#calledworse

{ @calledworse decided to break me }

She’d never seen someone brought back from the dead before. This was a whole new level of experiences for Beau. Of course, she knew it was possible; the Cobalt Soul and the Cobalt Reserve had tons of literature--books, scrolls, what have you--on resurrection.

But to see it?

To see it happen to someone she knew? Someone she’d lost? A whole different ballgame.

Her face hurt. Her eyes were wet. Again? Shit. The monk could count on one hand the number of times she’d cried--and they were all within the past fucking week. Saying goodbye to Kiri, seeing Molly laying lifeless on the ground, and now.

The tiefling stood up and brushed himself off like he’d just been sleeping--that fucking asshole. Beau didn’t think, she just reacted, being the first to throw herself at him. Tears stained his stupid colorful coat that was still covered in his own stupid blood while she wrapped her arms around his stupid neck.

Callused fingers slid down Percival’s face, combing along thickening white hairs. A habit he’s formed since allowing his beard to grow out but a habit built on idle movement while he focused.

He listened very intently on the reading, scanning every move, word, and card. While he considered himself a skeptic he couldn’t help himself with such things. What man wouldn’t want to test fate? To scan coincidences and readings to see if they matched up?

In this case, however, it was almost too eerily close. Or perhaps it was just him reading too much into it. That was the ploy after all wasn’t it? Still, it was interesting this was his reading. He could spend a long time matching all of it up from his trouble with indifferent Gods, to his current domestic life, all the way to his end. No doubt a punishment waited for him on the other side.

(( this )) - now closed. @calledworse

Words are so light and easy when they roll across Mollymauk’s tongue. Sometimes too much so, like when his mind is already occupied with combat tactics, or when– well, Caleb isn’t quite sure about the other common denominator in Mollymauk’s blips. As far as he remembers ( and he remembers far and wide ), it has happened in social settings that, on other occasions, shouldn’t, and haven’t, faze him in the slightest. Like when he noticed the book holster. It’s odd.

Regardless of what triggers them, in these moments of excessive lightness, the words tumble across his lips so quickly they cannot be controlled. It is the complete opposite picture to the one he makes now: the charming, polar opposite balancing out the horrible missteps.

Because right now there is an easy smile on his lips, a crinkle to his eyes, and an air of confidence Caleb wonders if he had, once. It unsettles him.

Kiss Meme || Accepting 

            @calledworse

                                         It was something Caleb should be used                                                     to by now. Something Molly always did for business.                                                    Just a little flirting to sway someone who maybe on the                                                    edge about his work. Though for some reason today the                                                     wizard found himself seething As Mollymauk rested his                                                    arm around the shoulder of a bartender. Her giggling                                                    laughter grating on his nerves as she hinted at things                                                    that were much more than just a reading. 

The tavern is a warm haven from the cold drizzle and faint rumbles of thunder outside. She had only just managed to find shelter within the town as the torrential downpour began. Not drenched but certainly not bone-dry, the Genasi settles herself in a quiet part of the tavern to survey the others who had come in seeking refuge from the rain. Despite the unpleasant sensation of wet clothing she did have a bit of an advantage to the rest.

Her elemental lineage left her with a perpetual breeze that surrounds her, and unlike many who are soaked to the bone and huddled around the roaring fire in the hearth-- she’ll dry within the hour. Running a hand through snowy white hair eventually her gaze settles upon a tiefling-- one dressed to the nines it seemed with brilliant doodads and baubles decorating his person. Certainly the type that Laika would be interested in, if only to hear his story. Ordering tea from the barmaid who had made her way to her through the throng of people, she pondered a bit on whether it’d be a smart idea.

She and tieflings have had interesting pasts-- one friend having nearly killed her on multiple occasions due to improper use of fireball spells. But such past events didn’t cause distrust-- after all in the end the tiefling had killed herself and left Laika and the rest of the group to retrieve her soul from the Raven Queen-- bargaining with a god. She shuddered even now at the memory. No, she did not distrust tieflings, but she treated them with healthy amounts of respect considering on many occasions Valan had simply incinerated enemies that dared lay a hand on her.

Taking a sip from her cup, she holds it in her mechanical hand finally approaching the decorated man with a warm smile on her face. Based on the cards he had laid out on the table-- perhaps he was playing some sort of game? “Not often I see someone as decorated as you in places like these.” she pauses momentarily, offering her organic hand to the other. “My name’s Laika and I do have to ask if only to satiate my own curiosity, what are you up to here?”