#seeasunset

▸   @seeasunset   ⟶   ❛  [ GOSSIP ]: the sender turns to face the receiver conspiratorially, clearly eager to share some new gossip with them.  ❜   ╱   (  hey , accepting .  )

   Gerry can see some movement from the corner of his eye and looks over to see that it’s Vasco, trying to balance on his tiptoes, with an excited little gleam in his eye.   Gerry leans down and to the side a little, to better accommodate the child, who looks like he has something to say but doesn’t want anyone else to hear it.  It’s not uncommon at this point for the two of them to share secrets—Gerry has earned enough of Vasco’s trust by now.

Rumor Has It... - [ ACCEPTING ] ;;

ships moodboard for funsies (@seeasunset)

"Is that all you can do in the face of tragedy?  make toast!?"

Dronia sat in front of the campfire, her thoughts preoccupied by the parasite that sat idly right behind her eye. It was an uncomfortable feeling, disconcerting. She could feel it and yet it wasn't exactly painful. One other sat at the fire across from her, the elf Vasco. He was a curious sort, he didn't seem infected but he was willing to come along on a journey that didn't concern him. She wondered why that was, he had no obligation to be here. Taking a bite out of the bread that was bordering on stale, the woman quirked a brow at him.

Heart Lost At Sea

⚔️ For @seeasunset !⚔️

The salty caress of the sea breeze is cold against the selkie's soaked skin. What would normally be a cooling comfort feels like little more than a slap in the face after everything she's been through. Insult to injury. Salt in a wound, both figuratively and literally. She leans down to lick at the burning, bleeding cut at her shoulder and wrapped around her thick neck. It's a difficult task to manage, both because she can't reach and because it is difficult to manage while trying to keep her balance on this barely-floating driftwood.

She lets out a bark of frustration and flops down. Clumsy flippers try their best to hold onto the crumbling wood as it bobs precariously against the waves. If she could swim away, she would. But the tight netting around her tail and her injuries make that impossible. If she falls off now, she'll drown. And just when her situation doesn't look like it could get any more bleak, she spies a ship approaching in the distance.

She swallows, nervous. Was it too late to try and play dead?

❝What do you do to celebrate? Any celebrations to uphold during these times? I know everyone celebrates it differently.❞ Vasco tilted his head. As if he's a cat being curious about something and ready to study, except with piercing eyes like a hawk and a calm expression. Even then, curiosity burn in those eyes of his. ❝Plus, I don't engage too much into the holidays outside the fact that the Nauts use it as an excuse to drink and party all night.❞

“well... it depends.”  zuriel answers plainly but honest. subtly apologetic of the nature of her response. she immediately realizes she is not exactly the most qualified person to reply to this question. having been brought up in a temple, zuriel is fairly educated in comparison with farmer folk and the like. but her education is not as extensive and all encompassing as to remember the holidays of every region, race and religion within faerûn.  “there are some holidays that celebrated across the continent pretty universally, i believe. but most of my celebrations come from the dalelands or my faith, so i don't celebrate a lot when i'm on this side of the continent. there is the mid-winter festival, though! different faiths celebrate deadwinter day differently, but it is something to look forward to if you waiting for feast and party.”