𝕰VENING 𝕿IDE

a solitary 𝖔𝖗𝖈𝖍𝖎𝖉 . . . 𝕭LOOMING 𝕴N 𝕾HADOW

[nightorne]

      ☽ ◯ ☾, she blazed. she kindled〈 out of the night, she burnt like a white star 〉a highly selective and private blog for shadowheart jenevelle hallowleaf from baldur's gate 3 / not affiliated with the fandom. this is a plot-focused blog my IMs are always open open to chat about threads/dynamics! please do not assume anything about my portrayal * ( headcanon & alternate universe heavy ⊹ affiliated with daylighter

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✦ ₊ adventuring into. . .  the art of reinvention, self-discovery through loss, reconnecting with the past, rewriting ones history, nothing hurts like a mother, the once lone-wolf, dithering between light and darkness, choosing rebirth, and found/chosen family

[nightorne]

the sexual tension between me and making a pin account for shad exclusively

[daylighter]

there is a quiet moment where, rather oddly, his heart sits in his throat where normally it sits in his head. not for the viciousness she has unleashed, hardly for that— he does not turn away from the wreckage she makes of her home, but rather absorbs it into himself as one would wine, the most delicious sort, with a smile for the headless destruction of the past. something to be proud of than turn away from or to chide. his shameless encouragement is wrested to his bright eyes as she conducts her revenge with savage teeth. no, it was not for the viciousness but what came after, when he realised what he was staring at was the confused loneliness of his other half, reflected in her eyes in recognition of his own. no sooner is she finished that her former headmistress is reduced to food for rats.

then comes her own undoing in the silence. even in the camp site she was never the one at ease in the quietude, as if her body anticipated footfalls traversing closer or the crackle of chatter. anything but to be left alone, whether to rest or to think. odd that the cloister should boast of championing solitude when they did everything in their power to erode all privacy, to monitor & to coerce — she has grown out of those confines now, but the shape of this anger is still new. its first victims lie discarded where her once towering form now hunkers, exhausted and shrinking. even his outstretched hand is a foe at first until she thinks better of it, recollection mounting in her darkened eyes once the fury fades.

he holds out his palm until her wet nose meets it. the wolf relents eventually, no less to him now as she was as a woman in flesh. with a rough breath expelled in relief, he steps closer but she meets him there first, nuzzling into his hands as if she could fly & hide there in the crook of his palms. the force of shadowheart’s nearness nearly stumbles him but he is better prepared now than he was the first time she had transmutated. instead of standing, he goes to his knees. her head burrows into his chest where his abnormal heart beats wildly. breathless with the surreal enchantment he felt, he carefully loops his arms around her and grins at last.

          ❛  you’re alright, don’t worry now. it’s all okay. ❜ this was it, a pure amazement at the possibility of what she was, this terrific thing of wonders & justice, the capacity of her revenge. kenneth’s palm cards behind her ear, his weapons having long clattered to the floor to greet her with care, head to head. ❛  just splendid, aren’t you— you looked like a cloud of mithardir every where you moved, hmph. ❜ kenneth’s voice is tinged with obvious envy. he means to say: she was perfect. his bloodmist, his apocalyptic wolf. with all the kindness his bitter heart affords for magical beasts and his lost lover, he hugs her looming wolf head close and closes his eyes a moment. ❛  come back now, armiel; there’s much to do. i know you’re scared, we’ll make it better. ❜

[nightorne]

     undressing out of her shame,  stepping into the fur which she inherited.   how she had carried a piece of her father all this way while wearing her mother’s face.    as much a homecoming as it is a reckoning.    the newfangled desire for blood,    its warmth in her mouth that made her insatiably thirsty   —    a well unable to be filled.    to crush the yawning void of wanting she must continue to feed the impulse.    this is lack of control she had feared since their travels began    (    who are you in the shadow of your memories?    will they break you or will they free you   )    he has given her the room to unravel the paradox of her person.    discipline to pain gifted with the hands of a healer;   every antithesis she holds in equal measure.    kenneth questions none of it,    he bears witness,    his silence a blessing but his words are every bit of a deliverance.    

      blind to all of it in the midst of her tantrum,    this sorrow which had burgeoned into rage.    turning the arrow that was her body at him,    the point of her nose,    the finality of her teeth.    wishing to be closer and yet unsure what such proximity would entail after all the carnage she had wrought.    still,    he does hesitate in his boon;    the calloused surface of his palm rough against her snout.   a tentative touch flourishing into an embrace,    she can sense her limbs shrinking around her to accommodate the circumference of his arms.    no active effort on her part to begin the transfiguration back into herself.    there is the inconsistent thrum behind his ribs,    the shaky hands which slide up his back and grace the curve of his wings as she holds him with what little force left she could muster.    

