#oiblesstuff

Randvi?

The Frost/Nomad ghostie AU (see here for Frost) and thank you again to @grain-crain-drain for letting me chuck ideas at u like grenades

Nomad: Wind elemental, spends a lot of time in the open plains of the world, no anchor, which she loves but sometimes she wishes to have a place to return, she can take human form, and it is said she can grant wishes but none have ever lived to tell. Catch her in the desert and she'll bring a sandstorm that'll shred the flesh off your bones in an instant, or find her in the open chill of the ice flats and the blood in your veins will freeze faster than your next intake of breath. 

Once, she came across a house in the middle of the Canadian wilds on accident and took human form, Frost grabbed her but all of a sudden instead of the usual result of blood and viscera, they were both inside the wall, and in that instant frost had found something to halt her loneliness and Nomad found something that could ground her. 

And finally two poems for our scary gal pals. plz ignore how bad I am at poetry.

Frost The void is dark. Frost lives here. She sits, listening, feeling, waiting. Waiting for the little flies, into her trap they step, and then she takes them she reaches, grabs, pulls, but they never join her. The void is lonely.

and still @grain-crain-drain and I press on into this AU

See here for the original post

as a recap:

Amaru: fae, jungle spirit, nahual, jaguar, ancient as time, has protected the amazon and everything in it for centuries

Mira: human, oracle, uses a piece of obsidian as her seeing glass, traveled to Peru after a vision of Amaru wouldn’t leave her mind

I Dreams

Elena can see other dimensions, one day, she has a vision of herself and Azucena they’re sat on a porch looking out over a beach, she knows the ocean by the feeling it gives her, they are carefree. Neither is scarred with the stanzas of battle they both have written across their skin in this world. They seem so content.

When the vision ends, Elena puts her obsidian plate gently onto the table, collapses onto the couch, and bursts into tears. She cries until Azucena returns home from her hunt, and then, wrapped in strong arms, she cries some more.

II Other Dreams

Then there’s that time that Elena can feel herself being pulled away, her spirit being shorn from herself like paper she screams but sound does not exist in this place she reaches for something, anything to ground her, anchor her here wherever here is, as long as it's not there, slipping further into an inky blackness. The terror is overwhelming; it claws at her lungs grasping at the oxygen there and rending it from her.

She can’t breath.

Suddenly the world is cold. And loud. And...wet? Something heavy presses her into the bed. The panic rocks her and she pushes at the weight, strong arms hold steady her hands as she thrashes. A familiar voice soothes her frayed nerves.

She opens sleep heavy eyelids to see Azucena staring down at her, a look of worry spread across handsome features. The familiar sight calms her, and Elena stops her wrestling, takes in her surroundings. She’s back in the bed they share when they are both around to do so. An empty glass sits on the bedside table, that would explain the water. The hooks her dreams cast in her are barbed and often not prone to release, though this is new.

“I thought I had lost you” Azucena says, rolling off her. Elena sits up and leans against her partner.

“Not today, not yet” she says.

She knows one day that will not be true.

III Amaru’s Work

The jungle bursts with sound there is no singular note that rises above the rest, a million insects in a thousand conversations drown the world in their cacophonous opera. A lone hiker trudges along, lost in the dark depths of the land. His heart racing in an unsteady drum, beating itself against battered ribs in an attempt to escape the terror flooding through constricted veins.

The site, once he finds it, glistens in the moonlight, the recent rain having slicked the stones and architecture with a sharp sheen that reflects the pallid moonlight filtering through the canopy.

A root he does not see traps his foot, sends him tumbling to the ground, he can taste blood, must have bitten his tongue when he hit the ground.

The hiker rises to his feet but brushing the dirt off his knees leaves bold streaks of red across his pants.

He looks at his palms.

They’re painted red.

Something drips from the trees above and he turns his gaze towards the canopy. It is only now that he sees the bodies. 

Dani: I don’t have any clothes