Mar 14
'' Wow. ''
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'' Wow. ''
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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The things my friends say on discord smh
'' Due to his excessive and enthusiastical propositions of sparring to every living creature that he meets with, @predvestnik will be duct taped to the wall shortly. ''
@predvestnik replied to your post “Good morning campers, I shall write today and...”:
I'm in jail again and request legal help, pls send Lady Yanfei-
"Don't worry – you have my loyalty as long as Northland Bank keeps honoring my invoices!"
ACCEPTING ( short starters call ) / @predvestnik.
the jade spear manifests with its blade at childe's throat. xiao's anything but pleased. " not now, fatui. " spite is pressing against his tone, resentment from past actions a staining influence. " whatever it is you seek, find it elsewhere. "
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
" i swear all your problems just wash away when you place a $50 burger king delivery " / @predvestnik @ccaptain
When Klee gonna call Childe uncle... This gonna be big win for Kaeya and him... / @ccaptain, @predvestnik
conversations through the night have led him here, rising from his position by the campfire with a modest curve made wider by the shadows cast beneath his lips. It's a bold, if not unexpected move which guides him around the fire toward Flins, his poise kept pristine despite the alcohol still warm in his throat. Tartaglia extends a hand, palm up, and hides the other behind his back — more for flair than any depth of intention — as he falls into an elegant arc.
The silence is fleeting; the unspoken invitation in Tartaglia's gaze toward Flins is given shape, at last, by the quiet spill of his words. "Let me steal you for a dance, dear Ratnik."
For the briefest heartbeat, The Lightkeeper only looks at the offered hand.
The campfire crackles between them, embers lifting into the night like tiny wandering stars. Around them, laughter and conversation of their friends and comrades continue in soft, distant waves, but they blur into little more than background noise.
Flins' gaze drifts from Tartaglia's upturned palm to the crooked smile beneath it, reading the practiced flourish, the confidence worn as easily as a favorite coat.
A dance. He asks.
There had been a time when invitations like these belonged to another life. Bright halls. Polished floors. Boots that stepped for celebration instead of pursuit. Before rifles. Before graves. Before azure flames became more familiar than candlelight.
A quiet huff escapes Flins, somewhere between amusement and disbelief. It's not the first time he's danced with a charming enemy and my, does this opportunity keep presenting itself.
Flins lets the silence linger just long enough to become teasing before slipping his gloved hand into Tartaglia's. His lantern sways gently from where it hangs at his hip, the azure flame inside giving away to rose tint color before burning again with its usual azure color.
"One dance, dearest Fatuus," he concedes, his gloved fingers curling with surprising warmth around the Harbinger's hand.
"Although," he adds, allowing Tartaglia to lead him away from the firelight.
"I should warn you." His striking, pupilless yellow eyes catching the glow of the flames as they turn.
"I am out of practice and may not know the contemporary dances of your … Majesty's court. Do forgive me, Mr. Tartaglia, if I stumble."