   establishment.   a   quick   smoke   break   before   he   decided   to   head   back   home,   although   it   was   probably   best   if   he   called   his   brother   to   pick   him   up.   it   wasn’t   as   though   he   was   overly   drunk   or   anything   ⸻  honestly,   his   tolerance   was   high   ⸻   but   the   least   he   wanted   was   to   worry   his   niece   &   nephew   if   they   found   out   he   drove   himself   back   home   under   the   influence.

𝐭𝐡𝐞   𝐞𝐥𝐝𝐞𝐫   𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐧𝐞𝐝   𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐝   𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐭   𝐭𝐡𝐞   𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠   as   a   disgruntled   groan   escaped   his   dry   lips,   hazel   eyes   finding   comfort   by   looking   up   at   the   night   sky.   what   he   liked   about   being   out   in   the   middle   of   nowhere   was   how   bright   the   stars   were   at   night   as   well   as   the   echoey   sounds   of   nature   emitting   from   the   trees.   he   took   in   a   large   inhale   to   really   take   in   the   smell   of   wildlife   before   resuming   his   thought   process   towards   the   statement.   

❝   if   that’s   how   you   see   it,   kid.   i   guess   i’ve   just   been   through   so   much   in   my   long   life   that   fate   doesn’t   really   mean   shit   to   me.   i   decide   what   i   do   with   my   life   &   there   ain’t   gonna   be   no   unseen   force   in   the   universe   to   tell   me   what   to   do.   ❞

𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞   𝐢𝐟   𝐟𝐚𝐭𝐞   𝐰𝐚𝐬   𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥,   then   was   everything   he   went   through   supposed   to   happen?   was   he   just   destined   to   go   through   so   many   downs?   was   he   really   meant   to   be   a   failure?

𝐟𝐮𝐜𝐤   𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭.  

❛  nice  weather  we’re  having,  huh  ??  ❜

plopping  himself  on  an  occupied  bench  besides  a  complete  stranger  and  drenched  in  sweat  from  the  intense  summer  heat,  noctis  let  out  an  exasperated  breath  as  he  angled  his  head  upwards  to  look  at  the  clear  blue  sky  above  —  no  cloud  in  sight  which  only  made  the  sunrays  that  more  annoying.

❛  ah  my  bad,  was  this  seat  taken  ??  ❜

❝ well, duh. it's just a capitalist scheme to wring as much money out of people as possible. very american. ❞

valentine's day as a holiday may as well be nonexistent in the union. it was, to raikov, an obnoxiously female holiday, its typical festivities reserved for women's day, alongside the matriarchal ones. given that he hadn't seen his mother in nigh a decade, the supposed holiday was little more than a glorified day off ; and ivan could have a day off whenever he wanted. it was just another day.

for the rest of the world, or at least the west, everything always fell back to money. especially with americans. ( it was a bit hypocritical to judge them based on that alone, given his own indulgence with the philosopher's legacy -- but that was different. )

he’s  sitting  in  his  chair  ,  burly  meaty  arms  folded  across  his  chest  .  𝐒𝐄𝐓𝐓  remains  unmovable  when  amala  is  at  his  side  stroking  the  inner  folds  of  his  ears  ,  tracing  the  soft  tender  outline  of  the  furry  lobe  before  scratching  at  the  base  from  behind  .  he’s  making  soft  grunts  &  noises  ,  his  shoulders  tensing  upwards  .  

he’s  enjoying  it  .

✧ ━━ 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍𝐒 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐄𝐒 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐀 𝐃𝐈𝐅𝐅𝐈𝐂𝐔𝐋𝐓 𝐏𝐀𝐒𝐓 𝙻𝙴𝙰𝙶𝚄𝙴 𝚅𝙴𝚁𝚂𝙴

Progress // Have they made any significant progress since their past deeds? Are they currently progressing? Do they want to progress? ━━ I would say so. Robin's time in Zaun was a really difficult trial that had a lot of things stacked against him from the moment he was born. Social status made it impossible to climb and lofty dreams along with his insatiability made him do some pretty intense things, and the grief. And maybe the demon but whatever. Either way, Robin has found quite a bit of peace in Ionia despite his even worse social status and repetitive lifestyle. He's met and made a lot of connections, and has even made friends and found that he's still able to care about people depite everything. @aquatic-hybrid had a massive influence on his way of seeing life, if I'm being honest, and this has led Robin to try and actually forgive himself and break out of whatever crypt he's buried himself in. He wants to leave, and eventually with the help of @hemoplagued, he does. Robin has actually gotten quite a bit healthier since I started writing him; he's still extremely unnerving and calculating, but emotionally and in turns of stability ━ he's in a way better place.

