#ioronta

@ioronta from x

That  might  be  one  of  the  best  expressions  he  had  ever  seen  from  Cú.  It  was  the  quiet  gasp  for  air  that  preceded  that  half  glare  of  his  that  caught  his  attention,  just  before  his  fingers  moved  to  scratch  behind  those  adorable  set  of  ears.  But  that  light  blush  suited  him  more  than  that  halfhearted  glare  and  because  of  it,  Archer  could  hardly  keep  his  hands  to  himself.  A  brief  moment  of  surprised  coloured  his  features  before  a  smirk  took  over  instead  and  Emiya  tilted  his  head,  his  fingers  once  again  reached  to  massage  those  ears  of  his  and  they  would  continue  to  do  so  until  he  would  truly  slap  his  hands  away  but  he  also  couldn't  help  himself.

He  was  the  subject  of  his  attention  for  a  while  now  and  that  expression  begged  to  be  a  little  teased  for.  Even  so,  he  couldn't  push  too  far  but  his  head  tilted  to  the  side,  lips  finding  the  centre  of  that  warmth  and  a  small  kiss  was  pressed  against  his  cheek.  ❛  Guess  not.  ❜  He  hummed  playfully.  ❛  Otherwise  you  already  would  be  by  now.  ❜

"You can put it that way. It belongs to Naoise, dunno why I have it with me." The sarcasm was completely lost on Deirdre, briefly summoning Luithech to swing it a few times with a skill she didn't possess back when she was alive. A slingshot was more up her valley, useful for hunting small animals and birds in the wild. Why did she have it now? She didn't know, but it was both useful and troublesome.

"Do your worst," the Saber said, her face still stuck with a deadpanned expression, while giving a thumbs up to the warrior. "Scream if you need my help or want me to check something. I'll do the same."

The  morning  is  grey  —  the  kind  of  grey  that  softens  edges  while  muffling  sound,  making  the  world  feel  as  if  it's  been  wrapped  within  dampened  silk.  Mist  clings  to  cobblestones,  a  soft  fog  drifting  through  the  crisp  air.  The  bustle  of  the  city  is  consumed  by  the  atmosphere,  as  if  silence  has  decided  that  it  will  rule  over  all  for  the  day.

Suigetsu  sits  upon  an  elegant  wire  frame  chair  outside  of  the  shop.

It  wasn't  here  yesterday.  Anyone  who  passed  this  street  before  would  swear  it.  Prior  to  the  day,  it  was  simply  an  alley  between  a  baker's  and  a  closed-down  tavern,  always  empty,  occasionally  used  for  strange  dealings  of  meaningless  arguments,  but  always  overlooked.  Yet,  this  morning,  the  building  stands.  Two  stories  of  dark  wood  and  paper  screens,  glass  lanterns  with  intricate  filigree  hanging  beside  the  door,  a  single  wind  chime  of  pale  green  grass  twirling  about  without  making  a  sound.  No  sign,  no  name  —  just  an  open  door,  and  the  elegant  woman  seated  beside  it.

She  wears  a  kimono  the  color  of  dried  blood  —  deep  rust,  almost  brown,  patterned  with  the  gentle  embroidery  of  withering  maple  leaves.  Within  her  hands  is  a  slender  book,  one  without  a  title,  simply  a  deep  mossy  green  cover,  a  tan  spine,  fingers  drifting  down  the  page  as  she  reads  voraciously.  The  chair  creaks  when  she  shifts  her  weight,  the  gazes  of  confused  passerby  seeming invisible as they refuse  to  take  her  focus  from  the  leisurely  task  at  hand.

Upon  hearing  a  certain  step  of  footsteps, though,  her  head  turns  —  slowly,  smoothly,  as  if  her  neck  were  oiled.  Eyes  lift,  the  gentle,  droopy  shape  of  them  contradicting  with  the  sharpness  of  her  gaze,  long  lashes  casting  faint  shadows  onto  her  cheekbones.  Trained  upon  the  figure  before  her,  the  book  within  her  hands  is  slowly  shut,  a  soft  smile  spreading  upon  her  lips.

“  I've  been  expecting  you,  ”  she  states  simply,  “  the  winds  told  me  of  your  coming.  ”

@ioronta asked

an   arm   settled   around   archer's   shoulders,   palm   patting   away   at   one   while   he   leaned   into   the   other   with   a   smirk.   ❛    yo,   ❜   came   his   chipper   greeting,   and   in   the   spirit   of   camaraderie   his   arm   soon   retreated   again,   a   brief   semblance   of   personal   space   returned   to   his   seemingly   favoured   cook.   soon   enough,   though,   the   lancer   snatched   his   hand,   holding   it   gently   and   carefully   slipping   a   bracelet   onto   his   wrist,   lacking   any   clasp   and   seemingly   measured   to   slip   over   his   palm   with   relative   ease.   at   first   glance   it   appeared   to   be   wooden,   though   closer   inspection   revealed   it   to   be   more   precisely   fashioned   from   small   roots,   and   bearing   a   design   strikingly   similar   to   his   own   silver   accessories. 

That  his  personal  space  was  invaded  by  that  Lancer  was  something  he  came  to  expect  in  his  day  to  the  day  these  days.  His  mind  was  still  on  all  the  tiny  gifts  he  had  to  distribute  so  he  didn't  pay  as  much  attention  as  he  should  —  as  a  servant  especially.  He  twitched  lightly  when  it  came  around  his  shoulder  but  that  familiar  voice  close  to  his  ear  did  have  him  relax  shortly  after  and  his  head  immediately  turned  towards  him  to  watch  his  expression.  He  was  rather  hoping  he  wouldn't  have  made  a  big  deal  out  of  the  gift  he  had  given  him  (  more  importantly  that  he  wouldn't  bring  it  up  )  and  just  enjoyed  the  cookies  he  left  as  his  own  little  peace  offering  but  when  his  hand  was  taken  and  something  slipped  around  his  wrist,  he  realised  that  he  was  still  not  spared  retaliation.

