#hrodohaide

@hrodohaide​  -- "no kiss? i’m kind of disappointed." (sorceress lia is a bit sassy im sorry alksjda)    //     arkham  city.

      𝐀𝐍 𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐆𝐀𝐍𝐓 𝐁𝐑𝐎𝐖 𝐅𝐔𝐑𝐑𝐎𝐖𝐒, 𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐇 𝐇𝐄 does not seem too perplexed at the comment. ❝ i have heard of such magic, ❞ essek muses. ❝ it clings to you, but it can be dispelled with the skills required to do so. ❞ he looks down to her, still hovering reflexively above the ground in an unspoken display of his own capabilities.

@hrodohaide​ said: “Well, /you/ weren’t who I was expecting.”

Instinct said ‘quick, dumbass, say something witty’, though words had caught in his throat when he glanced her over. He wasn’t sure what he should say and he knew that every passing second was just making this awkward. And it was already awkward. Now he was starting to second guess the whole situation. When he was told the details, the details seemed to be very lost on the fact that this Lia looked hardly old enough, or perhaps it was Bold enough to be doing what was described.

He’d been offered a job by her... Uncles? Cousins? Hell, whatever they called themselves when referring to their relationship to her. All he knew was it was kind of an awkward conversation and had left him with a lot more questions than he’d intended on having at all. It was supposed to be easy. A quick, in and out assassination, assisted by Lia.

lips  void  of  any  hint  of  a  smile  ,  fingers  tugging  at  the  string  of  his  bow  ——  perfectly  taut  already  ,  but  anguy  needs  something  to  do  with  his  hands  .  he  always  does  .  here’s  the  secret  ,  right  between  her  words  ,  the  truth  he  has  blindly  avoided  for  months  on  end  :  he  is  just  a  foolish  boy  with  a  bow  ,  clinging  to  the  belief  he  could  make  a  difference  ,  somehow  ,  that  he  could  help  people  ——  common  folk  ,  the  ones  who  have  been  stumped  on  and  bled  dry  ,  the  ones  the  throne  does  not  care  about  .

❛  perhaps  that’s  true  ,  but  i  will  still  try  .  it’s—  ❜    bold  words  falter  for  a  moment  ,  yet  his  resolve  doesn’t  ebb  away  to  nothing  .  no  ,  the  sincere  determination  in  his  gaze  can  still  be  seen  ,  shining  behind  light  brown  eyes  .    ❛  the  least  i  could  do  .  ❜    the  only  thing  he  can  do  ,  the  only  thing  he  has  left  now  that  lady  stoneheart  is  in  charge  .  all  his  heroes  are  dead  and  justice  is  nothing  but  a  pale  ghost  of  what  it  used  to  be  ,  this  is  not  his  place  anymore  .  he  cannot  bear  it  a  day  longer  :  the  stench  of  purposeless  violence  ,  the  riverlands  becoming  the  execution  stage  of  a  dead  woman  seeking  revenge  .  

𝙞𝙩  𝙞𝙨  𝙣𝙤  𝙡𝙤𝙣𝙜𝙚𝙧  𝙖𝙨  𝙞𝙩  𝙬𝙖𝙨,  𝙞𝙣  𝙩𝙝𝙚  𝙚𝙖𝙧𝙡𝙮  𝙙𝙖𝙮𝙨  𝙤𝙛  𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙞𝙧  𝙚𝙙𝙪𝙘𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣  𝙖𝙩  𝙩𝙝𝙚  𝙖𝙘𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙢𝙮.   bren asks so many questions at the start, so eager to learn any and everything that is offered to him.  he feels like a dry patch of soil in gentle, yet seemingly never-ending, summer rains, when he is a fresh, new student. 

questions are not so welcome anymore. 

he sits, and he listens to master ikithon’s questions and lectures and commands.  he reads his books, and he practices with astrid and eodwulf.  he learns, and he . . .  grows.  changes.  hardens.  shifts.  does what he’s told.  does what he has to do.  does what is necessary.  does what . . .  he doesn’t always understand. 

he does so now.  he sits, and he listens, but the words fall on soil that isn’t ready  —  untilled, unbroken (broken into crags, not rows of healthy, tenable dirt), unprepared.  maybe he will remember this one day. 

probably not. 

@hrodohaide​​    —    BUT,  YOU  ARE  CRUEL.