#davin0s

↪ @davin0s : if you repeat this, i'll deny everything.

in his hands are two spell glyphs, and for a brief moment they weigh as much as they did when standing in the upper floor of the seven stars. he holds out the first one towards @frcmscratch. “ this one should fend off an attack, if something goes wrong. ” murray made that one, while the second holds a much more recent spell he discovered in front of a mirror.

“ this— ” and he holds the second glyph towards @davin0s. “ can physically alter your appearance and voice for an hour. it's not an illusion someone can see through. ” none of them want to bring attention to julien's return yet. and this was the best azune could come up with.

this was the familiar part; the contingency plans laid out beforehand, trying to prepare for everything that might go wrong in the evening. it's the personal that sends him spinning, like hal's generous offer prior.

↪ 𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐑𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐏𝐎𝐓

Well,  who  is  she  to  deny  a  threatening  request?

the words mean well, she knows. ❝ what if . . . you don't know yourself ? ❞ the woods, her father. everything had been decided for her, upon her birth. who she would become, what role she would inherit. the way she should speak, the way to carry herself. a moment of weakness or that of emotion beyond what a leader should carry themselves with. confidence, perfection. none of it sylviana possessed. ❝ how do you do it ? to find your way through all of this. are you not afraid ? ❞

↪ 𝐆𝐑𝐎𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒

Bickering  is  bound  to  happen  at  least  once  a  day  between  those  amongst  them.  What  they  all  share  is  a  short  temper  caused  by  circumstances.  Stupid  arguments  to  valid  points  being  made,  it  can  lead  to  shouting  if  not  handled  right.  Zephira  mediates  for  others,  to  keep  things  controlled,  but  who  does  so  for  her?  In  this  moment  at  Last  Light,  all  she  has  a  stress-addled  brain  in  front  of  a  man  whose  words  are  never  minced.  His  personality  ontop  of  an  oncoming  sickness  is  the  last  thing  she  needs,  regardless  of  how  insignificant  the  spat  is.  Too  tired  to  fuel  whatever  this  is,  she  attempts  to  side  step.

One  hand  makes  its  place  below  covered  ribs,  bringing  the  tiefling  closer  to  halt  her  retreat.  Had  the  touch  been  any  more  forceful,  that  mess  of  hair  would  be  covered  in  burrs,  regardless  of  intent.  It's  not  out  of  the  question  yet,  but  there's  something  else  in  the  cursed  air  that  makes  Zephira's  body  stiffen  and  skin  heat  up  at  the  contact.  Fingers  wrap  around  his  gauntleted  wrist,  hesitating  before  pulling  his  hand  away  with  a  glower  that  lacked  fire.