#` ic.

[dickfey-a]

@sapphiretrickster​ sent a message! wait, a message?

helloooooo!~ are you busy? wanna come help us hide a body? say yes, you know you want tooo! wait this is the first message i've-- 

A PAUSE, while she waits for a reply. She hears a chuckle from the other side. “A message, huh? How curious.” He hums, bemusement in his voice. That’s all he says.

The silence befalls Jester once more, as if that’s all he will do. One second, two seconds ー a leaf drifts into the room she’s in... and in a flash, the leaf turns and reveals the fey himself, interlocking fingers together as he rests his chin on his hands.

"A message!” His eyes light up with a sparkle, “Well, it’s ー not like you’re not allowed to send one ー I mean, it’s not like I’m a god, right?” Artagan laughs, glancing up at the ceiling for a moment. “It’s just a much better version of communing ー I don’t even need to stick to yes or no!”

“So, Jester ー what’s this about ー a body, you’re saying?” He quirks an elongated brow. “I mean, I may be all powerful, but... Ah, who am I kidding. I absolutely would love to help. Tell me what happened, again?”

[divinitybreathed]

` @gezelligheiid liked ! 

                   she was a commanding woman, for someone so short in stature. appeared nowhere without imprinting herself in the surrounding area, stepped into no town without shaking it to its core. perhaps it was because her love of the drama - sparing no detail in the tales of her tango with death. or perhaps it’s because no one in this god forsaken desert knows how to function without her stomping through to be the head bitch. 

                           she’s certain he knows she’s here. from the minute she walked through the gates, eyes followed a woman with sun - kissed skin and eyes burning with ambition. or maybe he’s always so paranoid, and that’s why he covers every angle with another body to catch a bullet. fine by her - she took the back route in. helped herself to the stocked private bar and lit a cigarette with her boots kicked up on the coffee table. it’s a waiting game, and valerie has mastered it. door opens, clicks shut. a beat, maybe two, allowing him to acknowledge her presence.  

                           “ c’mon sugar, come on it and sit your ass down. “ speech impeded by the object dangling from her lips, pistol carelessly waved around like a toy. at last, she twists in her seat on the couch, rests her head in a folded arm to face him. “ i don’t bite. “

[divinitybreathed]

                      cigarette lit, hand cupped and shielding it from the soft wisps of a breeze that flick at lighter’s flame. blonde curls mimic the motions of fire, something ethereally elemental about her. she heard the request, it echoes - ‘could you close your legs while you sit?’. she heard it - and now she’s blatantly ignoring it. inhale, exhale : a plume of smoke to obscure her as she lounges back, thighs spreading more with the languid positioning, skirt doing little to play the role of modesty. 

                           fitful stranger stands, leaves with the lingering stench of defeat, and she’s turning to wink at the other. “ think i made him uncomfortable? “ 

[divinitybreathed]

` @dcvahrend liked !

                   invasive. the energy of his looming posture manifests in a contorted sneer, a growl lingering somewhere in his throat. as a pack, there are unspoken rules - a code of respect and loyalty that exists within the definition of a found family. as soon as she had stepped through that door, he was aware of her betrayal of them. 

                       deep inhale as he moves far too close into her space, a manner of second guessing himself. maybe it was dulled, maybe she was tainted by something else. no, she lacked the scent. the same scent that marks each of their inner circle with a lingering familiarity. one that allowed them to seek out their kin, recognize them, remember them. he’s had it for as long as he could remember, farkas too. “ we should talk. “ it’s not a question, nor left open for rejection. others here are not aware, and he values secrecy  - there’s a nod of head towards the door, one that would take them deeper into the building where they may stray from prying ears.

[divinitybreathed]

` @saoildorcha liked !

                   hands fold, unfold. repeat. anxiousness expressed in the manner in which they sit upon her lap. darkness seeps through the windows, the only light flickering from the gently crackling flames in the fireplace. it’s easy to shake, easy to forget the years of building a voice and name for her own when it’s dark. she’s faced horrors untold, memories that should have never been more than nightmares, but at her core, she still fears what lurks in the dark. 

                       mouth parts, she feels ready to speak, and it’s lost. gentle huff, an apologetic glance. “ wh- “ it takes her longer, she figured she’d be over this sort of thing by now. another breath, and when she finally speaks, it’s no more than a whisper. “  w - what did . . . you see down . . . there? “ 

[divinitybreathed]

` @tevinterbound.

                remote clatters, clumsily tossed forth without much care for where it lands. tv is off now, the images erupting into black and drowning the room in silence. he hadn’t warned her, knows the whole sequence of actions is going to make him look like an asshole. an asshole who interrupted date night by peeling away from their comfortable, snug position to ruin the half - finished movie by turning the tv off. he’s on the edge of the couch, elbows resting on knees and palms cupping over chin, exasperated. 

                    “ hey, uh. can we - can we talk? “ michael isn’t looking at her, uncertain and perhaps afraid of what he may find painted into her delicate, beautiful features. the topic is suffocating, closing and swelling around his throat, denying him any ease in just spitting it out. it’s not what he’s trying to say, that perturbs him so : he’s spoken about it, been to all the therapists, met with all the reporters, tried to patch up what he could with friends. what frightens him is her - how she’ll look at him once it all comes out, the prospect that it could be different. but it needs to be done.  

                    “ there’s uh - just. some stuff i kinda wanna tell you, y’know, before - “ absent, blind gesture between them. “ - whatever we have goin’ on gets more . . . serious. “ 

[divinitybreathed]

` @tothevoid-andback liked. 

                    it’s like he’s caught the scent of something sour. the way in which expression contorts, eyes narrowed and lips pressed into a scowl. he’s no stranger to wearing his heart upon his sleeve, holds no shame in visibly portraying his distaste. over - dramatic sigh, and he’s tossing back another swig of his wine. some unlabeled junk from the cellar, there’s a twitch again to visage, this time out of disgust for what lingers on his tongue.  

                          “ can we talk about literally anything else? cats? how about cats? cats are good. so . . . feline. and fluffy. the way they just . . . pee in the house. “ garrett permits himself to rest his jaw in a palm, leaning his weight against the table. he can appreciate his friends - their motives, their passions, their quirks. but something about anders in particular always has him on edge. a certain tension he cannot shake, one that always carries some form of dread. he knows he’s just being pitifully rude.