𝒉𝒂𝒏𝒅𝒔 𝒈𝒓𝒊𝒑 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒊𝒓 𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒇𝒇 𝒕𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕𝒍𝒚 , teeth biting nervously into lower lips as they remain just where gaja had left him . the sun had long began to set , but still casra remained .

his familiar -- the small fire sprite -- had never been gone this long . her scoutings were often short , overly cautious , and never far . but this time .. the distance between them was such that gaja's imparted gift to them was faint ; casra could barely make out the auras of the few that passed them by . if gaja grew anymore distant , then .. what little 'sight' the palmist had benefited from in these last 8 years would fade away .

a soft sigh , nervous tapping of his staff , and somehow they've managed to summon rain .. ! droplets hit the seer's face as he quietly scoots further beneath the large tree beside him . shivers rack his body as a drizzle turns into a squall , and worry doubles within them . gaja was vulnerable in the rain , if she were to be soaked , it would mean certain death ! and without their familiar .. casra felt it hard to even think of going on . ❛ please , little spitfire ... please come back to my side in one piece .. ! ❜ - @haluras .

@haluras asked: ❛ show me that i'm human , ❜ // cycy -> STEPPING INSIDE OF THE VOID .

a task, perhaps, that was easier said than done. there was no doubt in eito's mind of his love's humanity - the abundance of care, of kindness that he had within him was truly testament to that. but to a man that saw no good within himself, only ever focusing on the horrors that he had wrought upon others, upon himself - that was quite the thing to contest with.

of what cyrus's life had been before the grove, eito doesn't know, he doesn't ask. there are things in this world that would only do more harm than good - and bringing up a past that clearly brought with it so much hatred withing himself was simply not worth talking about. it is clear as day, the way that cyrus carries himself, that there is pain - unimaginable pain - there, the kind that has been carried for so long that he doubts cyrus remembers who he is without it. as much as he'd like to take that pain away, that's not something than even a god is capable of.

but that doesn't mean he wouldn't try in these quiet moments between them, underneath the night sky with the stars and the moon as their witnesses, eito would do all that he could - if not to take cyrus's pain away, then to carry some of it all his own, to remind him that he is more than all that he's done, that he is loved and cared for - that he is cherished beyond that of which any mortal might ever be capable of.

eito does not judge, he does not lay blame. they were both victims of circumstance in that way, he thinks. a path laid out in front of them with no choice but to follow. what were they to do if not move forward and play the cards that had been dealt to them? the fates did play such cruel jokes at times, toyed with the lives of not just mortals, but gods alike.

comforting a lover after a nightmare

“It’s okay.”

Melihël’s nightmares began as soon as the horrors of the Descent ended. Sometimes it felt like she never came back, that orange sky tormenting her nights insistently. She thought she was through it. She thought she was stronger. She didn’t dream of it for weeks by now. 

Why now? Why they were now back? Because of the many fights and the violence, the wounds and bruises? Because she was tired? Because she felt more comfortable and safe, consequently lowered her guard? Because of this bloody cursed place, plagued by darkness and death? She didn't know. They were back and the only thing she wished for was for them to go away once more.

“Don’t look at me like that, Halsin,” she added, busying herself with searching for... anything through her scarce belongings. Hoping he wouldn’t ask about them further: she didn’t like talking about them, she didn’t like remembering her time there. She was sweeping the problem under the rug instead, hoping they would go away on their own. Which wasn't the best decision, admittenly, but this wasn't the time for showing weakness.

&. 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐢𝐧 (𝐞𝐩𝐬. 𝟓-𝟖) 𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬. || Open!

" Celebrate? "

His voice broke through the dissociation, the hypnotic lull of the crackling fire and its warmth. She tore her eyes from the patterns she drew in the stars and lifted up onto her elbows. She eyed the bottle, considering her options: return to the fruitless effort of waiting for the dark of sleep to overtake her or share a few drinks with her companion. Perhaps even a few laughs if they were lucky enough.

Rising to her feet, she trotted to the supplies and dug out two cups, the least chipped of the lot as far as she could tell. The tail of her shirt--a garment surprisingly too big for her that she picked up she couldn't remember where a draped more like a loose, if not a little short, dress--served as a cloth to clear out any stray dust that found them from the road.

Returning, she handed them over then lowered herself back onto her bedroll. She bent her left leg out to the side and crossed the right over it, knee pointed toward the star-strewn sky. She leaned her weight back on one hand.

Mixed Fall Out Boy starters || Open!

