#dc comics#batman#dc#bruce wayne#dc fanart#dick grayson#tim drake#batfamily#batfam
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{ @masterofdaybreak cont. }
“Home language, Master.”
She smiles softly, the bittersweet memories of her World coming back to her; it had been incredibly dangerous, sure, but it’d been home, where her family was. Of course, she had a different family now.
“It’s just an old saying, like ‘Don’t count your chickens’.”
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Sacrifice
((Xeha: Xehanort is not someone who sacrifices himself in any way unless he has full faith it’ll pay off. When it comes to sacrificing others, however, he’ll let it be, especially if he’s not emotionally invested or he manipulated them into doing such. Not HIS problem, after all.
Ven: He’s still selfless, and is willing to give up for the sake of progress, but it’s more out of habit than honor or morality as much as those come into play. It’s still something he’ll do, and he still considers it morally right, just he’s a little bitter yanno? More “someone has to, might as well be the one lagging behind, right?”))
'♥'
Send me a '♥' and for each one I get, I'll write a fact/confession about myself.
ooc:
[I’ll always have a soft spot in my heart for certain series like Digimon and Pokemon, these are things I grew up on and still enjoy them today.]
🍸
And that makes ten shots of vodka, very warm
@masterofdaybreak
In Response to This
Now up close, the boy in front of him looked uncommonly nervous and uncommonly ill-cared-for. His clothes were old, his shoes falling apart. He didn’t look to be skinny enough to be starving, nor did he look particularly unhappy, but still.. The child’s state struck more than a little concern into Jude’s heart. “An apple muffin?” He smiled kindly as he fetched the baked good for him, glancing around the bakery as he did so. No parents in sight. “Is that all you’d like?” He’d seen how the child had looked longingly at the other sweets... but if this is all the munny he had, no wonder he only wanted one of these tiny things.
“It’s a nice day out, isn’t it?” Jude tried to make conversation, wanting desperately, for some reason, to know where this boy’s parents were, to find out his situation. It wasn’t right for a child to be in any sort of strained situation. “Were you playing in the gardens?” As he spoke, the got a bag to put the muffin in and quietly tried to sneak in a cookie or two more, for good measure.
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There is a little blond outside the baker looking at the muffins in the window, in his arms an old book, his clothing clearly as old, worn and threadbare, but he is smiling. Today he's got enough money from giving out flowers to get a mufffin. Slowly he's moving inside shyly.
There was a gentle tinkle of bells as the bakery door was shoved open, the warm air from the inside carrying with it the scent of warm dough and sugar. It had been years since the small bakery had first opened its doors, and its gradual success was evident. Light-colored wooden counters were polished, chalk boards were finally hung and decorated, and the entire place was decorated for comfort and quietness-- somewhere between a coffee-house and a reading nook that was bathed in sunlight.
What little staff that manned the store paid no heed to the tiny urchin that came inside. They were baking and cleaning, taking people their orders and doing inventory. There was no time to give a child attention, or even question why he was there.
The owner noticed, though.
Jude hadn’t changed much over the years. His hair had gotten longer, his magic a bit stronger. Yet he retained the same gentle expression, the same quiet demeanor. He, of course, noticed the boy who had came in the door and edged his way up to the counter. He even went to meet him.
“Welcome to the Garden Square Patisserie. Would you like something, my little friend?”
Examine: Large fire cat like creature ( FervorDreams ) that is curled up at the base of the throne and seems content to stay there.
The other is always in some of the worst places. Be it a battle field or in the throne taking a nap, It is a wonder the player has not yelled at the other yet. You let the other sleep and sit in the throne, feet off to the side.
@masterofdaybreak
In Response to This
“Er, I... um... yes.” The flustered reply was immediate, eyes averting themselves to the ground despite the grin on his face. What does one say to a man he’d admired just from hearsay and reputation? A man who mastered time itself?
“My name is Ephemera. I... um, don’t currently have a master, but I’m an apprentice of the keyblade-- like you said.” Hopefully he wouldn’t ask too much about why an apprentice was without a teacher. It was odd, after all. “I... um... I know Ava too-- she speaks highly of you.” When she spoke of her master at all. It was like pulling teeth, trying to get her to talk about that sort of thing. Then again, the keyblade masters were always sort of weird about talking to apprentices about master things.
