seraphiam

selective indie multimuse. written by leon.

[seraphiam]

(places myself on the ground) if you ever want to plot with me and one of my muses please let me know. my dms are always open and i promise i don’t bite.

[seraphiam]

(blows the dust off this blog)

returning to indie after uhm. (checks watch) two years

two new muses were added to my muse page! engage my beloved :pleading: i may be potentially adding muses from other fandoms as well, but i'm going to wait and see for that.

[seraphiam]

sunsinger​:

∘₊✧── “…oh.”

there is such a primal wrench of her gut that her façade falters. the mask slips for just a moment, cracks down its center and reveals just a fraction of all that lay beneath. that joy, crafted as carefully as any sculpture, gives way to fear. 

fingers twitch, long to dig into the skin of her palm or perhaps the fabric of her skirt. how terribly had she failed, then, for her children’s lives to become what they are now? it aches somewhere deep in her chest, leaves her feeling sick.

“well,” tailtiu clears her throat and tears her gaze from arthur’s face, “i sure can try.”

the next few moments are quiet, filled with nothing but the sound of shuffling objects. mage inspects her options, a finger on her chin. “she wears her hair up, right? in those pretty ribbons… mmh!”

the energy has found its way back to her voice, tone returning to normal as though nothing had ever changed. triumphantly, tailtiu produces a beaded headband from one of the shelves. “think this’ll compliment ‘em nicely?”

he doesn’t like the brief look of fear on his mother’s face. it’s wrong, no — it’s terrifying. though he had little memory of tailtiu before she was taken away from him, he knows she has never shown him anything but a joyful face until now. the fact that her mask crumbles makes him realize perhaps he should not have brought it up.

“..it’s not your fault mother.” he says with a stubborn tone, looking away from her with a somehow redder face. he’s not good at consoling people, be it his loved ones or strangers. he doesn’t quite have the emotional maturity to do it properly. “you did what you could with the hand you were dealt...and i know that you loved us through all your struggles. please don’t beat yourself up over it.”

he coughs into his fist, ignoring how awkward he feels trying to console his own mom. “anyways.” a poor way to try and change topics, but he can’t find a logical way to do it any better.  he focuses on the accessory she presents him, ignoring the quickened pace of his heart. “...i’m not sure about that. a headband might suit her... but i can’t picture the beads on her.”

[seraphiam]

fillespreferees​:

“Whenever I try to remember, that is when the pain overcomes me.” She is glad he knows, at least, about her affliction. Though she supposes that most people must. She has become quite a novelty among Grannvale’s court.

And then he fades away. Her angel, this man Sigurd, fizzles out of existence. She can still hear him but she no longer can feel his hand or see him.

“No! Please!” She reaches out hoping to feel him somewhere. Her voice grows quiet, desperate. He cannot leave just yet. There is still so much she wants to say. “Do not leave me. Come back.”

baldr, please. he begs but his cries are not heard, he can no longer touch deirdre like had just been. “i don’t, i can’t—” he panics at first, shaking his head. not that it matters anymore when she can no longer see him.

“i don’t know how long i have left, deirdre.” he breathes in, hoping that he will at least be allowed to leave a few parting words with her. “if, if you stop being able to see me and hear me just know i’ve always been here for you.” desperately, he grasps for her hands but he simply phases through her. “you’re not alone. i will always love you.”

baldr, at least let her hear these words.

[seraphiam]

fillespreferees​:

“No,” she shakes her head but she does not push him away. His hand against her cheek is warm and comforting in spite of everything. There is something about him that just feels safe. “I do not understand. None of this makes sense. How can this possibly be true?”

How can he even be here? She does not even know if he is real. And yet his hand on her face certainly feels real enough against her cheek.

Part of her longs for it to be real. This could be the key to her lost past. She could finally learn who she once was.

“I…I need to find my husband. He can help.” Arvis is the smartest person she’s ever known. If anyone can make sense of this, surely it would be him.