Humanity // If they're asked what 'humanity' means to them and how they would describe it, what would they answer? Do they love or hate humans? ━━ I know this is going to sound wild given how Robin is in other verses, but in his main timeline in League Robin doesn't really have any resentment towards humans? He's one and he has relationships with them. Even when he was working with Miss Glasc in Zaun he had friendships and happily went out with them! He loves the arts and tries to take as much as he can in, and art is the heart of humanity in a way. That being said, Robin isn't an idealist and he never will be, and he's well aware that for all of the good humans do they do an equal amount of bad; like - duh he was literally reviving torture victims for money? Robin, a human, made every one of his decisions; Abel simply supported those decisions, the demon never actually made of those dark choices for Robin. And Robin's well aware of it, he's also aware that none of it was personal ( or not all of it ). ━━ I think if I had to sum it up, Robin finds a majority of people very very boring. He's attracted to chaos and people smart enough to keep up with his mind games; and a lot of people just don't fit in that narrow space. Granted there's a small part of him that's extremely fond of generally good people ( looking at you @steel-and-fire ) with well meaning hearts. Which, unfortunately, are also a rare commodity.

Progress // Have they made any significant progress since their past deeds? Are they currently progressing? Do they want to progress? ━━ I don't think that Haruko necessarily thought he'd end up at the forefront of a Darkin worshipping blood cult, or being in a symbiotic relationship with one; but here he is. Haruko doesn't feel the need for any sort of redemption for his deeds, he kills any and all Noxians to keep Ionia clean and in his eyes that is a good thing. At the beginning of the Noxian invasion he lost most of what made his life worth living, and since then he's found reason to keep going, has fallen in love, has made friends, raised his beautiful and strong daughter @deathdxnces, and all of this is a huge plus to him. He's really content where he is, he still has nightmares about the war but he has a new family around him to hold him and provide him what he needs.

Humanity // If they're asked what 'humanity' means to them and how they would describe it, what would they answer? Do they love or hate humans? ━━ Haru's feelings on humans are sort of all over the place. For the most part his view of them is pretty negative, he think's they've messed up Ionia's magical grid, he knows they're what separated his family and poisoned the Wuju temples, and a majority of them are pests and cowards. However he has met his fair share of humans who have earned his respect and even his affections; but he still views them as the less common aspect of their species. He doesn't want to eradicate them, but he would prefer them to keep their distance and keep their petty wars to themselves and away from his beloved homeland.

Send 👨‍👩‍👦 for my muse to talk about their family

" OH! you wish to hear me talk about my most precious settrigh? don't mind if i do! " a delighted hum accompanies a most wide smile. any glance could tell this woman had much love in her heart for her most dearest family and wouldn't hesitate to talk for hours on end if given the opportunity.

" i love my son most dearly. he's grown so much from when he was but a wee little thing you probably wouldn't believe he'd grow to be so big and strong. watching him grow and become his own person has done nothing but bring a tear to my eye. a mother couldn't be more proud! "

the smile brightens with a chuckle but slowly softens as her beaming expression slowly has hints of regret as a sigh comes next. " i can't help but worry about him as well. sometimes i wonder if i truly was enough of a mother to him. sometimes i wonder . . . if i should have done more or been more vigilant. i know both sides, vastayan and human, weren't too kind to him and it always broke my heart to see such a thing.