      ❛ be careful with your compliments,    ivaebhin.   my teeth are still sharp and they begin to ache when you talk like that.   ❜ any humor she hopes to imbue in her words is lost to the wreckage of her voice which was charred and cracked at the edges.    yet it remains the first indication that she had shed the lycanthrope in favor of the woman beneath.    vaguely she can sense her own bareness yet the exhaustion keeps her from chasing any thoughts of modesty especially given the present company.    curling in on herself from where she has settled in his lap.    laying there in a clump of viscera and unbound hair, that which no longer maintained its untarnished silver hue.    

      ❛ trust in a thief to attempt to charm even a wolf if it suits him — seems i've fallen for your wiles.   ❜ fallen or more accurately slouched into it,    her breath staggered and her eyes had yet to come fully open since her skin grew back into place.    sunken fully against his chest,    a hand ghastly with red graces his cheek weakly.    there was no telling whose blood it was as there were more russet smears than flesh on display between the two of them.    that is when her gaze finally settles on his face,    fully focused,    even when half-lidded.   ❛ hello,    lover.    i'm...    i'm so tired.  ❜ although,    as he had already alluded to they were far from through with the cloister.   

[5anctified]

» BOTH WAYS IS THE ONLY WAY I WANT IT. dialogue and action prompts pulled from and inspired by maile meloy’s short story collection, both ways is the only way i want it. change as you see fit.

dialogue.

i’ve never done anything so stupid in my life.

i wanted the job, i was so afraid of the loans coming through.

how come you never eat anything?

you could fly to hawaiʻi or france in less time than it took to do that drive.

i just knew that if i didn’t start driving, i wasn’t going to see you again, and i didn’t want that.

you’re doing that spacey thing again.

you think i don’t know who corrupted me?

i’ve seen the way they look at me.

no one can drink like that forever.

i don’t remember anything. it’s like a big eraser came through that part of my brain.

there are other ways to get money.

is that why you didn’t want me?

when you see her, would you tell her to knock that shit off?

slow down, you’re going to hurt yourself.

we’re not fighting, we’re talking.

there’s no gene for bravery that you have and i don’t.

you can bait me or you can protect me, but you can’t do both.

i think she’s always known about the bad things.

you act like i want to push you off a cliff.

you’ve done enough for one lunchtime.

you think you’re always right about everything, but you’re not.

we should do this every year.

i wouldn’t imagine it if it didn’t seem true.

there's nothing i can do to you to match that.

you have no heart, you're rotting. do you see that?

there will be enough danger in your life without you seeking it out.

are you going to ask me in?

i don't want to impose, but do you have room for me?

i'm going to rake them over their proverbial coals.

i've been so unhappy in your house.

what news do you bring me?

i'm very much alone, these days.

i know exactly how difficult my work is.

i'm not strong enough to be alone and hated.

oh, please stay for dinner.

you should be more selfish, like i am.

i never would have asked you to do it.

your heart's going crazy, i can feel it.

what do you do when you wake up?

you seem very calm now.

do you have to talk about this here?

say you won't go.

actions. switch sender and receiver’s places as you please.

squeeze. sitting in a car, the sender crawls into the receiver’s lap, squeezing into the space between their body and the steering wheel.

climb. the sender goads the receiver into following them onto a rooftop.

diner. the sender and receiver dine at a cheap restaurant for a late night meal.

last chance. the sender unexpectedly shows up at the receiver's place of work.

saddle. sitting on a steed, the sender helps pull the receiver up to join them.

respite. right before a social event, the sender and receiver take a moment to talk privately.

afternoon tea. the sender and receiver prepare warm drinks after a long day.

hotel. the sender and receiver rent a room for the evening.

stranded. the sender and receiver can’t find the car they arrived with, a heavy snowfall coming down.

lecture. the sender stands in the back of the room as the receiver gives a presentation.

boil over. the sender and receiver end up tumbling down a hill together as they physically fight.

grill. the sender stands before and looks down at the receiver, who remains seated.

surprise. the sender shows up at the receiver’s residence despite the sender being dead on paper.

breakfast. the sender attempts to make breakfast for the receiver using the meager means of a motel room.

woodsmoke. the sender and receiver drink at a bonfire.