“you’re without your memories, i know. please think about it— about why you don’t remember your past.” he tries to argue, tone desperate. however, any relief he may feel from her warmth is ripped away from him the moment she mentions her husband— arvis.

there was a reason he’d avoided being around the man at all costs, and sigurd knew it to be a reaction to belhalla. trauma, he might even say. his lips part open, body frozen with his hand still against her cheek. he starts to say something, only for his hand to suddenly go through her.

“deirdre, i— can you see me still?” he asks, terrified to hear her answer. her lack of an answer. “damn, please don’t tell me that’s it!”

[seraphiam]

fillespreferees​:

“You claim the impossible.”

But does he? She remembers nothing from before she awoke in Belhalla Castle. Her life before Arvis is completely blank. The possibility exists and it frightens her.

“That is what you tried to tell me when…” Deirdre cannot bring herself to finish the phrase. The sun shines brightly, birds sing cheerfully, and flowers bloom beautifully. It feels wrong to speak of such sadness here. “You tried to tell me that I was your wife.”

Her brow furrows as she contemplates his words. Marriage, spirit forest, love at first sight.

She’s wearing a white embroidered gown with forget-me-nots woven in her hair. She’s smiling. He’s smiling.

“Ah–!” Deirdre cries out and falls to her knees. She holds her head in her hands as white hot pain shoots through her head again. Is she remembering?

“yes, but they took you from me before i could tell you i love you. that’s all i ever wanted to say since you disappeared from my life.” his heart hurts. if he had let her come with, perhaps all of this would never have happened to him. perhaps he would be happily married and raising seliph to be duke of chalphy right now.

his heart stops when he sees her cry out in pain, and before he knows it he is kneeling down to hold her. “deirdre.” his voice cracks, holding his breath. he doesn’t know how to help her other than to hold her. “beloved, speak to me.” he murmurs, hating to see her in pain. she clutches her head in her hands, and so sigurd reaches to touch her cheek— to caress it like he’d often done before she left him. it had always been a comfort for her, back then.

[seraphiam]

fillespreferees​:

His eyes lock with hers and she knows who he is. She has not, could not, forget the face of the man who called out to her before his execution. She sees his terrified and heartbroken face in her dreams. He calls to her at night trying to tell her what she is to him but he is never allowed to finish.

She takes a step back. She had been comforted by the idea of a spiritual presence before but now that she sees his face, she is frightened. He is dangerous. He is a killer. He is supposed to be dead.

“No. Do not say such things. You…you helped to kill my father.”

She should scream. She should run for a guard. But when she last saw this man, she had so many questions. Questions that her husband had refused to let her hear the answers to. Perhaps she might learn them now.

somehow he had forgotten of their last encounter when he was alive, of the treason that he was accused of. sigurd’s heart breaks as she steps away from him, calling him a murderer— of crimes he did not commit.

“please you have to listen to me!” he steps closer to her, desperation clear in his voice. he doesn’t know how long this will last, how long she will be able to see him or touch him. “we were married a long time ago, deirdre. before you met arvis i helped you to leave the spirit forest. it was love at first sight when we first met! you must remember!”

if she doesn’t... he doesn’t know what he will do.

[seraphiam]

fillespreferees​:

She waits a moment, hoping that this time, something might actually appear. It does not but Deirdre still grasps for hope. Sometimes she can almost recall a voice telling her to never give up. Someone reassuring her that things will turn out.

But there is a sadness in the air. Deirdre cannot quite explain it but something has come over her that brings tears to form in her eyes. Perhaps it is the pregnancy. The midwife had warned that such feelings might creep up on her.

She sighs and is about to return to her flowers when she hears the sound of weeping. A figure takes form though it is unlike anything she has ever seen. He is almost translucent, shimmering and ethereal. Slowly, instinctually, Deirdre reaches out to touch his shoulder and, much to her surprise, finds it is solid.

