#waterwrit

He tears his eyes from the grassy hillocks and back into the kitchen they stand in, blinking his way into the conversation. Perhaps he'd sighed to loudly, or had a look in his eyes that was painting that knowing-one in Qifrey's - but in any case, it can't have been subtle. Olruggio had felt it tugging at his face since their return. Questions not for Qifrey but just... questions. No more for himself than the turning earth outside the kitchen window.

He sighs. Again, maybe. "Nothing, huh? I mean... I don't blame myself for the window. It's fixed up well enough."

After years of counting on her discretion, Olruggio was certain that this would be the time that finally broke the limits of Sinocia’s patience. The days of careless injury were long behind them both, after all, wrapped up with the naivety and boldness of their childhood - and whilst Olruggio might come to her with the occasional burn that he could easily treat himself, there was no excuse for the state of them now.

He hadn’t even washed the dirt off himself. That was probably a bigger mistake than shooting Qifrey out of the sky in the first place. Yet, at the request that their visit not be reported, Sinocia simply sighed and nodded.

They’d been whisked away to separate rooms for treatment, Olruggio putting up little resistance with the pain in his arm and... well.... he didn’t want to see what he’d done to the man in its raw state. Even if he’d been as careful as he could, he knew his own magic. His hands were scarred enough as proof.

Sinocia had to cut his shirt off him in the end, revealing a vibrant set of purple bruising and a collection of bumps that she winced at - ‘partial’ came up a lot, dislocation, fracture, Olruggio was hazy on the details because she had clearly started explaining them to distract him as she popped his shoulder into place. And oh gods did that cloud everything else out. By the time he was lucid again, she’d wrangled him into a sling, dressed the cut on his face and left him a herbal tonic to take for the pain. He was left with this raw, scrubbed-clean feeling all over.

Before she left, she’d unlocked a door in the corner than apparently lead to the neighbouring room. Qifrey. 

Olruggio decides to leave the medication until after their chat. He can’t risk a softened edge for this. With a shirt loosely pulled over himself, he enters Qifrey’s room with a gingerly gait and perches on the end of his bed. 

[[ hELP KJSBDKJSBD I friggin cRIED. The real reason Qifrey approached Neff was cause ‘ooh girl pretty’ I guess.

(it was between this and "you can't help me" but when it all comes down to it.... yeah. orz)

Olruggio had never felt such scorching rage towards his friend before. Never a time he remembered, anyway.

Which is exactly the fucking problem, isn’t it?

He’s glad to be wearing his cloak. The heavy fabric hides how much he’s trembling with the force of his anger, and how his fingers buckle the shape of Qifrey’s hat in his hand. The brim is unpinned; glyph beneath stark against the white fabric.

What did you do to me? What did you take from me?

It had been an accident. Or inexplicable curiosity. Something about the pin holding Qifrey’s hat together had started bothering him, kept drawing his attention whenever the man took off his hat - like he expected him to pull it out - a shiver of anxiety crossing his chest. Which made no sense at all, then. It was only a hat.

Except, when Qifrey had left it unattended and Olruggio had decided to sate this strange urge to pull it himself... 

He hadn’t even known memory glyphs could be reversed, not by simple recall - hadn’t that been what Qifrey had discovered in the Tower? But how could he even trust his word on that anymore. The sight of it brought back flashes, segments of a memory he couldn’t fully retrieve, of Qifrey... forcing the hat onto his head. More than once. Expression something fearsome, visceral, deaf to his own pleas for Qifrey to stop.

The memory had started his body quaking - some emotion between fear and betrayal washing over him - and by the time Qifrey had found him, still staring at the glyph beneath the brim, it had crystallised into agony.

Perhaps the worst part about his anger is that it’s for himself. Against Qifrey. And it felt selfish.

“We... need to talk,” he’d said, dangling the hat by the ribbon. “About what you did to me.”

“I didn’t mean to hurt you like this.”

What a joke.

My muse is about to break down, send “I just want to help” to calm them while they’re crying.

Winter was a difficult time of year for everyone on the Zoza peninsula, and a time when magic was needed most. Snow needs melting, homes heating, the longer nights lighting. Simple work in high demand.