" he's a wonderful boy. his heart is so big and has so much to offer, but i know growing up he had so many hardships. we . . . had hardships. sometimes i do worry he'll go off and hurt himself beyond repair and my world will be taken from me. i worry about this all the time. the world can be cruel and i know he is a strong boy but even the strongest people in the world have weaknesses. i don't want him to ever have to worry about me and i know it's hypocritical to say when i'm worrying over him constantly, but he is my one and only son. i can't help but worry over him. "

『 "𝐃𝐎 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐒𝐂𝐎𝐑𝐍 𝐏𝐈𝐓𝐘 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐈𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐆𝐈𝐅𝐓 𝐎𝐅 𝐀 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐋𝐄 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓" 』

"𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘐 𝘥𝘰 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘰𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘮𝘺 𝘱𝘪𝘵𝘺. 𝘍𝘰𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘢 𝘭𝘢𝘥𝘺 𝘩𝘪𝘨𝘩 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘷𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧 𝘸𝘰𝘯 𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘣𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘨𝘰𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘯; 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘢 𝘭𝘢𝘥𝘺 𝘣𝘦𝘢𝘶𝘵𝘪𝘧𝘶𝘭, 𝘐 𝘥𝘦𝘦𝘮, 𝘣𝘦𝘺𝘰𝘯𝘥 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘌𝘭𝘷𝘦𝘯-𝘵𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘶𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘭. 𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘐 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶."

Such a thing graced Ithuriel's eyes as she cut back into reality once more, finding herself laying down within her tent atop her bedroll - it smells sweet, like cinnamon ; how had she gotten here? Cinnamon ... Kettle ... Tea - Her gaze flicked over to spy that fluttering imp, right, she remembers now. The group had settled down for the evening after finishing up various chores, and she had thought it better for the night to read that 𝐆𝐀𝐔𝐃𝐘 romance novel Astarion had lent her. Something to clear her " 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘺 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘥 " and hopefully lead to ... " 𝘦𝘹𝘲𝘶𝘪𝘴𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘥𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘮𝘴 ". The comment racked a shudder across her being. Fel (   𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘯𝘢𝘮𝘦?   ) had arrived shortly after, happy enough in her presence to speak with her plainly; his voice - despite all of the horrid vocabulary - somehow was a comfort. She'd managed to convince him to settle down in his chatter beside her, but ever diligent to work he kept twitching - so she had given him laundry to fold while she ‘studied up on runic symbols’. A lie, but one he didn't seem displeased by despite her confidence that he knew what she was actually up to. 

"Ahh you always were 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐒𝐓𝐘 for knowledge Master! You should really rest though, my Lady, you must be tired from all of the sorocide from today. However, if you insist, I will stay here to watch over you and make sure you complete your studies."

Like a parent guiding their child. Had it always been that way? Had there been a point where the Scleritas held her 𝐋𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐁𝐡𝐚𝐚𝐥 𝐁𝐚𝐛𝐞 hand? Much to her chagrin, it brings a soft grin to her lips - a fleeting one as she peeks over to her gentlegoblin. She had no memory of being a child, no memory before waking up on the Nautiloid ... Surely she was 𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐓, once? He had mentioned being a "   𝘋𝘳𝘰𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘉𝘩𝘢𝘢𝘭   '' himself, something made to aid and protect Bhaal's most beloved child - Perhaps if there was any good within the 𝐋𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐎𝐅 𝐌𝐔𝐑𝐃𝐄𝐑, he had placed it into Fel to keep her company and guide her along the way ... If not just to puppet her back into the Dread Lord's sticky and crimson embrace. The Butler began to hum as her cerise gaze trailed downward to her - well, 𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐎𝐍'𝐒 - book once more.

"𝘖𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘐 𝘱𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘦𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘴𝘰𝘳𝘳𝘰𝘸. 𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘯𝘰𝘸, 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘰𝘳𝘳𝘰𝘸𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘴, 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘧𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘰𝘳 𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘬, 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘴𝘧𝘶𝘭 𝘘𝘶𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘰𝘧 𝘎𝘰𝘯𝘥𝘰𝘳, 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘐 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶. 𝘌𝘰𝘸𝘺𝘯, 𝘥𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘮𝘦?’ 

