#fatebrker

@fatebrker   said :

he doesn't mean to. or—he does, but not like this. not here. not surrounded by beasts acting on instinct, deep in wilderness previously unknown to thancred. he had pleaded for emet to show him what he's missed his whole life——places he's never been. the small grove hidden deep in the shroud that nobody knows about. the abandoned citadels lost in dravania. more and ever more.

he goes to reload his weapon. feels the weight of a cartridge in his hand, icy to the touch and violet stained. it feels like emet. cold, and powerful, and elegant. something that makes thancred feel safe. this is a habit they've formed now, this exchange of power and wordless protection of one another.

mismatched eyes glance back and catch yellow. a half - moment of respite. thancred smiles at his lover, squeezes the cartridge in his fingers; " we should get married. "

bullet into chamber. he springs away back into the fight as if he said nothing, too lost in adrenaline to process the weight of his own words.

                   RUINS       ABANDONED       LEFT       TO       THE       ROT       OF       TIME   .     this, he assumed, would be yet another intriguing and fruitful venture.     he assumed incorrectly.     maws snapped, jaws cracked as they unhinged, and emet had the displeasure of slinging ooze from his blade with an indignant sound of disgust after wrenching it from the mouth of a beast.     how was he supposed to know the temple would be crawling with chimeric vermin ?     where one fell, two more seemed to crawl from the cracks in the walls, or beneath rubble piles.     if he had wanted to spar with a hydra, well, he would bloody go back to———

                   ❝   pay attention, thancred !   ❞     he snaps, gunblade quite literally thrown into the monster charging thancred's back.     struck through its sides, the thing skitters malms back, pinned to stone and tangled in bramblethorn where it screeches pathetically and writhes.     a moment of respite indeed, for the gunbreaker perhaps.     how bothersome that he'd have to use his rest summoning another blade to his charge.     greatsword oozes abyssal affinity, introductory thunk as its tip buries into ground and darkness creeps across the ground underfoot.     concentration, one with himself, with his lover, with hades.

                   and, as always, thancred proved to be quite the distraction.     ❛   we should get married .   ❜    

                   it stuns him enough to utterly and completely ruin any attempt at calling upon esteem's aid.     in truth, he's speechless.     had anyone else been present, they'd think emet a fool for the way he stares at thancred.     while marriage to ancients had never been the ceremony mortals made it out to be, he still understood the bond.     these were words one never spoke lightly and without reason, though he cannot fathom why thancred would choose now of all times... to suggest such a thing.     and even as the gunbreaker, cartridge in hand crawling with so sickeningly familiar yet volatile aether, lunged back into the fray, emet count only watch, mouth somewhat open.     there is no mistaking the way his heart, and lashes, fluttered.

                   ❝   you...   ❞     hands tighten on greatsword's handle.     blade ripped from the ground as darkness recedes back into his person, he raises it, points it straight ahead and passes a free hand across the chilled steel and iron.     purple pours from ruby gem, corrupts the crest and envelops the sword.     ❝   ...absolute damn fool.   ❞

                   teeth grit, yet in spite of the sheer agitation that's pitched its tent upon his features, there's a fondness in his voice.     trust of his blade to the sky, swipe to the left, quick tap against his shoulder before his stance sinks low.     two shields envelop thancred, deep plum and sickly magenta mingling with a plethora of runic symbols not dissimilar to altered ley lines in blaring red... they almost appear white to the naked eye; they almost mimic the shape of twin claws cradling him protectively.     had thancred taken a moment to look back, he'd notice emet is glaring right at him, jaw set, determined and a little annoyed.

— @fatebrker​:  “  it looked kind of beautiful in a fucked up sort of way.  blood on snow.  the kind of thing you usually only see in stories.  ” blood related prompts / accepting.

DROP BY DROP the blood dyed snow white a daring shade of crimson, drawing one’s gaze until it was the only thing one could see. A pureness dyed red — how quaint a description of human nature, how stories spoke of bloodshed, of sanguine ichor that flooded the earth, staining everything in its path, including the snowfields whenever men desired so. at least there was no bitterness to be found in the bloodshed here, not yet, but it was only a wonder of how long before the tension broke.

