amen

libra, ashen wolves professor at the officer's academy

[in--nagas--name]

pinned

muse

mun

stats

[in--nagas--name]

plotting call!

come thread with libra!

mission board (libra is unaffiliated!)

i'm interested in trying the +faith prompt! libra was a street kid, and no stranger to poverty and exploitation. let's see how far his pacifism goes when faced with the ill-gotten excess of pearl shoals!

non-mission tasks

libra is interested in tasting the perpetual stew... maybe he can try out a similar concept to feed the people of abyss? (is that sanitary?)

i think it would be REALLY funny to test libra's mettle against the Clingy Lover. let's see how stern and priestly he can get!

other ideas!

libra tends the pagan altar in abyss, and always welcomes adherents of faiths beyond the church of seiros.

if your muse gets roughed up at all, during training or otherwise, libra will patch them up happily.

libra is interested in--and a little intimidated by--fodlan's illustrious tea culture. have a simple little tea party with him! can you score a perfect teatime? (can he score a perfect teatime?)

[wingboundwarrior]

Worship and Weeds

[wingboundwarrior]

What he says first brings a smile to her features. He’s surrounded by people that he can share company with. That’s a beautiful and important thing. Having friends, not suffering alone... It’s precious. But when his face, tinged red, turns dark and reticent, Fiora can’t help but to turn to concern.

“Don’t rush to conclusions,” she says, in the same steady but commanding tone she’d use with one of her sisters, or one of those in her squadron that’d come to her for advice. Aching fingers fall by her side, forgotten, not working in the dirt for the moment. The hardness of her previous statement is balanced by the gentleness in her voice when she continues, “What happened?”

For the moment, it doesn’t occur to her that Libra might not wish to tell her, that she is essentially a stranger, and that he may wish to keep his secrets guarded close to his heart, or share them with someone that he actually considered a friend. For the moment, her mind has flipped entirely into attempting to solve this problem of his... or at least, listen to him.

[in--nagas--name]

Fiora handles Libra's sudden slump firmly--gently, the way a potter might hold clay. She is a stranger, nigh-completely... and yet Libra feels a kindred spirit in her, that warmth just edging at the nascent winter's chill.

Perhaps it is her manner, perhaps it is simply the sheer weight of Libra's lostness, but... he cannot help but confide his heart in her.

"There is a man I love," he murmurs, careful with the words. As though the syllables themselves are wounded, as though he lays them in a clean white bed. "And he told me--he told me that he loves me as well."

"All is well, now, and the wars we fought are over... but I could not requite him. What stands between us now is only my own cowardice... and my own--m-my own licentiousness."

He half-wails it, hides the motion of his lips in his high collar. Hunches over himself. Becomes small, despite the broadness of his frame.

"Because I--there is someone else, I--I've recently met him... I am falling in love with him, too."

[senerist]

what it cost you to be whole

cont from. -> 💤

[senerist]

Libra speaks the impossible. soren is not kind, he is the banging of a door in the storm and the uncaring destruction a tornado sweeps in its path. he is the winds he conjures - libra has seen only the pleasant days of gentle breezes, but it would be only a matter of time before the wind kicks up and destroys whatever shelter that covers the relationship between the two.

Still, libra believes these words, and that lends them a sort of credence that soren would not have considered so closely otherwise.

And their fingers touch.

It’s hardly a touch at all, actually - a small brush between fingertips that stirs the space around them and suggests more than it actually is, but it is libra touching soren. It is libra reaching out to an untouchable wretch, choosing to bridge this momentary gap in their routine with nothing but kindness and blasted, ignorant, damnable reassurance.

soren still feels like a liar. his eyes remained fixed on their hands together. he doesn’t know what to say. The truth would ruin them, surely. soren could easily conjure so many words to tear libra down so thoroughly that the blond would never again want to see his branded face, but soren can’t find the softer words to preserve this single fleeting moment.

Time passes. It will take this away from him, too, he knows.

“i can’t,” he admits finally. It’s a truth pulled from the deepest depths of himself, coated in a vague shell to protect what soren knows is a very weak heart. “i will not… i cannot prevent you from thinking what you like of me, but… there are things i can’t tell you.

