#fadelilted

@fadelilted​: "it seems now that i am the one who takes up too much of your time-- go on then, before the sun rises again and we're made to return to 'serious' activities rather than games of strategy. good night, lethallen." perhaps it's tiredness, or a feeling of kinship, but when mahanon makes to leave, he does stop to place a quick kiss to the mage's brow, a quiet 'blessing' of sorts following in his wake when he exited. " may you dream in peace. "

                         * /  @fadelilted

@fadelilted​ sent: " it's not finished quite yet, but i thought perhaps you might appreciate something to take with you as you traveled-- one can never have too many pouches, i've found." he's still stitching delicate flowers into the cloth of the drawstring pouch, a simple brown bag with a pale green lining, but he'd wanted to show the work so far, to see what the other thought.

IM LOV U

@fadelilted​ asked:  "i remember when you were still too little to draw a bow properly... so determined to be a fierce hunter... and yet you'd always want a story by the fire..."

        ❝ Too determined, if you asked Ashalle or the Keeper. The forests called to me and I was so desperate to learn, to prove I can do it and join the hunters...I can’t believe that you remember that. ❞

        Chuckles escape her lips as she shakes her head. Ashera was too prideful and too stubborn then. Just a girl trying to prove that she can do anything she set her mind on. She followed the hunters around camp, always trying to be the first to see them off and greet them once they returned. Mahanon had it the worst out of them all. She gravitated towards him, following him around and asking questions about whatever was on her mind. Oh goodness, did she have many questions. He could have gotten tired of all the questions and she wouldn’t have noticed. She was so curious.

@fadelilted​ said: “You look like you could use a coffee.”

          It took Dorian an embarrassingly long moment to process what Mahanon had said. That was never a good sign, but luckily enough, it was one which Dorian could keep silent and secret. The less which was known about that, the better. Once he had understood and processed the words, his hands all but flew up to touch his face beneath his eyes.

          „ Do I truly look so terrible !? I thought that I looked fine this morning ! ” Because Dorian would not admit that he had been slow to catch what was said to him, nor would he admit that he had been drifting — both his thoughts as well as himself, dangerously close to sleep. No, none of that would do. It simply had to be about his appearance. There was a level of relative safety in such an idea.

For @fadelilted​ - Accepting

“Everyone's Immortal, until they're not.”