“You,” her voice is breathless, “you are real?”

it is the first time he’s felt the warmth of a real person in weeks, perhaps even months— sigurd had truly lost track of how long it’s been like this for him. he stares at her, eyes wide and cheeks flushed red from his sobbing. the tears have momentarily paused in his disbelief of her warmth.

“deirdre, i, you—” he clears his throat. “you can see me...?" he asks, voice quiet. had the crusaders finally taken pity on him, or would this moment be ripped away from his hands like all the other times she’s acknowledged his presence in some way? he truly can’t tell, but if this is the only moment he’ll get to say anything, to truly touch her, he must tell her what it is most important.

“i have something important i must tell you.” he takes a deep breath before staring into her eyes. “i love you. please don’t ever forget that.” a confession similar to the day they first got married again. he doesn’t need her to know anything else, just this.

[seraphiam]

fillespreferees​:

As her own hand moves from her face, she feels her hair brushed aside but something, someone, else. It is far too deliberate to be explained as the non-existent wind in the garden at this hour. Silver waves are tucked behind her ear rather than blown about. There is a presence here. She knows it!

Deirdre reaches for her cheek and imitates the motions of her angel, tucking her own hair behind her ear. She feels calmer now and the pain of lost and long forgotten memories subsides. She should seek out a healer. It is not the first time she has suffered from such a reaction and she knows Lord Arvis would want to know. He does worry for her so.

But she stays right where she is. What if this guardian spirit left and she could not find them again?

“I wish I could see you,” she whispers.

by the time that deirdre speaks, sigurd’s tears flow freely — he has no reason to try to hide them when no one can even seen him. he’s stuck like this. alone. it is only what she says that keeps him from falling to his knees in despair.

‘i wish i could see you.’ she says.

i wish you could see me, too. “it’s no use.” he shakes his head, gaze back to her. he doesn’t know why he keeps trying to speak to her when she never hears his words. foolish hope, perhaps. the same foolish hope that had kept him going through the war, without her at his side. “i’ll never be able to hold you again...”

[seraphiam]

valenties​:

        He never understood why would someone fear these creatures. Most of them lacked fur like dogs or cats but it didn’t make them any worse or uglier than them, bugs simply had their own charm that seemingly most people failed to understand. They were intricate and beautiful little—or big, but always smaller than humans—living animals. “…Yes, they should be more appreciated.”

        “It’s good to see you like them too, not like—” Ah nevermind, no point on embarrassing one of their fellow Shepherds for not seeing the beauty of a bettle. “…Forget it.” His lips curled once more when he focused on the mantis quietly roaming in his hand, it wasn’t afraid of him like he wasn’t of it, it was cute seeing it so comfortable in strange grounds. “Does Minerva like bugs too?” He couldn’t leave out the wyvern standing between them, she was cute and fierce too.

“not like—?” she blinks, tilting her head curiously. he doesn’t expand on the thought, and cherche would have asked him who he was thinking about it if it were not for how keenly he focused on the mantis in his hand (which was definitely having the time of it’s life, judging by its movement). it didn’t really matter anyways.

as if sensing the conversation was moving to be about her, minerva lets out an indignant cry and lowers her head. with the way she stares at lon’qu’s hands cherche can easily tell that the wyvern is very keen on keeping the distance between her and the mantis. “she’s okay with the more conventionally harmless looking bugs....butterflies, ladybugs, those kinds. but—” she glances towards the mantis than back to minerva with a sheepish expression. “not so much the ones with long or lots of limbs, as you can see.”

[seraphiam]

fillespreferees​:

The strangest sensation washes over Deirdre. It almost feels as though she has been pulled into an embrace. She feels protected, safe, secure. It is not the warm arms of her husband around her but she can tell that the spirit she is so sure is present now means to comfort her.

“Ah–!”

It is startling at first but she is quickly able to relax. Her eyes close and she tries to imagine what exactly her guardian angel might look like. There is a flash of a charming, boyish smile and a head of blue hair but the vision is quickly interrupted by a searing stab of pain to her head. A sensation all too familiar to her. Each time she comes close to possibly remembering something from her mysterious past, she is met with the same response.