It could run any fire-witch ragged. Olruggio tried to let the thought comfort him - that the thinness he felt was shared by his peers, and that they were pushing themselves alongside him. But... he knew his hands didn't just shake from the cold; and that strange shadows on the dark, snowy landscape wouldn't bother others so deeply.

He'd started having that nightmare again.

Blackened, frostbitten, curled up under the newest snowfall... the lanterns cold and dark along the road, and the houses colder and darker still.... small, shining torch wavering in the cold...

One of them.... moves

And Olruggio-

-wakes with a lurch, the ends on a scream tearing his throat. Shit. Where was he? Where? It was dark and cold and damp and... soft. Soft? He holds the ground beneath him and finds upholstery and blankets, a pillow, damp from his own clammy, shivering body.

The sofa...The atelier... I was only asleep.

With a shaky breath, he sits and tries to calm himself, but the sweat is making it hard to pull away from the memory. He's too tired. The heaviness in his body and the lightness of the shaking are disorienting.

If he wraps himself tightly, boils under his covers, he might remember how to breathe.

Planet Astrology Insight (Accepting) || @waterwrit

Neff is a very expressive individual, which is funny considering she’s actually rather introverted. Every inch of the blank canvas that she is is used with some sort of expression.

She has a serious case of resting bitch face when she’s just going about her day, but when she’s engaged in conversation or hears something that gets even the smallest reaction out of her, you’ll see it. Her facial expressions range from the simplest of changes to humorously exaggerated. 

In terms of body language she’s almost never just standing or sitting straight. She’ll have hands on her hips, weight to one foot, sitting with one foot tucked under herself, holding one arm, arms folded - you can easily tell how she’s feeling based on her posture, be it if she’s tense or comfortable or playful, etc.

Clothing and makeup are also expressive for her even in the most simple and casual of outfits. She has rather low self esteem - not as bad as it used to be but she’ll still have some days where she will cover up and want to avoid being seen. The clothes she’ll wear normally are to help said self esteem and also express more to herself that she is deserving of things that she enjoys and feels comfortable in. They also act as a façade to send a message that she’s more confident than she is, while at the same time sending a message of what she truly believes - that all bodies are beautiful and can wear whatever they want. 

Even when it comes to her voice itself she has ways of expressing herself. Naturally it is fairly alto and soft when she speaks, but when she gets excited it’ll get higher in pitch. When she’s upset she actually won’t yell, but rather her voice will get more firm and solid. She’ll make funny voices when imitating people or telling stories. I wanted a lot of the way Neff is and the way she expresses herself to be both contradictory and complimentary if that makes sense?

Dark appearance but usually a happier and brighter attitude and energy.

Deeper voice but not loud. She’s gentle, calming, very motherly yet childish at the same time.

A person that’s been through a lot of trauma and hardships but doesn’t let it keep her from being kind and wanting to do better.

botanical headcanons || ★

(replacing amaryllis) anemone: how does your muse view the world; as a cruel and unforgiving place, a land full of wonders, or something in-between? where does that world view come from ( what experiences, life lessons, etc. ) ? 

For every ounce of good, you can find an equal portion of bad. They have come to accept this, knowing that people like themselves can choose to outweigh that bad. That being said, they’ve hit rough patches that make them question their luck within the world and question what they’ve done to deserve the bad. 

Seeing others harmed by the darker side of life—such as a chimera destroying an ancient city and the malefactor getting off scot-free—also dampens their positive outlook. But it is their belief that the good in humanity can offset the bad, and ultimately can create a wholesome, wonderful world.

basil: does your muse have a love - hate relationship with anyone or anything?

His best friend describes him as someone who never half-asses anything. I think that’s pretty apt here, too—he either lets you know he hates your guts, or he loves you wholeheartedly. He’s honest, at least!

gladiolus: describe a moment from your muse’s life that they will never forget.

Well... they can’t forget much of anything, on account of their eidetic memory. But one memory, the “death” of the aforementioned best friend, haunts them perpetually. Though they found out it was a farce, it plagued their thoughts for quite some time. Why would you fake your own death and leave your family and friends behind? How could someone you idolized be so selfish?

magnolia: describe your muse’s relationship with nature and the natural world.