#donebowing

@donebowing said: you should be furious, shouldn't you? - Lissa c:

@donebowing asked: “Nobody talks to me. Nobody ever talks to me!”

seems like we're the lucky ones, judging by all the corpses strewn about. ( nysa )

" - Looks like we missed a hell of a fight." Golden gaze flickers about the scene before them; an array of deceased, from human to goblin to tiefling, crimson ichor varying from lightly aged to some even a bit more fresh. Hand rises to rest upon hilt of greatsword, brows furrowing.

"We should be careful; could have some fighters left ready to start another brawl."

@donebowing inquired: ❛ soothe what you can, fight what you can’t. ❜ / shitty horoscopes

There’s the barest flick of blue eyes up, up, finding the rogue. He’s stressed and it’s plain, and he reaches a hand up to rub a thumb over the ridge of his eyebrow. He’s got a dull headache, he’s hungry, he’s thirsty, and it’s just been a long day. " It's a plan, " he grumbles at last, and he means it, but his jaw does set with a stubborn jut.

Will had walked deeper into the forest, away from where they would disturb their sleeping companions. But he‘d carried the lute Alfira had gifted him for so long and it seemed like high time that he tried it out. For a moment they just sat there, allowing the familiar feeling of touching the strings to drown out all the other overwhelming thoughts on their mind. For some reason Will started playing Bittersweet Symphony, not fully knowing where this particular song came from. Of course this lute was different from the guitar they owned in another world and it would take time to get used to it, but music still brought the comfort it always had. Until a rustle in the bushes nearby made Will stop and the stone spread on his skin, ready to attack.

fable sighs. it arrives mostly from habit, even as her head tilts and her eyes soften. ❝ astarion, it... my pain isn't your responsibility, or your burden. ❞ her voice is wearied by a lack of true rest; she rubs her eyes, wishing desperately for sleep that would never arrive. what she wouldn't give to be able to drift off, if only for a minute or two. of all the things taken from her, that might be the worst, she thinks. at least in this moment.

❝ what happened to me, my... my suffering, it's not... for you to fix. I hope you know that. I hope... you don't think you need to save me, or fix me... ❞ something in her seems to fracture. she swallows twice before continuing: ❝ because... if I'm being honest, I don't think you can. ❞ it's rare to hear her speak like this, embroiled in a sad and bitter longing. hopeless. ❝ I don't know that I'd deserve it. ❞

another bland exhale. ❝ anyway, it's a kind thought, if nothing else. ❞