#halsins

                          An Extremely Self-Indulgent Meme

 ▌ ❰❰ DYING ❱❱ sender finds the receiver near death !!! / ooo angstt        「 @halsins 」  

       She  should  be  helping  the  others,       who  still  fought  off  the  rest  of  their  foes.  Should  provide  enchantments,  a  spell  or  two.  Yet,  when  the  warlock  noticed  Halsin  retreating    (  Whether  it  was  by  instinct  or  strategy  )    and  leaning  against  some  rubble,  rough,  yielding.  He  looked  awful.

   A  sight  she  was  never  unfortunate  enough  to  witness.  Not  to  this  extent.

    Red  eyes  suddenly  glued  to  his  frame,  panic  swelling  up  her  stomach,  settling  in  her  throat.  She  could  not  bring  out  a  tone.

   The  woman's  gaze  flicked  towards  the  others  quickly  ;  then,  stumbling  rather  than  sprinting  towards  the  hurt  druid.

       ❝  Halsin- ❞

A  trembling  sound.  Babette  lowered  herself  to  her  knees  next  to  his  bleeding  form,  hands  hovering,  shaking,  not  knowing  where  to  touch  or  what  to  do,  really.  The  fey  was  no  healer.  Never  cast  spells  from  similar  nature.  Halsin  was  the  healer.  Halsin  could  heal   &   tend   &   make  things  better.  That  was  his  job,  not  hers.  But  he  did  not  heal  himself.  Why  didn't  he  heal  himself    ?    Why  was  he  breathing  so  heavily,  so  pale.  Hazel  eyes  seemed  unfocused,  trying  to  concentrate  with  weak  strength.

Eventually,  a  tender  hand  placed  itself  on  the  elf's  broad  shoulder,  a  place  where  she  supposed  there  was  no  bruise.       ❝  Halsin    ?    You  are  hurt.  Are  you  going  to  be  okay    ?    D-do  you  need  a  potion  .  .  .  ?    I  think  I  still  have  one-  .  .  . ❞        Rummaging  in  her  bag  in  haste.  Empty,  empty,  empty.  Gods  no,  not  NOW.

      ❝ I  don't  know  any  healing  spells,  please  tell  me  you  will  be  fine  without.  Y-You  can  tell  me  what  I  need  to  do,  I  will  help  you,  yes    ? ❞      She  was  shivering  from  the  chaos,  the  noise,  this  scene.  To  see  this  rock  of  a  man  reduced  to  a  pale,  bleeding  mess.  Babette's  head  came  to  rest  against  his  forehead.  Her  witch's  turn  touching  the  spot  right  over  Halsin's  brow.  A  thing  the  tailor  wasn't  even  noticing  happening.

       ❝  Please  stay  awake  .  .  . ❞      These  hands  are  only  good  for  stitching  clothes,  not  wounds  .  .  .

The lake swallows sound, makes ghosts of footfalls. Pines lean inward like conspirators, their shadows long and crooked, and the half-drowess stands at the edge, half in the world and half somewhere else.

She sees him then.

Half-submerged in the lake, back to her, broad shoulders slick with water and moonlight. Muscles carved by years of mercy, years of war. His hair clung to his neck, darkened by the wet. The sound of it—his hands moving through the water, the slow breath he took—felt too real, too close. He doesn't seem surprised when she appears, as if she was expected.

Serenei stops at the water’s edge. The air is damp and cool and heavy with yarrow, yet her skin burns. Slender fingers find the clasp of her cloak. She shrugs it off without a word. Fingers slid beneath the buckles of her leathers, tugged loose with practice. There was no hesitation. No blush. The faint skyglow traced her slowly, clinging to the curves of her hips, the hollow of her collarbone, the gentle swell of her breasts. The night air kissed every scar, every mark left behind by gods and men, and she let it. Let it see her. Let him.

She stepped into the lake.

The cold licked up her legs, pulled a sharp breath from her lungs. She walked until it met her hips, bare skin lit silver by the moon, pale and soft against the dark water. Her hair trailed behind her heavy and almost phosphorescent, catching the starlight at the tips. He was close now, though she didn’t look at him.

she's suddenly having flashbacks to moonhaven ----- and not just the delightful conversation she had with lump and his friends. ( granted, there wasn't a troll to be seen when she'd ignored shadowheart's plea to leave those barn doors closed, but it's still a picture that will forever be etched onto the back of her eyes. )

"oof," regardless ------ it's an image he's painting. his likening her to a troll doesn't do much to deter the grin she's got on her face ----- or convince her to abdicate his lap for somewhere else to sit.

"does that mean you thought i was actually subtle before?" ( with him she'd been almost the most shockingly unsubtle she'd ever been in her life ---- from that first conversation during the party onwards. she'd made her intentions more than clear. ) her hips shift in his lap to help make her point.

"i'm going to take that as a compliment i think. but only from you."

✱ ˚｡ ⋆ ↪ 𝐈 𝐒𝐄𝐄 𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐄 .

👑 ࣪ . ࿐ ♡ ˚ . SYLVERIAN FROZE AT HALSIN’S WORDS, the air in his lungs turning to ice. Instinctively, he reached for the druid’s arm, fingers trembling, eyes wide with fear.

