#eredeha

      A SIMPLE GESTURE — music cast betwixt them, filling the air with melody. a quiet moment, something serene && comforting to share with her, entwined among the pillows of the couch.

      && yet she does not stay still for long once kaia sets loose the orchestrion. no, the dancer moves, twirling about in front of her, moving her hips alongside the beat of the melody. && after a short moment, her hand is extended to her, a warm smile on her lips as she approaches to pull her close && into her dance.

aww , that was unfortunate : she hadn’t even touched the spicy shakshouka he had bought just for the occasion , but it still rested in the pot -- its overwhelming aroma filling his nostrils and making his stomach rumble despite having already downed a hearty meal !   but he couldn’t blame her : the air permeated with rich aether in the mourning dew was truly refreshing , and the waterfall clashing into the nothingness served as the perfect background noise that lulled any soul to rest , even for a while .

this is his end.  by his hand has it all unraveled  --  the crowning hubris of his most desperate act.  he had only wanted to save them.  he had only wanted to do good.  now,  it filters through in a steady stream,  the conviction of his sentencing :  liar.  deceiver.  failure.  by your hand,  we are destroyed.  by your hand,  oblivion. 

(  can you already feel yourself slipping away,  speaker?  a slow death,  a steady stream,  like a haze.  how conscious are you into the loss?  how much before the blood is too much?  )

he settles a hand into her hair,  fingers twisting and tightening  --  violence for violence’s sake.  at least this one is his choice.  at least she is willing participant  (  if he settles into the grief now,  it will overwhelm him;  there is no other choice but to fight the waves  ).  there is desperation to the press of his mouth to hers,  desperation to his teeth in her lip,  desperation to everything. 

@eredeha​​   「  unprompted bc my wife is nasty  」    ↬       The betrayal; the one standing before her. She's found him. " No, this isn't right. " her voice drawls low, almost seething to who stands before her. " This isn't right, " she repeats. It comes in a flash but she's pressed up against him, armed for his neck, she can see him but he doesn't see her.

" Pray return to me, "

Madness drips like venom while nails dance against flesh. It's both teasing and threatening, that she'll do what it takes to corrupt him all over again. Come back to her.

Echoes plague her mind, it's a searing headache she's learned to ignore. Pain is only a test. Push. Endure. Take what's yours.

" You dare permit them to fool you so easy? "

It's blood lust, it's war. / LAHAERIS WITH SCION LAHA LET'S GOO

veins,  which make mapwork to their study;  an anatomy lesson in the history them.  it is all violence,  all red.  he cannot remember when he first took the scalpel to the dissection,  to the pieces of her lodged into his chest,  but it has been nothing but gore.  a slow,  steady process,  among the splinters of a god and the wreckage of whoever he had been when the world was new.

what he has salvaged is what remains.  he aught to have known this was coming.  a cyclical violence  --  he drags her beneath the waves,  and when his head breaks,  she returns the favor.  in kinder study :  he knows her moods intimately,  a long-studied habit of adoration,  and since the day the scions had shattered zodiark’s hold on him,  he had known.

so it is not fear or even surprise that greets her.  the dance of nails across his skin,  the low threat of her voice.  she will have to take a bigger bite of him if she wants his reaction.  they are entwined,  bound;  she wants chaos,  but she has become predictable.  such is the nature of love,  or whatever this mangled version of it is.

“  eris.  “  her name is a low greeting as he turns within her grasp,  fingers looping loosely around one wrist.  he supposes he shouldn’t be surprised that she has changed so little,  but the shattering of their star has done nil to quell that fire bright burn of her.  perhaps that is why he is always reaching for her,  hand first  --  adoration for the flame,  and all the devastation it brings.  “  forgive me,  i wasn’t expecting company.  “

it is a tease,  of course;  teeth to the throat,  a plea for anything except forgiveness.  even if he is no longer the speaker,  he is still a master of the craft.  better at weaving his temper between syllables than letting it flare and catch to everything within sight.  his fingers squeeze against her bones,  and he wonders how much of her will crack.  zodiark’s most devoted servant.

(  that had been him,  once.  the whispers settle low to his ear  --  could be,  again  ).

He turned around to let her know that she was felt and noticed. Having been told that the person who requested for his aid would be here, he had spent the entire time trying to locate them, only for said person to find him instead. She fits the description, alright.

unprompted asks // always accepting | @eredeha

          In the dry winds of Amh Araeng, one might have thought the taverns spiralling from the streets of Nabaath Areng to be as numerous as the scattering of sands. A central city in Norvrandt’s trading routes, many who paused within her luxurious city were treated to its richness and charm; an oasis in the desert whose very existence spelled untold promise ( even if Ardbert had been warned many a time not push himself too deep into her underbelly ). A melting pot of culture, food and wealth — the tavernkeepers would argue theirs was an addition to the richness of the city, and not an excuse for its denizens to escape the heat.

