#darkblessed

So here she stands with a blanket draped like a cloak and a candle holder in hand, frowning at Enebish. The chapel is silent ( the exception being them ). A too-quiet companion to the night and she wants nothing more than to let it pass in blissful ignorance. She cannot. The cleric claims a space on the pew, setting the candle on the ground, and pulls the blanket tight.

“ I was taught that death and life are two sides of the same coin. You cannot have one without the other. ” She leans back, tired. “ Even so, I have to agree: it can mock life. ” Especially here where death is so bold, so cruel.

It mocks me. She wants to know. She comes close to asking, but presses her lips together and waits for the urge to pass. When she does continue, it’s to say, “ You should be resting. No one knows what tomorrow might bring. ”

“ Because I was here, and you needed it. ” A matter-of-fact answer. It’s said with the tone of what else would I do? and she thinks, with a start, that a second option never presented itself. Of course, she would going to help. Of course, she wouldn’t think twice about it until she’s gore covered and sore.

Florence cleans the blade with old fabric. “ The darker it gets, the bolder the wolves become and they won’t think twice about attacking a lone traveler. ” She looks to them, now. It’s with a careful eye that she searches for a wound.

“ Were you hurt ? ”

๋࣭ ⭑𓆩✧𓆪🗡ྀ࿔ 〖 stories and songs . . . 〗

“sure as the sun will rise,”   kyran murmured.  

how bitterly he struggled to believe it.  he wondered where lathander's light had been that morning when he'd been drained of his blood and left in this wretched state,  to straddle life and unlife.  if undeath was a parody of the living,  he did not want to think over what it was to be both at once.

kyran wondered when someone would make note of it that, for a man who looked otherwise unremarkably human,  he no longer needed the guidance of light to bear witness to the world around him.  in the dark he found himself not quite comfortable,  but unafraid,  the sights discernable in shades of grey.  he smiled at the spell nonetheless. it was comforting against this place's wretchedness.   

" here. it's a peace offering. "

unprompted ( always accepting ).

he's a monstrous thing. if it isn't the height that prompts fear, it's his temperament. bullheaded, hot-tempered - approaching the aging warhorse might be a death sentence.

and he watches @darkblessed's approach. ears flatten and a the beast shifts, hooves tearing at the ground. he would have charged, or lashed out. . . but there is an offering.

pre-established relationship meme. bold for what i definitely see or want, italics for what i could see or am unsure of, and striked out for things i don’t want or cannot see.

just two tormented folks from the domains of dread.

the wolf is blind to the town’s anguish, and cares not for its missing. a snarling thing with pale fur stained red, it would have tried to tear at him, too, if it weren’t for a spark of recognition. ( not this one. it can’t be this one. ) muscles relax – marginally, enough that it doesn’t look like it’ll pounce, but not enough to lower its hackles.

asoiaf: a dance with dragons starters

“hells.”   he scoffed at the half-elf.   “does this not get tired?”   he hunted only occasionally because the coin was good.   sol'rys cared not for morality,  for peace,  for anything but the thrill of hunt and to afford a meal and a bed.  no other obligation or desire stirred him.  but perhaps it made him all the more the fool,  twisted and warped into a thing unrecognizable for a few coins that would ultimately be forfeit.  now he felt like a creature staring through someone else's eyes,   clawing at the cage of his own insides and yearning to be free.  “the willingness to martyr yourself.”   not being a moral man was so much nicer.  easier too.  

sarcasm thickens her words; veering off the road and into the darkness of the svalich woods is more appealing than the home of her youth. of course, the town ahead of them isn’t better. “ maybe, ” she says, tone unchanging, “ we’ll make it in time for another morbid festival. ”

and as quick as her temper came, it snuffed out. “ honestly, @darkblessed, i’m beginning to think it might be better to walk into the mists and leave this mess. ”