#prophetin

TENDER ISN'T really a word eliot would have ever used to describe himself . but , then again , ever since eliot was , well . . . eliot again , and quentin had died . . . a lot about eliot had changed . and so now , when his hand comes up to q's cheek , TENDER is exactly the word that comes to mind .

remy isn't the kind of person who deals in choices-- the opportunities to make any are few & far between. wishes, however, are entirely more her speed: she wishes in rhymes & soft lullabies. she has been wishing for the impossible since she was big enough to do so, and found that she often wished bigger than most around her. she wished to leave home, unaware yet that a wish and a promise are two different things entirely, and that only one of them brings you were you actually want to go. when that wish turned sour, she wished yet again, and her star guided to yet another prison. she is but a bird wishing for bluer skies, unaware that she will only ever deal with cages.

jeff is… well. she doesn't want to be unkind, so the thought comes up cloaked in shame, but jeff is like any other wish she has ever made. in theory, he is breathtaking, and she would do like nothing more than to stay near him. in reality, he is a liar and a thief and he would rather sell her heart on the black market than keep it safe.

baldur's gate is but a walk away, and soon the world will take on a new shape: be it from their victory or their failure, nothing will be quite the same. new songs will blossom, history will take on a new cloak. it makes sense that he would question time right now, when it is about to transform into an entirely new tapestry. beneath their feet, clear water flows. the night is bright and full of possibilities. it is a place for nostalgia, or whatever it is when you wish for a past that hasn't happened. remy finds a thousand justifications for his musings, and attempts very bravely not to read anything beneath the question.

she barely reaches the river, though she attempts it by dangling precariously over the edge of the wooden deck. with a sigh of failure, she does sit back-- aware, of course, that the question sits uncomfortably between them, addled by the bottle of wine jeff nicked from moonglow's stash a while back. "i don't know," remy tells him, ever honest, red eyes glowing softly in the darkness, looking anywhere but him.

scenario prompts- fairytales, folklore, and faekind, accepting!  ˎˊ˗

         some loser's stood faye up for a little exchange of blueberries and bananas, leaving her absolutely fuming. since when has faye been lingering by the football field, waiting for a good time to smack in her face? she's pathetic, faye scoffs to herself, shaking a head of curls. she might as well go home to that fuck-ass trailer if she's going to stalk around like this, like some ... some goddamn outcast. she's so pissed off, she needs a cigarette. when faye stomps around the corner, she spots a tiny dark shadow underneath one of the bleachers. well, today couldn't get any worse, is it? faye might as well infect another poor morsel with her misery. and, anyways, when's the last time faye's made a new friend?

         she's in the mood to push around another teenager until they do something that amuses her, or bores her. so, that she does. at first, faye doesn't do the slightest of greeting, but she lets whatever loser is beneath the bleachers hear the sound of her shoes against the metal. hell, they can look up her skirt, if they want- that would be interesting. then, she peaks down the slats. dark hair, pale face, always bored. hey, it's that goth girl ... " hey, girl, get the fuck up here! "

Meme / Closed!

As a toddler, traveling alongside her parents, Vayne wandered into the woods to never be seen again. Her family mourned her, and the legacy of the Vayne family was tainted by tragedy. A horrible accident, and a reminder that not even wealth would save you the brutality of the wilderness.

Shauna did not die though, while lost and forging berries to try to state her hunger, she was found by a large white wolf, with stark blue eyes. A witch named Frey, who was cursed, trapped in her lupine form. Frey took Shauna into her care, and taught the girl how to survive. Shauna grew to be a folk legend, hunting monsters in the wild, and acting more like a beast than human woman.

Meme / Accepting!

Behind her glasses, Vayne's eyes were wide, and her mouth agap. She could tell the woman before her was magical, overwhelmingly so to a degree she rarely felt.

Meme / Accepting!

She certainly has, especially while alone in the spirit realm. There were times that due to the psychological effects of prolonged social deprivation, and stress of guarding Zaahen, where she experienced things like severe depression, anxiety, paranoia, and even psychosis

She's aware that her perspection was not clear throughout a lot of her time alone, but wonders if her mind is still clouded by such things even now that she's out

Answered here!

Truthfully, after returning from the spirit world; all of the time.

Among company, she's left to reckon with how the whole world has changed in massive ways. Even the few people still alive like Kennan have gone through so much. She's a stranger in a strange land, a land that once was her home, a home she can never go back to, forgotten by nearly everyone

On her own, she's reminded of the endless quiet of the spirit realm. How her own voice was her only company. It's lonely, but familiar

         ❛❛  is that what you’re calling it,  ❜❜         ronan says, flatly, breath whistling down the neck of his nearly empty beer bottle.    ‘lulling’ is a word for songs sung at bedtime to children with drooping eyelids, or soft-sweet nothings from manipulative mouths in hostile conversations.    not the little pills rattling in kavinsky’s palm-warmed screw-top bottle, not the violent way ronan’s head met the headrest after the first one hit his stomach.