“Or… anyone.” Liar. he told Ike. he could tell Ike. But even then, so many years ago, soren had shaken like a leaf in a flurry to even think of drawing the words to his lips.

he straightens his back some and shifts in his seat, but he keeps his hand as still as possible. he doesn’t want to lose that contact, even as he wants to force the conversation in another direction. “Still, i appreciate… that you aren’t upset. i have grown fond of these nights we share together…”

[in--nagas--name]

Soren's slender cold hand does not shy away. The touch remains, there, like a pale green shoot through cracks in cobbles--it is so fragile, so new, so eager to draw itself into the light.

Libra shivers with it. With the plain sensation and... with what it means.

But he, himself, will not quail either. Not even when Soren confesses--not the secret itself, but its existence. That a weight ballasts his slight body, but not the shape of it.

Things I can't tell you.

Libra could say the same. It brings a weak, wan little smile to his face--and brighter, when Soren confesses that he... is fond of Libra's company.

He could cry. But he doesn't. Mustn't, he doesn't know what it might do to Soren.

"I find myself becoming fond of you as well," he murmurs. "And your secrets--whether you disclose them or not--will not change that. I am not always acting as Father Confessor, you know."

He speaks it with a tender little laugh--though perhaps it is not very funny.

It is the best he can offer, and he--

He finds himself striving, all the time, to offer the best of himself to Soren.

[in--nagas--name]

activity check - apr and may 25

passed and passed!

+2 skill points!

gauntlet e -> gauntlet d!

boyfriends acquired:

gaius

[lollipop-bribes]

how lucky are we, to have so much to lose

gaius and libra III - 🌅Ethereal Ball 2025, continued from here

[lollipop-bribes]

Gaius has kissed people before. Mostly for fun. Usually nothing serious. But this...when Libra kisses his own fingers, presses them so close to Gaius' mouth, Gaius has never felt more tender, never so warm.

The ring burns in Gaius' pocket like it's fresh from the forge. Mostly because the thought of leaving it in his room made him anxious, paranoid. It's not like he could have expected Libra to be here in the first place. But now, on his knees, with Libra professing his love...

Gaius could offer it now. Slip it on Libra's finger, see how good his guesswork was.

And he wants, but...no. It's a hair too soon. Plus, there's the matter of the other person Libra loves. It's probably fair to loop them in, too.

So instead, Gaius digs in his pocket for one of his turtle charms, fixing it gently to the bracelet 'round Libra's wrist. "That sounds plenty good to me," Gaius drawls softly.

He presses two fingers to his own mouth, still buzzing from Libra's brief touch. He breaches the distance between them, fingertips falling featherlight at the edge of the tight line of Libra's mouth.

Gaius grins, small and private in the bubble they've created amongst the clangor. "Was that your first kiss, Padre?"

[in--nagas--name]

Gently, Gaius hangs the tiny charm from Libra's bracelet... gently, his clever fingers brush at Libra's wrist. It's an infinitesimal touch, but he's warm...

It frightens Libra, the way it feels. The things it does to the inside of his chest, the way it wrings love from his sodden, dripping heart. He'll make a mess, he thinks.

He already has. At the confessional, and with the letter that he wrote--and here, sobbing on his knees amidst a crowd of people, Libra has made more mess than he'd ever intended in his life, and--!

And Gaius kisses him back. Gently, with two fingertips against the thin skin of his lips.

Gaius loves him anyway. Libra chokes on it, and smiles; flushes red and murmurs "yes, it was."

He unfastens a pearl charm from his wrist, and passes it gently. Just so Gaius will touch him again, just incidentally.

My first kiss. And now it's yours.

Now I'm yours.

[lollipop-bribes]

how lucky are we, to have so much to lose

gaius and libra III - 🌅Ethereal Ball 2025, continued from here

[lollipop-bribes]

Okay, okay. lots to unpack there. No problem. One thing at a time.

"Firstly," Gaius says, softly, with the precision of a throwing knife, "I think I can decide what's unfair to me. I know...I know this stuff is hard for you, and that's okay. We can take it slowly, or...not at all."

Gaius pulls his calves from underneath him, properly sitting in the sand. He's never gonna get all this off of his formalwear, but he could care less right now.

"And I'm glad," Gaius says, something between a laugh and a quiet sob, "that you're into someone else, too. I think you should love and be loved by as many people as possible! So if you think that's gonna scare me away, you gotta try harder."

Gently, so slowly, Gaius lifts one of his hands to part the curtain of Libra's hair.

"I could never think less of you," he murmurs, nearly a whisper underneath the raucous festivities, "for what we had to do back then. If you'd hang for that, I'd be right there on the gallows with you, Padre. It doesn't mater what you did. All the Shepherds, all the people back home, all the kids you gave those dolls to...they've seen your heart, Libra. And it's..."

