#plumatuus

HC meme

23: How organized are they? How does this organization/disorganization manifest in their everyday life?

Julius isn’t really organized, but he isn’t disorganized either. Of course, he doesn’t exactly clean up after himself, since he’s so used to servants doing that for him, and since he’s not doing anything political or remotely adult-like, he doesn’t have much to keep track of either. When Julius was possessed by Loptyr, Manfloy likely kept up with all of the accounting, paperwork, treaties, etc., so Julius never really learned the worth of that sort of stuff either. He just… lives. This boy needs an adult.

45: Do they express their thoughts through words or deeds?

Never trust what Julius says. He’s a highly unreliable narrator, and most of what he says is to preserve his own fragile ego. The things that he does will give a more accurate picture of what he’s feeling/thinking, and on top of that, his way of displaying affection is through gift-giving… even if he does tend to be rather overbearing with that, too. His words and actions often contradict each other.

49: Is this person afraid of dying? Why or why not?

@plumatuus

The sky would have been an ink black, had it not been obscured by storm-grey clouds- The breath left the marksman’s lungs in puffs of white mist, spiraling upwards before dissipating. It was cold, a damp kind of cold that settled its fingers on your skin and burrowed into your flesh. Too cold to be outside, by his standards, yet here he was, alongside the Raven King, an individual he had not planned on speaking to anytime soon. Life was full of surprises, he supposed, and he wasn’t obligated to speak to the laguz, either, but the sight of the masses of clouds on the horizon prompted him to speak, anyways.

“It looks like it may storm soon.” he mumbled, a simple observation, slowly turning his head to Naesala. “It’ll doubtlessly hinder progress- Here’s hoping it won’t last long.”

To Vanessa, love is getting up every morning before the sun, even when the floors are cold and the blankets are warm and the pillow calls beckoningly for more quality time, just because Titania is waiting. It’s spending months thinking and weeks planning and finally giving Syrene a long letter detailing things that Vanessa is grateful for that year, and treating her older sister to dinner for her birthday.

It’s going to bed every night to the sounds of her fellow knights breathing and feeling right at home. It’s pride in her country and a willingness to die for it...

In his defense, Innes methodically examined the drink beforehand, no stranger to poison attempts.  None of the detection techniques yielded results beyond more swirling maroon liquid, so he abandoned caution and took a sip, boldly confident in his ability to ferret out toxins—

He feels—warm, like he’d taken a sip of wine, and he considers the matter settled, frowning instead at this... man with wings?  He looks like the little dragon girl, but Innes had never heard of a bird-type manakete.

And another strange thing occurs to him—the more he observes the man, the larger and larger he becomes.  Innes notices his wingtips rising higher and higher—and out of a growing, nagging sense of dread he whips his head around to see the chair enlarging as well.

The label had simply said ‘Drink Me’

No clear indicators of what it was nor ingredients. Maybe it was simply festive. But he shouldn’t have just downed the flask either way. He probably should have been suspicious of such refreshments at festivities by now.

But one moment, everything was normal, the next, the entire world had grown fifty sizes larger. Horrified, he simply shouted.