#nefezh

A starmap laid out over a table, the map itself large and enchanted. Space shown like iridescent swirls of spilled black and blue ink, the stars depicted twinkling faintly. Upon it are gemstones cast at particular junctures and a stack of tarot cards set aside. “Ah.” The mage overseeing it nods at Salome, stopped to take a peek, as he meticulously moves a clear stone an inch or two over. “Has it caught thine eye? ‘Tis a lovely map, pulled from the depths of some past Atlas mage’s cast aside work and repurposed for mine own.” Urianger gestures for her to look if she wishes. “I am divining thy facility’s future, and seeing what of it might I change from here.”

Dumbass Is Biting Salieri. very normal birthday greetings.

what on earth--?! it had just grabbed him and chomped down, with nary greeting nor explanation! don’t call it normal, this is the first time anyone’s ever bitten him for a greeting. especially without so much as a hello! or a dinner date! “wh-- master, what’s this for?” is it possessed? hello?

you fool. mewtwo jumpscare

imogen and sitri have always been close. holding hands in the drosselmeier gardens, laying curled up next to each other under the stars in the woods.

they’re ‘ out ’ to dinner tonight- hand in hand. eating greasy food, listening to the nightlife of the harbor, and just- enjoying each other’s company. every time imogen has to rise to refill their drinks, sitri’s hand rests, lingering on her shoulder blades, on her lower back, on her arm, on her hand.  ( look at me. please see me the way i see you. )

she scoots closer- pressing her cheek against it’s. sitri’s hand rests on her lower back, and she can feel it fidgeting with the laces of her corset. “ do you wanna go somewhere else ? ”

according to every person cyno knows, he’d never make it as a comedian. right now, he’s trying to tell tighnari his new joke, and is currently a quarter of a way through his sleep-deprived explanation when the bed shifts under tighnari’s moving weight. cyno props himself up on his elbows, and uses his upper body strength to push himself to meet the other. he can smell the clinging rot of mushrooms and flowers- the incense used that kept away bugs, streams of water that ran under gandharva ville. in his peripheral vision, he can see the tip of the other’s ear twitch, and tighnari’s hair tickles his cheek.

sometimes, he doesn’t understand social cues. they’re not his strong suit. and they’re both so close- that maybe if cyno stretches just a little more-

and then tighnari pulls away, and flicks his forehead, as cyno slumps back into his pillow. it’s nicer than sleeping on a travel pack. ( don’t you have to be up in a few hours? ) the sound of thunder echoes in the distance- a storm coming up from . . . somewhere.  it mixes with tighnari’s voice, and is soothing enough that cyno closes his eyes. ( oh, and if you forget your lunch again, i’m not bringing it to you. )