#promptless

North American Basilisk (1984)

A rare photo of the highly endangered North American Basilisk (specifically the Webber's Bandy-Neck Basilisk, native to Appalachia). Fortunately for the photographer, this specimen was male, thus they were able to get this close safely.

She gripped her gun, the mask doing nothing to hide her nerves. “I’m going to shoot you.”

“Are you, now?”

“I’m going to shoot you.” She repeated, emphatically.

“Sweetheart, I heard the click, and I know you’re out of amm–”

A golden flash filled the room.

The outlaw was soon gripping a bloody shoulder. “You…!?”

“I’m not going to kill you.” She explained, pulling back the hammer as gold dust filled the chambers. “But I’m going to shoot you.”

“...Godhead? You’re praying bullets into your gun!? The hell are you!?”

1: Autumn

Venture Bros. RustyxByron.

—-

A Ribbon to Tie

They had been snowed in for about three days, but it finally looked like they'd be able to make it out of this awful little abandoned fishing hut. Halesta climbed in through the space left at the top of the door and slid down the wall of snow, returning back to the now suffocating heat of their shelter. Solas looked up from where he crouched, rifling around in his rucksack. He'd been acting weird since they woke up, continuously glancing at her, all bright-eyed and boyish. 

"We may have to melt some of the snow for you to squeeze out, but it looks like today's the day we get out of this fish hole," Immediately unravelling her scarf and shrugging off her coat with hasty frustration.  "Creators, it's sweltering in here. I got an instant headache."

"Yes," Humming in amusement, "It is curious how snow can be so effective at thermal insulation."

"Yeah, ‘curious’," Rolling her eyes before turning to squint at him suspiciously, "How are you not bothered by this?”

"Well, it helps that I have not yet felt the fresh air for myself," Gesturing for her to come over and sit in front of him, "I am also well practiced at ignoring the more bothersome aspects of situations."

With the promise of his magic's cooling touch, Halesta gratefully fell into the rickety old chair. Long fingers trailing cold as ice back from her face, carding with surprisingly little difficulty through the knotted ringlets before his thumbs pressed into the hallow at the base of her skull. The soothing cold radiating through her bones, her headache ebbed away as quickly as it had appeared. Sighing gratefully, she closed her eyes and savored the last tendrils of his magic before he withdrew. Instead of releasing her, though, she was caught a bit off her guard when he turned his attention to a lock of her hair.

"What are you doing?" 

"Plaiting a ribbon into your hair," The way he stated it, with such confident aplomb, drew the slightest rush of heat to her face.

"...Why?" She could hear his smile even before he spoke.

"It is my...modern adaptation of an old Arlathan tradition. In these times, I believe it is more fitting for First Day celebrations, although it was a centennial game for us."

"Lemme guess, totally unrelated to the crazy long lifespan thing," Rolling her eyes again, but she couldn't help but smile at his rare show of sentimentality, "...So, it's a game?"

"Mm," His evident enthusiasm, while bizarre, was also kinda sexy, "Most Elvhen did not bind or marry any one person for life, for obvious reasons, and many wore their hair at some length— excepting certain Sentinels, or soldiers during wartime. For the centennial celebrations, unwed Elvhen would wear a magicked ribbon braided near the end of a longer lock of hair. Some wore multiple ribbons, others would wear only one."

"And," Hesitating slightly, hoping not to instigate a political argument, "...Everyone did this?" 

Humming approvingly through his smile, pleased by her curiosity, "Nobles, slaves, the Evanuris: anyone who chose to."

"Hm," A silent moment passed with her gnawing on her lip thoughtful before she realized he hadn't continued; she playfully goaded him on. 

"So, the game is everyone wearing magic hair bows. Fascinating."

"There was a purpose," Almost certainly smirking at the back of her head, his hands moving to different strands on the other side.

"...Anddd, that was?" Struggling to keep her smile between her pursed lips at the sound of his low chuckle.

"The answer is rather obvious if you think on it," Teasing that ruffled her feathers a bit, even though it was clearly done with affection.

"Those that wished to spend the new century together would exchange ribbons; each removing their own and tying it in the other's hair. Every spelled ribbon, once braided into hair other than the one who cast the spell, would shimmer and glow. It was a romantic game of sorts."

"That's," Her brow furrowing slightly, she laughed, "...actually kinda sweet. Good luck getting magic ribbons to catch on these days, though. Too much suspicion of mages and magic as it is, what with the Veil half gone.”

"Perhaps, but I did not think that you would mind," Again with the boyishly flirty tone, "As you happen to be magically inclined, yourself."

Almost snorting as she laughed, pulling a face, and a brief moment before several things occurred to her at once.

"Wait, is today really First Day? Already?"  Turning to look at him, half suspecting this to be a joke.

"First Day Eve," Smile and nod genuine before turning her around again to finish weaving her curls.

"Well, shit," Sighing at the quick passage of time, but swiftly moving on to a wry followup:

"Okay, so why this two-person trial run? It's hardly an effective measurement of trend-ability— HEY, and I'm the only one of us with hair!"

Turning to face him again, unable to mask her victorious grin with feigned incomprehension, she found his expression a parody of innocence. He lifted the plait from the left side of her head, eyes bright, and the hint of a blush blooming across the bridge of his nose.

"That I wear my own ribbon first is unnecessary pagentry," Though his tone was still confident and matter-of-fact, his shyly lowered gaze betrayed him, "I merely skipped that step and bestowed it."

They both spent the next few seconds looking at each other like a pair of idiots: Solas with his sheepishly shuffling feet, and Halie opening and closing her mouth like a waterless fish. Eventually regaining control of her mouth, she climbed up on the chair, pulling her face to his. The hopeful apprehension in his eyes drew some little soft, adoring noise from her, which she quickly replaced with the most serious expression she could muster. Reach to the ribbon on the right, she loosened it from its new knot, raising it to him in question.

"But," Slipping the strip of satin over his head and pulling him close, smiling stars and whispering against his lips.

Inktober Day 8 - No Prompt

Inktober day 3!! Promptless and peaceful 🙌 India ink is completely new to me, and I don’t use any other form of inking in my practice. SO THIS IS A WILD AND VULNERABLE EXPERIENCE. Sketching with pencil first helps 😎💀💛