#lemuriangod

┊ ⋆ @lemuriangod (unprompted):

@lemuriangod texted: [  TXT  ]  :  do  you  think  we’d  get  banned  from  a  museum  if  we  tried  hard  enough?

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Said over text .

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Golden  eyes  fluttered  a  few  times  as  she  attempted  to  blink  them  into  focus.  The  room  was  dark,  and  the  sun  hadn't  yet  peeked  in  through  the  window.  The  silence  of  the  night  was  pierced  by  a  groan,  accompanied  by  fumbling  around  for  her  phone.  Elizabeth  rarely  got  decent  sleep,  so  it  was  ironic  that  the  one  night  she  behaved,  someone  wanted  to  keep  her  up  with  their  late  night  musings.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Despite  being  tired,  when  her  vision  finally  focused  on  the  words  in  front  of  her,  she  snorted.  Rafayel  was  unquestionably  the  spontaneous  type.  Why  not  humor  him,  if  only  a  little?

💬 [ Rafayel, it's 3AM ]

💬 [ Are you up late painting again? ]

💬 [ More importantly, which museum are we getting banned from?? Or should we try to get banned from as many as we can? ]

💬 [ Wait... is this your weird way of asking me to go on a museum date with you? 🫧 ]

@lemuriangod

An irritated sigh slips from petal stained lips. "I already told you, it's for a ritual." There's a grunt as she ducks under a low-hanging branch. A curse follows when the hem of chiffon dress nearly gets caught on a berry bush. If she had the space in her stachel she'd stock up; one could never have too many poisons. Alas, what room there is is dedicated to her grimoire, assorted potions and tonics, and an extra dagger among other smaller necessities. "And I never said I needed that much." Except she does. Or close to it. Ideally, instead of gathering buckets of the sweet sanguine lifeforce, she could find a fresher source. A source she didn't have to haul around. "If you keep pestering me, it'll be your blood I draw my runes with, and your heart I devour."

Footsteps come to an abrupt halt. The wind whips up, rustling the leaves and the dangling baubles of the pins that adorn her hair tinkle like windchimes. The treeline has started to thin. Beyond lies a village — a large one she's passed through unnoticed several times. A hunting ground she knows well enough. The Sorceress glances back at him, the expression on porcelain features icy and serious. The same sort of face one might say death wears. "Let me make something clear. If you're going to be a leech on my hip, then be just that. Don't get in my way. Do you understand?" A single finger is stuck out, pointing at him, with talon like nail barely barely poking his clavicle. Bangles and rings catch the afternoon sun, glittering in the light before her hand is lowered.

EVERYONE SAYS SHE'S STRUCK GOLD, an aging noble couple who picked her off the streets that wanted to adopt her and give her their name - hinako's life had completely turned around within the last few months. she had once worked several jobs in attempt to keep food on the table and a roof over her head, but she was just going to be given all those luxuries she once struggled to maintain so easily? all because she was too pretty as a commoner. a load of horse shit, she thinks, but she's also not an idiot who would let the opportunity to go to waste - so of course she takes it.

the last few months had been a noble in making bootcamp - where other young ladies had been trained since their birth to be upstanding, it was beaten into hinako in just a number of days (literally, hinako's been trying to find salves to soothe her bruises!) and while her progress astounding and unprecedented (leaving her tutors absolutely stunned - she always strives to leave an impact), hinako is still melancholic of the situation. while she may be leaving her life of difficulty for supposed ease and luxury - the rich world had their own demons and fights that were fought under calculated smiles behind fans.

she also mourns the person she's leaving behind - while she struggled to make ends meet more times than she could count that it was a norm, hinako still enjoyed who she was and how she lived. how she thrived painting colour upon her patrons' faces at markets, how she loved to appeal to her regulars at the bars she tended. she would be debuting in high society at the end of the month and her new parents allowed her to live her old life for one last time - just two weeks left. hinako decided to escape to a sea side city where she could reset, a perfect place to lay her old self to rest.

it feels like a paradise; sea breeze against her face, sun beaming down, hinako is happy and content. she refuses to allow herself to worry about the future and decides to let the wind decide her path. hinako's never visited this city so the world was truly her oyster - she spies fluorescent colours from a windowsill that draws her in, upon entering she figures is a miscellaneous store with varying items of any kind.

from books, to canvases of art, to materials and pigments. while not a traditional artist, hinako loved admiring pigments and wondered if she could translate them into makeup - picking up a bright red hue and admiring how it shined in the sun. she briefly puts it down to swatch it against her inner wrist, contemplating with a hum - pretty, but probably too bright for a demure soon to be noblewoman… right ? maybe she'll get it just for this last trip? before hinako's fully decided, there's another presence beside her that picks up the very pigment she wanted.

« …i beg your pardon ? i had my eye on that, you best return it. » she holds her hand out expecting this rude stranger to put it back. truthfully, she technically had no right of ownership of the pigment as she had no paid for it yet - but it was the last of it's kind, and she wasn't going to let this man start her last trip on a bad note !

→ @lemuriangod⋆✴︎˚｡⋆

Her lips twitch up into a smile. "If you don't like coffee, I might have some juice." The owner hadn't been sure about Niamh's idea to have coffee available for customers, but so far, it had been well loved. Coffee and plants seemed to be a lucky combo. Though perhaps she should add juice, as well.

Send 🫂 for three useless headcanons I have about our muses ⋆♱✮♱⋆ @lemuriangod !

They both have the worst trust issues known to man, so all they do is test each other in insidious ways just to see how much the other actually likes them. Like Rafayel not sending a good morning text just to see how long it takes Lilit to send him one first, then pointedly asking how her morning was because "oh, I didn't message you until now because I assumed you were asleep~" And she's out here asking him what he thinks her New Years resolution should be, then starting a massive fight because he didn't automatically say, "nothing, because you're perfect already."

Knifeplay. They discovered this when she half-playfully threatened him in the kitchen with a knife because he wouldn't stop eating the sashimi before dinner was served, and the reaction was unfortunately obvious. Then they went too far with it, like assholes.

She makes him honeydew milk when he's sick and sings him songs about how pathetic he is for being sick (lovingly) while she strokes his hair

The first time Rafayel came over, they sat on the floor and looked over his LP collection, getting drunk on aged whisky while they discussed the differences they preferred between recording styles (Sylus liked the warmth and intimacy and dynamic range of analog, Rafayel loves the precision and clarity and size you can get with digital). They spent the whole night listening to jazz standards and opera, littering the floor with records.

Sylus has definitely bounced his knee when Rafayel was sitting on it, as a joke. Rafayel knuckled him in the ribs about it.