#slateofargent

Nightmare - The Wanderers (homestuck soundtrack)

----

In her dreams there was a barren desert, and in the distance she heard the cries of wolves. They nipped at her heels and laughed at her fear, wide white-fanged grins in the light of a full moon. The familiar become strange and terrifying. 

That was what it felt like when he looked right through her, lips tight with anger. 

“I- I’m not sorry! It was a stupid plan and you know it!” She had never been more miserable at being right, but it was true. Blood magic was the most dangerous of disciplines for a reason - it was forbidden to almost everyone for a reason. He started to turn away and she snatched at his arm.

“Revenge won’t help anyone, Simon!”

“I don’t care!” He jerked from her grip with an audible growl. Every inch of his lanky frame trembled with rage, like a reed in the wind. “They took them from us, and I’m going to get them back.”

They. It was strange to think of the wolf pack they grew up in as ‘they’. But it was true... Sable’s father had clawed his way out of his personal suite in hell, and one way or another got the coalition of packs to fall in line. Sable and Del were still at the mansion, and he was far more terrifying as a demon than he ever was as a man. 

I’d really appreciate your opinion, especially put this way

lol it’s been so long since we did any writing and we need to change that

mmm... i’d say your cooking, your dishes stand out most for concepts i guess. your making of is solid of course, but the concept behind them is what stands out to me... you have some accents like i do, particular lines or moments that stick... so the centre of the dish stays in mind, but some of the other bits fade a little... yeah

Del discovered it when he lent her his jacket, an unexpectedly chilly day. The unmistakable layers of animals, laid over Simon’s own.

He was reckless, and Del sometimes wondered if he’d stuck his frontal lobe development in a drain.

But he was, admittedly, getting better at listening.

“Baskerville!”

Griselda wanted to go to Mistral. The platform springs under her feet and she’s flung across the sky.

It’s not the same as entering the academy with the most advanced military force.

Notes of surprise and panic sound around her and Griselda has to swallow her own gasp as the wind buffers her face. The fur on her collar plasters itself to her neck and prickles her chin.

But it’s still the closest to the education and discipline Atlas would’ve afforded her.

She can feel a twinge in her shoulder from being forced to hold her halberd behind her, the wind smacking against the broad face of the axe before shifting the blade to cleanly slice through instead.

Graduating from Mistral would show she held grace and strength worthy of the family’s blood she carried.

Griselda’s used to her stomach dropping as she falls to the ground but leaping with wind dust is wholly different to the force of being slingshotted. She swears her heart stayed behind for the seconds it took to catch her breath.

To be more than an out of wedlock mistake.

Snowy hair billows behind her, her eyes searching around for a place to land. A crash sounds to her left but her mind barely registers the yelp before spotting an outstretched branch ahead. A spark of green dust creates a gust long enough to propel her the last few feet, but the wood bends and it creaks under her weight and she springs to the forest floor just before it snaps. That’s one potential humiliation avoided.

But having only Beacon accept her…

Her halberd shrinks into its compact axe form and is stowed away into its holster on her belt. Griselda can already hear gunshots in the distance and she keeps a steady hand on her weapon, giving a brief cautious if uninterested look around at her surroundings before heading deeper into the forest.

Del’s muffler made any breathing sound mechanical, but it didn’t cover anything past her nose, leaving her now-raised eyebrows clear and easy to see as she said, ‘Permanently hard, eh?’

She half-stumbled out of the room, her particular laugh loud and clear despite the barrier over it, despite Simon’s own rumbling protests.

‘You’re going to get us all killed,’ was what Del replied, but she squat down beside Slate anyway. ‘So tell, why in the seven hells is Karrin storming around and threatening to crush you on the spot?’

“I may? Have said something?”

‘Of course you did.’ Del sighed, before pushing herself back up.

“Wait, where you going?” There was a unmistakable note of panic in his voice.

‘To calm her down, of course.’

“And if you don’t?”