#preyontheweak

“Hi, please pretend that you are talking to me.”

The request caught the elf by surprise, though perhaps it were due to how entrenched she had become in taking inventory of strewn-out medical kits across the bar top. For hours now, she had been nose-deep into preparations to take her trip off to Halfhill to meet with one of her Advisors and deliver a multitude of aid items to the working draenei.

She set aside a roll of bandages and nudged some kits to the right, some to the left to make space to press gloved palms against the counter top. Now did her eyes settle onto the source of the voice, taking in the intricacies of her mien. She could have sworn, at one point, she heard commotion outside of the tavern. That was nothing new, of course. Just as on some nights the tavern would be filled to the brim, there were also often gatherings just outside of it. There had been multiple visitors in the past week alone, though they seemed to be of the same group that was delving into investigations as of late over cultist activity. She flicked her eyes back to the entry, past her new guest, but her lips moved on while her mind churned for a natural enough response.

“...Staying safe out in the woods, Miss?” Blue eyes set then drifted subtly to the window to see if from her position she could see anything there. “I hear that the darkness is even reaching down here. There’s been one or two Inquisitors that have passed by since then. That doesn’t stop them from, of course, seeking respite for but a minute or two. Can I get you a drink?” She peeled herself from her lean-to against the bar and quickly tugged free a menu to allow the stranger a choice in vice amidst the distraction.

“I’d recommend the Inside Voice. I think it’d suit you,” she spoke in a lower tone, fingertips tapping against the aforementioned drink: cinnamon whiskey with cinnamon candies served up in a shot glass and lit on fire.

Major Arcana Asks (Accepting!)

“I command naught but my flesh, bone, and weapon” Celaryn answered without hesitation. “I do not have the expertise nor the desire to rely on magic that may go awry depending on how my voice fluctuates or anything of the sort.” She slowly shook her head, armor plates clanking with each minute movement. Celaryn ambled around the room, casually picking a globe off of a nearby bookshelf and spun it.

“That is the problem with this generation,” the warrior admitted as she placed her spiked finger onto globe. The sphere gradually halted with Celaryn’s finger pointing into the depths of the Great Sea. With a sigh, Celaryn placed the globe back on its original position amidst the books. “So many wish to be an archmage in control of flashy arcane magic that can level a city, a grand warlock who reins in titanic demons, or a peerless assassin in command of concoctions that could still a heartbeat with a drop.”

“But not me.” Celaryn slowly slid the blade of her longsword out from its scabbard. She squinted, aligning its length with her eye and admired its edge. “This works better than any magic, beast, or demon for me. The sword does not backfire if you fumble an incantation. You do not need to feed or walk it, and it does not make snide comments when you command it.”

“The only power I draw on is my own will--that fire in my chest that blazes hotter with each foe I cut down.”

drunken confession.

your muse is drinking with mine and has been given the chance to question my museanything they want to know. some may be triggering, others won’t. send me a 🍻+ the question you want to ask my muse for a tipsy, drunken ( honest ) answer.

INTERVIEW MY OC ABOUT QUESTIONS THAT HAVE NO EASY ANSWER.

━ @preyontheweak  │ Open

   The vestibule sits in chaos. Wood splinters litter the floor. The walls exuviate wallpaper at freshly split jagged edges. What furniture there was, now lays upturned. A table, rent down the center. Two chairs shattered into nothing more than dowels and shards. A mirror’s remnants flooded the space by the front door that now sat off its hinges, casting long rays of flickering firelight into the hallway from outside. Paintings, once aged and faded to indistinguishable faces now add to shredded rug and tapestries in a morass upon the floor. 

     At the epicenter of the disarray, they locked arms. Alek, sloughing the last sheets of webbed crimson from the leather of her coat, curls her fingers around the intruder’s throat. It had taken the entire fight to expose just enough of that muscled pillar. It is an iron hold that secures the stranger in conclusion. A confession of true strength summoned through veins in a moment of need by precise words. Securing the armored Kul Tiran with a firm press of fingers into her throat under the edge of a metal helm, the Doctor stares. Squinting blues study blood-streaked silver plating, unspoken questions seeking answers from the captured.

                                  “Who are you?” 

⟶ [Prompt.]

OOC | 

On Shipping: I think it’s quite fun to make ships! Ships of all variety are always entertaining, I rather like the positive culture of shipping in general, it creates fun ideas and interesting head-canons! I do not think it is very fun when other people ship characters they physically do not interact with at all with other characters they physically do not interact with at all, and follow upon it like their own personal Soap Opera that they will comment on in notes or via anons/asks/gangups. Actually, if I recall when I touched upon this in conversation a week ago, you mentioned experiencing this to a degree personally! It is strange and it makes me uncomfortable and it is part of why Haunt is now not very down for relationships, because of my past experiences with this type of behavior.

