#forelsketevig

@forelsketevig asked: “We’ve never met, right? You seem familiar.” - from illuga / first meetings, accepting.

"Ah, but you fail to see this as a deduction technique for what it is, Miss Blone: if you believe yourself infallible, then you've already lost."

At least, that's what he chose to call it for convenience's sake. As a deduction technique, it didn't quite work. As La Mancha directing the Rangers at the vanguard of war? That was vastly different, like the difference between a flood and a small, tepid brook babbling its way through the woods. An old war dog learning how to live like normal people when he was so used to mortar fire and chaos and cosmic catastrophies felt like a joke, the exact sort the Laughter would relish in. Watching the dust take decades to settle as he played at being a detective was fun for THEM, wasn't it?

Ah, whatever. He had a case to crack.

⸻⸻ ✶ @forelsketevig ⠀𝑺𝑬𝑵𝑻⠀⠀𝑰𝑵 ﹕❛ " It's fine to get dogdash, but at least make sure to hydrate yourself. That's my only request." Hallen tucks the receipt in the manilla envelope, she'll do the finance sheet to submit once she can look over it once more. "That much sodium will dehydrate a horse. " ❜

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀𖤝 ᭪⠀ * softest sigh through the detective's nose, the smallest pout of his lips . unbecoming of a being as OLD AS HE IS, but he does get sore about his almost shameful addiction being pointed out like this . at least Hallen does it in a way that shows her care for the wolf, but it's embarrassing all the same .

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ * ❛ i appreciate the looking out .. ❜ velvet tones murmur, sure to let his assistant know that even if he pouts, even if he whines, her attentive care is NOTED . will he change his ways ? well .. let's not get too hasty .

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ * ❛ you're not off the hook though ⸻ have YOU eaten today, at all ? you know i can tell when you haven't . ❜ what exactly he means by that, is an ODD MYSTERY .

⠀⠀⠀⠀

"Maybe I should quit joking about being old. I'm starting to get funny looks," Alonso sighed as he tipped his earthenware mug of tea, inspecting the amber-hued contents contemplatively. Ever since he'd been summoned personally by General Tengxiao at the behest of the Luofu's Master Diviner, the entire flagship had been gripped in a pall of dread, its vice clenching the heart of everyone in the know. Simply put, the Abundance Emanator was due to invade, and this diviner had foreseen his power dispatch it, even if the details were fuzzy.

He wasn't superstitious, but ever since Isee had led him to Norde to attain his terrifying power, Alonso knew better than to disregard the forecast of a clairvoyant in any sense of the word.

@forelsketevig asked: "I've found myself surrounded by the ones that follow Your arrow, I suppose I do smell like one of them." A few subtle wingflaps. "He has protected me from injustice all this time, great Skybow. The least I can do is offer him peace."

Lan’s  gaze  lingers  over  the  stars,  imagining  the  weight  of  her  words.  Protection.  Peace.  Soft  things,  shaped  like  shelter.  When  the  war  is  not  over.  The  Great  Skybow  hums  low,  restless  and  unsatisfied  with  such  an  answer,  as  if  the  very  notion  of  stillness  presses  wrong  against  THEIR  bowstring.

“Offer  guidance  instead.” 

The  words  are  not  an  accusation.  Not  quite.  They  are  shaped  by  an  Aeon  who  never  tires,  who  relentless  chases,  and  there  is  no  excuse  for  a  hunter  to  give  up  when  the  prey  still  runs  free.  The  solar  winds  begin  to  pick  up  around  the  Reingbow  Arbiter  and  whatever  warmth  she  felt  by  leaning  against  THEIR  centaur  foot  now  runs  cold.

She  is small,  bright,  and impossibly  calm,  and  settled  beside  the  vast  pillar  of  THEIR  leg  as  though  it  were  nothing  more  than  a  sun-warmed  stone  in  a  quiet  field.  No  fear.  No  reverence.  Just  …  peace  in  a  vast  void  of  stars. 

“ . . . you’ve  chosen  a  strange  place  to  rest.”

THEIR  voice  is  low,  distant  thunder  rolled  smooth.  Not  unkind  or  irritated,  only  indifference.  Mortals  are  frail,  but  those  blessed  by  a  glance  of  an  Aeon  are  able  to  withstand  the  celestial  divinity  the  archer  emits.  A  beat  passes  between  them  and  The  Reingbow  picks  up  a  scent  on  her,  something familiar  …  and  belonging  to  a  hunter. 

Great. She'd been summoned and already her Master was on the verge of passing out. "Hmph, weaklings the lot of them. Those other 'Servants' have been taken care of, Praetor." she explained. "However, let's get you somewhere safe to tend to your injures." She gently hoisted Hallen onto herself and quickly found an unused side street and went to it.