[nightorne]

biotech girl boss board truly is coming along

[kryptonien]

❝ it's only a short step from there to calling yourself a crusader, or something equally dubious. too many powerful people make these silly declarations — then it's all holy quests, or sacred destiny … that's generally when the trouble starts. [ a private, selective blog for a comic-based rendition of clark kent from dc comics. this portrayal is mostly a retelling of new 52 superman. written by v, she/her, 21+. carrd. ]

[kibizsz]

Dark Justiciar Shadowheart

[nightorne]

relationship call! all the verses are open, all the possibilities are out there. this is for romantic and platonic ships so don't be shy :) just wanna get more lasting dynamics with shad going and you should let me know if you wanna smooch the wolf on the nosey

[lycaea]

❛ violence is a craft. so is compassion. ❜

his gaze is like a snarl, a mordant slice of acknowledgement caught in a snag against a crown of canines. it’s fixed onto the presence before him, wrung in a passage of grief and splitting tongues while his right hand curls around the hilt of his sword. he feels it pulsing in his grip, feels the tell-tale sign of the curse it's imbued with as a migraine when it begins to splinter his mind; the topic of conversation is quite ironic within its breadth, driving him to this impulse. he bites back a scoff, because she doesn't warrant his rudeness, and the statement makes him consider repositioning himself accordingly. though, if he weren't to hold back his bark, it would prove his own conclusion — wouldn't it ?

❝ you think so ? ❞ his own voice sounds so unpleasant to him, switched to the miasma of perpetual despair that blankets him; so contrary to himself, she's nice to listen to, and in spite of everything he's truthfully appreciative of the attempt. he doesn't have it in himself to be kind, and the lack of it makes it near impossible to preclude his barbarity, but he's trying his best now. levi briefly wonders how much she could potentially be unlike him, wonders if she has mastered the art of toggling that distinct unselfishness that lends to a better heart and better life. he closes his eyes instead of letting go of the sword, obtusely hoping that staves off the pain in his head long enough for him to keep thinking even though he knows better.

however, he's certainly not closing himself off; consider him curious. ❝ i think compassion is a miracle. it's easy to be violent, almost like breathing; we're all prone to it. it's harder to have compassion; it's harder to care. ❞ he could let go of his weapon and it would provide immediate relief, but after all, he has a horrible habit of frequently torturing himself when he feels he's getting too comfortable. ❝ honestly i'm just a huge asshole, so i don't really think i have a leg to stand on in this conversation. ❞

⤷ THE KNIGHT AND THE MOTH. ♡ for @nightorne. accepting.

[nightorne]

      while she bathes under the moon's glow now she still remembers life in the thick of the gloom. she had only begun to live by its light but in that time her healing hands had only grown more potent.   once she had repressed their natural inclination to ease hurt,   to soothe an ailment only selûne herself could purify.   she holds that lambency within her even now,   that eerie yet inviting lunar haze.   thus she can sense the dim within him,   cure-touched there was a festering there just beneath the skin.   all are entitled to their secrets yet he does his well,   the faint gleam of sweat upon a brow and the tense bearing of his jaw.   of which left the white of teeth exposed,   a beast choking back a growl yet shadowheart no longer fears wolves.   she would know the edge of her reflection anywhere.   

       ❛ i know so,   one doesn't spend the majority of their life under the tutelage of a goddess of pain without learning a thing or two about cruelty. ❜ full of breezy composure as she divulges that which should bring about shame.   to be foolish in such a way,   misled like lamb into the mouth of foxes.   yet she has endured the feasting,   diminished the mouth which had sought to swallow her whole.   instead the inkling of a smile is there in the curve of her lips.   ❛ violence?   perhaps but lasting brutality and prolonged torture are an art.   i myself am fond of a casual unkindness,   i actually prefer it.   i will say though,   that being compassionate is easy when you aren't the one suffering.   ❜  it was why the city was filled with thieves and thugs,   many of which were still children who were only seeking survival.   

       ❛ maybe you are an asshole but how much of that is due to the fact that you're in immense pain?  ❜ far past keeping secrets or fancying herself a puzzle to be solved.   pointed in her observation,   the intensity of her evergreen gaze pinning him to the place where he stood.   exacting eyes that could only belong to a student of medicine,   she takes him apart with a surgical precision cataloging the slump of his shoulders and the strain of each breath.   ❛ i don't doubt you're ever pleasant,   no matter the circumstances but the point still stands...   will you let me have a look?   ❜ dropping her scrutiny to his fist,   the manner in which tremors slightly around the hilt of the blade.  

[maleuficent]

I've dreamed about this my entire life.

❝ you've dreamed about submisson? ❞ maleficent slurped the words, uncarefully, as her stare was as hard as the stones around them. shar's temple had the smell of things the immortal detested, hated with all her existance; blidness, the way people became so... easilly pursued by their whims and wishes and oh, she wanted to be gone as soon as possible. but the one next to her was too interesting to let go. a walking enigma that called upon the ancient fires of her heart, the stirring magic of her very core. with a flick of her hand a teapot flew from the tent behind them, serving them with hot beverages. lilacs, sugar, tangerines. it was what could be set up considering the place they decided to camp at. well. they decided; maleficent was only passing by, watching heroes with her ravens on the treetops above, waiting for a chance to be known.

❝ pain, endless harm and anger. isn't shar so unpleasant but isn't it the point? wouldn't freedom taste... nicer, on your heart? ❞ the gods failed, were shattered, were chained, were slaved, were controled; were as volatile as their followers and as such she despised them. never could devote herself to any; always saw them as old enemies or foe or strangers to ignore in the crowds. whoever broken can not demand unbreakable faith. simple as that. sipping the tea, she served shadowheart a cup. ❝ what a strange dream to have. is it your only one? ❞ how sad if the case was such. she was a formidable thing, her magic strong, her skills usable for the battlefield. if only she wasn't so bound by the invisible. ❝ — don't you have anything... i can help you with? ❞

[nightorne]

     ❛ i dreamt about honor,   of my devotion coming into fruition...  ❜ beloved by shadows to the point of hatred,   kindred with all that was dark-winged and condemned to the dark.   that must be at the core of what the demoness sees in her   —   divinity did not always come feathered descended from the heavens.   it also lived in the ground and tore its way through the dirt to the surface.   while meticulous with her hygiene there were days  the soil from her herb garden lodged beneath her nails to no avail.   stuck longer than a memory,   like the pale moon's edge of her face;   the condemning allure of hellspawn.   this was how they coaxed the unsuspecting into agreements.   beauty more compelling than any blade or spell.   ❛ unpleasantness is a simple condition of living.   to avoid it would be childish.   i fear no pain,   i welcome it as it is my lady's most sacred gift.   ❜ yet there is a slight tremor in her hands,   the tea stirring it's a cup in an amber ripple of doubt.   

        to be at the heart of shar's promises was so far from being a young child yearning for acceptance in the baldurian cloister.   becoming a dark justiciar had meant protection,   respect,   and above all else a place of belonging for a girl with no past   (   yet if she had no history how could she fathom a future for herself?   )   placing down the steaming glass before it was ever brought to her lips.   too harried to keep down drink or even her own bubbling distrust.   casting her gaze over the camp,   her companions oblivious to the dragon's den she had entered.   curiosity had often been the ruin of past clergymen.   ❛ dreams?   i-i why would i ever give though to something so frivolous?   I aspire towards my purpose,   there is nothing else...   ❜ a sinister purpose perhaps,   she would be forever changed by the violence denouncing all else but the act itself.   a baptism by way of blood it would be too easy to remake herself as she had not even the faintest idea of who she was leaving behind to do so.   

        ❛ i can't help but be curious...   would i still choose this if i still had my memories   —   ❜ there it was,   a denouncing of each and every principle of sorrow.   one needed to be engulfed to pay tribute proper to the goddess;   leave no tracery or outline of the self   (   but her flaw was to be shamefully self-possessed )   it was easier to admit to such treason with the enigmatic witch,   who would tell?   there was no one to listen but the two at this table.  

[nightorne]

would you still love her if she was a girl boss that worked for a largely unethical pharmaceutical company that is lowkey a front for experimenting on the less fortunate and underprivileged for the sake of human advancement? ( also kinda a cult ruled by the concept of radical transhumanism )

[nightorne]

killing gortash's parents in my shad's play through last night as some sort of morbid precursor to confronting shadowheart's own parents and ultimately choosing to release them from shar's influence is actually so incredibly fucked y'all

[nightorne]

verses page is up! it's very topline for everything and i'm still working out the details for some of them. please look at these descriptions as jumping off points they'll definitely be subject to change once i write more in each hehe :)

[nightorne]

  ☽ ◯ ☾ toon me! a cleric at war with herself edition :)

tagged by: @burynot thank u friend <33 tagging: @daylighter, @compunctions, @sheikage, @excaliabur ( for whoever you like show us them all! ), @warplanet ( for kida or hypatia ), @aratsaka, @darkdevour, @sarastuss, @apotheocis ( for tessa hehe ), @bluemns, and you reading this right now!

[daylighter]

the moment of reprieve is taken up in seconds. the well-oiled machine of the cloister hardly retreats, when their target has been set by the head mistress herself. when he had returned to camp from his first visit, jaheira had mentioned that the once famed viconia had been something of a hero— he had discarded such praise, for in his eyes any noble deed of her past had been abruptly undone irreparably by what she had become. they have mere moments between his words meeting her ear, & her eyes meeting his, before the encroach of the assassins after the winged thief is apparent; they will stop at nothing until their blades have made pockets out of their former sister. the highest treason but she wears it well, and when he comes to understand the meaning of her faint warning, his smile does not waver.

❛  i’m with you. ❜ his mouth skates just between her brows, before he is moving away from her reach. her body contorts, the first he has ever seen of it, & the sound of her bones twisting abnormally echo down the hall. ❛  tear them all apart. ❜

it is enough to give pause to the encroaching assassin before they lose sight of him; he is gone in a faded spray of mist, & from his absence they are able to see what his wings had curtained— in the place of their once-sister is the beast. where he lands in a ring of fire, her glaive is sheathed safely at his back. in the time he looks up, eyes wide and impressed on the changing light of her eyes, he also sees viconia’s moment of fear. where she stands looms the great wolf beneath the moon, a wrath too large to be put in a cage. [she reminds him, blissfully, of stories he’d overheard in distant times: of a beautiful wolf in permanent tussle with a serpent; round and round they went, and it made his blood sing.] the underground hovel that shar’s matriarch has thought to bunker in was quickly rendered obsolete. predictably as before, her goddess is silent as her end looms. no prayer goes heard, no plea goes heeded with love.

swinging, his blade cuts through the back of a justiciar. lae’zel arcs her sword behind him as they finish off the flanks. the surprise of a charcoal beast tearing through the hallway was enough to renew their advantage. between the push-back, the beat of his wings pick him off the floor just as the wolfish fiend tears into the back of the assassin who had thought to invade them both with invisibility. but unable to beat a wolf’s nose, her head cracks in half beneath the weight of shadowheart’s paw where she grounds to a vicious stop. it is only in the absence of her former family, as they lie dead at her feet, that he notices the way her shoulders heave. in her throat: a noise between a growl & a mourning curse. the sorrow of it moves him closer to her, a habitual reflex.

❛  shadowheart. ❜ slowly, he lowers himself to the tips of his shoes behind her, and when she whips around with her teeth bared, he stands his ground. [ready to catch her, to reel her back.] between a beat of his wings and an extended palm, he meets her eyes as unafraid & painfully endeared as he had been with her teeth in his flesh— no, her monstrosities would never dispel him. ❛  armiel, it’s enough. come back to me. ❜

[nightorne]

     incredibly she does not remember the extent of the cruelty;   perhaps a blessing for her newly favored goddess.    drifting through the city's underbelly,    the torture chambers with perpetually stained floors and the metallic stink of past blood    (   how much of it was hers?   how much of it had been at the behest of her own blade?   )    all she knows is still knows in her bones how to clasp down chains while holding down a struggling victim.    muscle memory that was a lashing of sorts,    a punishment for a past she still could scarcely recall.   

     at the behest of his lips she shatters her own reflection.    damn the mirror.   damn them all.    perhaps she was but a mere vessel for violence,    becoming nothing but a mouth full of scythes harkening the end.    hands now paws,    each finger a lethal point.    she is no daughter of god,    no winged fury like her beloved but the blood on her tongue tastes sacred all the same.    the succulent savor of shadows   —    the wolf which eats the dark.    purpose sings though her silver and true,    like her blessed glaive she is incandescent with moon's glow.    how a beast so large could move with such lithe fervor was proof enough of her dedication.    