On Community: There are people here that seem to view themselves as Very Important Persons of the RP community. It has become an uncomfortable thing to watch, because they are absolutely attempting to gatekeep information based on their perception of the RP community and the world itself. It does not help anyone if someone considers themselves important & popular and then chooses to not utilize that status for good, and instead for only personal gains and for expressing toxic viewpoints that are only hurtful to minority groups in the RP scene. Gatekeeping is very problematic in general, and the fact that it exists among players that consider themselves intersections of the RP community is concerning. Do good with what you have, don’t use it to control information flows to your favor but to help expand them in useful and effective ways to better RP for those you associate with and the community in general. These people seem to believe the occasional We Shall Overcome & Stay Positive! variety of posts are all that the community requires, and the truth is, the community needs to work against some very big problems collectively, and not just address them with “Do Unto Others” variety of blanket posts with a dash of Don’t Forget To Drink Water.Cannot Stand: I really hate felt. Who made that? Why? Who hurt you that you had to make something as awful as felt? Every child in America has probably had the unfortunate experience of touching felt at least once in their lives and I feel sorry for all of us because felt is absolutely terrible. The sound it makes sometimes when it rubs just right makes my teeth fall out and run away.

IC | 

“Magic is overrated, there, Haunt said it! Yes, Haunt does imbue things with properties and the like but Haunt has spent many, many years deeply embedded in magic and what did it get Haunt? Post Traumatic Stress Disorder!”“Haunt does not agree with the factions standing against each other during critical periods, such as, but not limited to, demon invasions, Azeroth dying, Lich Kings, or similar catastrophic events. Actually, this may be a popular opinion, but it is hard to tell, what with people like the Justiciar existing on Azeroth and all.”

“There is absolutely nothing wrong with using the weapons of one’s enemies. Why are people adverse to this? Haunt rarely sees weapons fashioned from naga or from gilblin, always the dwarves have dwarven made, the elves have elven made and the humans have dwarven or elven made, and this is baffling!”

✪✪✪✪✪ = Whoa you’re kinda cute / @preyontheweak

Esther looked at the letter she received, studying it and counting the stars and using her reference. She counted it, counting five. She looked at her reference, her eyebrows raised when she found the one this person was referencing.“Cute..?”She blinked, only one person came to mind on who might send her this. One assassin she knew well in terms of his feelings came to her mind. Her eyes looked over the letter over, reading who sent this. It wasn’t the assassin she was thinking of, opposite of that.

She leaned back in her seat, her feet prompted up on the table in front of her, surprised that someone other than that one person she’s involved with romantically would tell her this.

“Well, thanks. I wasn’t expecting someone to say that I’m cute. Or to say it to my face, anyway. I think I received one of these things from you before, a similar thing to this. Are you really into me or something? I don’t mind, just curious.”

Starter - @preyontheweak​

     H’zeer awoke slowly, recovered from his afternoon nap. Golden glowing eyes pried open to the burn of a sun that hung just above the horizon. He had to have slept for several hours for it to be this late in the day, but, he was rested and ready to handle the long row it would take to guide his damaged ship back to familiar shores. Standing up, hands swept over his front and back to brush himself off and shoulders rolled to loosen muscles. Mentally preparing himself, the nearby ship at rest didn’t even register in his brain for several more seconds.

     Catching sight of it was a start, the large warrior nearly jumped from his mini pre-rowing regiment. The ship sat not far off, lazily drifting with sails at rest, and, from what he could tell, it wasn’t heavily manned, or even manned at all. Even better, it didn’t look like it needed too many men to begin with, it’s size notably small for a ship of any major navy. Maybe it was a scouting ship. It was hard to tell from this distance. In the blinding late afternoon light, it took some real squinting to even tell what kind of ship it was. It had to be human, the way it was designed, not a single bone or spike in sight, and nothing about it appeared to be vibrating aggressively like gnomish and goblin things tend to do. It was far too bulky to be a pandaren ship, or Sin’dorei.

     “Huh...”

     A ship, possibly in tact, was too good to pass up, he had to investigate it. Diving into the waters, the Zandalari was adept at swimming, and went under enough to hide his approach, even though it was briefly interrupted by a momentary leg cramp from not stretching before throwing himself in. Once he shook out the ache, he made his way to the ship’s edge, peeking up like a curious eel. One hand, then the other, reached up to grasp at the rails, hoisting himself up in a single motion and climbing over the edge to land on the deck, splattering water everywhere.

     “‘Ey! Anybody home?”