It's a hell of a lot more pure than mine.

"It's good. You are good." He holds there, pauses for a few long breaths. "I love you, and I think that's enough."

[in--nagas--name]

It's a gentle, gossamer touch. Scarcely even there, but Libra feels it so immensely.

It feels so good, to be touched like this. Tenderly, by the hand of the man who loves him, who cannot--will not!--be dissuaded.

Gaius, who came back for him. Who loves him, who says, for the first time, that Libra is good.

That Libra is enough.

He cannot but whimper, tremble on his knees. Unfurl his white-knuckled fist, the desperation draining from him like spent adrenaline.

Tenderly, he kisses the pads of his two fingers.

Tenderly, he presses them to the corner of Gaius' mouth. A loving kiss by proxy, it is pitiable, it is the best that he can do.

It is, perhaps, enough.

Libra blinks away his burgeoning tears. Sniffles. Smiles, in spite of everything. Because of everything.

His voice is bleeding, broken when he speaks.

"I-if you are certain that you'll have me, and if you'll forgive me for... for doubting you... Gaius, oh, my Gaius..."

He sighs, and sobs, and almost laughs. He tells the truth.

"I will walk with you for all my life."

[lollipop-bribes]

how lucky are we, to have so much to lose

gaius and libra III - 🌅Ethereal Ball 2025, continued from here

[lollipop-bribes]

Gaius still has a lot to learn about the world. Namely, in this instance, how two people can love each other and stand so close together, yet with such distance between them. If Libra loves him - what a warmth that puts in Gaius' chest, to hear that! yet such a chill again, with what follows - then what's the problem?

Shouldn't they be...happy? Haven't they both suffered enough?

In between marches during the war, Libra could often be found on his knees, hands folded, cornsilk hair dragging in the dirt. To see him like that now, groveling instead of praying, it wrings Gaius' guts. He wants that face pointed toward the sun, always. But he mustn't touch.

This position has never felt natural, not even after Gaius practiced, giving praying a go a few times, just to see how it felt. But it feels better to be level with Libra than not, even if people are starting to stare.

He just breathes for a few moments, lets Libra feel him near. His fingers trail in the sand in Libra's line of sight, only barely not touching those lovely, scabby knees.

"Says who?" Gaius says softly, with his last scraps of hope. "Who told you that? Tell me, Libra."

[in--nagas--name]

Oh, Gaius is near him, and--and warm, and desperate, he lays out all the little pieces of his soul. And Libra loves him, implacably, and the fetters, they begin to corrode away...

He sobs, tearless, from a dry throat. It has been a long while since he's been able to cry.

He wishes he could, now. For Gaius.

"Nobody told me that," he murmurs, and even to say it feels like benediction.

But there is more, there's always more.

"But I know, myself, that I am... incapable, of more physical expressions of love, and... that is unfair to you."

He sighs, ragged and pathetic, the gutter-thing he's always been underneath.

"And my... m-my affections are... I love you no less, Gaius, I love you endlessly, but I am... growing to love another alongside you, and that is a sin, and--!"

Here it is, sloughing away from Libra's body like a scab. Here it falls, revealing the wet wound underneath.

"My sins, Gaius. To have... killed in the war, to have prayed for the death and destruction of my fellow man... You deserve better than the love of a sinner, frigid and licentious all at once!"

You deserve the love of someone whole, and I have never been that.

Libra's panting breaths come heavy from his throat. He wants, he yearns to hold Gaius' hand in his, to be tethered to him. To be held fast to the earth.

But he cannot allow it.

[lollipop-bribes]

how lucky are we, to have so much to lose

gaius and libra III - 🌅Ethereal Ball 2025, continued from here

[lollipop-bribes]

Gaius is sure that Libra will ask him to hold his peace, in that gentle way of his. But he does not. With the strings of a jaunty dance humming in their ears, Libra asks him to go on.

And...this is what Gaius always should have done in the first place. Looked Libra in the eye, told him he loved him. Instead he had to go to confessional about it, and nothing has been the same since.

"You can't," Gaius stammers, fighting against a looming hesitation he thought he'd killed long ago. "You can't be unworthy of someone's feelings. I don't even know what that means."

He takes a step closer, head hanging. He wants to hold Libra's shoulders, his hands; wants their foreheads to rest together. But he knows how Libra feels about people touching him. He stays put.

