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@luna-mxth made the mistake of liking for a starter. Enjoy the crack.
Myrna drew her arm back with narrowed eyes, took aim, and then lobbed the snowball at the back of Sontna's head. It exploded on impact and, cackling, Myrna immediately bent over to scoop up more.
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ā Could this get any worse? ā // questions only starters // @luna-mxth [Norrim]
"I meaaaaaaaaaaaan...." Kar dragged the syllable out so far it started to turn into a whining sound. "It could. Would prefer it not to, but it always could be worse."
Her eyes set upon the glowing green tear in the fabric of reality. Weaving the threads of spacetime, thankfully, was what they sort of did. Kar through her innate nature, Norrim through training, it should be easy-- shouldn't it?
"Aw it's just a little baby tear." Kar remarked with her usual glibness, tone changing to the sort you use for infants. "Sure it could blow up something awful if we're not careful, but relatively speaking...this shouldn't be an issue for the two of us, yeah?"
|| closed starter for @luna-mxth The last thing Nelgorn, once-prince, now-exile, remembered was the sting of rejection. Heād tried to join the Dread Wolfās rebellionā he knew what his family was doing was wrong. His grandmother murdered even before his birth, what remained soured before heād even existed. And then, denied a place where he should have stood. With his people, against tyranny. But Fenāharelā or, rather, his Generalā hadnāt seen fit to let him join. Said they could not trust him, said he was too young and foolish. Said he wasnāt ready. Thenā¦ a blur. Heād found his way toā¦ something, certainly. It seemed like enough of a bed. He had some belongingsā his lute, his crown, a dagger and a little wooden halla (a gift from Juneās own workshop, on the occasion of the boyās birth). Then, darkness. It was the sound that awoke him first, or so he thought. The crack of stone, the falling of rubble. Soft footsteps around what had become his tomb. The young mage was far too disoriented to even think of sitting up for the moment, let alone open his eyes. He could hearā¦ was someone speaking? In such an odd version of his mother tongue, too. He could hear the clatter of metal around the room; someone had knocked over an urn, most likely. There would be a mess for him to clean up. There were, after all, no servants in a rebellion. An eye cracked open, finally, and a soft āmamaeā left his lips. But when his vision focused, it was not his mother standing over him. His gaze met the face of a stranger. Vibrant red hair, gold eyesā¦ pointed ears. One of his own. Hopefully. His eyes flicked up, where her hands hovered over his brow, then back to her own gaze. āWhat are you doing?ā he asked quickly. āWho are you? Did my mother send you?ā His heart raced. Had he been found out? Was he being taken back to the palace to face judgment? āOr my grandfather?ā Nelgorn grunted as he pushed himself up, reeling once he was upright. āAnd what do you want with this?ā He gestured to the diadem still on his head.
@aetherianxarchive asked: ā i'll be as gentle as i can be , i promise. For morrigan from vin on @luna-mxth !!
inbox prompts / always accepting.
"I am fine." She stubbornly tells them. But the truth is she can feel the pain in her wound. Her hand covering it and becoming stained with blood as she attempts to calm herself. Perhaps she did need healing but she hated appearing weak. But the fact that she needs the healing is winning over her foolish pride.
"Very well, but do try to be quick. I loathe this feeling." She whispers and takes her hand off of her wound. She pulls up the fabric of her shirt, the left side of her waist pierced from a blade earlier. It's already looking bruised and she's paler than usual.
@luna-mxth sent "I told you not to charge in without a plan. Now look at you." for taash
the dragon hunter grunts their response, expression sullen at being scolded. it sits, hot, in their chest and they find they can't, or don't want to, make eye contact with norrim. they fold their arms across their chest to try and stifle the anger. it only makes their chest tighter.
" we're alive. isn't that what counts? " are they hurt? yes, but cuts and scrapes were nothing new. they were a lord of fortune! they dodged arrows and fireballs and antaam on a weekly basis. they didn't mind being a little banged up. so why did it matter to rook? she's not the one who got hurt. " and we got what we came for. i'll heal, it's fine. stop pestering me about it! " a little of the heat from within their chest sneaks out (metaphorically).
the axe wound stings. the scolding stings. the disappointment stings. taash wants to get out of here. right now. before they do or say something they'll regret.
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āI don't eat bark.ā
Shaking his head with an exasperated sigh.
āI chew on it, for times like these, for headaches.ā
Clarifying with a pointed finger, holding that stern expression for a brief moment before breaking into a laugh. How could he ever be mad or upset with Norrim? It was just impossible, truly impossible.
āMemory betrays you.ā
@luna-mxth.
ā any ideas on how to get us out of this mess, @luna-mxth? ā
random generator starters.
@luna-mxthā (Ansal Lavellan) said: ā You donāt teach by shoving someone elseās face in the dirt. Thatās just being mean. And small. ā
Ā Ā āIs it meanĀ so much as it is teaching a novice that their foes will not be so kind?ā Meredithās raspy tone carries across the cold wintery wind.Ā āRebelling magesĀ or demonsĀ wonāt exactly take kindly to new recruits.āĀ
