#dtidbit

Zorah is love as a flaw.

Cowering, your love hides in the dark. In shadows and under cover of night, your love runs from corner to corner, afraid to linger, afraid to be caught. Afraid, afraid, afraid of everything. When you fall in love, it is with alarm bells ringing. Your love is a mistake, a flaw in the code, a purchase you don’t remember making and desperately want to return. You didn’t ask for this. You didn’t want this. It’s a problem–– your problem ––and you would do anything to pass it off, burn it away, scoop it out of you with bare hands, or carved out with hooked knives before it can destroy you. Get it out, just get it out now. You don’t care who you hurt in the process, only that you can’t afford to be hurt first. Being loved by you is to be loved by a figment of the imagination. It is to be loved in halves, or not at all.

Freiora is love as a threshhold.

Your love does not ask for much. Your love does not take. Your love is free, and unquestioned, and here for whoever needs it. When you fall in love, it is as gentle as a breath in the night. It is quiet, and it is effortless. It is tender. If your love was a house, it would readily welcome all who come through. If your love was a hearth, it would warm the hands of whoever stopped by, whether for a day, a month, a year, or forever. When you fall for someone, it is without strings, without conditions, without need. You love for the sake of loving, for the sake of caring for those who need it. You love with a giver’s heart and a giver’s hands and are made so much stronger for it. Being loved by you is to always feel at home. Your love may not always be well-received by those unprepared to linger, but it is unforgettable all the same.

Demenia is love as the dawn.

Pastel, saccharine and hopeful, your love rises slow to greet the day. It tiptoes on doe feet and blossoms bit by bit, petal by petal. Love is new to you, isn’t it? A fresh discovery in a world you do not quite understand. Your love loves with bated breaths. Your love swoons and sighs and lingers under awnings. Your love romanticizes. Your love aches as tenderly as a bruise. You’re swollen with desire and idealizations. The perfect kiss, the perfect touch, the perfect partner in life. Your love is wide-eyed and innocent, naive and pristine and oh, so very easily breakable. Being loved by you is to be loved by a child, by a lamb, wooly-eyed and helpless. Oh. I really hope it lasts.

these are absolutely perfect. i'm genuinely impressed !

ZORAH dark stormy blue

Sinking ships, raging seas and tumultuous hearts, love isn't easy for you. It's a struggle, a constant inner fight of should I? Can I? Do I? Feelings are hard and they rumble inside you in a dissatisfied mess that begs to be let out. Your heart screams and cries inside you and you… You can't, you won't. You're scared. And love is scary, it's hard and sometimes it just doesn't work out. People leave, people hurt, people change their minds. And you and your cold stormy heart yearn for the calmness, for the distance, to be allowed and able to simply not feel. And yet, you do. It rages, it fights and storms inside you and you try to keep it down, keep it quiet, to feel pretending not to. It's the burn of childhood friends growing apart, of parents that aren't quite there, of relationships that burn out. So you snuff it down with water, cold and calming and blue, blue, blue. But being loved by you is blue too, just not in that way. It's the soothing, embracing feeling of floating, the moment when you sink down bellow the waves and become one with the water, with everything. It's the balance, the dramatic yet calming sound of waves that crash against a rocky shore. You're the good and the bad, the violence of the storm and the watery peace right after. You're the blue, blue feeling and loving you is watery tears, yelled confessions that no one will hear and burying your feelings in a deep watery grave never to be found out about. Your love is dark stormy blue, it's vast and deep and all encompassing, it's safety in the surface of danger, it's trusting the unruly abyss and yet I'd gladly risk drowning just to feel what it's like being loved by you.

FREIORA warm burnt orange

Riding off into the sunset, the hope of a happy ending, the bitter after taste that still in it's own way smells kinda great. Your love is all bitter hopefulness, all about a broken heart that refuses to quit, all about the unshakable knowledge that a burning fire has a great comforting warm and a soft glowing light, all about the way when the sun comes down there's a beautiful starry night. It's stubbornness, it's the refusal to give up, the clutching of broken shards despite the searing pain and being adamant that dammit you can still make a beautiful stained glass window out of it. Yours is a screaming heart, a pleading love, a bitter and almost belligerent hopefulness that things will still work out even if you have to roll up your sleeves and make them. And god, aren't you tired? Isn't your heart heavy? Is all your hard work worth it? Don't you just want to curl up and let it be? Let the fire turn to ashes and the sky turn dark and let love die down and watch people leave? But you don't, do you? You're the bravest out of all of us, so you pick up the pieces and you keep going, you keep believing and you keep your heart full of hope because some day. Some day you know you'll get it. You keep riding off into the sunset and you keep filling my heart with hope as you go because god, how do I wish you finally get it too.

