#thcrmr

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐚𝐮𝐝𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞.

@thcrmr asked: ❛i always got the feeling you never liked me.❜ /but he's v smug about it 😂

@thcrmr inquired : ❝ the gods are nothing if not vindictive in their vengeance. ❞ inbox prompt : baldur's gate three starters ( part one ). prompt status : accepting !

𝐇𝐄𝐑  𝐈𝐍𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐀𝐋  𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐏𝐎𝐍𝐒𝐄  𝐈𝐒  𝐀  𝐒𝐈𝐌𝐏𝐋𝐄    low  hum  as  she  contemplates  his  words . in  reality  ,  benedikta  had  never  really  believed  in  the  gods .  there  was  no  reason  for  her  to  in  her  eyes  ━  she'd  been  forsaken  by  any  such  god  from  the  moment  she  entered  the  world  and  her  only  salvation  had  been  garuda . the  freedom  she'd  felt  in  the  wings  given  to  her  ,  the  freedom  that  came  from  the  blood  that  stained  her  hands  was  something  she  didn't  know  she  could  ever  let  go  of .      ❝  their  sense  of  humor  does  tend  to  be  a  cruel  one . ❞  benedikta  eventually  spoke  up  in  response  ,  light  hazel  eyes  moving  over  to  him  where  he  sat  not  far  from  her . there  is  a  question  that  lingers  on  her  mind .  however  ,  it  is  one  she  is  hesitant  to  speak  into  the  space  around  them , if only to avoid upsetting or angering him . after  a  few  more  moments  of  silence  ,  she  finally  finds  it  in  herself  to  speak  again .

THE LANGUAGE OF THORNS. || Accepting.

Beneath clavicles, bone meeting bone—there rages a tempest, all drenched in murder and salvation alike. Her hand curls tight around a hilt of a blade, steps light as she dances across uneven stone. Training grounds their stage, she listens carefully even when she scoffs. There is no twitch of the lips to be found, harsh crescent damned to a straight line. Dull eyes all narrow, she does not refuse his vocal song. 

Barnabas is old. 

Barnabas has seen much she has not the fortune to witness in her newborn existence: 24 years of winter, and she thinks it could not compare to the everlasting stretch of his existence. Barnabas’ existence, though nebulous, seems to be violently drowned in the finality of eternity. He has long existed before her—before Joshua.

All people are born the same. Naked and wailing, yearning for a mother’s breast. She thinks of the children she let bleed from her and denied before they could take hold in a belly—all in service for flames. She quietly wonders if they would have hollow hearts, night embracing a heart, for she could not love them if things were different.

If.

A slow tilt of Jote’s head--words seeping, and she clicks her tongue as she thinks carefully. 

“Are you speaking for yourself?” The irony of it is not lost on her; her steps heavy as she refuses to fall (the stance of war must make one steady, infallible to wind and weight yearning to push). 

“Are you confessing to a lowly servant of the heartless?”

The shrill screech of a blade meeting a blade—she is weak compared to his might, muscles rippling below flesh as she pushes, feet sliding. She tries and tries to exert, against what feels fluid as air, all nothingness.

 [     ･     @thcrmr    :         bribed me with knick-knacks 💎

𝙱𝙴𝙽𝙴𝙳𝙸𝙺𝚃𝙰 𝙻𝙸𝙽𝙶𝙴𝚁𝚂 𝙸𝙽 𝙱𝙰𝚁𝙽𝙰𝙱𝙰𝚂' 𝙳𝙾𝙾𝚁𝚆𝙰𝚈.       she's not supposed to linger:       she can present no hesitation to her exacting king,        his mind as unfathomable as ever     ━    a dark pit; the center of a black hole.        he's been quiet this past half a decade. barely speaks at all.        benedikta is loud and cackling and screaming and unapologetically high-strung,        but standing in front of her king she feels small again. smothered.        the butt of a cigarette.        it is garuda he favors;        what he looks for through her gaze,        a flutter of wings caught in his armored palm.        and oh, how she dangles.

𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐄𝐃𝐄𝐕𝐈𝐋

@thcrmr asked: ' we don't live in a world that's fair. ' /he gonna beat dis boy's butt

is  your  muse  more  likely  to  be  loud  and  proud  about  being  in  a  relationship,  or  are  they  more  quiet  about  it  at  first  and  open  up  about  it  over  time?

being  a  courtesan  most  of  her  life,  isabel  has  never  had  a  normal  relationship  -  even  counting  non  romantic  ones.  she's  always  been  abused  in  some  capacity  and  many  only  for  show.  until  the  branded  she  came  to  know  and  love  (  still  need  a  name  or  him  jglfkj  ),  and  even  then  she  had  to  hide  it  as  best  she  could.  .  .  until  she  couldn't.  she  has  been  terribly  afraid  to  be  openly  proud  of  anything.

would  it  bother  your  muse  if  they  had  differing  interests  from  their  partner(s),  or  would  they  delight  in  it?

while  she  does  love  a  partner  with  the  same  motivations  and  kindness  as  her,  she  is  dazzled  by  contrast,  perhaps  sparked  by  the  reasons  for  them.  it  usually  urges  her  to  get  to  know  the  person  more.  unless  they're  just,  you  know.  .  .  .  pure  evil.

how  important  is  having  (a)  physically  attractive  partner(s)  to  your  muse?

while  isabel  is  usually  open  and  accepting  in  general,  the  person  does  have  to  be  attractive  enough  and  on-par  with  her  to  garner  interest.  call  it  shallow,  but  the  lady  has  standards,  ok.

does  your  muse  have  an  ideal  "type"?

❝  you  are  in  no  condition  to  be  making  such  threats.❞  a  brusque  response  with  the  softest  touch  of  fingertips  cleansing  the  sanguine  tousled  locks  covering  his  forehead.  wherever  the  injury,  or  if  there  were  more,  she  would  find  them  and  dress  them  as  quickly  as  she  could.