“ it always does look beautiful, doesn’t it ? ” their voice is soft — not his usual bite lacing throughout, smoke dancing into the sky from the cigarette between his fingers. wounds sluggishly bleeding from both as they pressed against thancred’s side, until thighs are touching and they cannot get any closer, claiming warmth through body heat in the frigid air. 

“ such a pity this kind of beauty requires destruction of some kind but i suppose that will always be the way of things, don’t you think ? beauty will always require some kind of destruction and a hint of pain, i feel. ” his gaze tilts upwards slightly, to meet thancred’s, a sly smirk on his lips. “ there is no shame in that, hm ? ”

prompts | accepting !

SHE brings the wet rag to thancred's hands, having successfully wrung out the water and blood from when she had cleaned his face. she holds one of his hands in her own and begins scrubbing it down, gently, but firm enough that she can try to work around his trembling.

there were a thousand questions burning on her tongue, and a thousand answers that likely would have led to a thousand more questions. her main concern, however, was that she wasn't quite sure why thancred had come to her.

initially, she'd thought him injured, the blood on him his own, and wondered why y'shtola or urianger weren't the first people he sought out, with their much better grasp on magic. still, though, when she'd asked where he was hurt he'd simply shook his head, face grim, and sat down, staring into his hands.

she'd seen thancred in many situations, with many emotions; fear was not one of them. had never been one of them. she wasn't quite sure if thancred ever got scared. if he did, he never showed it. at least not to her. caeda wondered if perhaps this was a moment she wasn't meant to see, a moment of vulnerability not meant for her.

still, she couldn't imagine simply leaving him alone. not after this.

"your clothes will have to be washed," she says into the air, the first words uttered since thancred had sat down. an obvious fact, but something to ground him if he was lost in his thoughts. she's just about done with the first hand, the dried blood coming off in flakes and leaving his skin slightly reddened now.

as he wordlessly offers her his other one, movements smooth and graceful as always, she thanks him, voice hopefully cutting through whatever was eating at him in his head. she begins to scrub, movements easy, second nature to her after so many years tending to messy little children and moogles alike.

caeda doesn't want to ask him what happened, for whatever it was seemed to haunt him; she wasn't sure she wanted to know what could have possibly frightened thancred of all people this badly, to the point where he was near-catatonic as she scrubbed him down, not even mentioning the blood covering him.

so she continues to talk, for it's all that's keeping her from jumping at the bit to ask any question she can think of.

"you might still need a bath after this regardless."

was it meant as humorous? she's not sure herself. she just knows she'd want a bath after all this.

she finishes wiping off the worst in silence, not sure if anything she could think to say would be a comfort to him. so instead she says what she knows she'd have wanted to hear, after her first kill.

*at a zoo* Thancred: What are they in for? Meteor: Thancred, this isn't prison. Thancred: So they can leave? Meteor: No, but- Thancred, pointing at a meerkat: I bet that one murdered someone.

Meteor: Can we go to a haunted house? Thancred: What’s wrong with the one we live in? Meteor: Wh-what? Thancred: Goodnight, Meteor.

“ Have you been following me, or should I just consider this a lucky coincidence ? ”

“...hypocrite” she mumbles doing her best to remain calm... for perhaps five seconds. and then she tries to push herself up too fast, a sharp pain across her body reminding her of the battles she had survived only a few days prior. “you thought I left? that I would not come back? I at least did not make you watch as everyone you love gets swallowed by nothingness! and don’t give me some bullshit excuse how you all had to do that for the greater good, for me to see it through the end. because I can say that back at you, I sent you away because I fucking love you, all of you.”

@fatebrker​ asked:      ✘ do u think im cute       //     [ ✘ ]  3 / 10  --  Accepting

Of all the things to ask when pure and unfiltered honesty is all you can give --    Perhaps insecurities plague him, perhaps it’s merely vanity, who are you to judge? You will assuage his worries nonetheless with the softest of exasperated chuckles.