Even  if  this  time  around  it  could  hardly  be  called  as  such.

Still,  he  stared  at  that  bracelet  now  sitting  around  his  wrist  with  quiet  appreciation.  Awkward  as  he  was,  the  silence  stretched  out  long  as  his  eyes  wandered  along  the  twined  roots  and  he  thought  it  looked  difficult  to  make.  It  was  something  far  beyond  his  skills,  too,  even  if  it  was  something  he  could  appreciate  and  it  made  him  look  at  Lancer  with  wider  eyes  that  soon  very  quickly  turned  to  normal  as  Archer  fixed  his  face.  ❛  I  don't  give  gifts  because  I  expect  something  in  return,  you  know.  ❜  He  said  and  even  to  his  ears  he  sounded  more  dismissive  than  he  wanted  to  be.  He  looked  back  down  onto  the  bracelet  and  gently  curled  his  fingers  into  a  fist.  He  would  have  to  figure  out  how  to  keep  it  safe  as  there  was  no  way  he  would  take  it  off,  now.  ❛  ...but  thank  you.  ❜

The Berserker snorted. Yeah, when has any of that ever stopped him from doing his own thing? Still, it was annoying to have to sit through hours-long lectures explaining the importance to adapt to modern times and being considerate of the staff. How about having consideration for his sleep schedule? How was he supposed to take a nap here if he didn't a severed head to rest his knee on? But rest isn't necessary for a heroic spirit.

Cú Chulainn jabbed an elbow at him and, as if it was a near instinctual reaction, the type that was perfected after years of practice, the Berserker trapped the Lancer in a headlock and immediately messed their hair. "Sounds like a plan, but don't start pouting when I catch everything." Even if he was being insufferable at the moment, he would still hand over half of his catch to them.

@ioronta asked

❛  hey, dickhead, ❜ the fiend bellowed for no real reason, given that his target was right before him. it was difficult to be unaware of those stellaron hunters, given every other planet and / or space station was covered in wanted posters doled out by those ipc scum, but this one was particularly interesting based on the rumours surrounding him. another one like him, it seemed, and he wondered where they might overlap or where differences rested. ❛  one of the stellaron hunters, huh ? up for a fight to the death ? ❜ // (yulan in case it wasn't obvious,,,)

Planarcadia  was  pointlessly,  needlessly,  loud.  Even  side  streets  like  the  one  he  found  himself  on  then  were  filled  with  people  and  restless  noise,  colourful  blobs  that  were  chattering  little  creatures  occupying  every  corner  and  every  wall.  It  was  strangely  not  as  overwhelming  as  he  first  thought  it  would  be  but  it  made  finding  spots  to  meditate  it  awfully  sparse.  The  one  he  occupied  then  was  hardly  devoid  of  those  little  square  creatures  (  Imagenae,  as  he  was  told  )  but  they  crowded  around  him  with  those  quiet  little  chatters  and  squeaks  and  he  could  do  nothing  but  incorporate  them  into  his  meditations.

The  interruption  was  thus,  not  only  accepted  but  also  expected.

His  eyes  opened  slowly  to  look  up  at  that  loud  man  before  him  and  he  let  out  an  exasperated,  long  sigh  before  he  unfurled  his  arms  from  around  his  damaged  sword.  He  did  not  know  who  he  was  nor  did  he  know  if  that  challenge  was  issued  in  earnest  but  he  had  made  it  and  Blade  took  it  as  a  promise.

❛  If  death  is  something  you  want  to  see,  who  am  I  to  deny  you  it?  ❜  He  said  in  his  usual,  tired  tone  because  his  death  won't  come  now,  not  in  a  dark  alley  away  from  any  consequences;  he  was  not  that  lucky.  He  stood  from  his  crates  and  the  little  square  blobs  scattered  from  around  his  feet,  their  chattering  growing  animated  and  excited  as  they  circled  the  crates,  walls  and  ground  around  them.  Blade  drew  his  sword  and  stood  in  the  makeshift  arena  without  much  energy  to  him.  ❛  Just  remember  you  asked  for  it  yourself.  ❜

@ioronta asked

a certain kremnoan may have fallen asleep on that rooftop he typically spent his free time idling on, sat with his back leaning against a wall and enjoying the shade there— it would be a shame if anyone walked in on that.

Longing had been part of his being for as long as he could remember.

Whether intentional or not, his ability to accept her more reserved moments was quietly appreciated, the tension bleeding from her shoulders at the invitation. Castorice never worried about having to give more than she could manage around him, not compelled to make conversation when inevitable silence sat between them. It was a welcomed change of pace from the more talkative Chrysos Heirs.

She surveyed the tray briefly before carefully selecting one of the smaller tarts to try. The maiden had never been particularly fond of most desserts, but she wouldn’t decline such a generous offer. That, and a general aversion to impoliteness – a hard habit to shake at this stage of her journey.

“Wonderful as always.” The praise is hardly heard over the chatter of their surrounding company though she gave a small nod of approval after another bite. If Mydei had wanted a more constructive answer, she might not have been the best to ask.

“You truly have a gift for this. I hope you always have time to pursue such passions.”

continued from here!