#fairhelios

"Ah, more and more, your kind seem to be flocking this way. The stars must truly loathe my kind, wouldn't you agree?"

He's not pleased in the slightest. More angels meant that he and his subjects, of any, really, as well as Vanth, could be in trouble.

"Are....you...real?" Sam manages to choke out. His voice a whisper. Even if the Stars had stripped this angel of his power, Sam could still feel the holy energy radiating off of him. It was enough to make him tear up, and it also kind of hurt.

Like when the sunlight would hit your peripheral vision. Of course, Sam didn't know that's what was causing this sensation. He was kind of star struck, and it wouldn't have been far fetched for him to consider the idea that he might've just been imagining this.

He held his hands close to his chest, clasping them together in a desperate kind of way.

Namine remembered that fireworks were a novelty back in her realm. She never got to see any, but...

The blonde shakes her head. No, there is no time to dwell on old missed opportunities. She just only wishes Ikki was here.

Andrale hadn't really expected someone else to join her in the glamour the pixies offered. Still, it was nice to share a view of home.

Even if it wasn't home.

Andrale breathes in deep and lets out a heavy sigh. "They even got the smell down, amazing." She says as she looks to Mael. "Welcome to the Brecillian Forest, my birthplace and home back in Thedas. Well, it was."

"Though I'm not quite sure how something like this managed to show up here, I'm not unhappy."

In fact, she's quite visibly elated: clutching a doll in her arms, the toy's blue dress and long light-blond hair a welcome, well-missed comfort. Silly as it was given her age, she was worried she'd never see the doll again; the very same item had caused her years of comatose status and a long hospital stay, but as her sister'd never wanted her back...the little doll had become Rachel's (renamed Paulownia, or Polly, the doll had become a constant companion).

There were, of course, other things the seller'd had -- Fenrir logo'd items, a hat bearing Friar and BLOOD's insignias...she could return for those later, if she wanted. Perhaps she could believe someone else would be here someday, or maybe be amused by the idea someone had turned around back home and found their hat and other items simply gone. But her doll was a far more important than the others, for now, prioritized in comfort as humans are wont to do.

She regards her companion with a gentle smile; he's very lovely, radiant, quite literally similar to descriptions of angels -- she thinks of the stained glass in Friar's high rooms, and the photos from the churches in the former city districts. Perhaps somewhere out there, angels of some type were real: if her world could have artificial gods, perhaps his could have...whatever he truly is.

"You should check some of the other stalls. They may have something sentimental too."

He sits at Savior's respite. Quietly, he's working on the healing of his body. It's been only a day since his confrontation with Sebastian. While he did more numbers on the demon, it didn't mean Klaus left without a few injuries of his own.

Prompts from Critical Role: Vox Machina Campaign 1, Episode 31: "Gunpowder Plot: Part 1." assorted dialogue from the campaign as I watch through it for the first time, adjust as necessary

This person's Psionic aura reminded him of something. Of someone. A specific kind of mind--a mind more expansive than a typical mortal's. And yet, a mind still singular, contained in one physical body. To a telepath like Lorene, this person's aura said to him: "This is either a Godling, or a minor god." Either way, it sent the Prince's hackles up. Between his culture believing that the gods genuinely hated them, his experiences being jerked around by the gods, and the whole thing of Spirale being run by god-like entities that played with their lives as if they were toys--to say that Lorene was distrustful of anything that smacked of godhood was an understatement.

He was beautiful, too, which Lorene hadn't yet decided whether that was a quality that made a man inherently untrustworthy, or inherently made him want to draw closer to him. The man's aura of distinct melancholy, however, ended up being the deciding factor. He was either too pretty, or too sad, for Lorene to feel right telling him to fuck off. In the end, it didn't matter, since the result was the same.

"Don't we all." He tried not to let the melancholy well up within him too strongly. More than once, the warrior Prince had been faced with his own mortality--and the dark choices that come with such situations. "Generally, living is worth the struggle...especially because." He tried to lighten the mood between them, strangers though they were, by lightening his tone a bit, unsure of how it would come across.

✦ The garden apparently responded to what your "ideal" garden might look like, so Luluka wasn't surprised to see her surroundings fill themselves with white lilies. There was a time once when this was her ideal, back before her most important thing had been taken from her. But now they only served as a sour reminder of what she had lost... and what she was trying to conceal.

Focusing on these feelings, those lilies were suddenly dyed black. She just hadn't realize there had been someone in the garden with her.