demi-h u m a n/e

Go on anon and send conspiracy theories about my muse. 

Go on anon and send conspiracy theories about my muse.

Go on anon and send conspiracy theories about my muse.

Seeing such an enthusiastic reply from Wickebine over the idea Seyren couldn’t help but smile at it; it was something not harmful that even Eremes couldn’t complain to much about. Seyren thought so at least.

Fingers going to his own hair the lord knight thought it over for a moment. “Participate, I can try though I’m not sure just what exactly I can come up with for all that blue hair.” Never having done much with his own the fact Eremes had such long hair it would at least give him options.

“With so many clones I can imagine every one trying to as many hairstyles as they can though. Eremes is going to have to look at so many blue hairstyles after every one gets through with his clones.” Stifling his laughter Seyren did it give a more serious thought though. “I wonder though how long it would take to clean up all that hair that gets cut from styling, not to mention the dye needing to be made.”

“Well we better see Flamel about the dye since I’m sure he’d want to get it started before hand: I mean he must love to plan out Eremes hair and with how long he takes to think things over.”

Though Wickebine’s comment about Eremes hair being played with like clay sounded like it would be fun.

“Oh, oh, ohhh!” Wickebine raises her hand up like a child, eyes still twinkling. “If Mister Flamel could totally make some orange dye, that’s great! And some yellow, and maybe something pink! Like, really girly pink!”

Darker colors would probably look better on Eremes, but where was the fun in that? What someone like Eremes needed was a great, big splash of color - and what better way to put color into him but in his long, luxurious locks? Seyren was right - making dye and dyeing hair is going to take a long time... but heeey, it would be definitely worth it to see a ginger-haired Eremes with a plait! And even more! Hair bun Eremes! Twin-tailed Eremes! Short-haired Eremes! Suddenly, cleaning up a couple of cut hair clumps (or possibly more) on the floor didn’t seem that bad.

“How difficult, huh? Well, let me see here... Kavach and Gemini, I’d rate ‘em a 0! Real chill and fun to talk to, getting along with ‘em’s easy! Theeen... Mister Chen, Mister Alphoccio, and... Mister Howard get a 4? Haven’t talked to them yet, but they don’t look that hard to talk to - I’ve got a feeling I could get along with ‘em if I get the chance! Oh, then Mister Seyren and Mister Randel get a 5 - finally got to talk to them already and they’re actually nice, but, ummm... I’m still kinda watching myself, don’t wanna offend ‘em by accident or anything!”

“Mister Flamel and Errende get a 6 - Mister Flamel looks easy to talk to, but I’m not sure that we have something to talk about and I’m not sure of what to think of him now. Errende looks chill too, but I ain’t sure if we could be buddies, yeah?”

“Jam?” Wickebine repeats, making a face. Blood jam, they say. Well, that was new. Now where’d Gemini get the idea that blood was jam? Or that jam was made out of blood? “Suuure, I’ll lend you a knife…”

But then again, to draw out blood, you need to make a cut… And since they were talking about Wolfchev… A grin spreads on Wickebine’s face, and she tosses a dagger to Gemini.

Send a symbol + a character for an AU drabble of our muses.

♞ for a TATTOO PARLOR AU

She flips the magazine open with lazy fingers and narrowed eyes, frown growing deeper as she skimmed through the pages. He, on the other hand, says his thanks to his last customer before he closes the door to the shop and walks over to where she sat by the windows, peering over her shoulder.

“Yucky bun truce... yucky bun truce...” Wickebine repeats the words a couple more times, eyebrows drawing together. What the hell was she saying... or more importantly, what the hell did it mean?

Kavach let her words sink in, making a really dramatic pause. Then, he stooped up, dropping the flower. His face became very somber.

“Y’know… A lot of people have said that lately.” He asked looking straight into her eyes and grabbing her by the shoulders “Say Wickebine, are my jokes really that bad? What can I do!? I need your help!”

He took his “Bard” pride a little too seriously, sometimes. Perhaps he couldn’t stand the thought of Laurell being right.  

“Whoaaa there buddy, easy with the shoulders,” Wickebine blinks a bit, startled by Kavach’s sudden action. Well, now that’s something: instead of another witty comeback the Archer ends up asking for help instead, and he was serious to boot! 

“Your jokes aren’t that bad,” she laughs as she bent down a bit to retrieve the flower from the floor. “Sure, you’ve got a couple of bad ones here n’ there, but hey, jokes aren’t meant to make all people laugh! Maybe it has something to do with a sense of humor! ... Er, that’s what you call it, right? ‘sides, it’s rare to see you affected by something like this! Ain’t like you at all!”

Ever tried looking at mirror, except that you’re not looking at a mirror per se? Seconds have probably passed but no words come to mind or to her mouth, so Wickebine blinks and Wickebine blinks back, brown eyes staring back at red.

(Oh look, they’re still red.)

Cream bandana, brown locks tied up into a ponytail, same old wrap holding her dagger steady at her hip… Yeah, that’s her alright - Wickebine Tres, one of the many Morrocan street rats turned Thief. Surprise, surprise.

(Well, if you omit the fact that Wickebine was wearing a ragged red fur coat, some sorry excuse of clothing for a top, a pair of short shorts combined with a pair of fishnet stockings and some heels to boot, then, yeah - it was still her, same height, sizes, features, scars. Still looking pretty good.)

A minute is about to pass by and Wickebine inhales, stepping forward until the space in between them closes - she reaches behind her, and lo and behold… she pulls out a long slim container gleaming silver, a beautiful carving of a gold dragon engraved on its surface.

Wickebine’s jaw drops and her heart just leaps at the sight.

(She doesn’t even need to ask.)

Wickebine snorts at the joke and shakes her head.

Wickebine’s eyebrows raise, and a funny look spreads on her face. “Ohhh, the ol’ birds n’ bees, eh? Y’know, sometimes I forget you’re not human - no offense!”

“Aaaanyway,” Wickebine set both of her hands on Gemini’s shoulders, a toothy smile on her face. “Y’see buddy, moms - or girls, whatever - they’ve got this… uh, let’s say space in ‘em that only the dads - or guys, whatever - can fill in, yeah? Right in between every mom’s legs, there’s an entrance where that space is! For dads, right in between their legs, there’s this… stick? Pfft! No, uh, device - wait, what? Hah! Nevermind, nevermind, let’s just say that the perfect thing to fill up the space inside the moms is in between the dad’s legs! So when they get to do the do… oops, uh, I mean… when they get to fill in the space, the dads get to release a special… liquid in the moms, and poof! Something magical happens to ‘em moms, and before you know it, their bellies get larger and later, a baby - or a new human is born!”