#sh3sthunderstorms

PUT A URL IN MY ASK FOR: IC

My favorite thing about them

"Her understanding. She's gone to great lengths to try to understand things from my point of view when I needed her to."

My least favorite thing about them

"She looks better in my dresses than I do."

Do I find them attractive?

"Absolutely. She is beautiful, inside and out. There is no aspect of her at this point in time that I find unattractive."

Are we friends?

"I  would say so. We were good friends before we took it a step further."

Would I date them?

"I am, currently. We are in a relationship, and so far it is quite a happy one."

Would I marry them? 

"I... At this point? No. I do not believe she's ready for what it would entail for me. Marriage is very binding. I don't think I would want to take that step before I am sure she understands, and that she is ready."

Would I have children with them?

" ... No."

Would I die for them?

A small dark shadow sat patiently in the corner of the bottom window. Cautiously, Boromir opened the door and was taken aback by the cat that ran in. He laughed and closed the door. "Well, hello, little one. And, how have you come to be at my door?"

Yellow eyes glanced up at him before coming over to brush against his leg. Boromir knelt to let the creature sniff his hands before letting him pat him. 

Cool night air prickled his sweat covered chest. The white linen sheets were crumpled and only a corner covered the sleeping man.  He moaned and murmured in his restlessness. The soft wailing that had began in his dream had arisen in volume and loud lamenting woke him with a start. He took a couple of deep breaths, steadying his nerves before shaking his head and the last remnants of sleep. The cries in his thoughts were the same he had heard when he had brought his men, dead or alive, back to the city after a small battle. Tears had flowed and fell on the dead flowers that were strewn in the streets.

He kicked off the sheet  and went to stand by the window. The ever-present red glow in the distance seemed to taunt him. Gondor had been fighting Sauron's forces for over thirty years. While the shining city lost her sons, Mordor's forces did not dwindle. There must be a way, Boromir thought. There has to be. Things cannot continue as they are. Rumors of a fortune teller in the North came back to him. Originally, he had dismissed the woman. He believed in the tangible not magic tricks. Mayhaps the woman knew of an answer. If he didn't take the chance and Gondor fell, he would bear the guilt, if he lived through the seige that was sure to occur. His mind was resolved. A risk it was, but, the Captain of the White Tower was beginning to feel desperation.

Send me “Goodbye” for the last voice message my muse leaves for yours before they die.

       "This wasn't how it was supposed to be," the message began with a crack in the Siren's voice. Pain is ebbing through him, coursing with the slow drawl of the poison in his veins. "I was supposed to be the one crying over your death-- Mason I'm so sorry. I got myself into a big mess, my dear... I don't think I'm going to survive this one."

       A low groan escaped him, the clawing fires of his healing process trying desperately to repair the damage, which was happening too quickly. His major organs were beginning to fail.

Send me “Grab!” for my muse’s reaction to yours grabbing their ass unexpectedly.

       A yelp fell from his lips as he felt a hand gripping his rear end. A bright blush lit his cheeks an apple red color, his bright eyes growing as wide as dinner plates.

Mason rolled her eyes as the Siren smugly wove his fingers through that long, blonde hair of his. Shaking her head as he called it a lions mane, she struggled again with the movies. “Oh, don’t flatter yourself. There’s never a hair out of place,” she shot back, faking annoyance as he didn’t do his hair justice. When he called her strong, Mason laughed in his face out of surprise. “No one’s ever said that before,” she spoke between giggles. “Autographs, huh? I’d love to see that,” she purred playfully, her small hands clutching onto the movies more forcefully. “Okay, fine. I’ll make you a deal. If you do my hair, you don’t have to be my elf. But. You only get half of my candy,” she spoke, letting her grip slack on the films for a moment as she made her offer.

       "Your hair?" The question came out with a teasing edge of being incredulous. "Now my dear Mason, what could I ever do to make your hair more beautiful than it already is?" A charming smile ticked the corners of his lips up as he finally pried the movies out of her grip, holding them high above her head.