#call2arms

                                plotted starter , @call-2-arms .

there is a drop of sweat running down ripley's forehead, it touches her brow and it's going to keep going, so she has to reach up and wipe at it hastily. that's when she notices that her breathing is a little harsh. can you blame her? ripley is relying on an android created by an organization that feels like they're trying to kill her right now. it could be a coincidence, but it felt a little too lucky that she got a job as a senior officer on a planet that needed engineering help with towing vehicles and moving cargo. ripley takes a deep breath in.

she's about to count out the cerberus engineered android -- which she should have said no to in the first place in a universe where AI and android ... even robots are scarcely found after the catastrophic event the quarian suffered with their geth. but, he finally radios back to her to alert her that he got the signal tower communicating and that he apologizes for the wait, it was purposely sabotaged. it seems bishop's programming to keep her and her daughter safe wasn't sabotaged. maybe it is a coincidence. ripley takes a few deep breaths in and starts finding a local signal that she can contact for help. it's also a lucky coincidence that there's an alliance ship in the signal's range.

[I would have liked to have met you before… everything. I was impressed by the stories I’d heard.]

@call-2-arms​ // liked for a Saucy morrigan

            ❝ you have been on my mind lately , dear mage . ❞

      morrigan approached carefully , fingers tracing along the bricks of skyhold’s magic walls . voice deep ; sultry , she tilted her chin up with a soft hum . her wound had healed quite nicely , and though it came in equal parts from the elf’s help , and her OWN magicks , morrigan felt gratitude all the same . and then there was the TEMPLE -- mythal’s secrets lost to all but she , the inquisitor , and the party that had accompanied them . . . 

      perhaps it was finally time to share what knowledge she had gathered . but something about the elf was so very . . . distracting , morrigan couldn’t help but indulge in her curiosity .

It'd been about six months since the End of the Fucking World. Power was spotty. The world's militaries were scattered. Quintessons had completely locked down Earth, enslaved a good portion of humanity and Cybertronians, and were picking off the rest. Shit was bleak.

But Rocky couldn't afford to think of any of that anymore. The enormity of it, the sheer, colossal size of the loss they'd endured... It threatened to crush them. So they focused on the day-in, day-out of it all.

Like food. Christ, they were fucking hungry.

𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐚𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐟𝐞𝐥𝐥. snowflakes clinging to the air in the courtyard and an eerie , muffled quality to all life. footsteps quieted and the singing of birds deadened , the eve of battle striking even nature cold. but still that heat in the witcher's gaze for he's being confronted so ----

' why did you do that? '

indeed , why would he speak for jaime lannister? the answer to such a question leaves geralt silent , and for a moment he curses how he had. not for any great ire , no. just for some escape from this exchange. he knew it would come the moment that he spoke a single word against the will of the targaryen queen. an objectively dangerous thing to do , no matter how right you think you are.

it's been quite some time since he faced the lannister lion , and if he thought he'd been in poor shape in the past , it seems nothing to now. there's grey in his beard. jaime is getting old. but geralt fights quietly with himself in regard to why it is he cares , while he huffs in indignation. stare darts upward , and there it is.

a long forgotten garland of mistletoe , each of the white berries withered and dried to a pale gold , leaves curled in on itself. meant to bring a peaceful ease and the warmth of love even through the long winter , and often woven as a symbol of good luck. to keep evil at bay. to invite a kiss. and the thought of it while near biting through his tongue to not betray any sentiment toward jaime?

it makes geralt turn on his heel to leave. a bitterly muttered excuse follows as the witcher resolves to not look back if he can help it. the chance of survival is low. no point anyone being lost to dragon fire now if they might take a few wights with them in a few days time. practical. nothing more.

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐲𝐦'𝐬 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐭'𝐬 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞. it knows that nothing but jaime can save it now , and screams inside his mind. a less poisonous creature would have begged mercy , would have cried like a child , appealed to the small sliver of better nature residing in the lannister lion. but no , it instead tries to push him to the edge of his worst. to indulge in all those sins that make him feel shame again , the bloodshed and the deceit. and , to his credit , jaime doesn't fall for it.

geralt's silver sword is embedded into the creature's back , enveloped in shadow and being pulled in as if it might absorb him into the shadow. pulling him closer and closer in hopes he might become so frightened that he stops his attack. but he can't. not when jaime has held so strong as this , not when he can taste his own blood in his mouth as close as he can victory.

the witcher twists his blade , and the creature suddenly feels pitifully corporeal. as if he snaps bone and tears tendon , digs through a solid mass of flesh that he knows better than to trust ---- the hym is only filled with darkness , nightmares , guilt , and that's where it's learned all this from. if it had a spine it would've snapped under the force with which geralt plunges the silver sword , a terrible roar from the witcher as he makes his kill.

the hym wails inhumanly as it begins to fall away and die , sinking through cracks in the floor and melting away into nothingness under his hands. gone , now. gone after jaime had even taken breath to ally himself to the witcher , and dying a most painful death on the assertion of it. it leaves the room eerily silent , save for the ragged sound of geralt's breathing. he sinks , slowly , to his knees and with his head thrown back in such exhaustion.

// ijsdiojf I AM LATE with this sorry lol. But for Sornin X'D I mean... the affection and cuddling one is only because Sornin isn't really USED to things like this, so they'd take time for him to come to terms with it. He's a bit of a big, silent quiet type until someone can break down those walls. Where Astarion is certainly all charm and glimmer, Sornin is happy to play games but the moment feelings are involved, he'd likely withdraw and freak out and pretend it's all stupid. >.<

NO DON'T APOLOGIZE.

They can get around to affection and cuddling when Sornin is comfortable with it. Or, if he's never comfortable with it, Astarion would never push him for it! But, if he does come to terms with it, Astarion would be rather pleased heheh