#throneborne

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The red head deflected the blade with his own. “Honestly...” the overly tired sage sighed. “Haven’t you tormented me enough with your games?” 

@throneborne​ whispered: “I heard you crying through the door. Is everything alright?”

                 ** platonic / familial sentence starters. || - [ Not Accepting! ]

❝Lurking outside my door in the middle of the night now are you Som? People are going to start talking~❞ The tease that leaves her is strained at best, her temple pressed to the doorframe as she responded to the query with a small but weary shrug. It was undoubtedly sweet that he cared, but so too was it also just a tiny bit embarrassing that she’d been overheard - as if her secrets had been suddenly laid bare, exposed and vulnerable like a raw nerve. 

❝I’m fine.❞ Aerith clarified with a quiet shrug, her knuckles rising to rub at red ringed eyes before they ventured forth to seek out the hand that might offer reassurance. ❝I just had a bad dream, that’s all.❞ It wasn’t the first, nor would it invariably be the last, but it had been enough to spook her into tears, too many snippets of truth interspersed with things that had yet to pass; past and future combined in ways she wasn’t even sure she dare admit to herself, much less the likes of a would be King. 

With a tentative tug she urged him closer, comfort sought in the sanctuary of his arms even under the inky blanket of night. It was safer somehow, soothing and calming in equal measure when he finally obliged, the weighted presence of his hands gentle against her waist while she breathed in the scent of him. Home. She might’ve argued, but perhaps that was too sentimental to utter aloud. At least in the here and now. She was too frayed at the edges, a little too out of sorts to make any kind of sweeping declaration. If anything, she had half a mind to ask him to stay. 

@throneborne​ like for a starter.

How many days has it been since the visit from the Shield of the Chosen? Seven days? Thirty four? It was hard to tell at this point. Everything has become a mixed painting, a blur, mixes of colors becoming one...

Sighing, the Blademaster continues to sit on his knees as he meditates, waiting for the day to come when he was no longer needed. He guesses, the boy named Gladiolus wasn’t the answer to his death. Then what was?

Hearing something, Gilgamesh stays very still, listening to footsteps echo gently about the caves. It seems he has a visitor. Looking up at the raising sun, the man frowns before slowly getting up as he takes his sword into his hand and stands tall. Now what poor bastard has come this time?

Somnus vc: Make me

"I missed you too./"

Unprompted ask || always accepting || @throneborne 

    Damnit... It was so rare that he managed to steal a few moments of sleep, unbothered. Clearly this was not one of those times.