#gxntil

This colored art, featuring my OC Alice and @gxntil’s Olithier who is hugging the former, is made by @chickie-dee​! Thank you so much for your work!

Always the curious bard, Venti couldn’t help but to let the smell of freshly baked sweets pull him along by the nose. He caught hints of apple and cinnamon, and at alone made him want to try a morsel. Weaving between the buildings, mouth watering, he stopped only when he was sure he found the source.

         “Thanks, my guy! You totally saved me from like, living one of those vine swinging days!” Not that his hair was akin to vines, but to her they might as well have been. It was so long she would have been tangled in it forever trying to get out.

Age: 123

Do you like to cuddle?: I always like to cuddle

Can we make-out?: Of course, I am finding that to be, ah, rather enjoyable (cue a very red faced elf)

A night in or dinner out?: You are knowing I am not too fond of, ah, eating out. The portions, they are too large. Please let me cook…

Whip cream or chocolate syrup?: The sweeter things, they are not for me. But we shall say both, because it is for you.

Chocolates and roses?: Um, but why not both?

What makes you a good Valentine?: I am not sure. I am not being sure if I am, ah, at all, really. I am only wanting to be making you happy.

Would you cook for me?: Absolutely, I always do and I always shall. Ah, which it bringing the question, what would you like to be having for dinner tonight?

Would you let me cook for you?: If that is what you are wanting, Órenya.

Where would you take me on a date?: To the water’s edge, on a grassy bank with flowers. To watch the sunset and speak of everything and, ah, nothing all at once. To simply be in that moment of time when the sun bids farewell and we welcome the moon’s gentle glow. 

Who’s paying?: I will, I am perfectly happy to.

What did you get me for Valentine’s Day?: This ring, ah, w-would you marry me?

— valentine’s day application / @gxntil​

              ‘ Why is he so nervous? ’

The question lingered in her mind even as she listened to her beloved Olithier’s answers, some of which she found predictable in the most endearing way. Each one brought her a little smile or a giggle hidden behind her hand, or ( if it was a particularly sweet answer ) a mistiness to her eyes that only he could bring her. She was truly fortunate that someone with a heart as big and full as his wanted to share even a portion of his life with her.

“I should’ve known you’d be a sap.” She let out a tiny snort with her giggle, but the sound was quick to catch on a knot that rapidly formed in her throat.

The merriment in the room didn’t grow cold, but it was awfully still.

Anita opened to mouth to ask him to repeat himself, but no sound escaped her. She simply sat there, looking thoroughly flabbergast and in slight disbelief because she couldn’t have heard that. No. She wasn’t the type of person that deserved to be asked that. She had finally learned to accept that he cared for her, but never once allowed herself to humor the idea of marriage.

She was a brute and had an awful tongue, not to mention she was a damn glutton. She couldn’t cook or clean or sew, and she couldn’t provide the same way he did. All she could do was daydream about being a good wife, but to put it into practice would surely mean failure on her part and regret on his.

But he wasn’t the type to tease, not like this. And the timing! It was almost like he’d waited for the opportune time to strike. The blow, regardless it being a figurative one, left her feeling as if she had been punched in the gut. What choice did she have but to believe him? He was an honest man, and playing with with the emotions of the people he cared for was not a hobby of his as far as she knew.

Drawing nearer, Anita seemed to shrink in on herself — not out of fear, but purely because he gave her the room to be small and soft and delicate when she wanted to be. The sting in her eyes become more prevalent as real, fully-formed tears wetted her lashes.

“It’s so pretty.” She sucked in a breath, but it didn’t do what it was meant to. Anita wanted to remain calm and level-headed as she always was, but ( once again ) Olithier proved to be one of the two that could pull her emotions from her. Unable to contain the welling damn, the druid let out a chest-rattling sob and cupped both of her hands around his.

She wouldn’t accept it yet, but it was tempting to let him slip it onto her finger then and there. Before that, however, she had to know.

“People will know if I walk around with it on.” She sniffled loudly, her nose leaking just as profusely as her eyes were. “They’ll know that you’re coming home to someone that can’t make you food or speak your language very well and is incredibly selfish.”

She let out another sob, rubbed her wet face on her sleeve and looked up at him, appearing every bit as pathetic as she felt. “But, y’know, if you’re alright with that, then yeah! Sure, I’ll marry you. I’ll marry you right now.”

