#sclitvde

Send three names and I'll say who I'd fuck, marry, kill

Kekipi sits there, putting index finger to index and lifts them up to her lips as she sits there... contemplating....

Dusk painted the skies lavender-pink, blending swathes were driven above much like a master unto canvas—confident, natural, beautiful. Mort could only ever see in wisps of greyscale, nowadays, and the sky was never-ending sea of dim silver. He missed the radiance of colour, cursed how he took it for granted all those years before.

When the last sun-rays of the day would kissed nirn, when the greens and purples and oranges would melt into grey under the moonlight, that was when the nightlife of Riften would rupture in a roar. All matters of ill-ilk would stalk the plane, smiles as sharp as the daggers veiled beneath their vests.

Mort would rather have all his deeds tended to by that time. Maybe have a bed, too.

So, here he was. At the Temple of Mara. A hand fumbled for the door, a large, calloused palm smoothing fleetingly until skin married handle. The door yawned open, and he dipped his head, so to enter without upsetting his noggin against wood or worse.

Mort was immediately overwhelmed by the explosion of clutter he sensed. His spell rippled out in front of him, forming bumps and hoops and crevices up until it kissed the furthermost wall. Bits and bobs, here and there, lone flowers smattered over the wooden floorboards. The smell, indeed—the aftermath of perfume assaulted his nares, threatened a scowl. A blend of rich aromas, ranging from more earthy tones to scents which were emboldened and floral.

There must have been a wedding here today, he surmised. Or perhaps, someone thought to wreak havoc for one reason or another.

Mort stepped further in. His boot met a weak plank, and it groaned—loud and grating—beneath his weight. He hesitated.

💚 - Talk about a fun memory you had in character! 💕 - Talk about your fondest memory as a role player!

God both of them I cannot remember because my memories are spotty after 10 years hahaha and not to mention, there might be too many to figure out which could be them hah!

And now I suddenly remembered while typing this is this one thread I had with a particular Scout who constantly annoyed her by throwing away teabags and mocking her that I make her say to him 'Do you hate me?' to the point of making their mun crack up irl by that one line.

@sclitvde

Kekipi softly hummed, taking his hands in hers as he shuffled closer to her to kiss her forehead. “I can tell,” she softly teased, looking up at him and then at his hands, particularly the one that had a clean bandage on it. She gently lifted it up to her face and pressed a kiss to his palm. “Is everything alright?” she asked him, looking up at the Prince as she slightly tilted her head.

“Something I could help with?”

Kekipi quietly roamed the quiet halls leading to Oberyn’s bedroom. The bedroom she used to share with him during their stay. She entered the room, leaning against the frame of the large door. Her body stilled as she leaned there, her eyes briefly taking a glance around the room. How it used to be filled with so much life but now... it was dark and empty. With the sun set now, it seemed darker than what it actually was.

After a moment, her hands had gripped into fists or at least one did as it tightened around the pendent. Kekipi had actually forgotten about the necklace she was holding and her attention fell on the object as she lifted her hand to look at the late Oberyn’s necklace, staring at the pendent and drifting off in thought.