He could feel them... the Shadows creeping closer, flocking to him like moths to flame, feeding on his very essence ; and with every step through this cursed land, Sylverian felt himself unravel. This place was poison to everything he was and among his comapnions, it seemed to affect him the most. Even the ever-golden gleam of his hair — usually radiant even in the dimmest torchlight — had dulled and his skin had turned sickly pallid as his light was being leeched from within.

❝H–Halsin… I… I don’t think I can keep going…❞ he breathed out, a whisper frayed and desperate as his his vision began to blur. If someone ( or something ) were to lunge at them from the darkness, Sylverian wasn’t sure he could defend Halsin or even himself. He doubted he had the strength left to lift his rapier, let alone cast a spell.

❝I’m so afraid…❞ He pressed closer toward the druid’s steady warmth, holding onto his arm like a lifeline in a sea of dread.

    Out of everyone he travelled with, Halsin had always been the easiest. Shadowheart's faith became a source of butting heads, Astarion was - well, Astarion. Karlach was kind enough, but her energy wasn't something he could keep up with.

    Halsin, however, was gentle. Often he treated Ozias more as a horse he didn't wish to spook, which - yes, was affective. Pleasantly so, despite the drow's own surprise.

    It was easy to discuss nature, what it was a druid truly found joy in. How it differed from his own faith, compare and contrast almost. That was why as he settled in to enjoy whatever it was Gale had cooked for the night, he took a seat next to the druid.

    ❝ I'm surprised you haven't cooked much. It seems like something you might enjoy. ❞ Granted, Gale did jump the chance to make himself feel useful more often than not.

❛❛ HALSIN ! ❜❜ A VERMILLION ... LIKENED UNTO THE END ──────── carmine that exchanges, false steel to the skin & skin to an opening, laws of eternity met ( exchange the blow for blood. )

SAFFRON BLOSSOM CRUSHED 'NEATH THE WEIGHT OF FEET, like the weight of her sins ... this undoing, this cut 'pon his flesh, a mere result of glancing aside in battle ( her father's voice rings, scolding for the failure, shoulders to shudder. ) THIS MUST FOOLISHNESS was an art unlike her war & it is her alone to be blamed for the pain etched into his flesh.

AGONY BE THE HAUNTING, the shadowed creatures that grin as they twist their many false blades, vermillion & ill written are their gazes watch their new entertainment befall; her gaze enwrapping the wounded arm ... an injury not to be terrified of, one that should not normally bring about the end & yet, something burns to the depth of her soul.

FINGERS PRESS TENDER, to cease his movement, his reach for weaponry yearning to be unbound ──────── palms, smaller than his frame, grip as the shadowed creatures shift closer, cackles ringing the breath as she grips his arm. AT THE NEXT SWING, SHE IS ALREADY BEFORE HIM, body shifting to meet the false blade & lips depart, canines to catch the swing & there is a shatter ... she cannot allow their cruelty to reign, there must come an end to such a dark story.

LET THE VEIL FALL, horns to take their shape 'pon her skull, claws to reform nails, a tail of draconic light, she appears lesser human than she had but a breeze ago; scarlet lips allow the fall. WHITE FLAMES, bright as bone spill from the opening of lips, yet they harm not the earth, nor the blossoms for which its' known, neither the small friends of the trees or the insects buzzing between. YET, THESE SAME FLAMES, a strange tenderness in their existence, make quick work of the cruelest creatures.

TALONS TEAR WITH QUICK MOVEMENT, haunting cries of the ill un-existence & their fatal end as claws & teeth & fire render them asunder ──────── carmine left in the remains. SHE LEAVES NO TRACE OF EXISTENCE, their end a quick mercy even for their cruelty; they may be heartless, but she shall never be.

FLAMES FADE, visage to reform, a concealment of the old blood ... yet, the forest knows, silent as though to welcome that of ancient beginnings as she moves toward him. FINGERS, SANGUINE WRITTEN, callused as warrior's flesh & yet, gentle & warm, find their placement 'pon his cheeks as she moves 'pon the edges of feet, gaze abound in regret. HE SHOULD HAVE NEVER GOTTEN HARMED, not to protect her in the very least.

❛❛ I ... I'm so sorry, Halsin. ❜❜ FOR ALL THE BLOOD, she squishes his cheeks, her gaze blurring with the faint of rain. ❛❛ Are you alright ? Let's, let's get your arm taken care of ... Please, don't put yourself in harm's way for me ... I am not worth protecting. ❜❜

Questions for the mun. || Open!

What are the trends when it comes to writing that you adore?

[That's kind of a tough question. I can't say I've noticed any trends with writing lately that I like or dislike? I just kind of sit in my corner and hope we're all having fun with our goofy hobby and not giving others grief for what they write/don't write or how they write or causing any senseless drama over this lmao.]

How do you describe writing / rp to others?

[WELL. Thing is. I don't 🤣🤣. I don't really talk about it with people who don't rp. I've talked about like my own writing (that I haven't been doing lol) with like my family and friends a little, but not much. But I don't know. I'm not comfortable trying to explain this hobby to people. Which I know is dumb because my friends and family would not give two fucks but. I'm a self-conscious baby. 😅]

When did you first start writing?