Surely he'd given her the wrong novel, this was far from some cheap romantic smut fest she had expected to open into, and she was unsure if she was disappointed or not. It was a fabulous book, one she had almost instantly bonded with; a traveler on a long journey fighting against his own corruption. 𝘗𝘦𝘳𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘴 𝘴𝘩𝘦'𝘥 𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘫𝘶𝘥𝘨𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘱 - 𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥. Instinctually her stare lifts to the rest of camp, alone in her tent but never truly lonely; someone was always out and about. The Sharran and Blade of Frontiers seemed locked in wicked debate, though their voices were soft their bodies told a new tale. Yes ... That was it, she concludes - the book she was so fond of; it reminded her of 𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐃𝐎𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓. Introduced crudely but swiftly found to be resourceful and, well, a joy. She should speak to her soon ... maybe the two could step aside from their differences. Although the woman’s piercing expression did little to ease any doubts dancing about Ithuriel’s mind.

𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘌𝘰𝘸𝘺𝘯 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘥, 𝘰𝘳 𝘦𝘭𝘴𝘦 𝘢𝘵 𝘭𝘢𝘴𝘵 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘪𝘵. 𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘶𝘥𝘥𝘦𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘱𝘢𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘥, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘶𝘯 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘰𝘯 𝘩𝘦𝘳.

Ithuriel observes over the camp once more before white moon-kissed locks greet her, eyes angling lower to watch Astarion mumble and pace about while holding a book that seemed much too heavy for his nimble statue. Her lips part with a tilt of her head, her own wintry hair spilling over her shoulder as she finds fuzzy moss growing in her. It's warm and fluffy and invades every part of her form, the garden inside of her chest feels like it's going to sprout from her mouth - and her ears flutter as though she were a butterfly prancing about from petal to petal. A blushing flush ran across her cheeks, she is safe in her small den ; and Astarion is far too preoccupied. She tries to further indulge in those 𝐒𝐔𝐆𝐀𝐑𝐘 feelings, and in the selenic glow, soft rays of silver and blue - he's as beautiful as glistening dew and the call of bird song. To her own reluctance, Ithuriel's mind begins to twist herself into the visage before her, next to him and listening to his murmurs of frustration and amusement. Her steady intelligent gaze studied him closely, noting the strength in his forearms that bore every inch of his determination and longing for freedom. 

Insurrection. Spite. 𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐎𝐁𝐄𝐃𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄 ... 𝘠𝘦𝘴 ... 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘪𝘴 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘴.

That is when those sanguineous eyes meet hers and lock in, her tadpole twitches - longing to reach out - but the shuddering of her skin gives her the strength to break the look between them. Ithuriel had never been looked at so 𝐃𝐈𝐑𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐋𝐘, within a moment he had undressed her soul - even buried under blanketed layers of wool she'd never felt so naked. The tiefling dares to look back at him; her veins turning to ice at the stark realization that he has not broken away yet. Not once.  Those eyes are full of a deep understanding and calm indifference. It is a crimson sea she wishes she could pour herself in to become the foam atop each wave of his iris. She is a person and he, as another person acknowledges that. 

                                               ... 𝐀 𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐎𝐍 ...  

How long ... How 𝐋𝐎𝐍𝐆 had it been since she had felt like one? Not a monster, not a 𝐆𝐨𝐝, not a 𝐌𝐀𝐃 𝐁𝐇𝐀𝐀𝐋 𝐁𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐍 -

" - Master, I have finished! -- Ohhh! Oh my Lady, did I startle you? It still pains me so to see my little liege in distress." The Sceleritas comforted quickly, soothing Ithuriel back from her skittish yip. "You appear to be on the same page as before! Are you troubled, Master?"

" ... No. I - Thank you, Fel. I - I," her hand fidgets forward to free the clasp of her tent, closing off herself from the outside world. From Warmth. From Friends. From Love. She doesn't dare look at any of their companions. Not now. "I think I will be turning in for the night, I ... Will you stay? I ... I think even with my loss of memory I have missed you."

"Ah ... Master, you make a butler 𝐁𝐋𝐔𝐒𝐇! I'll carve that compliment into my heart! Worry not, my demiurge, these feelings of distraction will wane soon enough and you will be back on your feet by the next moon! A person of your fine 𝐁𝐑𝐄𝐄𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆 is never down for long, I know the unholy guarantee of your Father's legacy will spur you on. It is woven into you."

𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘶𝘳𝘴 𝘥𝘰 𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘩𝘶𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘣𝘪𝘭𝘦 𝘱𝘪𝘵 𝘪𝘯 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘥, 𝘰𝘳 𝘦𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘬𝘯𝘪𝘧𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥.