♚ LIKE THE WIND.

[battleowed-blog]

valadhxfndr:

            Leave it to the FAE to try and put an ease to a situation only to make it ten times just as WORRISOME. Venn wanted to think that he was used to it; that every time they cross paths, Sweeney always seemed like wrangled with a lion and a truck—and to see him like that was just another proof that he’s still at it. INDESTRUCTIBLE. Destructive. Or just simply both. Venn wasn’t annoyed—he didn’t think he was, he didn’t want to be—though the sigh, almost a disapproving grunt, that followed on was HEAVY; as if it courted on more tension than relief. Resigned, but also RESOLUTE.

            “Come on…I’ll patch you up…” Vidarr’s voice was low though his tone was stern as he stood up to head out to his truck as his cabin had better PROMISE of drinks.

              he knows when he’s caught out; knows when he’d be DUMBER than someone who was dumber than rocks to even be trying to argue himself out of a situation... and this is one of them. perhaps it was about time that he got himself cleaned up proper, anyway, and found himself a clean change of clothes - the leprechaun looked as if he’d picked a fight with a rabid raccoon in the back alleys behind the bar, and had LOST by a mile.

“it doesn’t hurt - i can’t feel a fucken’ thing.” ( and, unfortunately, that probably has more to do with his level of inebriation than the MILDNESS of his injuries. ) nevertheless, he hauls himself out of the booth, keeping a tight grip on his unfinished glass of double whiskey and coke even as he follows the other out the door. “ --- thanks, man.”

[spiderpig-spiderpig]

Essie- You done well by me.

Sweeney- We’re like the wind we blow both ways. (Every time you forget to lay me out a bowl of milk I fucked your shit up.)

[mcthercfmcthers-blog]

The cut on her cheeks stings more than anything else, but the injury is more to her pride than anything else. “ Calm down, Sweeney, please. You’re drawing too much attention right now. “ Her head tilts easily in his large hands, but her hands grabbed his wrist to bring his palm to her lips. “ Thank you for your concern- “ She kissed his palm before releasing him. “ But trust me when I say that man will not lead a happy life. “ Hathor had seen to that, eyes burning gold as she read through his future. No woman will love him, she’d seen to that, severing the connection he had to what the mortals called his soulmate, and ensuring no child would be born through his loins.

“ Besides, I was in there looking for you. “ She punched his side, trying to lighten the mood. “ You promised to come over for dinner tonight, and you’re late. “

@battleowed // •

[battleowed-blog]

  it’d taken a few tries, but at last, her reassurances reach him. with   a herculean effort, sweeney backs down, reigning himself in. his   hackles lower, his previously hunched shoulders drop, & he wills   every muscle in his body to relax. it’s only for her --- & they both   know this. the former king was protective of those he cared for, &   though he still believed that the man responsible for this was well   deserving of a pummeling for his rash actions, sweeney also knew   that hathor was more than capable of caring for herself, if need be.  

  “didn’t mean t’ worry yeh,” he rumbles, after a bout of silence. a   ghost of a smile hovers on the edges of his lips, and, as a glint   appears in his eye, the smile turns decidedly roguish. “what’s it   say ‘bout me, that this is the first place of all places you’d think t’   look... or, even about you?” was this her affirming that sweeney   was a booze hound? “‘ve other places i go when ‘m not here, love.   i don’t jus’ sit in there all fucken’ day... i’d drive myself mad if i did.”

[battleowed-blog]

shcdowpuppy:

even under a threat, mad sweeney CHOSE to continue his querulous behavior. shadow really didn’t want to beat up this MAN-CHILD, but he showed no signs of taking him seriously. therefore the man rose out of his chair, shifting his weight onto his muddy boots with a square stance. they were nearly the same height, yet shadow TOWERED over him with relaxed, broadened shoulders, head up high and jaw TIGHT. he raised his eyebrows, expectant and surprised at both his apology and the twinge of sympathy in his OWN heart. sympathy for SWEENEY ? who would have thought.  “i don’t have your coin.” shadow sighed. “there’s nothing i can do. it’s in laura’s possession, and she’s STUBBORN, so good luck on breaking her down.” he stifled a smirk at his play on words. “no pun intended.”

“believe me, ‘ve tried.” if the other expects context, none comes. sweeney says what he has to say, and leaves it be. best that he keep his mouth shut and not volunteer information shadow hadn’t ASKED for... although he’s appeared apathetic at best about his wife’s resurrection, the leprechaun doubts he’d be all too pleased to hear that sweeney’d once attempted to help her on her way to a SPEEDY decomposition by holding her underwater in a dingy motel bathtub, anyway. “yeah, alrigh’, fine. whatever. nothin’ else me an’ you can do but wait, i guess.” digits dig into the pocket of his jean jacket for a clumsily rolled cigarette to slip between his lips, and, after a moment, pulls out another one for shadow. with a raise of russet eyebrows, he extends the proverbial olive branch wordlessly.

[damnyourdarkeyes]

I know I’m in pain.

[shcdowpuppy-blog]

@battleowed

[yusterday-deactivated20130321]

I identify w tinkerbell a lot because she needs attention or she dies and that’s pretty much me

[battleowed-blog]

“you look like an accident.”

( MEME. ) ╳ @crnobog

            if it’s meant to be an INSULT, sweeney’s not biting. he’s had a hell of a day, and exchanging jabs with the god isn’t something he’s prepared to do. “yeh’re not too far off the fuckin’ mark, actually. was in one.” —— as if that was going to garner him any sympathy. 

                                                “try again.”

[battleowed-blog]

tokenofambition:

“Sure it will, Big Guy,” Ellie replied, an amused smirk crossing her features even as he moved to lean closer and allow her to help. Even both seated at the bar, he was still so much taller than she was, and the fact he’s slouching to reach her level is almost…endearing.

She’s careful as she starts cleaning the worst of the blood off his face, doing her best not to unduly aggravate the cuts or the likely forming bruises. There’s definitely blood from his bust lip that’s smeared hopelessly in his beard, but as she continues, she’s happy to see the cuts don’t seem to be too bad. She’s not even sure the worst of the blood is actually his, which will serve whoever took the brunt of his fists from the stag party right in the morning.

His close watching of her is hard to miss, and while part of her wants to dismiss it as him still being intoxicated, it’s not something that particularly bothers her. It’s strangely familiar, as though she’s met him somewhere before that she can’t quite place right now. Though his apology as he shakes his head suddenly does make her wonder just what he’s thinking right now.

“There’s not many people who get themselves into a scrap with a whole stag party and still manage to walk away from it,” she answered, tone gently teasing him in a way that feels strangely natural for her, “Consider this me being impressed.”

              For someone who only minutes ago had declared stoically that help wasn’t necessary, he’s certainly not resistant to the odd grimace - the faintest twitch of his eye or the clenching of his jaw as the yet unnamed barmaid cleans him up. She’s not at fault, though... she’s considerably gentler than Sweeney would expect someone who’ll now likely have to stay past closing time to pack up ----someone who, he’s sure, is well deserving of a break after having dealt with drunken patrons such as himself all night long--- to be.  

Given the faintly pleased look that makes its way across the leprechaun’s features when she next speaks, she’s evidently said the right thing. He seems to soften now that his conspicuous staring has gone unmentioned; seems to relax in her presence, tone lighter and less guarded than it’d been a few moments ago. “Aye, well... ‘ve had years of experience. More than that lot combined, even.”

Ring bedecked fingers take to drawing circles mindlessly onto the table as he talks, and eyes lift off the polished bar surface to meet her gaze boldly, as if he’s willing himself to see past the familiar visage - to focus on the subtle nuances he’d neglected to notice before, so as to see her as her own person, and not a ghost of his past. “Yer not so bad yourself, Miss...?” His voice tapers off, crossing the line into the realm of a question as he inquires for her name. “Those men couldn’t run away fast enough.” Here, Sweeney cracks a roguish grin - one that is gone again in a heartbeat, busted lip smarting from the brief show of emotion.

[battleowed-blog]

thiefbrcnd:

×   THE BELIEVER  a   scoff   escaped   her   ,    no   malice   -    a   silly   little   disbelief    .    ‘    i'd   think   ya'   luck   would   survive   without   buttons   on   me   window    .     least   i   can   do   is   give   ya'   some   care   from   my   heart    .    '    vibrant   laughter   leaving   an   equally   so   colorful   woman    .    her   voice   fell   silent   at   the   next   request    .    hell    ,    the   shop   keeper   hadn't   even   an   eye   out   on   those   bloody   pies    .     without   her   own   eyes   leaving   the   sky   her   hand   snatched   a   delicately   wrapped   delight    .     a   few   more   feet   in   silence   before   the   young   woman   fell   into   step   beside   the   decidely   old   leprechaun    .     '   coulda   given   me   a   challenge   -    what   kinda   girlie   do   ya   take   me   for    ,    love    ?    i   could   take   from   them   best   of   'em    .    '    a   smirk   errupted   onto   freckled   features    .    '    i   gotta   kiss   from   the   luck   of   a   leprechaun   ,    didn't   ya'   know    ?    ’

he keeps some distance away as they approach the stall, his feet veering left and speeding up slightly while she stays on course --- while his hulking frame could serve useful at times, there were occasions where all it was good for was making him stick out like a sore thumb... not what you wanted when your companion was attempting to shoplift. a grin of his own pulls the corners of his mouth upwards when she rejoins him, successful in her endeavor. “do you, now? well, you best care for your leprechaun jus’ as well as he cares for you then, by giving him the odd pie when he requests it... i’ve heard from your grandmother tha’ they can be temperamental folk, as changeable as the weather.” a knuckle grazes hers as they walk side by side - a silent request for the item to change hands. “------ a challenge for you usually means more work for me; can’t blame a man for wantin’ t’ keep ya outta trouble.”

[battleowed-blog]

crnobog:

“ before you start stupid coin tricks again … ”

the dark god showed his yellow teeth,

“ do you want to play a game of checkers ?? ”

“depends.”

“what’s the catch?” there’s almost always one; it was no fun playing when there was nothing to lose. 

[monsiurstyle]

Pablo Schreiber.

[battleowed-blog]

* throws essie in one of his shirts @ him *

             ———— he’s gaping, make no mistake of it. pouch of tobacco and cigarette papers are strewn out across a little corner of the table, and sweeney had just been in the midst of licking the adhesive side of the rolling paper, but that’s long forgotten now as essie enters the room, catching him off guard in a shirt far too large for her petite frame. oversized, the boxy garment does a decent enough job at serving its purpose, yet doesn’t conceal enough, and his gaze lingers for far too long on the hem of her –his– shirt, where cotton cuts off abruptly and meets creamy mid-thigh. it’s almost proprietorial, the gesture, and sweeney can’t say he’s complaining.

as eyes flicker back upwards to meet her own, it becomes adamantly clear that she’s well aware of what she’s doing to him. sweeney inhales, then breathes out slowly, as if struggling to maintain some semblance of control until he trusts himself to speak. “s’bad enough that you’ve been stealing every single thing under the goddamned sun lately… now you’ve gotta take my shirt, too, do ya?” but there’s no trace of irritation detectable in his soft voice; there’s only ever affection there, when it comes to her, and eyes shine with a wicked glint as fingers curl inwards, beckoning her closer. “it suits ya.”

                                         —————— @thiefbrcnd​ SENT A THING.

[battleowed-blog]

“it’s just a cut, really.”

( MEME. ) ╳ @mcthercfmcthers

“like hell it is.”

                   the furrow of his brow deepens the longer he stares at her, his mouth firmly set into a straight line. broad shoulders are set, emphasising his hulking size, and there’s a belligerent look in his eye, further deterring anyone from approaching the pair of them. even so, his fingers are surprisingly gentle as he tips her chin up, so as to get a better look at her cut. the leprechaun’s been in enough brawls to consider himself an expert on what was a minor injury and what wasn’t, and while the one on hathor’s cheek would edge closer towards the former than the latter, sweeney’s bristling for a different reason entirely - it was one thing to get yourself injured by entering into a foolish brawl; it was another thing to get hurt whilst you were simply minding your own business.                   sweeney had arrived but a moment too late; had the drunken idiot who’d done this still been around, HE’D have been his first priority. —— but he was gone, so there was nothing for sweeney to do but to back down, and opt instead to usher his companion outside with a protective hand on her shoulder. “it’s too fuckin’ rowdy in there,” he growls, gaze flicking towards her cut once more - a mild hint that she needs to stop being in places like this at this time of night, when the alcohol flowed too freely and the patrons lost their common sense. 

