#wanune

*☆:｡ 𝓫𝓵𝓸𝓸𝓭, 𝓫𝓵𝓸𝓸𝓭, 𝓰𝓪𝓵𝓵𝓸𝓷𝓼 𝓸𝓯 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓼𝓽𝓾𝓯𝓯

Fingers slide into his snowy curls, tugging at the pale strands as he curls into himself on his knees, horns nearly brushing the ground. His breath comes ragged, mind caught between a symphony and a scream—a war inside him. Guilt, joy, sickness, pleasure—all swirling together in chaos. He simply wants it to stop, to be left with silence. Silence proves futile amidst the thick scent of blood in the air. A heart, still warm, waits to be taken. A ritual—what ritual?—waiting to be completed.

He tenses, holding his breath as he senses someone approaching. His nails dig into his scalp, bracing for an attack or condemnation that never comes. Instead, there’s only the rustle of fabric. Slowly, the tension ebbs, his tail curling protectively around him. He breathes again, more steadily this time.

Silence fills the cool night air, broken only by the soft babbling of the stream and the stirring of nocturnal creatures in the forest. The wind grazes his skin, and gradually, he finds calm.

“He attacked first…” he whispers, voice small. “I… I got startled. I only wanted to wash my face, and then…” His words tremble, threatening to shatter before he takes another breath, sitting up but keeping his eyes fixed on the dead man before him. The memory is foggy, more of a red haze than anything clear. It feels like a dream—a horrible dream that is beautiful to him. Horrified eyes, a scream swallowed by blood, the dull clatter of the small knife as it fell from the stranger’s hand. Subduing him should have been an option, stopping the fight before it turned fatal. Should’ve. But not to him, not in that moment... he was a bringer of death.

“I... I wish I could’ve simply knocked him out. Not… killed him.” The confession spills out, his eyes now fixed on his trembling hands. Only at that moment does he glance toward Rildryn, finally meeting the drow’s gaze.

“I apologize… I know you don’t like the sight of violence.” he is calmer again, maybe because he isn’t alone.

All The Memes

Sirius crosses his arms, an amused grin slowly spreading across his face as he tilts his head to the side.

"Too bad, really..." he hums, his gaze drifting to the chaotic mess splattered around the area. "I was just about to praise you..." A soft chuckle escapes his lips as he shakes his head, his arms unwinding in a casual gesture.

🎭 Masquerade Ball Starters 🎭

behind the onyx mask partially covering his visage,   the drow scowled.  it was a rather elegant piece,  shaped like a wolf's head with the nose,  tips of ears,  underneath the eyes,  and other details lined with the shimmer of silver that matched well with his hair and the shades of black,   red,   and accents of silver and gold.  mask or not,   though,  he knew he was laughably recognizable to any who knew him,  a small,  distinct figure keeping to himself like a shadow.  

The ground beneath their feet is soaked with blood and gore. It seeps into the ground and muddies the dirt. Bodies lay dissected and dismembered, a graveyard of terror and twisted horrors. Bhaal blesses Reos for the deaths and souls stolen in His name. And R’ildryn— Oh, R’ildryn was glorious in his slaughter. Spurred on by Reos’ dark whispers of praise and encouragement throughout their travels together.

Look how powerful you are.

We make a beautiful team.

You’re as valuable as my killing hand, dear R’ildryn.

You need me— as much as I need you.

So good for me— for Us.

Kill them, R’ildryn. Kill them all.

Once the sword falls to the drow’s feet, Reos starts to cross the battlefield but stops short when their eyes meet. The oathbreaker looks enthralled. Wide elven greens are blown black, pupils bleeding out the emerald. His eyes never leave R’ildryn as he approaches, careful, slow. Mud and blood squelch beneath his feet and Reos harnesses his blade.

R'ildryn stops before him and Reos gazes down, a crooked smile parts his lips and he leans into that expectant stare. “You butcher beautifully.” He praises before a hot swipe of his tongue against the drow’s cheek cleans the blood from his flesh. When a hand tangles in mismatched stands and tugs, “You speak as if I won’t desecrate you amongst the dead.”  

𝟏𝟎𝟎 𝑵𝑶𝑵𝑽𝑬𝑹𝑩𝑨𝑳 𝑷𝑹𝑶𝑴𝑷𝑻𝑺 .

he was midway through an explanation on applications of lightning-enchanted arrows when    ----   suddenly    ----   the other clasped a hand over his mouth.   anger and an more vexed,   more vengeful urge to bite down,   to tear him apart for such audacity washed over him as cold as a night tide   ---   but he leashed it back as he saw the creatures.   he recognized the trolls,   verdant of flesh,   perhaps twice his own height even as they lumbered with hunched spines.   he did not wish to discover the bite of those claws,   or sharpness of those protruding teeth.

despite the irritation still shuddering through him,   the ranger went still.   his fingers pried the other drow's from his mouth,  rage burning still in garnet eyes.   he moved to sign his next thoughts,   though it occurred to him that he was uncertain if r'ildryn was familiar with the language.   he scowled.    “here,   off the path.   if we are lucky,  they pass right by.”   he hoped.  sol'rys tried to recall if he knew anything of the creature's sensory abilities, though nothing came to him. the most he could think of was that tremorsense seemed unlikely.

↪ 𝑾𝑯𝑨𝑻 𝑯𝑨𝑷𝑷𝑬𝑵𝑬𝑫 𝑻𝑶 𝑴𝑶𝑵𝑫𝑨𝒀 ?

“And I thought I told you I don’t take orders from anyone that wields a fuckin’ bow.” Reos settles down next to R’ildryn, intentionally bumping his knee against the drow’s. He leans back on his hands and peers out across the bluff, watching the tide come in. There’s a silence that ticks between them before Reos shatters it.

“I won’t let you leave us.” The oathbreaker shifts, turning to face the drow. Elven greens search the constellation of freckles across his pretty face and the bhaalspawn mutters. "Me. I won’t let you leave me. Fuck the rest of 'em. We don't need them, anyway." Probably not true, but the half-elf sounds like he believes it.

"I’ll find you, y’know.” He lifts a hand to tuck raven hair behind a pointed ear. “It’s not just rangers that can track.”