#holyfiends

he  doesn’t  follow  them  out  here  often,  in  the  gardens.  any  other  day,  adrian  could  probably  work  out  here  for  hours  without  hearing  so  much  of  a  peep  from  him  inside  the  house.  but  today,  of  course,  or  rather  tonight  —  as  the  sun  has  dipped  below  the  horizon  —  as  they  sit  on  one  of  the  garden’s  stone  benches,  they  hear  the  sound  of  footsteps  approaching.  by  the  time  scaramouche  stands  before  them,  adrian  has  at  least  has  the  chance  to  wipe  away  any  traces  of  tears.  but  the  look  of  discomfort  that  makes  its  way  onto  the  harbinger’s  face  says  it  all.  he  knows.  and  adrian  sighs,  sees  no  reason  in  pretending  everything  is  fine.

their  head  lowers,  unable  to  look  him  in  the  eye.  he’s  not  supposed  to  see  them  like this.  no  one  is.  they  are  infallible.  they  have  to  be.  they  are  a  god,  deep  down.  but  perhaps  it’s  because  they’ve  spent  so  much  time  among  mortals  that  they  feel  just  as  they  do.  adrian  doesn’t  realize  more  tears  have  fallen  until  a  tentative  hand  is  suddenly  at  their  back,  patting  gingerly.  at  times  with  an  awkward  rhythm  and  other  times  withdrawing  only  to  stiffly  return  —  as  if  uncertain  what  it  should  do  next.

and  adrian  lets  out  a  breath  of  amusement.  they  wipe  at  their  cheeks  again,  the  sound  turning  into  a  bout  of  warm  laughter.  it’s  such  a  simple  gesture,  and  clumsy  too,  but  it’s  enough  to  turn  tears  of  sorrow  into  joy.  seeing  first - hand  that  all  of  their  efforts,  all  of  the  love  and  patience  they’ve  given  to others,  it  isn’t  all  in  vain.  it’s  good  to  be  reminded  every  now  and  again.

the land of wisdom is unforgiving. hana had learned from the academics in ritou how knowledge could be much more valuable than mora, and despite her best efforts to keep their advice in mind when wandering through sumeru city, it soon became an impossible task. so when the scholar, upon overhearing their conversation, decided to challenge her wits on inazuma's flora she didn't hesitate.

she's well aware that her debate skills need improvement, mind too easily distracted and prone to going off on unrelated tangents. but had the scholar not taken a subtle jab at her very heritage maybe she would've been less adamant about winning [ though she did like a bit of friendly competition sometimes ] / hana lets the adrenaline of the moment be blamed for this one. besides, she didn't want to appear too uneducated in front of her evening companion. perhaps under the influence of the nation's archon reaching her through the dendro vision attached to her clothes, or in a simple matter of pride.

❝ you flatter me. i didn't do much. ❞ the achievement seems knuckle-headed compared to his much more refined abilities, yet it feels oddly satisfying. ❝ hey, can we . . . go somewhere quieter? i feel like i'm gonna explode if i don't get out of here. ❞

@holyfiends, dragon age: absolution.

✧ .    ⧽     dynamic playlist    ❈    ft.  asteria x estelle , ( @holyfiends )

❝ you think i’m trouble? you just met me. ❞ / tag + il drago. before it all goes bad

                     'Just Met'

      It echos through his brain like a mantra. Badgering his every thought at that moment as he looks at the dead eyes of Eleventh with an unfamiliar face. (but his eyes? oh no they look oh so familiar if one is smart enough to put together the puzzle pieces on who he is) So this is who the Tsaritsa decided to send onto Liyue as the 'pawn' of the contract. 

      How... Entertaining. Yet unfortunate. He had grown a sense of fondness for the change of pace within the Fatui once this anomaly entered the ranks. Tainted by the abyss heavily yet blessed by Celestia with a vision. A human who seemed to be destined for something more it seems. Someone who had piqued his interested very easily. 