          Though, if he were to be frank, he wished someone had warned him about Kaia’s drinking rather than the allure of the city, as the first seemed far more dire. They’d come in ( metaphorically ) drunk off their victory in the Fields of Amber, slaughtering a number of monsters that posed a threat to the mining communities, and the gil in their pockets burned a hole they so desperately wished to mend. Navigating to the first tavern in sight, they bought themselves a round of drink and food and commenced their merriment well into the night.

          Now? Now the golden light of dawn was peeking over the edges of the labyrinthian brickwork, and Ardbert had personally volunteered himself Kaia’s caretaker after their friends had bid their goodbyes for the night. She, ever the bard ( or gremlin, or chaos — all were perfectly good descriptors ), had formally decided that the passage of time was a farce and she could drink and eat until her heart’s content. That meant he, mostly sober with the passage of time, was now all but carrying her back to their lodgings as she slurred and lurched down the road like a Dwarf at nine bells. It was his responsibility, after all, to be the caretaker for his party. He was their leader; their wellbeing was his responsibility.

          Sometimes, however, in instances like these, he wished he had passed it onto Branden.

          ❝Whoa, whoa  — ❞ Momentary concern was dashed on the rocks of her blatant desires, and Ardbert went a shade of brilliant carmine. His muscles, as acutely aware of them as he had become ( and thus tried to mask ) flexed easily as the held her weight, such a burden barely a hinderance, and her question only deepened his hue as he coughed loudly and tried to set his gaze forward-bound.

          ❝Kaia, it’s not even night.❞ Though he had not said no to her request. More likely than not he would stay, if only to ascertain she wasn’t going to throw up all over her inn room or try to sneak out for more drinks. 

@eredeha​​ has inquired:  “ i always come running back to you. i can’t help it. ” shippy memes / accepting.

RUNNING AND RUNNING, AND RUNNING AWAY, it was all she’d ever known. Running away from war as a child that should’ve never seen such things, from the grief and loss that followed, from all that clutched at her heart, from her own feelings that threatened to tear at her chest, to rip out her heart that was held firm by wolf’s fangs to keep it locked tightly away in the deepest cavity of her chest, keeping it all safe where others couldn’t see her pain and how it tug at her so. 

And yet, Kaia, breathtakingly beautiful Kaia, ever the elusive creature that had found herself born into a life of running just as Eldera had — running from family obligations, from a life that had been made for her that she hadn’t wanted, to find her own kind of freedom outside of another’s clutches — found it in her to run towards the wolf stricken with grief, to find a place within the cavity of Eldera’s chest and make it a home all her own. While she had never fretted when Kaia up and ran, knowing that eventually the woman would once again return, she couldn’t deny that the words soothed a wound before it could form.

@eredeha​ said:  A smug look as she's dropping onto his lap, dangling her legs from where they were sitting, she hands him a drink. " Did you think you were gonna get off that easily? " takes a sip of her own, elbowing him softly. " Hope you don't have plans come dawn, we're drinking the night away. " / for thancred

unprompted // always accepting

     “Imagine having plans more important than drinking with you.” The rogue tosses his head back with a laugh, eyes glimmering, not unlike the drink in his hand, under the warm lamplight. He accepts the offered drink into his waiting palm and lightly clinks the rim of his glass against hers before raising it to his lips and taking a gulp of its contents. It’s bad luck, if not simply poor form, to toast without drinking afterwards— who is he to object?

Kaia is warm and comfortable, seated on his lap as if she belongs there and— as far as Thancred is concerned— she may as well. He certainly takes no issue with being situated beneath a mischievous beauty for the evening, let alone one who drinks as well as he. He is far from the man he had once been, however, and considers the fact that such a drink is being shared with someone dear to him far more the valuable point.

     “To what occasion do I owe this pleasant turn of events? It couldn’t be the time of year, now, could it?” A grin to match Kaia’s alights upon his lips as he wraps his free arm around her back, steadying her position so that she need not worry about falling— not that it’s her like to worry about such a thing, in the first place. Perhaps ‘so that he need not worry about her falling’ would be the more appropriate phrasing. “Eager for the heavens to turn, dear viola? I know I am. This year has been unexpectedly long. Feels more like five, or so. Perhaps more.”

Ah, and here he’d thought he’d grown past hiding pain behind humor. Not entirely, it seems. He smiles, takes another drink, and shakes off the sullen air in favor of the celebration. He drops her a wink over the rim of his glass before lowering it and inclining his head towards her own beverage of choice.