     disposing of the circle of acolytes is akin to scratch scrabbling with a rag doll.    each bite is a death sentence made final as she swings her head back and forth until a neck shattered and she is rewarded by limp-limbed departure.    as a wolf she is aware of little else outside of the hunt,    although she can recognize her allies even in the rising bedlam.    only losing sight of the mother superior once to dispose of a back-handed blade.    one that nearly sank into the side of the githyanki warrior under the cloak of darkness.    then she is back upon her avenging guardian,    a barely imperceptible tremor as she howls.    head thrown back in her last act of defiance against her mentor.    as soon as the mace is dislodged from her hold there is no more room for retaliation.    she takes her arms first,    then her eyes   —   the eternal night she was so fond of may she live there in her last moments.    flesh caught between her teeth,    a mouth brimming red.    more soothing than any prayer is how she begs for mercy,    a word she had never to speak until today.    barely getting out bleed before her claws curl into her chest,    caving inward under the weight of animal form.    a heart crushed underfoot like rotten fruit.    

     suddenly she is overcome with breathlessness.    unable to steady each inhale,    a low growl rising in her throat.    a vision hazed over in crimson,    she does not exist outside of this moment.    all she is is innards,    ruined skin,    broken bones,    and his voice.   a name chosen sundering the disarray.    coming close,    she shrinks from his arrival.   cornered and rearing for more gore,    she will have it from him if he closes any more distance.    even so he pressed on palm pale and looming until the tip of her damp nose presses into it.    beneath the grime and blood there is the wine sweetness of him.    pressing further,    further still until the whole of her face is in the cradle of his hands.    an inadvertent whine caught between her canines as she nuzzles further into him.    unaware of her own stature now,    nearly knocking the aasimar off his feet with force of her embrace.   

[nightorne]

is this a good time to tell everyone that there is no verse on this blog where shad's parents survive their time in sharran captivity? i actually disagree with the fandom at large that this is the prescribed "good-ending" for shadowheart as a whole. sure, living out a cottagecore fantasy in the countryside with her parents on a farm seems like a nice little dream. but i honestly find it extremely reductive to her character and dare i say bordering on trad wife aesthetics in a way that irks me to no end. she seems so melancholy in the epilogue if this ends up being the conclusion to her story. it is clear she still longs for adventure but is unable to due to having to nurse her parents day in and day out. while on paper it may seem a net good to have her parents around i think the framing of reunited her family must be considered. first of all, her mother is an extremely fragile state after years of enduring torture. it is implied she entering into the late stages of dementia as she is fully mortal and far older than her father in comparison at this stage. conversely, her father may physically be in better shape than her mother but the mental toll of being abused at the hands of their own daughter? it cannot be understated. while they may forgive her and say they love her still, i don't think shadowheart will ever be able to get over it. facing them everyday knowing what she did essentially kills any path to fully healing from everything shar put her and her parents through. it is a moral quandary ultimately, it is the age old debate of ethical euthanasia essentially. shadowheart seeing the state they are in and also in an act of self-preservation makes the choice to return them to selûne's embrace. a choice which they practically beg her to make in their final moments. whether letting her parents live or setting them free to die on their own terms shadowheart is forced to grieve but one grief she can overcome and the latter is... the wound of shar that never heals and pains her until she dies.

[nightorne]

☽ ◯ ☾ WHICH TRAGIC LOVE STORY ARE YOU?

jack & ennis

[brokeback mountain] you’re quiet about your feelings, but they run deeper than you let on. you crave connection, yet the weight of expectation or fear often holds you back. love, to you, is both sanctuary and torment. it's something you want to protect but can’t always claim openly. people might see you as reserved, even stoic, but beneath that exterior is a tenderness you rarely show, one that aches to be understood without words. you know how it feels to love in silence, to carry someone inside you long after they’re gone. you embody the bittersweet truth that sometimes love doesn’t need to be spoken loudly to be real. it lingers like smoke on the horizon, persistent, impossible to forget.

tagged by: mis pookies @daylighter & @koschyei <333 tagging: @exitvelo ( for link orrr august ), @lerecueil ( for tristan or freya! ), @cautionarys ( for ghost or suren! ) , @lycaea, @vivrez, @excaliabur ( for jester! ) , @bluemns, @darkdevour, @sarastuss, @maleuficent, aaaand whoever else feels up to it hehe