#smokeplumed

               he is chrysanthemum blooms and lemongrass dew,                             ginger roots and marigold leaves; he is the rich thrum                             of cicadas on a long summer’s eve, the cool touch of                             fresh soil ‘pon bare toes, the warm solace of fireflies                             on a starless night; he is heavy and heady and                             incandescent and—

               he is familiar.

                                       ❛ hail, ❜ quiet amusement buds within rumbling                                          depths and tugs a hearty chuff from rime-cloaked                                          maw. their soul, already unrestrained in the face                                          of their ilk, glows a bit brighter. warbles a bit                                          louder. ❛ protector of the divine. wolf of indelible                                          courage. he who howls. bigby. ❜

     then  ——  it came !  so strange yet so soothing.  a howl unlike any other,  rumbling forth from an unnamed beast that pierces the night - sky above.  the souls of the forgotten which linger like lost cats scatter across the streets,  beckoned by this unknown force. 

     ❛   aroo  ... ❜

funny enough, kyria, last time i checked, you were the one who stood as a fuckin inspiration to me

— –  but honestly dude??? i could go on and on about how much i love you and how much i love having you around and having you as a friend + buddy + a general presence in my life & in the world. could write a book about that shit. we’ve known each other for a pretty good chunk of time now, and i can say w/ complete honesty that you’re one of the kindest, most patient, most lighthearted people i’ve ever known

kiss kiss, my soft cute sea bun

(ง •̀_•́)ง

They had been separated for days, though to Marigold it had felt much longer.  Liam had brought her to a small fort in the northern woods, beyond the Woods of the Wisps, and there they stayed while the harsh winter snows buried the landscape.  Selkies did not fare well in snow, Liam reminded her, so it would be best to wait for the storm to die down before venturing forward to Farraige.

But Mari didn’t want to go.

She didn’t want to move farther away from Bigby.  She knew he had no reason to come looking for her -- he was free and could do as he pleased -- but part of her hoped.  She couldn’t go to him.  So perhaps he would come to her.

The selkie stood outside of the fort’s large wooden doors, her cloak wrapped tightly around her.  She stared out into the woods, eyes searching, heart hoping.  Liam had given up on trying to make her come inside -- she’d relent when icy cold gripped her nose and fingertips.

@smokeplumed sent ⊕ for an (love) aesthetic.

He’s so close to her that she can smell the cigarette smoke & whiskey on his breath.  She’s so close to him that he can smell the sea foam & salt of the ocean.