"I told you how I feel," Gaius continues. "Either you feel the same way, or you don't. Nothin' to be worthy of."

[in--nagas--name]

Heavens, but look at him. Look at the strain of his jaw, the way he works for each and every word. Look at the way he holds his hands, the way they're shaking--and still, he does not reach out to Libra. Because he understands, he honors Libra's defect.

Look at him; he is beautiful. He is beloved, so badly that it hurts. It corrodes the stalwart bones in Libra's chest.

And look at Libra, now, so weak of will... To think that he might reach out to Gaius, to be beside him, be a part of him... knowing that he can never be what Gaius needs.

Knowing that he's got no right to ask for this at all.

He steels himself, and speaks.

"Gaius," he murmurs. "How can I help you understand?"

He falters--but he must press on.

"L-love you as I may... oh, oh, oh Gods--!"

Again, he falters, and covers his face with his hands. His ankles give, and he goes to his knees in the sand.

"I love you," he sobs, "I love you, you do not understand, I can't be..."

He cowers. His hair trails in the dust.

"I cannot be your partner."

[lollipop-bribes]

how lucky are we, to have so much to lose

gaius and libra III - 🌅Ethereal Ball 2025, continued from here

[lollipop-bribes]

There's a schism, there between them, a great fissure opening in the floor. Can't anyone else see it??

The way Libra looks at him, Gaius knows that expression, the one that's holding back all of his hurt. Gaius had never wanted to see it again, wants only joy on that dear, kind face. To put it there himself.

Gaius' throat is suddenly tight, eyes blurry. Why is he acting like they're strangers? Like this is just a simple pleasantry, like everything they've been through - 

Maybe it's because Gaius never wrote back. Libra had waited for a response, and hadn't gotten one. Did he take that as an answer?

Too many things compete to tumble out of Gaius' mouth. The first one that makes it is: "You're not a coward!!"

@in--nagas--name

[in--nagas--name]

Tears well in Gaius' eyes. Even at this distance, Libra sees that.

It is a wretched thing, to have caused his beloved such pain. And yet... Libra has done many wretched things, when they were necessary. Necessary for survival, necessary for his faith. Necessary, now, to preserve himself and Gaius both.

It doesn't feel right. Still, it must be done.

And then--and then Gaius raises his voice. You're not a coward!!

It cuts cleanly, like one of Gaius' fine-honed knives. Libra doesn't notice the pain in his chest 'til he's bleeding. A breath breaks in his throat.

"Gaius," he murmurs, in utter astonishment. But--what else would he say? Let's find a quiet place? Let's not make a scene?

No. He has denied Gaius so much--so much that he wanted to give him!

He will not deny his beloved the chance to speak his heart.

"Go on," he breathes. "I-I am here. I will listen."

[in--nagas--name]

Gaius has all but given up the notion of finding him here. He's gonna let loose and have fun. He's gonna eat lots of cake and dance badly and have himself a fun night.

There's a taller figure on the fringes, their back turned. Blond, robed in white. Gaius rolls his eyes at himself, at his dumb mind playing dumb tricks on him. But....

Even in the crowd, thick like molasses, in the clamor and the splendor begging his attention...Gaius sees him. Libra is here.

Gaius approaches like he's in a haze, heedless of the surrounding couples dancing, and he gets some inadvertent elbows to his ribs for the trouble. He doesn't feel them at all. Like happenstance, like the fate they have both made a living of defying, Libra turns around, catches his gaze.

"Libra!"

The sound of Libra's own name overtakes him, breaks him like a glacier calves into the northern sea. Somewhere far from here, somewhere cold.

Libra feels cold, a short sharp frigid shock, at the rasp of that familiar, beloved voice. The desperation, there.

The desperation Libra caused.

Despite himself, Libra turns--feet fumbling in the shifting sand. And there he is. Gaius, his dear, dear Gaius, staggering toward him, looking for all the world as though he's been gutshot.

If he has been, then it was Libra that loosed the arrow.

The guilt is intractable. The affection that he feels... is even worse. He ought to have known that Gaius would pursue him. That Gaius would not forsake him, after all that they've been through.

Libra wishes, for a bitter instant, that he could go to him. That he could be the lover that Gaius desires, the companion that Gaius deserves.

But this is an honor to which Libra is unequal. He knows this, and... and he will not be dissuaded.

Libra's face contorts into a sympathetic smile. "Gaius," he murmurs, almost gravely. Almost lovingly.

"I hope... that you are enjoying the festivities tonight."

Please, let these fragile little words be enough. Please, do not drag my deficiency into the light.

[in--nagas--name]

Libra hangs back, watching as the partygoers wade into their reverie. They are beautiful, he thinks, and for a moment he wishes he'd had the forethought, the wherewithal to wear anything other than his plain cassock.

But this is the sin of vanity. The pearl charm that adorns his wrist is more than enough finery for him.

It is more than enough, that Libra is here, and able to join the celebration in his own small way.

charm tracker:

seashell:

starfish:

anchor:

turtle:

pearl:

[wingboundwarrior]

Worship and Weeds

[wingboundwarrior]

He speaks so gently, so kindly — instantly, Fiora wishes to tell him that he is wrong in his assessment. Perhaps she has been a teacher in the past, and perhaps she cares for her sisters, but she is not a good teacher — look at where she’d led her squadron. Nor is she anything resembling a good big sister. It feels wrong to leave him admiring someone who is so inadequate, who has done nothing but maim and harm and leave people sad... but then his words continue, and there are more important things than her own sadness to focus on.

“Is that so?” she says, a little morosely, moving to cradle some herbs between her stiff fingertips. “I’m sorry to hear that. The loneliness of a childhood like that... it follows you, doesn’t it?”

She doesn’t say outright that she understands, because it seems rude, after just talking about her sisters. She’s had more than he has, hasn’t she? Two adoring sets of eyes, that followed her and hung on her. But she never had a mother’s gentle caress, or a father to teach how to do things, or anyone to look after her. From as old as she can remember, Fiora was the adult, and everyone else was the child. She never remembers having her own sick day, her own down time. She remembers being young, but never being small.

Having fully pulled the herbs from their home in the dirt, she gently arranges them in her basket and compares them to Libra’s. Did she do a good enough job? She hopes so...

“I hope it hasn’t followed you, at least.” She smiles as warmly as she can manage, back at him. She’s unsure if he wants to linger on this memory — of his past, of him being alone, with no family — so she posits going forward. “How is your time here? Have you made many connections?”

[in--nagas--name]

Libra holds his silence, for a moment, as Fiora holds her memories. Like herbs between her pale fingers, she studies them. He wonders what she's seeing, now, but even in his own mind, he will not pry.

He'd like... to be a friend to her. And whether or not that is something she wants, whether or not he is worthy, he will regard her with care.

And then she speaks, and Libra understands. Loneliness... can gnaw at a person, even when they are not alone.

He's known that, among the ragged children in the street. Leading a congregation, or among the Shepherds in the war...

Still, he sighs, he sweeps the memory away. Fiora has asked him a question.

It's... not something he'd have considered, on his own. In all honesty, it's liable to make him blush. Is the chill enough to redden his cheeks, to hide the reaction? Or will Fiora notice?

Softly, Libra shakes his head. The answer falls, reticently, from his mouth.

"I... suppose I have. I've met... people that I'm fond of, here."

He thinks of Soren, in the dim library lamplight.

And then... his eyes flicker shut, and his face casts rueful. "And... somebody that I knew before is here, as well."

The timbre of Gaius' voice comes unbidden to him, the way that it echoed in the cramped confessional. The things that he said, and the things Libra said in return.

It hurts, ringing like a funeral bell.

"Although," he murmurs, downcast, "I rather think I've fouled it up."

[contempenitent]

the better angels

mauvier & libra

[contempenitent]

It's disappointing to hear, but not surprising. It seems that every church across every land has blood on its hands. Even followers of the Divine in Elyos were thought of as self-righteous crusaders - including by Mauvier himself.

How foolish has Mauvier been, to once again swear himself to a cause he does not fully grasp? Did he simply trade one snare for another?

Mauvier bows lightly from the shoulders, taking his tabard from the monk's hands without looking at it. He does not know if the thing slinking in his guts is shame. He takes pride in his vow of protection. So much so, that if he had to defy yet another faith to uphold it...

But pride is a sin too, so he is told.

"Is there anything," Mauvier murmurs, keeping his tabard folded, "that I can do to ease the burden you carry?"

[in--nagas--name]

Mauvier accepts the tabard with reticent hands, but there is no such hesitation in his bow. Reverence, only--for what?

Libra does not know. He cannot see the shape of Mauvier, underneath the Church's armor. But he can...

He can trust that it is good. Mauvier is a devout man, and he bears the rare ability to question his own world-view.

(Libra wonders what his life would have been like, had he himself developed that grace earlier...)