Yells at from across the room "Do you want cake? I made cake!"

Oh, one of the best magic words has been heard! She quickly shouts back from her side of the room with utmost enthusiasm:

@gxntil hit the ♥

  “And I keep telling you, we’re walking in circles.”

  Abby groaned. Her small hands fiddled with the poor excuse for a map that had been guiding them for the past five hours, but no matter which way she turned the old piece of parchment, she just couldn’t make sense of the hastily scribbled lines and supposed landmarks drawn on it. Perhaps it had been a bad idea to trust that old vagrant whom she had bought it from for only but a couple of coins. Tired and frustrated, she craned her neck as far as possible as if the elevated position would eventually help her find the right path.

  “Okay, okay, stop. STOP, I said! I need to think.”

  Marlow, her trusty jacob sheep, noble steed and only companion out on this foreign road, bleated loudly in protest but finally stopped his steady plod to let the small halfling woman slip off his back. His voice was muffled by the bone mask she had attached to his head after the third particularily ugly incident in a village they had passed. Marlow hated the mask, but at least it held together most of the slowly decaying flesh that had started falling off his face in chunks a couple of weeks ago. The gunk did not bother Abby any more than Marlow’s headstrong attitude did at times, but it had turned out to make travelling unsuspiciously rather complicated.

  With a small sigh, Abigail walked over to an old chestnut tree that she was definitely not seeing for the first time on this trip, and dropped down in the shade. Rummaging through her pockets, it did not take her long to find the small pouch she was aiming for and empty it into her open palm. She covered the makeshift bowl with her other hand, gave the whole thing a good shake and whispered a small prayer to the sky. Then she tossed the acorns out onto the soil in front of her.

  Again... nothing.

  “Ahhhh! Are you freaking serious?!”, she cried out and brushed away the unhelpful nuts with an angry swipe of her arm. If not for an unsuspected miracle they would have to camp out in the woods again tonight. Evidently Marlow, who boredly had started chewing on some lonely strands of knotgrass out of habit rather than necessity, couldn’t care less. His ears twitched and he bleated once more, abruptly pulling Abby from her troubled thoughts.

  The young halfling perked up. Someone was coming. A woman, from what her eyes could make out from the far curve of the road ahead. Oh thank the elders!

  “Hey!!” She jumped to her feet and waved her arms, eyes shining with newfound hope. “Hey, mylady! Hold on, do you know how I get to the next town?” The common speech was laced by a thick accent that Abby had not been able to get rid of just yet.

🚀—“Jｏｉｎ ｗｉｔｈ ｙｅｓｔｅｒｄａｙ'ｓ ｆｏｅ ｔｏ ｓｍａｓｈ ｆａｔｅ,

                                                  💫 — ａｎｄ ｇｒａｂ ｔｏｍｏｒｒｏｗ'ｓ ｐａｔｈ

                                                                           ｗｉｔｈ ｏｕｒ ｏｗｎ ｈａｎｄｓ!”

   Dalaran was a beautiful city. A beautiful, confusing, winding city. In the sky.  

 Had he already been down this street? 

               ...that was a mailbox... How many mailboxes were in this city?

  His mission was a noble endeavor - a request of Lady Proudmoore, his current liaison within Azeroth. And he was determined to deliver the missive to Vereesa Windrunner. It wasn’t a difficult task, but ah, it was taking him some time to gain his bearings in the enchanted city.

  Viral was so engrossed in his study of the elegantly scrawled directions upon a sheet of parchment, that he didn’t notice the presence ahead of him until he’d already knocked the figure brusquely. Displeasure (at his negligence, not the figure!) wrought his mouth downwards, exposing tapered, carnassial  teeth.  

    ❝Nnh, my mistake. That was careless of me.❞

   He set a massive gloved hand upon the slender figure’s shoulder, in an effort to steady them. His expression might have appeared harsh, but his tone and gestures contrasted in concern.   

    ❝Are you all right?❞

                                    🐾—ɪ'ᴍ ʜᴇʀᴇ ʙᴇᴄᴀᴜsᴇ ʏᴏᴜ'ʀᴇ ʜᴇʀᴇ ,                                         ‘ǝɹǝɥ ǝɹ'noʎ ǝsnɐɔǝb ǝɹǝɥ ɯ'I