#livory

   riku knows hands are deceiving. what he sees in his own seems so far removed from what namine usually holds in hers, and yet .  .  . well, he understands what she doesn't say by the way her fingers waver. and he plays along, too. " hmm, i'm not sure, " he replies, hypothetically, and cants his head to one side, amused. a little ( very ) endeared.

   his palm is held in the air, and the keyblade materializes obediently. it's lightweight on the hand, his hand, but he worries it'll be different with her. " this isn't something i can go lending around to anybody, but .  .  . let's say, hypothetically, you were that somebody asking to borrow it, " he measures the blade with a glance, then namine. a defeated smile. who had the heart to say no to her ?  " that i could agree to, if you don't mind me watching over while you have it. i’m .  .  . not a teacher but, i can show you some of the basics.  "  he holds out his other palm, silently asking for her to reach out too in order to place it in her hand. however, a pause takes over him.

send a romantic relationship you can see my muse having

      ❝      she . . .   she  most  certainly  is  a  remarkable  person , isn’t  she ? anyone  would  be  lucky  to  be  at  her  side , and  my  years  as  commander  were  made  tolerable  with  her  at  mine . my  life  would  be  a  mess  without  her .    ❞

@livory | prompts.

     ❛ of course not, why should you ever do something reasonable? ❜ 

     they’re strapped for sovereigns in this city, he knows, but carver can’t quite suppress his disdain for the bits and bobs his brother picks out of the refuse, bloodied from the aftermath of their battles or cast away in crates or heaps littering the piss-crusted corners of the slums. 

     pride won't bring them bring them any closer to shaking bartrand's greasy palm, and yet, it's hard to think that around this time, two years ago, they would've been binding sheafs of wheat in old barlin's field, not plucking through detritus for broken keepsakes. he misses that — honest work — but mother's aspirations are lofty, her nostalgia demanding, and carver can admit fereldan labor is worth gutter dregs in kirkwall. like it or not, garrett has the right idea.

@livory​:    sylvain vc listen mal—may i call you mal ;) haha—anyway LISTEN. girls love a tall guy, right?? well i’m tall. and you’re tall. and if i stood on your shoulders, we’d be Nearly Thirteen Feet Tall. now i’d be willing to compensate you for your time; all you’d have to do is duct tape my feet to your shoulders and walk into the club and i’ll take care of the hard part.

ah, this human is a brave one. some might say to a foolish extent. malleus would agree with that sentiment in this particular case. sylvain is a fool & a tremendous one in fact. to not only boldly ask something of the crown prince of the valley of thorns but to give the fearsome fae a nickname? no other human would dare attempt such a feat without being malleus’ friend prior. yet here sylvain is with all that confidence & foolishness carrying him every step closer.

& malleus? malleus finds it all too endearing. 

it’s so funny to see humans behave with such little care for the consequence of their actions. there is such bravery in a man requesting such a ridiculous task from him like malleus couldn’t kill him on the spot for such ignorant demands. however malleus has no desire to kill sylvain. he has no desire to kill anyone let alone someone who amuses him so. however he’s not going to go along with the other’s demands...not in the way he wants at least.

the fae lets out a low chuckle, reptilian eyes meeting sylvain’s as a ray of green light surrounds his form. ❛    mm, sylvain was it? what an asinine request you have. i think i will go along with it. however ---    ❜  the flash of light grows brighter & suddenly malleus is levitating off the ground. ❛    duct tape will not be necessary. i can simply float onto your shoulders like so.    ❜  

(2) striped dish towel. snugs in the ends like she’s seeing a child off to bed. dust stirs as she crosses the floor (sweeping will be the *first* thing she does once her dorothea’s left) to hand the basket off to the woman waiting patiently beside the door. “i only wish i could come with you. next time, i will.” //////mercedes: (packs her wife’s lunch) (packs her wife’s lunch) (pac

   𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞 𝐬𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬, the same way dorothea knows mercedes can take back just as tenderly. she does this and that, everything falling under dorothea’s faint humming——— a peek of the opera she’s ought to perform two days from now on. something rekindled her voice, a passion only wartime could’ve stolen from her. she thinks she may just be looking at the flame, who is less flame and more dove.

   mercedes has the love dorothea thought she deserved.

    and because she deserved it, it could never be. because love, what have you, became a negotiation. all in the face of never returning to her corner of adrestia, where bread this fresh and unspoiled milk could only be wishful thinking. dorothea’s hands cradle the basket like it may empty itself if she doesn’t.  “  oh, you will,  ”  she reassures, a hand reaching to move mercedes’ bangs aside, kiss the skin of her forehead.  “  thankfully, this particular opera reminds me of you, so it’ll be as if you’re with me. on stage, even,  ”  the thought makes a part of her flutter. singing what she does feel, now. dorothea understands then: this is the love she deserves and can be. already is. 

   the same hand tucks mercedes’ hair to the back of her ear,  “  i’ll sing my heart out for you, so keep an ear out on me at night, hm ?  who knows, 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘮𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘮𝘦 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘧𝘢𝘳 𝘢𝘸𝘢𝘺.  ”

       tooru raises an eyebrow,  head tilting in confusion.   “   can you not make it ?   ”   he frowns,  peering around the store in search of something.   he doesn’t find it.   he turns back to the employee,  a sort of embarrassed laugh slipping out unintended.   “   it’s weird,  i know,  but i promise it’s good !   i mean,  one of the baristas here first recommended it to me,  so i thought it was part of the secret menu or something   …   ”