#icstuff

The girl limped her way slowly up the hill beyond the city limits, seeking shelter beneath the outstretched limbs of an old oak tree. It wasn't long before she finally found herself resting in the grass beneath, moving both hands to pull her boot from her bandaged and swollen right foot. A hiss of both pain and relief passed through her clenched teeth as she set it back down in the cool blades of grass, letting her head slump back to rest against the trunk of the tree after.

The huntress had just helped the last remaining refugees out of the school house before she turned back to what appeared to be a cage. Two birds hopped around inside, as if they weren’t aware of the horrors just outside the door.  Releasing a soft sigh, she approached the cage, lifting a gauntleted hand to it’s latch before releasing it. The two of them would seemingly go about their business for a few moments before they noticed the open door. 

Tagged by: albinomiqote

Name of your Muse: Camy Laykk. 

One picture you like best of your Muse’s FC:

No pictures >:|

Two headcanons you have for your muse that you never told anyone:

Her strong anger towards her biological parents, and she how believes that they abandoned her.

She was a complete loner, by choice, during her childhood, and found books far more interesting the neighbours’ kids.

Three things that your muse likes doing in their free time:

Reading, a lot of reading. Be it reading fiction, of any genre, or researching a specific subject for what ever reasons. 

Baking. Something she picked up recently and has progressivly gotten better at. 

Taking naps ! Whenever she’s not busy, watching over patients that’re sleeping in the infirmary or she’s just bored, she’ll pass out for a bit. 

Two things your muse regrets:

How naive she used to be, believing that nothing bad would ever happen to her or her loved ones, and learned her lesson the hard way. 

That she never went to see her brother after the death of their parents, and even to this day still hasn’t resolved everything between them, even though they used to be close during their childhood.

Two phobias your muse has:

((As I could not name two “phobias”, since there isn’t something she’s extremely scared of, I’ll name two things she’s just afraid of.)) 

Thunder. While she enjoys the rain, having grown up in the shroud, she hates the sound of thunder, and will generally hide in her room/indoors. 

Not knowing how to swim, she’s rather scared of water, or more specifically; drowning. 

The rockstar grimaces to himself and reaches to run a hand through his disheveled hair. At least he’d been able to actually style it this morning, for the first time in… hell, how long had it been? Over a week. He’d been stuck in this damn house, barely able to so much as walk across one fucking room, for over a week. How had he not gone completely crazy? Maybe he had. That’d explain the stupid thoughts he’d been having about the asshole sleeping nearby.

That asshole. The only reason he hadn’t completely lost it from the boredom of being confined in his own house. In a weird way, Xyran Rocketfist had enjoyed the company. Those days and nights spent just… talking, rather than the unmentionable shit they usually preoccupied themselves with. Not that that wasn’t enjoyable as well (in fact, being unable to do it because of pesky inconveniences like broken bones was nothing short of tragic), but… the rockstar didn’t get the chance to talk to people much.

And the hand-holding? That’d been nice, too. The blue-haired goblin’s hand pauses in the midst of his mohawk, and he glances down towards the other goblin. That’s his hand, yep. A careful, casual little slide of his hand over… and his fingers curled briefly around the taller goblin’s, offering one of the squeezes that had become so familiar over the past few days. This was weird. This sensation of content and happiness and BUTTERFLIES and he suddenly felt like he was going to vomit. The good kind of vomit, though, if such a thing existed. Not like those nights when he’d had far too much to drink, or smoke, or both. He’d only felt this kind of sensation… twice, maybe three times before, and he dreaded putting a name to it.

Still, he couldn’t ignore it for forever. Today. Whenever they both weren’t sleeping like assholes, he’d made the first move. He’d be the biggest badass, and just ask him.