#latorgator

Hey dude congrats on getting a new outlook on life!! To be able to change your way of thinking is really incredible

8) favorite genre to write

you know it wasn’t until just now that i remembered i really enjoy writing little like. vignettes i guess you could call them ? i’d never call them poetry, the little things i write, but i guess if they’re vignettes then they’re poetry anyway. whatevs. usually those are about personal life experiences. like about my grandma dying or stuff similar to that lmao.

i actually thing writing those is my favorite thing to do because they’re quick and personal and i get to be really descriptive without feeling like i’m being super pretentious.

I don’t know why I’m struggling with this right now but I am, haha. that’s why the first ask you sent is already posted while this one took longer. 

“What made you become a mercenary?” The fire spirit asked with a curious look. Silas regarded the question slowly, more so he could take in the look of the one asking the question. His hair had become softer and more defined as they traveled together, as he changed little by little by observing Silas himself. Spirits who wandered among people were usually easy to spot because they rarely got close enough to humans to pass as them.

“I suppose it was convenient, at first.” He answered, pulling himself out of his reverie. “I always had itchy feet, even as a little kid. I had my mother chasing after me more than once.” He laughed, softly, at the memory of her exasperated voice calling after him. “But... I lost my home, so I picked up as many trades as I could while I kept moving. Soon enough, people were hiring me to do mercenary jobs, and I took the title. Bought a dark cloak an’ here we are now.”

“You make money enough to stay comfortable.” He got a cheeky grin from the fire spirit. “And you have me!”

“I got plenty of favors in odd places from odder sources. That’s certainly true.” Silas reached out and ruffled his companion’s blond hair, earning a startled but brief shriek of laughter. “I wouldn’t really change it. I get all the adrenaline I could ever want from the work, I get paid, I get to travel as far as my legs will take me...” He shrugged. “It’s not a bad life, after all’s said and done.”

“True” is not exactly the right word. Every story he’s been part of has been true to him in some way. It’s essentially his origin story, and every parallel universe has a somewhat better off Silas.

But sure, write.

Autumn leaves; she keeps laughing just out of sight as he walks through the latest forest of many he’s walked through. Today, she doesn’t want to be seen. Silas shrugs and allows it since he’s got nothing much to talk about. Even her laughing is grating on his nerves, and he likes having her company; he’s not in the mood for laughing when he’s run away from another destruction and more deaths. Her laughing turns manic in his ears (in his head), and that sounds more like how he’s feeling.

I've got some time before work starts again, and I feel bad just requesting something so.. maybe a trade? prompt for art?

are we… the same person