She lifts her circlet to run her forehead, smearing dirt from her hands across Naga’s brand.

he was not one for prayers, not in the way someone like edain or claud were, but still sigurd cannot help but look upon the brand against deirdre's head and ask of the crusaders to help him. worry comes second, his hand moving to brush her hair out of her face. something hurts for her, that much he can tell just by looking at her.

“beloved....” he murmurs, sorrowful features ever obvious as he speaks. why had the crusaders put him in this position? why must he be forced to watch as she suffers, unable to do anything about it? it’s unfair— and yet sigurd still looks to his ancestor for guidance. “damn, baldr, do something! please.” his voice cracks and his eyes shut tight as he pulls his hand away, head tilting to the ground in despair. who was he to hope for anything to change? he’d lost everything at belhalla, ran out of any pitiful luck he’d still carried with him by then.

[seraphiam]

"Hey."

He appears like a sudden gust of wind. Snow is kicked up everywhere as he walks; the breeze is with him now. Things have been different for him--for Lewyn--ever since reuniting with his mother. He is king-but-not-king, bard-but-not-bard, and no matter how you slice it, completely different from the man of mysteries Sigurd met those few months ago.

"Your horse tired or somethin'? It's rare that I ever catch up to you!" All is said in jest, through clenched teeth and an eye welled with sorrow, covered by verdant bangs. There are times when he hates that he does this. That is he so sociable and friendly and happy-go-lucky on the surface. When he wants to be sincere--genuine--the name he's made for himself shows its doubled edge.

"... Thanks," he continues, tone changing tracks to what it wants to be, "I know things look pretty bad for me now, but I learned a lot fighting beside you. Even long after everything's all said and done, I won't forget about our little adventure."

There. Everything's off his chest. If Sigurd pays close enough attention, he'll notice a small sigh heaved from Lewyn's chest, the cold air of Silesse giving away his sly action. He pauses a moment more, eyelid briefly shutting in thought, before letting his silver tongue rise back to the surface.

The last thing he'd want is to bring down the mood around here.

"Course, if you want me to remember that pretty face, you'll have to start slowing down every once in a while."

// lewyn at sigurd: grannvale's hero

by now, sigurd has learned that lewyn is far more than just your average bard. of course he'd had a feeling from the moment he'd met the man— lewyn was special, though he hadn't figured it all out exactly until now. he hides troubled feelings behind jests and a flirty personality, and sigurd can't exactly blame him.

if he was capable of keeping his emotions off his face, he'd probably do the same too.

"i'm not the kind of man to overwork my horse." he shoots back with something of a knowing smile. to his surprise, lewyn drops the laidback attitude— and the holy knight gets just a moment of honest emotion from him.

surprise graces his features, eyes wide for a second before he shakes his head. "i could never forget your face now, lewyn. really, you're like family to me at this point." everyone in the army was, in some way, but somehow lewyn especially... "after the war ends, if you ever need help... come find me, alright? the duchy of chalphy will be here for you for whatever you need."

[seraphiam]

valenties​:

        Oh. To his surprise only feeling the mantis crawl to his hand despite how close Cherche’s hands were to his was… good? With someone else that proximity would’ve been too much, but his talks with her had helped him warm up more with her presence than with any other Shepherd that happened to interact with him. To him these little steps made him feel the littlest bit stronger.

        “It was… thank you.” His lips curved up in an awkward smile. He brushed that soft feeling in his chest aside, now that he had the bug in his palm he had to focus on it. Despite it’s size it looked as beautiful as it did in the distance, he wondered how strong such a small creature could be. Bettles and ants were strong, being able to lift more than they weight despite their small size—well, battles were bigger than ants—such strength made him want to train harder.