Try as she might, the Gerudo struggled to maintain full focus on her battering of the training dummy when their gargantuan companion shifted within her peripheral vision. His sheer size ensnared her attention on instinct since, in her experience, most beings that large signified trouble. A couple swings of her blades and a restless Cyrus would shift to a different seat. Wander out of sight and then back into it moments later.

Just when she deigned to demand he stay put for just ten more minutes, he found stillness. With certain motions, certain turns, she could still see him seated near the river, but he no longer disrupted her concentration.

At first. Until instinct morphed into curiosity.

Halting her training, she observed Cyrus from afar, noting his rapt attention on a piece of parchment or something similar gripped in his fingers. He didn't appear to focus on it like he would some text, but he studied it with a sense of serenity mixed with a sadness etched in the slight creases in his brow.

Nabooru sheathed her blades and, feather-light on her feet, she crept behind the man. Balanced on her tiptoes, she peered at the page in his hand. It depicted a group of people, ones he once knew, no doubt. Family? Friends? Whoever they were, the image was a sentimental one, she guessed.

" Who are they? " she asked, tone softened to better avoid startling him. " You got a family back home or something? "

“All those people in those old photographs I’ve seen are dead“

The words sucked any ounce of humor straight from the air. The natural smile she wore in her better moods drooped, and her spine straightened. She cleared her throat, worrying a strand of crimson in her fingers.

they've only been back within the city limits for a few days, but in some ways it feels like a lifetime since they all left the shadows behind them ----- and while she's thankful for the abundance of sunshine again ( not to mention the comforting familiarity of home; even while the threat looms of her losing it forever ), not everyone in the group has been sharing in her enthusiasm. 

and while it isn't odd to wake up and find the druid's tent empty, it seems a little stranger here when anywhere lush and green for him to retreat to is scarce. still, she's lucky enough to find him not all that far from the edges of camp; a little footpath worn into the tall grass eventually gives way to a slight strip of beach, the cliffs behind severing them off from civilization.

he speaks before she can even announce herself ( she's not surprised ), and with careful footwork she makes her way over the rocks down to where halsin sits just shy of the tideline. she does as he asks, lowering herself gently beside him and making herself comfortable on the morning - sun warmed surface. 

she gently takes his hand with a hum ( technically not talking ), setting it palm up in her lap. a fingertip begins to slowly trace the lines of his palm --- every crease, every scar. even if he doesn't need for her to talk, she can still show him she's worried about him.

Loud & Deafening Silence || Accepting

Jubilance has made no attempt to be coy about the way he's circling Gale as he cooks.

He's been awake long enough that breakfast feels like a necessity - he's sure that he's got the emptiest stomach in the entire camp, what with the way it had gone from grumbling to growling to rumbling.

He felt like some foul beast had taken up dwelling where his stomach was and had decide to eat him up from the inside, and it could only be sated with....

Well, he wasn't really sure what Gale was cooking, but it smelled good.

He stops his circling, and down onto his bed roll, his legs going up to disperse some of the extra momentum before they, too, flopped to the ground. He's staring at the early morning sky that hadn't quite gone properly blue yet, still holding onto enough darkness that the grey tones seemed purple in some areas.

This was it. This was how he would go.

Starvation—

Gale's shadow moves over him, plate from one of the mess kits in hand, and Jubilance is so ecstatic that breakfast is done that he pops into a sitting position so fast you'd think an artificer had springload him. His still braided hair thumps against his back, and as if it was a cue, his hands are reaching upward expectantly.

she's been sitting on the edge of their shared bedrolls' thin little mattress for some time now ------ fingers still half asleep as she tries ( and fails; hence why she continues to linger there .... at least it's one of the reasons ) to collect her bed - tousled hair in something that at least resembles the braid she usually has it in. last she knew, cyrus was still asleep beside her ( and taking up the majority of the pair of bedrolls ) ------------ she could still make out every rise and fall of his chest, every breath he took, even with her back turned. that was the other reason why she'd hadn't been able to fully pull herself away ----- getting up and out of bed officially would mean facing the damp chill of the morning, when she would much, much rather stay here were it was cozy and warm.

( eventually she knew the time would come ------ she's just hoping to delay it as long as possible. )

her third attempt at that braid goes about as well as the first two, and she finds herself cursing quietly as her fingers uncomb the weaving in anticipation of trying again. it's then she hears him start to stir behind her; a rumble of consciousness she swears she can feel in her chest. it becomes one sensation shifting into another ------------ it isn't long before she feels his lips press against the bare skin of her shoulder....

"g'morning," the kiss sends a delightful shiver up her spine; skin prickling as dips her shoulder so he can continue on if he likes. ( and if the way she sighs is any indication, she certainly wouldn't mind if he did. ) "if you want me to come back to bed i might just be persuaded..."