#vernades

@vernades - from dis

“You’re a bit far out from your group, you know—now put the pointy end down, I come in peace.” 

Both hands were up almost immediately. This? Definitely looked suspicious, and if there was one thing Verso could understand after the long years it was that no one ever seemed to take a strange guy smelling vaguely of dirt and grapes coming out of nowhere as a good sign. Luckily the cave seemed to give a good opportunity to prove his word. 

" i'll stay " - @vernades

“Here?--Like, here because we’re actually nice company and the beds are real and not because of an obligation or—you know what? I should probably stop talking.” 

One of these days they’d learn how to interact normally with guests. Maybe. And of course one of them they’d probably also remember that one’s trinkets of home probably aren’t good for interior decorating. The line of increasingly ornate skulls decorating the shelves in the guest quarters next to the massive aquarium were definitely judging Nels for their choices. 

Really. 

“Well, I think we’ll enjoy the company then.” A grin. “Just--try to mind the others, and if you got any dietary restrictions let the broody one with the coffee know since it’s his turn to cook. Also if you see a skeleton trying to rummage through your belongings, that’s just Manfred.” A beat. 

Holding wrist against her neck, the giant augur, is guided to find a home within her collar, away from gazes. The fragments of the unknown power still glimmered in air, its essence staining the ground long after the enormous tendrils had reached from beyond with a bright glow of stars. A sight, very secured secret, never meant for other than very selected eyes ( Not even, Marylin's eyes ). So, such vision of 'a beast' emerging from behind a roof top had sent the chasers on a run for their lives. Luckily so, otherwise she would have ran out of ideas.

From cover of the angled roof Marylin lays flat against, she watches the shadows scatter within the darkness of the woods. Only after no silhouette could be seen, or a weight of a foot hitting ground is to be heard, she is confident to move, hastily, attempting to climb down from the shack's roof - dangling by the now half broken ladder until grip gives in. Rather ungracefully, she drops and falls on her back. But she made it. Unharmed.

The voice. A dreadful discovery. Quickly turning on her knees she faces them, a rather pleasant surprise. The stranger does not seem like one of them. Had she by accident helped someone else, as well? Or had they coincidentally arrived just in time? The Byrgenwerth attired scholar gets up on her feet, still little cautious.

"Ah... well. It kind of was." It barely feels she had done anything. In fact, she might have been done without the moist shape that now shifts underneath the blouse near her neck, which she is quick to cover with a palm of her hand before fixing the robes so that the dark fabric would hide her frame entirely.

Marylin eyes them from head to toe. After living in isolation for dedication of learning, the affairs of the city or the church held barely no importance to her. Only in bare necessity - could it be, they were from the church?

@vernades

Smells of wolves and scents of blood perforating beneath a moonless sky, all opulence in glittering silvers and protective golds, and hath Roland been ambushed by confused parishioners, those settled hunters of monsters wedged into the cracks of all the Worlds' timely bedrocks.

Funnily enough hath Roland been compared 'to those same, drooling monsters as hath he danced behind theseskies: his eyes turn'd yellow and his teeth elongated, hungry for the taste of lamb and bitter alcohol thrown from purified, rushing rocks.

"What hast happened?" rasps he, as the injection of this new magick is pervasive in his simple State. He groans, shifts, tries to sit up; trying to brush away those invisible hands and tender, clinical touches with a child's grace.

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐋𝐃  has  more  monsters  than  men  !!  how  he  loathes  —  in  some  strange  &&  hypocritical  fashion  —  that  it’s  opened  up  to  him.  freed  from  a  prison  of  his  own  design,  made  to  wander  at  the  behest  of  the  gods  (  a  punishment  earned  by  rebellion,  albeit  one  he  still  believes  was  wholly  justified  )  verso’s  taken  to  traveling.  the  gods  point  him  in  directions,  perhaps  as  a  way  to  discourage  the  formation  of  bonds:  like  a  shark,  if  he  stops  for  even  a  beat,  he’s  likely  to  die.   case  &&  point:  he  stops  not  of  his  own  volition,  but  because  something  that  just  tried  to  suck  his  blood  lays  dead  at  his  feet.  well,  lies  dead  in  an  ashen  form.  verso  peers  over  his  shoulder,  back  the  throat  of  the  alleyway,  to  the  silhouette  which  perhaps  has  bore  witness  to  the  ozone-rich  slaying,  or  otherwise  stumbled  upon  its  aftermath.   verso  waves  to  them,  the  xiphos  held  tight  in  his  grip  following  the  motion.   ❝  sup.  ❞

@vernades // starter call !!

Meme: SHORT & SWEET: prompts that are 4 words (or less) long!

@vernades

It had been a long while since she had last seen them. Her true surprise and elation at having encountered her fellow practitioner in magick and comrade after so long, however, was perhaps muted by recent events that had transpired over the last year. Seeing Sypha had summoned an influx of bittersweet memories of times and people who had since passed on and been interred by the tides of time.

She would feel her chest tighten, glad to see them alive and well though conflicted by the burden of the knowledge of their mutual allies who were no longer with them. And perhaps her more tacit nature had been inadvertently perceived as an icy welcome or rude demeanor of sorts, which prompted her old friend to suggest leaving in that moment. And in these more somber times, the dearth of companionship and interaction could indeed weigh heavily on one's soul.

the afternoon sun sparkles off the surface of lake hylia, its pristine waters broken by the occasional splash of a zora's fin or bird diving for a fish. link sits on the warm, damp stone at the entrance to the light spirit lanayru's spring, listening to the sounds of the lake and appreciating how much livelier it is than his first visit back during the twilight invasion. his visit with the spirit had been much nicer this time too, of course. she'd revealed herself to him, large serpentine form coiled around her glowing core, her appreciative calls of hero making his skin itch in a way he can never tell her or the others. he knows the spirits don't often show themselves, and the special treatment for nothing but his bloodline and the power he inherited gives him an odd sense of melancholy. so he sits, letting himself decompress from his conversation with the most - worshipped of the spirits in hyrule.

eventually, he hears footsteps on the wooden bridge leading to the spring, and he looks over to see a robed figure approaching. a priest, perhaps, or maybe a mage ? while one might think a priest more likely to visit the light spirits, most of the pious in hyrule go to lanayru to offer their prayers, though, so he really can't tell by attire alone.

he gets to his feet to offer a pleasant smile in greeting, figuring it's only polite to say hello.

atieno had been prone to wandering, this time in a more cloak-like presentation as they took to this part of the world. taking in the sights of the land before them and how the movements of its people seemed to reflect the behaviors of so many that they had seen before them.

so many places had their particular details, but many seemed to have their commonalities, no matter the time or place.

that being said, they maintained interested in the places often left behind, the ruins that many seemed for forsake in search of better. it's among this place that they are studying, taking in the sight of the symbols remaining when they heard footsteps.