#mindsbedlam

In-fighting  between  them  all  only  added  unneeded  stress  on  top  of  an  already  bad  situation  is  only  going  to  lead  to  trouble.  What  began  as  a  heated  debate  escalated  to  ignorant  comments,  and  ultimately  ended  with  her  companion  snapping  at  another.  She  had  eavesdropped  on  the  entire  thing,  knowing  every  single  word.  Trying  to  remain  a  neutral  party,  Zephira  believes  it  should  not  have  ended  that  way.  However,  being  another  given  magic,  insensitive  words  also  struck  a  chord  within  her.  Waiting  until  Roselle  reached  a  spot  far  from  the  wizard,  she  approaches  with  intent  to  comfort  ᅳ  to  listen.

❝ With  those  brown  eyes,  I  say  he  looks  like  a  kicked  puppy. ❞  She  chuckles  lightly.  Glancing  towards  Gale,  she  does  have  a  look  of  sympathy,  but  he's  not  her  focus  right  now.  Dual  colored  eyes  back  on  Roselle,  she  answers  with  an  observant  opinion.  ❝ He  is  nice,  yes,  but  for  an  intellectual  he  sure  chooses  his  words  poorly. ❞

━━━.࿔･｡꒷꒦⁺･ﾟ︶ ๋꒷ִֶָ. the inquisitor.

Iago bites their tongue against a sigh of impatience. They thought their meaning was simple enough.

"I mean I handled it," they grumble as they set to unlacing their shoes with still-smoking hands to be scrubbed clean of any viscera stuck in the soles. They'd only stepped away from camp for a few hours. A little privacy, a little much-needed time to stew and brood and angst and all that. Admittedly, it had to have been a bit startling to see the waif of a sorcerer stomping back to camp with a not insignificant amount of blood splattered across their normally pristine clothes.

"Dead, handled, incapacitated, exhumed- take your pick."

Normally keeping to the outskirts of fights and downplaying their explosive magical prowess, Iago wasn't so attached to that unassuming persona that they'd hold back in a fight on their own. It was easy enough to take care of them. The ambushers were left unrecognizable. Iago, the damsel in distress, walked off without a single scratch. More inconvenienced and annoyed than frightened by the encounter.

They nod the way they came, "I'm only telling you now in case someone goes on a stroll down that path. There's a few less bandits and a few more bodies now. You are welcome."

𝐒𝐏𝐎𝐓𝐈𝐅𝐘  𝐖𝐑𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐄𝐃.

   ╰┈➤    @mindsbedlam

𝟑𝟔.  𝐫𝐞𝐝  𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐜𝐞𝐝𝐞𝐬  -  𝟔𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐲𝐡𝐮𝐦𝐚𝐧  &  𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐚

        ❝   NO,   I   CAN'T   relax.  Lately,  I've  been  so  close  to  a  heart  attack.   ❞

✎ㅤ. . .ㅤ𝑩𝑳𝑶𝑶𝑫 𝑨𝑵𝑫 𝑫𝑨𝑹𝑲𝑵𝑬𝑺𝑺 / pt 2.

"...Huh?" Those fair lashes flutter his way, as if unwitting; how bold of the little sun to make such assumptions, he thinks; to take him for anything at all, when he is made of nothing but reflections. So many months now, condemned to this sunny land, away from home, had shaped him an adaptable creature. You could find him waltzing with royalty, draped in the finest of silks, and his feet would glide across the ballroom effortlessly so, and his chatter would flow like bubbly champagne across the room—but you would find him just as comfortable, curled up in the bottom of a cave, surrounded by horrors and spiders alike. To be a Szarkai is to be a chameleon, adaptability is a necessary means for survival, as far as his world is concerned.

"And just what did you take me for, do tell." it feels pointed, albeit, not necessarily hostile.

A tuft of white hair is carefully tucked away behind the arch of his ear; grooming himself until the image on display was presentable. "...shall I be pessimistic instead?" the offer is laid out so casually and unenthused, as though he was discussing what to have for lunch—playfulness wiped clean of his delicate features, he falls into a neutral, passive baseline, just briefly sparing the other a glance of acknowledgement. "Would you prefer that?" there is something cold in the offer, how readily, effortlessly does the young drow seems ready to strip himself clean of the joyful demeanor he wears so gracefully, to put on another mask entirely, just as convincing, and perhaps, just as true.

There is an emptiness behind the red of his eyes as he awaits for them to deliberate; a peek behind the curtains of his eternal performance.

BAG   OF   BONES    ;    𝐓𝐖𝐈𝐍  𝐏𝐄𝐀𝐊𝐒:  𝐒𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐎𝐍  𝐓𝐖𝐎

            ╰┈➤    @mindsbedlam

▊  &&.   how  you  doing  down  there?  (  from  roselle!  )

        PUCK   SHIFTS   UNCOMFORTABLY   at  the  question.  Normally  soft-spoken,  he  has  to  project  his  voice  for  her  to  hear,   ❝   Well,  to  be  honest,  you  are  making  me  VERY  NERVOUS   ！   ❞

Now,  in  his  defense,  the  half-elf  is  taller  than  the  average  man,  so  the  fact  that  he  has  to  crane  his  neck  so  far  up  just  to  catch  a  glimpse  of  her  on  the  rooftop  is  .   .   .     worrying for him.  Puck  is  very  much  a  worrywart  when  it  comes  to  other  people's  wellbeing.

        ❝   I   —   ！   ❞   He  side-steps,  head  tilting  one  way  then  the  other  as  he  tries  to  figure  out  the  best  angle  to  catch  her  lest  something  goes  horribly  wrong.   ❝   I  think  I  saw  a  hole  in  the  roofing  earlier,  so  maybe   —   ❞   

        Oh,  dear,  how  will  he  catch  her  if  she  falls  inside  the  building  ？   

        ❝   —   Maybe  you  should  get  down  .   .   .   ？ ！   ❞

One  of  the  goblins  who'd  oh-so-generously  yet  less-than-kindly  let  them  enter  the  village  passes  by,  grumbling  about  an  overgrown  mutt  yapping  too  loudly.  Puck  pretends  not  to  notice  said  goblin  is  staring  very  pointedly  at  him.