#soughtfor

        It is amazing how the events of the past unum have changed everyone so drastically. The gelfling are lost and hurting, still reeling over a betrayal at the hands of ones whom they viewed as benevolent, generous, and kind. Tavra is trapped inside the body of a spitter. Brea is isolating herself in an attempt to cope with the loss of mother and the harsh words of eldest sister. Seladon is hiding her fear behind a well-constructed mask, and Rian, the mischievous son of the captain-of-the-guard, of whom Snow was quite fond, is now bitter and withdrawn, his grief consuming him in a nigh impenetrable fog. 

She forces her bare feet to make noise against the earth as she approaches out of his periphery, a cup of ta in hand. The exiled Councilor glances down at his furrowed brow, and her own worry lines deepen. She thinks that he must be the most wounded out of all of them, for he bears the heavy burden of seeing his beloved drained before his very eyes and his father murdered, not to mention the heavy responsibility of being the unofficial leader of this resistance. 

He is so young. Too young to have to carry the world. 

A string of vapran curses was hissed out as the warm water touched her braised skin, injured wing vibrating against her will from acute pain. 

“Damn it, where the fuck was the rest of the patrol??” she angrily hissed. 

Maybe she wouldn’t be so battered now if even half of them had bothered showing up. On the plus side, the three of them had come out victorious. On the minus, Mira had been caught on the harness of her landstrider, whipped around and dragged a good distance until Gurjin and Rian had slashed her free. 

The arathim soldier had done away with the poor creature quite quickly, but between the three of them, it ended up with a spear through its head eventually, though Mira had ended up taking the brunt of the damage, her arm, shoulder, and face all bearing bloody scraping wounds. Her wing had not taken any tears, but the slightly off-angle she was holding it up at indicated at least some form of damage. 

It definitely hadn’t come as a surprise to feel the soldier’s weight just melt against her mid-conversation. Would it have been anyone else, it would have made her mad. Had she not known the circumstances, she would have probably felt different about it. Instead, all she gave was a soft sigh. 

Rian was exhausted again. The Captain had drilled him into the ground once more with his training, hoping to teach him some sort of lesson or other. At this point, it was even beyond Mira what he truly wanted out of his son. Except maybe to kill him with training. 

She didn’t try to wake him, nor move him. He’d found a position comfortable enough for sleep and she didn’t have the heart to disturb that. An arm held him close so he wouldn’t fall over, with her fingers delicately stroking his ruffled hair. 

Mira leaned over just a little and placed a kiss on the little bit of exposed forehead.

@soughtfor​ said: ❝  tonight is for celebrations.  ❞

@soughtfor said:

“ i wouldn’t know anything about that.” from the walking dead starters ( s7ep11 )

soughtfor asked: 📂📂📂📂

No matter the verse, she values nature and animals so highly. Like, she can literally hear their voices in her mind every time a bird sings or a dog growls. She knows better than most how they have feelings and aspirations. As such, if you are cruel to an animal in front of her or even vaguely mention involvement in animal abuse, she is coming for your head. Hunting is one thing, but callous cruelty is another. She isn’t afraid to track you down to your suburban house with a pack of wolves on her heels. 

If you’re friends with her, she also may or may not mimic animal noises outside your room in the middle of the night just for a laugh. 

Part of the reason she is so easily able to read others is her ability to sense others’ soul energy, which fluctuates depending on one’s mood. Its color also depends on one’s personality. 

She often wears black lipstick and nail-polish just for the aesthetic (tm). 

tinuviele asked: 📂

@soughtfor​ asked: “ it must be hard to live with what ifs. ”

        At first, the exiled Councilor thinks that the captain’s son is mocking her. After all, had he not greeted her with suspicion and thinly veiled disdain the moment she entered Stone-in-the-Wood? Had he not been lurking out of her periphery, features lined with disapproval at the skeksis and urRu in the camp? 

And yet, when she glances at him out of the corner of her eye, she is surprised to see sympathy there, a glimmer of kindness that must have brightly shone before the castle-dwellers snuffed it out. 

She turns aside again, hiding her tears with a curtain of black hair. “Not as difficult as it is to realize that all you have ever known is built upon lies,” she replies. “If I could have prevented this, I would have.” 

But would she have done so? Would have killed them without the full assurance that she would see their halves reunited? She could not even attempt to use her strength against the Chamberlain until she entered the castle to the sight of a peeper-beetle and spilt viscera. 

Oh, she wants to gnaw out her heart for how much it weakens her.