[battleowed-blog]

“but did you do it?”

( MEME. ) ╳ @porticosdaughter

           “did i do i-” he cuts himself off, exhaling a sigh before he spoke again. somehow, in that breath alone, the leprechaun almost manages to convey a sense of weariness that only came from someone who’d seen too much of the world for a dozen lifetimes. “lass. take a good look at me. do i look like the sort o’ person who’d go an’ do something as VILE as that? ‘m not a troll, shit. ‘ve got principles.” was it truly so hard to muster up faith in his person, these days? with a reception like that, it was no wonder sweeney preferred to keep to himself so often, now. 

[wcrld]

@battleowed

                   “Are you willing to D I E for a man who wouldn’t die for you ?? “

[battleowed-blog]

         “it’s nothin’ like tha’, alright?” his LOYALTY wasn’t easily given, and if he gave it, he had his reasons. “why’s it even fuckin’ matter t’ you? yeh got a better offer you tryin’ t’ sell me?”

[tokenofambition-blog]

               intelligence has never been uncommon in women, and beauty is had of all by seventeen. but essie possessed a rare token of ambition. she had paid close attention to the tales; she knew what the moment wanted. it was all the money she had in the world. there were many silks and lace she coveted, and she’d never once been full of white bread or syllabub. but she knew one does not ask favours of a leprechaun without a kindness of gold…

[goodliine-blog]

’   diligence  is  the  mother  of  good  luck. - benjamin franklin.   ’  a  wide  smile,  before  fingers  reach  for  the  hat  perched  atop  head,  tilting  it  ever  so  slightly  in  acknowledgement  towards  the  other.  not  a  god  per  say  but  close  to  wednesday  nevertheless.   ’   i’ve  heard  through  the  grapevine  that  you’ve  lost  something  near  and  dear  to  you!  well  i  suppose   LOST    would  not  be  the  correct  term  as  technically  you  know   WHERE   it  is.   ‘ 

eyes  avert  for  a  brief  moment  before  again  rolling  towards  the  fae,   ’   tell  me,  what  business  do  you  have  with  mister  wednesday?  i’m  curious  as  to  what   DRIVES   you  to  help  him  of  all  people.   ’   a  step  closer,  eyes  glittering.   ’   when   WE   can  help  you.  whereas  you  don’t  need  prayer  but  you  thrive  off  of  offerings,  we  can  work  with  that.   ’   voice  lowered  into  hushed  conspiratorial  tones  as  the  deity  began  to  circle  the  other.  tempting.   ’   wouldn’t  that  be  better  than  scrounging  for  scraps,   BEGGING   for  attention?  a  king  without  a  crown.  without  people  to  lead,  is  no  king  at  all.   ’

@battleowed

[battleowed-blog]

while it's apparent enough why the new god is of the assumption that he has the resources to compel sweeney over to his side, just WHY he’d want the leprechaun at all is what bewilders sweeney. there’s truth in the other’s words --- he was a SHADOW of what he once was. more of a pawn than a king, with naught left to do but to wander and roam, far from home --- and the blunt reminder of this fact raises his hackles; sets him on edge. 

for far too long now, he’s been reduced to but a derogatory stereotype: short entities clad head to toe in green, associated with four leaf clovers, pots of gold at the end of rainbows, and lucky-the-fucking-leprechaun. even the older gods ---who, you’d think, of all people, would understand his plight--- held no faith in him, nor saw him fit to stand amongst their own... a sore point for sweeney, and one the new god was now chipping at in a bid to win him over. “WHY?” he barks this, growing more and more frustrated as the other stalks him like a predator closing in on prey. “why the ever lovin’ fuck d’you want ME? i’ve not got nothin’ t’ offer yeh, unless your ploy is t’ trump wednesday by stealin’ away everyone on his side... an’ that’s just fuckin’ PETTY.”