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@murderyn liked for a starter:
"Can... I ask you something? Err, more like some things. I just... I don't know a whole lot about the crisis. No more than the stories say, at least." Her knees had drawn up as she watched her sister, arms holding her legs to her chest. "What were the people you traveled with like? And Gorion? I always hear you called 'Gorion's Ward', but... well, no one ever says anything about Gorion."
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@murderyn asked:
blood will be spilled. i know it. let it be mine, not yours.
"No. Ryn, I don't want that." Nimue's brows knit together, jaw steeling against her thoughts. "Look, I don't expect to survive this. I don't... I don't even know if I want to survive. If I die against Orin, or against the Brain, then that's okay." It wasn't resignation, it was fact. "You deserve to get a good ending."
@murderyn asked:
❛ i’ll say it again: humans are strange. ❜
"You're not wrong..." Nimue had hopped up on a short wall to try and get a better view. It was hard for the little elf to see much of anything when the streets of the city became crowded. "But, I bet we're pretty weird to them, too--- and to most people. Given the whole spawn thing." Brown eyes scanned the market, trying to pick out what, in particular, Ryn meant.
"Who was it?"
@murderyn asked:
“You are not to blame.”
"We don't know that." Perhaps, when it came to things like Alfira's murder, no. Nimue wasn't to blame, despite that she'd held the blade that committed the act. But before? Before her mind had been minced? From all she'd heard, she had actively participated in torment, blood, death--- she'd enjoyed it. Could they really lay all blame at Bhaal's feet?
Her arms wrapped tightly about her form. "No, we do know. Everything that Gortash and I did? That was me, wasn't it? The Absolute plot, breaking into the Hells for the crown, enslaving the Elder Brain. That was me."
@murderyn asked:
i'm always running from something .
Doe-eyes studied her sister for a moment, studying, trying to read. Her voice was soft when she spoke. "Don't you get tired?" All of that running only to keep running. Wasn't it better to face it and die or not die. Make a stand, prove a point. Rip out a heart or two and people would take you seriously. Maybe they'd even leave you alone. ---But, perhaps, that was the Bhaalspawn in her talking. At least the bit about the heart ripping.
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"not really sure what you'd want for a birthday, but i did make cookies. here. happy birthday, you don't look a day over 400."
@murderyn sent birthday wishes <3
katherine’s eyes sparkled at the unexpected gift, her lips curving into a genuine smile "cookies? you really know how to charm a 552-year-old," she said, taking the treats with a playful wink. "i’m touched you remembered my birthday: most don’t bother, let alone bake for me. these better be as good as your effort. thank you, i make sure to remember that you were one of the kind people who seem to care."
starter with @murderyn
Serenei didn’t move at first. She was crouched near a body—a tenday old, already bloated and still in that particular way death clung to things. Not fresh enough for the spell to work. At least not without risk. Her fingers hovered briefly over the jaw, as if listening with more than ears.
Now, come on, we got places to be.
There was a time she might’ve flinched at that kind of urgency. Orders. Movement. Forward, forward, always forward, like momentum could drown the blood on your hands. But Serenei didn’t flinch anymore. Not much. She stood, bones stiff, voice even softer than usual, one brow lifting in that particular Serenei way—half disapproval, half dark amusement.
“Do we?” she asked. “Because this one isn’t talking, and I was hoping for something useful before we rush off to get impaled by whatever's waiting over the next hill.” Her boots crunched softly over the grass as she crossed toward Ryn.
Still, she didn’t argue. She just brushed a lock of silver-streaked hair from her face, her tone shifting to something drier, laced with an edge that never quite dulled—not anger, exactly. Just exhaustion that had learned to wear armor.
She looked at the wonan a moment longer. Took her in. Golden hair, proud jaw, that eye—draconic and burning with something Serenei recognized too well: the fury of someone who had been shaped, tested, and still wasn’t done fighting.
“Remind me again—are we chasing something, or are we just really bad at staying still?”
[ 🌀 ]ㅤ.ㅤdo they have a recurring dream or nightmare ?
head canon meme || accepting
I won't say Nanna has constant nightmares, even having joined the Wardens during the Blight, because I love her too much to also rob her of sleep all the time on top of everything else. But there's definitely nights where her connection to the Blight is strong and she gets those formless, cacophonous dreams that have no real shape but freaks you out without fully understanding why.
