Poisoned Wings @poisonedvictory - Tumblr Blog

lightbriel

冥王軍つめあわせ

cancerianfactsdaily

some day. not today, not tomorrow, not next year. but some day.

the-write-ideas

Your character sees mine without a shirt on and sees they've got a freshly dressed bandage that is bleeding through.

fire-and-frost-archived

the-write-ideas:

Send “You’re bleeding.. How did that happen?” for my character’s response.

rp-meme-central

Send “crickets and stars” to have our muses go for a walk at night.

unfinishedrequiem:

Down the street or in a ballroom, solo or part of an orchestra, it did not matter to him where and how he was performing. With his eyes closed, the audience was the same, as long as there was someone to listen as he poured his heart and soul into every note. The violin offered a better opportunity when it was to play outdoor, although he knew his voice usually attracted more attention, he did not like to be reduced to perform his singing like a beggar.

From time to time, he would open his eyes only to glance at his small audience and offer some grateful smiles for their attention before sinking back in his little bubble. The smile he gave was a bit different than the one sticking to his pale feature when he was more into the melody.

His little show over, he gave a flourished bow as a thank for their appreciations. There was not much applause but what people on the street would recognize of his talents after all. He was always hopeful though, to get noticed by someone a little more important maybe, as shameful as it was to be reduced to perform like this, everyone had to start somewhere.

He was tending to his violin and about to put it back in its case when he noticed at least one person still standing nearby while the small crew was now scattered, everyone going about their own business after this short interlude. As the young man spoke to him, his face brightened at the compliment, usually people would just leave without a word so it was much appreciated.

“That’s really kind, Sir. Thank you.” He gave another polite bow to thank him and greet him all at once. It was only once he paid a little more attention to his interlocutor that his eyes narrowed ever so slightly. He would have to be a bit closer to be sure without his glasses, but there was something familiar about the other he could not really pin point. “Pardon me, Sir. I know it sounds a little cliché but… have we met before?” Since the other had addressed him in English, he would continue like this but also held a pretty thick accent.

The blonde shifted his weigh on his feet, not knowing exactly how to carry on from there after he had complimented the other. He wasn’t good with words or interacting with other people overal. Ever since his mother died, the young man hadn’t said more then a few words, enough to only get what he wanted through. Being an apprentice meant he was supposed to listen more than talk anyway so there was no point of really spending too much time talking.

But then, there was something about that musician that was keeping him there. There was no way they could have met before, he was somewhat good at remembering faces. Definitley someone like that man would have stuck with him.

“I don’t think so.” Sylphid replied. “I have the feeling we did but... I suppose I’d remember meeting someone as talented as you.”

#unfinishedrequiem

@unfinishedrequiem

Blue eyes were locked on the performer. It was rare to see Sylphid stop for anything whenever he was running errands or buying things in the market, but he couldn't help but to feel drawn to the music. It was rare for him to hear the sound of a violin, not that he truly cared about music and that sort of thing, but it did put his solitary heart at ease sometimes.

And there was something somewhat familiar on the artist that was performing.

After the performance was over, he approached a bit, only getting close enough so he could be heard without the need to shouting. "That was a really good show, sir." He said in English, his voice heavy with the accent.

#unfinishedrequiem