DEMENIA cold stark gold

Fireworks, borrowed lighters and sparklers against a dark backdrop, yours is a love that burns stark and bright. It's scary though, like things that burn always tend to be, but for you it isn't the thrill of the open flames that gives pause and a slight stomach drop of terror, but rather the time when the flames go out, the sparkler ends and the night is cold and dark once again. Fireworks, borrowed lighters, a striken match, your love burns bright and fast and then maybe it passes, maybe the feeling dies out and you're left in the cold once again. And that's the feeling isn't it? Of being bored and waiting for someone to light you up again? To be fair, you do know you don't need it, but then again we don't often crave the things we need. And you crave and yearn and burn in the wait, restless in the knowledge that at some point someone will pass and rub you the right way, that some day you'll light up the night sky bright yet again. There's comfort in the darkness and solace in the predictable loneliness of the in between, but your heart still squirms inside you, waiting and willing and begging to burn up again. Your love might not be comfort, it's not one for the sick days, but then again, there's a reason why everyone waits for the shining lights in the sky during holidays.

ZORAH is a knife called grief.

You have left your house, you have left those people behind, but what are you going to do about the memories which have taken root in you? You can run but not without them. You want someone to sit with you on this cool marble floor while the sun burns everything.You want them to cut your rotten heart and theirs too. You want to sit with it in front of you, let them see you with all your flaws, which haven’t been your fault but you have been made to believe so, and you want them to love you anyways. Because you know you’d do that for them.

FREIORA is an undoing influence.

Can someone tell you what to do? You have been carrying so much love within you for so long it is starting to turn into anger (why does it matter, all you see is red anyways) and you have been dragging this body through each day and every night you are split open on your bed and it is so so so lonely. If someone were to walk in while you were on your bed that way and they stitched you back in a new way, lining the seams with their love and kisses, you’d probably find this dreary world a little more bearable. You want someone to turn you over and over until you look in the mirror and see yourself looking back at yourself with a gentleness which has been lacking in you since forever.

DEMENIA is consumption of a heart unloved.

Here’s a dining table, here’s a set of plates. Here’s your heart, red and bursting with love. You have tried to love people all your life, but no one seems to understand you. Your own mother perhaps forgot to teach you how to protect yourself, maybe people whom you trusted chose to look the other way when all you wanted was a hand full of love. All you want is someone to take from you, all you want is someone to dig in your heart and eat it and kiss you afterwards - bloody and red. You want them to tell you that you are what they have been looking for, you want to be the one who ends their hunger.

tagged by @tamedstray

Zorah's body type is very much an hourglass. She's somewhat toned, but not overly so. Fairly average. Her hips are set wide, and her chest is quiet large for her frame. She uses this often to her advantage, as many people find her attractive. A good approximation would be someone like Meagan Good.

Freiora's body type is the picture of athleticism: particularly strength. She's broad-shouldered with toned muscles. Her thighs and glutes are her most noticeable musculature, as both are quite developed. Her arms and chest are not neglected by any means, and her back is notably strong as well. A decent bodyclaim for her would be Jessica Lucero.

I'm feeling a bit spicy~ so here are some spicy~ tidbits about the babes!!!! under the cut!

The terrible irony of Demenia is that, while she's severely allergic to cats, she also adores them. Without fail she will attempt to pet them and become a snotty, crying mess.

HC -- Within the Realm, Volothamp Geddarm is well-known. However, among respected scholarly society, he's generally considered a nuisance. His writing is viewed as "unscholarly, abstruse, corpulent doggerel." Nothing is described in acceptable, standardized measures nor backed-up with any amount of validity. So, for the most part, all of his writings are considered entertainment only.

Many rumors revolve around the whacky wizard's existance and writing. Some people say he's not a wizard at all, but a bard claiming to be a wizard in the hope people will take him more seriously. Others suggest the books he's published thus far are comedic ramblings and nothing to be taken with earnest. Worse, many critics outright deny that he's done any of the adventuring he says he has, and wager he's made everything up.

Demenia knows of Volo's writings. She has developed a pseudo-parasocial relationship with Volothamp. Not in the sense that she sees them as friends, but rather, she views him as someone who has personally slighted her (despite never meeting him). This is because she endeavors to do what he's attempted, but she wants to do it in a "proper, pedagogical" manner. The fact that he's potentially soured academic circles against it frustrates her to no end.