        “Bugs… they’re fascinating,” Ever since he was a boy he had a like for them, trying to study them with his own innocent mind as they crawled and did their own thing. “Their strength, their capability to fly or sometimes even survive being stepped on by someone’s careless acts… they’re inspiring right?”

her heart flips in her chest seeing that awkward smile of his— charming in her mind. now when had she began to think of him like that? cherche’s cheeks flush, but she manages to keep a poker face otherwise.. “you’re welcome.” she replies, and it is only his speak of admiration for bugs that gets her attention away from her attraction to him.

“i’ve always thought they were adorable.” she says, looking down at the mantis now in his hands. “no one seems to like them like i do, up until you— but it sounds like your love of bugs go beyond that.” she chuckles, gazing back up at him. “they are very intelligent. i understand where you’re coming from. honestly, what’s not to like?”

[seraphiam]

sunsinger​:

∘₊✧── something about his reaction makes taitiu’s enthusiasm falter. she blinks, watching the way he silently dismisses her, and lowers the clip back down.

whatever fate it is that awaits her, she hates that it has made her own son react to her in such a way. lavender eyes avert, settling back on the display of accessories as she settles the feathers back into their rightful place.

“well!” although the enthusiasm in her voice feels a lot more strained now – hopefully in a way that arthur does not notice or choose to point out. tailtiu forces the corners of her lips upward into something of a strained smile. “they have plenty of options for that kind’a thing.”

now she shoves herself away from this particular display, fabric swishing around her legs as she twirls towards another. it’s all for show, of course. if the body language expresses joy than one is less inclined to look too hard at the face.

or, well, usually. 

“what sort of stuff does she like, tine?” tailtiu doesn’t look back at him as she asks, focusing all of her attention on the rack of hats that she has evidently chosen as her next point of interest. she ignores the awkward way her tongue fumbles over the name of her daughter, the way her throat feels suddenly dry as though she had screamed the word instead of simply spoken it.

“guess i should learn! since she’s my kid and all.”

"i, well i—" he stumbles over his words in his attempt to answer her. his tongue clicks in annoyance at his own faltering. "i'm not sure." he finally manages to say, and the following words are anything but happy. melancholic at best. the mage gazes at the floor for a moment, reminiscing about times where he had only himself to rely on.

"i was separated from tine when i was very young." and you. he goes silent for a second before continuing. "we only just reunited during the war, and even then with the state of grannvale now... we’re both too wrapped up in politics. i don't have much time to spend with her at all. certainly not enough to know what she likes. " he gazes back up at tailitu— at his mother. how long would this strange feeling in his heart last seeing her like this?

"honestly i only planned to go here figuring i could get something that girls like. perhaps... you could help me with that part?" he never asked for help, certainly not in his childhood at least, and so his gaze turns remarkably timid. “i don’t erm.. have much experience in that department, so.” his cheeks flush a subtle red.

[seraphiam]

valenties​:

        “I…” He swallows. The offer was one of his interest as bugs were a thing he loved, but it left him petrified that for the creature to rest in his palms he’d have to get close, close enough for her hands to touch his to place the insect. Lon’qu took a deep breath trying to think of the positives of it, for one he’d get to see a the mantis up close and appreciate it’s strength and as anxiety giving having her be close was she was gentle. Yes Cherche was a strong person in battle, but she was also the one who gave him closure, he was grateful for that and the aid she offered afterwards.

        “I’d like to.” Lon’qu finally find the strength to answer. The reply itself wasn’t his show of strength, but it the willingness to say yes to fighting back against his phobia for just a second, to allow her to get closer than he’d be comfortable. Yet he stays frozen in place—fear wouldn’t leave so easily even if he fought back against it—the only part of his body being his arms as they slightly moved forward, palms of his hands facing the sky. “M-make it quick.”

