What if, before MC dies to the plague, they had a very specific haircut

Maybe it was short and wild

Maybe it was long and voluptuous

Maybe there wasn't any hair at all or maybe it was constantly changing or maybe they liked it in a very specific way

And after they come back from the dead, not knowing how they liked their hair before, they never actually do anything with it

It only grows, kept only as tidy as Asra (until MC is well enough to step in) can keep it until they start roaming around again, gaining some sense of personality again

And imagine the pain when he realizes MC is framing their hair differently than before

They don't part it the same

They don't play with it the same

They get annoyed by it in ways they used to love it for, and maybe they start enjoying parts they used to want to get rid of

And then imagine the day he comes back from a trip and sees MC setting their hair perfectly into the method they used to wear it as.

"I wanted to try something new" they say

"it suits you" he answers after a long, long pause, and nothing more because arcana forgive a magician who wants to help their love remember more once they've finally healed enough to wear their old hairstyle without any dizziness or immidiate loss of consiousness at the memories

Starting with this one, from blackberry:

"last one there is a rotten egg!"

Asra: ¿¿? Hmm?

I think he'd stare at you for a hot second, because magicians don't usually run unless death or risk is on the line, especially ones like these who like to stop and smell the roses when they can

But as soon as he realizes you're game?

Gone. Off to the races, and you have no idea if he even went in the right direction bc he just straight up vanishes.

I think it dissolves from a race into a game of magicians' cat and mouse in a matter of seconds, where you're both using tricks and magic to hide and skirt away from one another, especially if you find yourself getting across town trying to get from point A to point B.

The real question is if either of you ever actually get to your destination, because we all know this magician would never pass up the opportunity to catch you mid-slink into the shadows, right into his arms and quietly announce themselves the winner of the race (with the actual destination being nowhere near you both)

Nadia: I can imagine her, in this scenario, on her horse. You're both out riding, each on their respective horse, laughing at the latest ridiculous situation you both had to deal with at the castle, toning down from the day's efforts, and then this pops up after someone mentions a nearby destination they've wanted to see as of late.

Immidiate change in look, and Nadia's stunned you with a smart gaze before she snaps her reigns, and you're both off without a second thought.

This or you're both sneaking through the castle at night, pretending you're not supposed to get caught as you make your way to the kitchens in your sleepwear, then at last arrive at the long hallway that separates you from said rooms

Where you both immediately and simultaneously forget and remember why running on smooth floors with socks isn't a great idea when you're trying to race ahead of someone else. It dissolves into shushed giggles and assistance in getting to your feet, but eventually, you pick up on how similar it can be to ice skating and start picking up some motion. Yet, by then, Nadia's waiting for you by the doors, cupcake in hand with a warm smile.

Julian: One look is the most you'll get as soon as this is said, and it's to make sure you either a) heard it too and/or b) are prepared for the weight of those words

Because this man shoots off like a fucking horse. Running like the Devil himself is on his heels. Unnecessarily vaulting over crates and wagons, swirling around others like the fuckin wind, because Julian might love you, but he's also never one to drop from a competition of any kind and honestly, good for him?? bc you're magic, which he forgets about until your wiggling your fingers at him from the finish line, sitting on yet another crate with a drink in your hand. 50/50 chance you get tackled into a hug due to him not slowing down in the slightest, 100% chance of you getting convinced into a real race that may or may not end similarly, but that's okay bc seeing the smile when you win is worth all the races in the world.

Lucio: Immidiately trips over himself for a head-start. He's the kind of guy to tell you he'd never play such things, that its all beneath him, but coming from you?

Like hell he'd ever lose something like a race, much less when he has a chance to show off

This might be the one race you don't have to use magic to win, in some story lines

But it might also be the one to give you a run for your money in others- the real excitment is seeing his expression changing from rushed, to anger at any signs of losing, to excitment from winning, then just vibrant joy when he realizes how much fun you're having too.

Until you beat him to the destination- you might have to do a little more then.

Portia: Oh, this one is gonna leave casualties

Nothing left unturned, everyone in the way knows by now to either dive or pray to their aboves because when you and Portia have a race?

It's at a level that develops a dangerous reputation, especially in the castle, and what makes it even more intimidating is that the winner is never predictable.

But regardless of how it ends, Portia always dives into you, either picking you up or burying her face into you somehow as she dissolves into laughter because this kind of energy is exactly what keeps her days going, even better when its all from you.

Muriel: It takes him a few times to really understand what the race is, originally looking pretty downcast at the potential of being called a "rotten egg" by you

But once it's cleared up, I can only imagine it taking maybe a handful of times before he starts picking up speed at those words.

Eventually, similar to Asra, you say those words and when you turn around, Muriel has vanished into the trees.

Gone, like a deer prancing through the wind

"I missed you, _" with the most quietly distressed look that should be impossible to create bc distress isn't meant to be subtle

How tf does he manage that look

Vesuvia: *Lucio*

Nadia:

Lucio: *marriage*

Nadia: that's

Lucio: *decade of crazy shit allowed by the threat of his meltdowns*

Maroon scarfs

Deep blue and purple capes accenting ivory bases

Dark orange bags and strong browns, like leather hats or belts

A living snake as a necklace, secrecy container and companion