      It's no surprise the Tsarista chose her favourite little Harbinger to be the pawn. Was it to test his loyalty? Or something more perhaps? It is not of his concern however. He has his own plans currently 

      "I do Childe. You have a reputation afterall." But there's a small smile followed by a laugh. "I try not to listen to rumours as I know they can be falsified or exagturated. I like to judge people myself by getting to know them personally."

      He already knows much about the young Harbinger. But for now, he has to play along with this persona of his. Zhongli the Consultant. A persona he's had for years in order to let this plan of his work yet never allowed many to get too close. Never someone in the Fatui at least. That will change now. 

      "I'm sure you know by now that I am Zhongli. I look forward to being business partners for the foreseeable future." He speaks with ease. Hand held out to shake the other as nothing more than a plesantry. To extent the olive branch to have an amakable relationship between them both. (until his goals completed and he discards the silly pawn before him)

the harbinger leans forward.... and chomps il drago first. 😌

      Oh. How bold of the younger Harbinger. Anyone could have seen that. Seen how 'friendly' the two are. That isn't acceptable. Yet the action stirs something in him. Disliking how Tartaglia was so bold. So daring with him and risking exposing everything. It makes him throw all 

      Gloved hand rests under the gingers chins to guide him closer. A gesture so tender and sweet. So... uncanny of the twelth Harbinger. Lips kiss the freckled check affectionately. Filled with love. (or was it?)

      There's a small laugh. Fingers tighten their hold into a bruising grip the youngers chin to keep him in place. Sharp snake like teeth gaze upon flesh in a threatening manner. Gauging how the other reacts before committing to the action. Teeth slice the skin. Slow and careful to not ruin the pretty face before him.

      Fresh crimson blood drops down. Tongue laps up the droplets with ease. A sound of satisfaction heard as he eases back to admiring his handiwork. 

❛ Of course not. I only want to talk: is that much allowed? ❜

vivi answers ancient asks & cannot link them .

"you are scared" estinien says, arms crossed and watching the warrior of light stalk the room up and down. "no, I am angry!" they hiss. they sit down, if only for a moment before jumping back up. they cannot stand still. it is one of those nights where things did not want to settle, where their thoughts raced each other until it all became a whirlpool dragging them down.

finally their shoulders drop and soon their head follows. amaya raises their hands, staring at them "...how do you do it" they suddenly whisper and look up, blue eyes filled with tears that they still try to fight back. "you carry... so much on your shoulders. ishgard's safety and nidhogg's eye - how do you not crumble?" the raen's voice breaks and with it the last bit of tension in their body.

they sit down on the chair they had just jumped up from as they bury their head in their hands. they still do not cry but they do shake. "I don't want alphinaud and tataru to see me like this but... I am terrified, estinien. everyone says 'm some sort of champion but all I did was getting lucky in not being killed, that's all there is to it! and they all put their hopes in me and look where that got them! I don't even know where the scions are..." they are not like the dragoon, someone who had skills that made them invaluable. if they could learn to be like him even if just for a moment... maybe things would be different then. maybe things wouldn't be a disaster.

"I just want... all that pressure to stop" they admit and when they look back at him, they flinch. perhaps it is their tired imagination but for one moment they feel like they can see pity in his eyes. they do not want to be pitied.

they take a deep breath and stand up, walking towards estinien and suddenly tugging him down to press a kiss to his lips "now you are being stupid" he says and amaya shrugs.

REFUGE

torchlight spills in ribbons through the thick, woody vines that cascade over the mouth of a hidden grotto, flittering past with the sound of gruff voices cursing their aimless pursuit. keyleth holds her breath when one approaches too close, fingers humming with magic, ready to retract claws when the moment calls for it, but the bramble and the shade hides the two elven girls well enough.

eventually, the footsteps fade out into the velvet wind whistle and muffled night-time chittering of the forest, a sound more calming than a mother's safe embrace. it's in this where keyleth allows an exhale which comes out more like a strained laugh. ❛❛ that was a close one, huh? ❜❜ her wooden staff taps the ground, bestrewing faint wisps of veilfire, dimmly revealing the grotto to be a small and crumbling alter to an unrecognizable deity. one would assume it was untouched and unkept for over an age -- save for the incongruous tomes and knick-knacks that reclaimed the moss-laced corners.