#tyliocellier

ㅤㅤthe bed was comfortable. minimalistic, but comfortable. it took what felt like hours for her to finally crawl out from under the covers, but she checked the time on her phone, and it was barely 10 a.m., which only made her grumble. how much time would she have to pass alone like this? his room was plain, and the walls were bare, and she couldn't tell if he'd lived here long or not. she didn't really understand the concept of renting, having spent the last decade or so bouncing between motels with her possessions in a box, so she figured it was outright his because it wasn't a motel room.

ㅤㅤfingers trailed along the walls as she wandered between rooms. every observation she made all had one constant: tylio. it made her... miss him? she was sitting in his quaint little kitchen, legs swinging off the countertop when she reached for her phone — squinting at the phone number he'd written down for her upon request.

[ sasha ] : do u hav no seriel? [ sasha ] : u hav th cubords of a granpa [ sasha ] : wiv 0 teef

ㅤㅤshe wanted to mock him for having no croissants, either. some playful comment questioning the authenticity behind his accent, or whether it'd all been a ploy to lure her in. but she tried to spell the word croissant eight times, and each time it somehow looked wronger than the last, which only made her cheeks burn with anger. was there tears in her eyes? she put the phone down for a second, taking a deep, shaky breath before picking it back up.

[ sasha ] : can i cum cee u 4 diner? [ sasha ] : il meat u sumwer [ sasha ] : im bord

Looking at him with sidelong, even more so now that she was incapacitated, the fact that he didn't seem eager to attack her seemed to be helping him some, though. Whimpering a little as her attempt to scurry backwards as he got closer only brought on a fresh sting of pain, his gestures making her pausing almost mid motion. Was he trying to communicate with her?

She could understand so many of the animal calls around her, when the crows were angry or the deer startled, but this man's noises were so foreign and yet so utterly transfixing. Eyes flicking from him to her wound and then back again as her brain started to slot together the pieces. Was he concerned about her?

Reaching down for a piece of the faded old fabric that made up her clothing, though most of it now seemed to be decorative patches for the hand cured hides, she tore it free and then started to dig in a leather pouch tied to a rope on her waist and hidden beneath the expanse of her cloak, and then a wooden flask, and then a small wooden bowl with a notch that made it able to be hung as well.

In the bowl she poured some of the dried herbs from the first bag, and then a little water from the flask and mixed it all together. Pouring a small bit more of the water to clean the would away, she immediately smeared it full with the poultice, tying the fabric as tightly around it and finally letting out the small unstoppable sound of discomfort that came with it. The pain was bad now and she could feel the colour draining from her face.

Breathing a little harder from the effort it took to bite back her pain at the application, and hands a little shakier as she drank back the rest of the water, She held out the flask to him in question. Giving it a shake she flipped it over to show it was empty and gave it a little shake again.

Convincing Anna to take a vacation was not exactly an easy feat for a whole variety of reasons. She didn't like to take breaks. She liked her work and it kept her sane to be home where she knew she could keep an eye on her brother if he had an episode or a difficult week. She gives him his space, of course, but it doesn't stop the worry.

Needless to say, when Tylio suggested they take a trip together--as friends--it had gotten shot down immediately and vehemently. It'd taken quite a bit of coaxing as well as the agreement to bring her brother along with them for her to finally cave. If her brother was there, too, then nothing could really happen between them again. That was helpful in two ways, then--the second being her ability to keep an eye on Finn.

The fear of how Tylio might view her brother or react to some of his more obvious quirks was strong, but she'd gotten to know Tylio enough that her trust in him was stronger. He wasn't exactly judgemental and he struck her as a bit of a loner himself anyway.

Now, they were finishing up tossing their things into the back of a mini van to head out on this road trip and Anna was finding herself finally getting a little excited for the whole thing. To be out in nature for a whole week--to just enjoy it all--sounded like heaven.

"OK, I think that's everything," she says to Tylio as she rounds the corner and flashes a bit of a nervous smile, though the excitement in her eyes shines much brighter than her fears. Besides, she was generally pretty good about preparing for any potential disaster--maps, first aid kit, medications, all-natural aides to just about anything. She was prepared. Still, she can't help but squint up at the clouds starting to haze over the nice sunshine.

Color & light study sketch of @liraspins and @tyliocellier to get some practice since I woke up with a fever and have nothing else to do. Pose based on this reference I found on pinterest

ㅤㅤfor shin sang-mi, life was repetitive. every day was filled with practice, and every night was finished off with a performance. the only thing that actively changed was her audience, except for a set number of attendees that must have memberships to attend, or millions to spend. except one, though. she didn't know his name. she didn't know anything beyond his usual seat number: 27A. the twenty-seventh seat on the first row, which placed him centre-stage. he stood out for a plethora of reasons. primarily, sasha was attracted to him, both for his looks and the silent loyalty he'd shown her. but he also stood out because he was much younger than the majority of the crowd. probably around her age, if she had to guess. she looked for him at the start of every show.

ㅤㅤand tonight's had been no different. she'd completed her routine to a tee, up until the last part: the lap dance. she used to pick members of the audience at random, but that'd stopped a few years back after an uncomfortable encounter on stage, so her management would always pick for her, and it usually wound up being someone from lighting. it was routine. she'd fittingly pick a cherry off a tray hands-free, with the stem dangling between pearly whites, all whilst pretending to pick at random. but tonight, she changed her mind, motivated by a combination of curiosity, lust, and boredom. three traits she was practically known for.

ㅤㅤbefore her adoption, lady sang-mi's childhood had been rife with trauma. whilst lord won was only ten years her elder, he'd shown her off as if she was his own, with the motive of lining his pockets by reaping the benefits of her beauty. and what better way than to have her marry into royalty? it'll work, too, if sang-mi paid more attention to the lesson material in her etiquette tutoring, than she did her tutor. but monsieur cellier was so handsome, and her notebook was filled with tiny sketches of him rather than notes, because he was just so distractingly attractive. even more so than the prince she was trying to impress with both brains and beauty. the latter was already taken care of. sang-mi had a beauty like no other in the land. whilst the other princesses-in-waiting had pimples and acne, sang-mi had smooth skin and beauty marks, one under her left eye and one just above the same corner of her mouth. she was arrogant enough to know he'd pick her, if the contest was based on appearance alone. but if the girls were to be judged on intelligence alone, sang-mi would probably finish last.

ㅤㅤthe hem of her skirt was wet from the dew, even though she could've taken the paved path that led the entire way to the little room that'd been reserved as a study space for the foreseeable future. " monsieur cellier, " she called with a sing-song voice, brazenly bumping the door open with her hip, entering the room backwards with the handle of her little black picnic basket hanging at her elbow. " je t'ai apporté tes aliments préférés… des raisins, des croissants, du pain blanc français… " she started to list her offerings in french, just because she wanted to impress him whilst proving she had paid some attention. " even brioche. i cannot learn on an empty stomach, monsieur. " s'il te plaît, mange-moi… " she misspoke, correcting herself with a grin in english. " eat with me. "