♦ ((I'd love to see what you could write about my little oddball Nico!))
ACCEPTING - //send me♦ in an ask if you would like me to write a drabble about anything involving your character. If you have multi-muses, and do not specify, I will pick one at random. Domestic. Fighting. Emotional. Funny. Insightful. Heart breaking. Complete fluff. The drabbles will (usually) be short. If we have never RPed before, I will be drawing on information found in your muses / about /characters section and or gut instinct impression of your character. I am sleepy, but I want to write and I figure I could do a few of these before bed called. Mutuals, non mutuals, never rped with before, all welcome. Addendum: It may take me five minutes, two hours, or TWO WEEKS to get to these. I write them when the inspiration hits and we all know how fickle that can be. So if you send me a ♦ please be patient! :D
Everyone called him ‘starry-eyed’. They were always charmed, at first. Stared at iris and pupil in fascination. It used to make him happy, a little bit. It used to make him feel special...but that never lasted of course. All it took was for him to open his mouth, the eerie flatness of his words that fell in contrast to the wondering sparkle of eye color seemed wrong. Not to mention, of course, the things he said. He knew things. He knew them, he spoke them, whether they liked it or he liked it or not. Compulsion or destiny or fate...He told them the ugly little truths about themselves that drove them far, far away. That made them look at him sideways, out of the corners of their eyes, hateful, spiteful--at him--despite the fact the things he said were their truths. No. See. Fuck starry-eyed. Let him be a Raven. Let him fly over these petty things, let him bring the truth clutched in blood soaked beak. Let him spread wings and coat the field below in his shadow. Let him make war on the lies that humanity told themselves, stand like Morrighan alone in a copse filled with angry warriors. His tongue, black and cruel as any raven, did not sugar coat. So let him be a raven, survive and feast on the remains of the lies people tell themselves at the end of the day.