❛ and now i’m falling asleep in front of other people? i have to pull myself together! ❜ / sends you this from abi to uri! ask meme // accepting!

He didn't mean to actually wake her from the light doze she seemed to be in, just check she was alright. It's not too often that he or anyone else stumbles upon the warrior of light asleep. At least it wasn't a case of Abi falling victim to some spellcraft or other.

Simply falling victim to the taxing weight of being the universe's favourite errand-runner, perhaps.

@scionitics​ said:  It's the calm before the storm, what seems like a peaceful silence he knows is false hope, and that's when he's making his way over, tackling the other to the ground faster than lightning. The eventual avalanche of rocks falling over where they once stood. He looks down to the other, ensuring he's truly alright in silence until helping him to his feet. / Hyousuke to whoever you are fancying :eyes:

unprompted // always accepting

     The breath is knocked from the miqo’te’s lungs the moment the large Au Ra collides with him. He can only imagine that it’s absurdly easy for the man to tackle him in such a way, a fact that he’ll be embarrassed by later, no doubt, after his heart stops hammering at the pace of a hummingbird’s wings in his throat. A sharp growl is jolted from his chest as his back hits the ground, his hand immediately flying up to the handle of his carbine despite the futility of attempting to draw it with the weapon pinned so securely between his spine and the earth. 

It’s not until a moment later, when he watches the rockslide crush the spot he’d been standing, that he finally lowers that hand, trembling as the rush of adrenaline washes over him. Violet eyes widen a fraction before narrowing on the man above him, his tail lashing sharply in the dirt. He shouldn’t be angry, he realizes that, but nearly dying and owing someone his life for preventing it is a lot to deal with first thing in the godsdamned morning.

Perhaps it’s himself he’s more upset with-- for utterly failing to notice what the other man had. Was he really getting that sloppy?

As the Au Ra helps him to his feet, S’ahnzo brushes the dirt from his clothes, eyes wandering back over to the boulders that had nearly taken him out. As bothered as he wants to be by being swept off his feet and thrown to the ground like a ragdoll, he can’t seem to manage it. Brows furrowing, ears lying back into golden hair, he forces his gaze away from the avalanche and back up to the man in front of him. 

@scionitics​ said:  He's caught off guard by the comment, his hidden talents aren't one he often speaks about but seeing him accept the baked item he'd prepped in the minimum spare time he was able to get, summoned a small smile. " It seems you have been hard at work as of recent, " a light chuckle. " Such is the way, you're forever impressing me, you know. " / VELMERIC VELMERIC VELMERIC SHAKES YOU

unprompted // accepting

     Velkyn blinks, ears flicking forward amidst soft white hair as he accepts the baked treat into his hands. Admittedly, the miqo’te has a certain fondness for sweets-- a fact that he tends to keep to himself, though he’s not nearly proud enough to decline something simply to save face. Besides, Aymeric had made this for him. Even if he had simply bought him something of the sort, the act would have been a rarity, but this? 

It’s a simple thing, but still one that the Lord Commander had put effort into-- Something he had spent his incredibly rare free moments on. The situation shakes him. Vel can’t recall the last time he’d just... been given something-- the last time someone had gone out of their way to do something for him for no reason other than doing so.

The elezen’s praise-- spoken in that gentle voice of his-- does nothing to lessen the warmth creeping into Velkyn’s face, despite Ishgard’s icy chill. What is it about Aymeric’s voice that captivates the miqo’te’s attention so well? Ever since they had first spoken, he can’t seem to get it out of his head, as if he’d known it already and had just been waiting for the chance to hear it again.

Brows knit on either side of the scar that splits his face as he lifts the baked item to his lips, taking a bite in favor of trying to muddle through words right away. His tail flicks behind him, back and forth, before curling up into a pleased arc as he swallows his bite.

     “Me...? Don’t see how I’m the impressive one when you’re making time for things like this while balancing an entire city-state on your head. I’d say you’re pretty impressive yourself, Ser.” The hint of a smirk tugs at his lips, granting a glimpse of sharp teeth lying just past them as Velkyn glances away, hoping to appear less flustered by the compliments than he actually feels. 

     “It’s good, by the way, I-- forgot to say that... Thank you, Aymeric.” Vel is never one for formalities-- unless he’s using them to poke at another. This isn’t anywhere near the first time he’s forgone the use of someone’s proper titles yet, even so, there’s something undeniably warm in the way the other man’s name falls from his tongue. An affection he cannot hope to hide, no matter what measures he takes.

unprompted ask, always accepting !