Yes, Mauvier is trustworthy, to a point... but even Libra does not expect what falls from his lips next.

It's an offer of aid. Of charity, freely given in a soft voice.

Libra considers it. There are many things a man in Mauvier's position might do, to aid the people of Abyss. To petition the church for clemency, for supplies... even to sabotage the patrols that come and tear Abyss apart...

Still, he shakes his head. These are things he cannot ask.

He sighs, softly, and speaks. "Simply... Think on us kindly. That is all."

With every passing second, Libra's anxiety swells. They could be seen, or worse...

It is time for Mauvier to leave. But somehow, Libra cannot say it.

[senerist]

what it cost you to be whole

cont from. -> 💤

[senerist]

Libra tries to assure him that he isn't crossing any boundaries or hurting anything, but soren wants to feel otherwise.

he can't, though, because the truth is right there.  Libra simply isn't bothered - he's more tormented by a paradoxical desire to help soren understand that.  soren doesn't deserve even that for the line he crossed but - but - but - it's there, almost completely tangible, and soren can't seize on the feelings to spiral into his own self-hatred like he wants to.

he's somehow lied to libra, he knows, because he isn't kind, nor good.  he can understand why some might think he's considerate or thoughtful, but no matter how plainly libra thinks those things of him they are simply untrue.

Furthermore, he feels as though he's done wrong for perpetrating this lie.  Lying, which is so easy and natural to him, is now sitting in his throat like a weight.

Is it worth correcting?  Libra says he enjoys soren's company.  Is it dismissive of that feeling to say he's misunderstood the manner of wretch that soren is?

It feels as though cobwebs have been cleared from his heart.  soren is aching in ways he thought he left long behind him, and it's been far too long to readily recall what he should be doing about it.

There is one thing that keeps soren rooted to the spot.  Against all odds, libra wants him there, and soren is not opposed to that.  he can feel his heart fluttering in his chest.  If libra knew anything about him at all, surely he would not be wanted.

soren stares straight ahead.  his hands are on the table in front of him, still vaguely positioned around the book he fell asleep reading.  he raises the right hand - that closest to libra - and he… can't bring himself to touch libra again.

he sets it down, closer to libra's hands.  he stares at his own fingers, blankly.  What he hopes to get with such a gesture is unspeakable to him.

he feels empty.

his mouth is dry when he finally replies.  “While i can appreciate the sentiment, libra, i don't believe…  Rather, put plainly, i am not a good person.”

soren's eyes flicker back to meet libra's gaze with no small amount of trepidation.  he can't hold the gaze for much longer.

“It's… unrelated to the circumstances that have seen us sharing that painful past.  By choice, then, you might say.  You're causing me to feel… guilt, as though i have obfuscated that from you.”

[in--nagas--name]

Soren lays his hand palm-down on the table, he arranges the fragile, crystalline words of his testimony around it. He presents himself for judgment, as if Libra is...

Libra has been an arbiter of souls. In the war, he had no other choice. A frightfully simple heuristic; you stand against my Goddess, thus you are damnable. Thus you are damned.

But to cut a person down is to judge them in place of the Goddess. It is an unforgivable blasphemy. Libra judges souls no more.

And even if he did, he would find nothing wanting in Soren's.

He struggles to speak this. He keeps his eyes downcast; he studies the grain of the table-top. He watches Soren's still fingers from the corner of his eye.

At length, Libra shakes his head. His gaze fixes on Soren's penitent face.

"I cannot say... that I am a good person, either. But this is not for us to decide. All we must do is... be kind."

Gossamer-gentle, he smiles. "And you have been kind to me."

His own hand twitches at the wrist, he coaxes it across the empty table-top.

Steadily, he touches Soren's hand. Just slightly, just softly. Just the barest brush of little fingers.

"Please," he murmurs, "you are allowed... to look more kindly on yourself."

[in--nagas--name]

♡

send a <3 to see what our muses' kid would be like!

this is zinaida, libra and zelkov's daughter!

growing up alongside the children at her fathers' orphanage, zinaida has seen firsthand the effect that violence can have on the smallest members of society. this drove her to spend the long elusian winters studying statecraft, though she is herself of common birth. she aims to gain political influence not through military prowess, as a knight might, but on her own merits. she uses peaceful means to advocate for a peaceful world.

plus she's cute.

[rpmemesupreme-blog]

send me a ♡ and i’ll describe what i think our muses’ child would be like

[ can be in terms of appearance, personality, or both! ]