“you have nothing to worry about, lon’qu. i’ll make it easy on you, alright?” she smiles up at him, understanding of his anxiety. there was no doubt in her mind that he thought they’d have to touch hands for her to transfer the mantis to him, but cherche’s handled plenty of bugs before this.

her hands turn into something of a scoop, lingering over the tip of lon’qu’s fingers— but not quite touching them. “here you go, sweetheart. lon’qu wants to take a look at you.” she murmurs to the mantis lovingly, bending her wrist so that it may climb more easily into his hand.

as soon as it’s all the way in his hand, she pulls her own away. “there, that was easy, wasn’t it?” she looks up at him, gauging his reaction to see if she’d made him uncomfortable.

[seraphiam]

valenties​:

        One would try to spend a part their free time resting their body and mind, a important thing as exhaustion would make it’s way in a battlefield and pose danger to the person affected by it. Today he’d try doing the same outside of camp, Lon’qu had no exact plans on what he would do once he set foot outside of it but in case he found a nice training spot—despite calling this a “resting time”—he made sure to bring his sword with him. Even if he didn’t train, for once, better safe than sorry.

        As he walks he notices a very familiar figure, Minerva. Wyverns all looked quite alike but she had a special air to her he could recognize even when her back’s pointed at him—but if Minerva was here and she clearly was calm since her posture was relaxed, then it meant Cherche was with her.

        He stops on his tracks when he’s close to the wyvern, in comparison to human women standing right next to her didn’t bring back any painful memory. Instead he could only think that she was pretty cute thanks to the strength she had and how clearly she was built to resist any potential dangers that a human couldn’t deal with, in a way she was like a bettle but way bigger. Minerva’s loud cry startled him despite being by her side, before Lon’qu can even say a thing to her—even tho he’s not her owner—he’s interrupted by Cherche greeting him.

        “Hello, Cherche,” He slightly walks back, while her presence didn’t make him feel as uneasy as the rest of the members of the Shepherds, he wasn’t yet comfortable with standing too close. “…You too Minerva.” And despite saying hello, he makes sure to give the creature and awkward pat on her side before turning his back to the pink-haired valmese. In her hands he noticed a praying mantis, finding one was a strange occurrence at least from what he remembers in his Chon’sin days. “The mantis… it’s quite small.”

cherche moves to stand up, though is careful to keep the mantis from falling out of her hand or getting hurt in the process. she chuckles, politely covering her mouth with her free hand over lon’qu’s affection towards minerva. she always enjoyed seeing others get along with her dear wyvern, and the sound of her guttural purr, if just for the briefest moment, is unmistakable. 

“isn’t it? it was so small, minerva almost stepped on the poor thing!” minerva gives an indignant cry as if defending herself, though she is sure to know cherche is only teasing her. “it’s very friendly though, would you like to hold it?” she asks, though she waits for him to say yes to the offer before getting any closer to him.

[seraphiam]

fillespreferees​:

She waits with baited breath for a response but nothing comes. Of course nothing comes! It had been terribly foolish to think she would hear anything in the first place. How childish and silly of her!

With a sigh, Deirdre sets aside the flowers she had been picking and tries to stand. She wobbles a bit but she manages. The midwife had warned her that things like that might start becoming more difficult but she hoped she had more time. There are plenty of servants who could attend to her but she likes being able to do things on her own. She likes tending to the gardens.

With her hands set on her belly, she wonders if this might be a symptom of her pregnancy as well. Was it normal for women to develop an overactive imagination during this time? Her cheeks grow red as she realizes she tried talking out loud to someone who was not even there.

“deirdre—!” he belts out uselessly, stepping closer to her.

it seemed that his words would not reach her no matter how hard he tried. he feels foolish for thinking that they could finally communicate just because she had somehow noticed his presence. it was too good of a miracle for him to finally be able to speak with her. still though, he would not give up on getting her to notice his presence more.

perhaps physical touch would do it. “mmgh. please. i am right here with you, deirdre.” he murmurs as he tries to pull her into a hug. of course his arms pass right through her, and he only has himself to wrap his arms around. their cold feeling only makes his heart hurt deeper, ache more, but he still stays like that.