( 🐇 ) DAHLIA BLINKS AS she hears haurchefant speak behind her, about to turn only to find herself unable to do so in the moment due to what he was placing 'pon her head. she blushes, processing a little late what he said to her 'fore she turns finally to look at him, a smile forming as she spies the crown fixed 'ROUND HIS HEAD as well.

HER HANDS CLASP at first, moving to fiddle with the floral crown on his head and brushing some of his bangs to the side ; pressing a kiss to his nose 'fore pulling away. < I WOULD LOVE that my prince ~ >

      BICOLOURED EYES GAZE UPON HIM, the garden being a second in holding aphrodite's attention — oh, she adores plants, adores each petal on every bloom && finds warmth in them always — yet she sees further beauty before them. gaze finally travels to the garden, taking in the sight as he suggests before casting upon him yet again, full lips curling into a gentle smile, skin creasing about her eyes in a pleasant framing to showcase their joyous glow.

      ❝ oh ? so you oft find yourself looking at my eyes, then ? ❞

      a soft giggle leaves her, light && playful in the air between them as she moves. fingers are careful to pluck a singular, out of place, miscoloured bloom, unwanting to disturb the rest, as she carries it in her hands, reaching up to place against hermes' ear, tucked beautifully into his hair to accent his features.

𝐀  𝐆𝐎𝐋𝐃𝐄𝐍  𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋  𝐆𝐑𝐈𝐏𝐒  𝐀𝐓  𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐒  𝐎𝐅  𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐏𝐇𝐄𝐂𝐘  ;  silken  fabric  turning  from  yellow,  to  brown,  to  red  ;  soaked  to  the  fibre  with  blood  ;  ending in  pool  as  deep  as  it  was  fathomless.  How  many  girls  had  come  before  her  ?  These  jewels  of  Eulmore,  wrapped  in  gilded  cages,  interlaced  with  beryl  and  bone.  ‘Tis  not  your  job  to  think  on  it,’  Ran’jit  had told  her  cruelly,  back  when  her  innocence  held  fast  in  the  books  of  myth  where  a  sunless  sea  glittered  in  the  night  and  paradise  was  naught  a  city  floating  in  the  efflorescence.  Yet  she  knew,  watching  him  in  the  light,  how  he  thought  about  it.  How  the  pages  pressed  between  her  fingers  spelled  a  dreadful  tale  ;  girls  of  sixteen,  fourteen,  eleven  and  eight.

Minfilia.  A  gift,  he  reminded  her,  yet  the  name  felt  little  more  a  death  spell  —  a  curse,  the  moment  it  expelled  from  his  lips,  that  sundered  her  years  like  shards  scattered  across  the  cosmos  (  was  she  doomed,  as  that  Minfilia  was  doomed,  to  die  before  her  time  ?  whether  in  blood  or  exorcism  ;  expunged  or  eviscerated  ?  ).  He  was  not  the  first  that  promised  her  it  would  be  different  and  yet,  like  so  many  girls  before  her,  she  dreamed  of  a  crystal-wrought  plane  where  a  golden  girl  stood  before  a  giant  diamond  of  celeste  blue,  and  her  smile  was  hopeful  but  sad.

“ Please ! “  She  screamed,  cried,  begged.  She  thrust  her  hand  towards  her  static  frame  until  she  woke  writhing  in  her  bed,  her  fingers  only  finding  silk  that  held  a  dozen  girls  before  her.

𝐒𝐇𝐄  𝐃𝐈𝐃𝐍'𝐓  𝐊𝐍𝐎𝐖  𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓  𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐃  𝐇𝐄𝐑  𝐓𝐎  𝐅𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐎𝐖  𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐃,  at  least  not  at  first.  He  was  no  better  than  Ran’jit   —  he  treated  her  just  as  meanly.  She  traded  silk  and  chains  for  a  bed  cloth,  a  companion  who  was  aloof,  and  Minfilia  was  afraid.  She  did  not  understand  what  first  prompted  her  to  take  his  hand,  to  break  clean  of  the  protection  Ranjit  had  placed  upon  her  even  when  the  very  foundations  of  Eulmore  fought  to  keep  their  precious  cargo  (  less  a  person  and  more  a  weapon  ;  one  to  sequester  and  bury  away  ),  only  that  when  she  saw  him  she  felt  a  sense  of  elation  ;  as  if  though  he  were  a  friend  returning  from  a  long  time  away.  Or,  perhaps  more  accurately,  it  was  she  who  left  him  ;  spirited  away  in  the  dead  of  night,  traces  of  aether  left  in  rubble,  the  constant  question  of  why,  why,  why  ?  She  withdrew  from  him,  guarded  her  heart  as  did  he,  while  the  dreams  of  Minfilia  pierced  her  like  light  travelling  thousands  of  malms  per  hour.

