Much happens in a short time I this story. I like quiet moments.
🌿 [Ivy] If I have to pick just one: Dreagan. My sweet psychopath ❤️‍🔥 (Can he even do a quiet moment?)
But I love Cass, Elden and Sol, too. I'll try not to be greedy! But you make it very difficult.
Please, be greedy! I write these ROs specifically to ruin your peace of mind and make it impossible to choose just one. "Sweet psychopath" is the most accurate description of ??? I have ever heard, and I am obsessed with it! 🖤✨
To answer your question: Yes, ??? can do a quiet moment. But a Dark God's version of peace is very different from a mortal's. His quiet isn't restful. It's the heavy, suffocating silence of a room right before it catches fire. It is the eye of the hurricane.
Here is what his "quiet" looks like:
🌿 [Ivy] — A Quiet Moment with
??? does not sleep. He doesn't need to. So when the adrenaline of the day fades, and you finally collapse into bed, utterly exhausted, he stays awake.
His version of a quiet moment is simply watching you. He sits in the darkest corner of the room, completely and unnaturally still, wrapped in the shadows like a tailored cloak. He doesn't read. He doesn't pace. He just rests his elbows on his knees, steeples his fingers, and watches the steady, rhythmic rise and fall of your chest.
To anyone else, it would be deeply unsettling—a predator watching its favorite prey.
But for you, there is a strange, twisted safety in it. The room smells faintly of ozone and warm ash. Every now and then, he will flick his thumb, and a tiny, perfectly controlled spark of amber fire will dance across his knuckles, casting a warm, golden glow over your sleeping face. He studies you the way a scholar studies a holy text. He is marvelling at the fragility of your mortal body, completely fascinated by the fact that something so easily broken managed to intrigue him, entertain him, and, against all odds, tether him to this wretched, freezing village.
He will sit there until the sun comes up, guarding his favourite spark in the dark.
Cassariel does not know how to be soft. His/Her entire life has been rigid discipline, cold stone floors, and the harsh glare of the Light. So when you finally get a quiet moment together, Cass treats it with the terrifying reverence of a religious sacrament. While you are sleeping, he/she kneels beside your cot. Cass doesn't sit in a chair—he/she drops to his/her knees on the hard floorboards, stripped of his/her heavy crimson robes but still wearing his/her linen undershirt. Cassariel rests his/her forehead against the edge of your mattress. His/Her hands are clasped together, his/her lips moving in a silent, desperate prayer. But Cassariel isn't praying to his/her god anymore. He/She is praying to whatever force will listen to keep you safe. Sometimes, if he/she thinks you are in a deep enough sleep, he/she will reach out with a trembling, scarred hand and gently brush a stray piece of hair from your face, looking at you like you are the only holy thing left in his/her ruined world.
Solian’s entire existence is a loud, suffocating performance. Whether he/she is playing the peasant for the village or running from the royal Vanguard, he/she is always on edge. A quiet moment with him/her is the only time he/she gets to drop the mask (but these moments rarely occur because of his/her busy schedule). Sol's perfect quiet moment is sitting on the floor behind you, right in front of a dying hearth. The cottage smells like woodsmoke and dried sage. He/She has a carved wooden comb in his/her hands, and is slowly, meticulously working the knots out of your hair. His/Her touch is impossibly gentle. He/She doesn't speak, because words usually mean lies or strategy. Sol just hums a low, nameless tune under his/her breath, leaning forward every so often to press a soft kiss to the crown of your head. For just one hour, he/she isn't a heir. He/She is just yours.
Elden’s quiet is a fortress. El knows that the world outside your door is violent and unpredictable, so he/she makes sure that the inside of your home is the safest place on the continent. When the chaos finally settles, Elden drags the heaviest wooden chair in the room and plants it directly in front of the locked front door. He/She fills the space completely. He/She rests his/her massive broadsword across his/her knees, pulls out an oiled rag and a whetstone, and gets to work. The quiet, rhythmic shhh-shhh of the stone sliding against the heavy steel becomes a bizarre, comforting lullaby. The firelight catches the edge of his/her blade, and his/her massive shoulders finally relax. You can fall asleep instantly, because you know with absolute certainty that absolutely nothing in this world is getting through that door while Elden is sitting there.