“ Is  it  that  I  am  not  enough  ?  Or  am  I  too  much  ? “  She  asked  the  question  every  time,  but  she  shook  her  head  in  cryptid  silence.  Of  what  she  might  know  she  did  not  say  and  she  was  left  grasping  at  the  cord.

A  golden  girl  grips  at  threads  of  prophecy.  She  pulls  it  taut  and  severs  it.

First  in  Il  Mheg  the  thread  is  pulled  —  the  first  tug  of  independence.  Fae-wreathed,  bathed  in  dark,  with  even  Ran’jit  accepting  defeat  at  the  hands  of  such  awesome  power  :  how  could  she  resist  but  to  hope  ?  Perhaps  there  was  a  chance  she  would  be  the  one  to  break  the  wheel.

The  second,  in  Rak’tika,  a  much  more  painful  affair.  Thancred’s  companions  felt  familiar  in  a  way  she  could  not  place  —  how  they  poked  and  prodded  him   —  and  when  he  stormed  to  the  shade  she  felt  all  too  keenly  the  grip  of  her  arm  around  her  nimble  frame  ;  how  Y’shtola’s  words  were  as  much  a  consideration  as  they  were  a  terror.  What  was  her  life  to  be  ?  If  she  wished  to  be  more  than  a  girl  in  a  grave,  what  should  she  want  for  ?  Though  her  mouth  closed  around  a  number  of  words  she  did  not  have  the  strength  to  call  them.  ‘ I  want  to  live,  I  want  to  live  ! ’  she  wanted  to  say,  but  it  seemed  to  simple  an  answer. ‘ I  want  to  be  me,  not  just  a  oracle  with  a  borrowed  name  ! ’  She  brought  to  the  thread  a  knife.

In  Amh  Araeng,  fresh  from  the  loss  in  Lakeland,  her  purpose  was  made  clear.  A  fragmented  oracle  was  no  oracle  at  all,  and  in  living  she  would  have  to  seize  that  destiny  bestowed  upon  her.  ‘ I  want  to  be  strong  ! ‘  she  protested,  even  when  doing  such  pushed  Thancred  further  away,  and  in  the  ruddy  dust  of  abandon  mines  she  felt  for  the  first  time  an  excitement  that  was  all  her  own.  It  was  the  thrill  of  an  adventure,  despite  its  peril  ;  it  was  realising,  in  being  able  to  help  her  allies,  that  they  had  come  to  bond  and  cherish  her.  Even  her  guardian,  as  torn  as  he  was,  showed  her  kindnesses  in  between  his  grief.  She  cut  herself  loose  from  prophecy.

The  sea  of  light  was  warm  as  it  ebbed  over  her  feet,  though  it  left  no  trace  of  water.  It  is  no  crystal  plane  nor  diamond  of  blue,  but  when  she  saw  it  was  as  if  she  had  dreamed  of  it  a  thousand  times  before. She  was  there  ;  brave,  beautiful  Minfilia.  She  looked  at  her  so  warmly.

‘ You  have  grown  to  love  yourself. ‘  It  was  not  a  selfish  observation.  In  trail,  tribulation ;  in  doubt,  sorrow  and  moments  of  joy...  for  love.  It  was  all  for  love.

They  embraced  in  the  sunlit  sea  where  the  first  oracle  was  strong  and  real  again,  and  the  last  felt  safe  and  cherished.

" Show me more, " intrigue shows in the way his ears perk up from the sight. Inched in closer while maintaining his observation with what the other had before him. " You forever find ways to amuse me, " purrs out a tease before he realizes how that might have sounded. " Not that I'm trying to be too forward or anything -- " oh, twelve. Spare him. / shoves graha at you

  “Ach, they’re just some crystals I picked up.”  He hadn’t realized the other had been watching so intently.  “They’re nae th’ fancy solidified aether stuff, just th’ regular auld kind o’ shiny rocks.” The kind he figured weren’t really very interesting to anyone other than himself.  But G’raha seemed interested (G’raha seemed interested in everything), and it was rather adorable the way his ears twitched.  It was strange to think of having external ears, especially ones that could move, and shite, was he staring?  Golden hues flick swiftly back to the little crystals spread across the tabletop.