#atatterdemalionfool

[sarisartifice]

atatterdemalionfool replied to your post

/you’re so dramatic you were on for the least busy part of the day aha

i know lmao, i was on earlier but i was editing during the last busy part

[felynefighter]

atatterdemalionfool respondeu a sua postagem:If Kana is Burgie.. who are the others?...

//I don’t know how we’re going to get Ciri hyper but Xerxes wants it. And he is just neurotic enough to be a loving Mummy with spunk~. Kana is doomed to be smothered!!!

//mhmm I think that too but it’s just so funny in my head to see her just HONEY I’M HOOOOOME~

and Xerxes just HELLO MY BEAUTIFUL HUSBAND

[felynefighter]

۞ A Human’s Heart

Accustoming her legs to walk again wasn’t the easiest task, especially after weeks and weeks of resting, rarely standing up just to give her wounds as much time as they needed to heal. Kanashii almost believed to start a new life, despite the weight that slowed her down. She was advised not to wander too far, to carry a bottle of water and whenever she finds a shade, to take a few minutes of rest since it was just too hot outside. It felt like childhood again. Only this time the woman took better notes and actually heard the advice instead of bluntly ignoring them.

She remembered a small park of Oldtown, where most of her training with Oser took place. It was green, filled with trees and grass and even had a playground... Wondering if the place kept the same, she went there in the most careful pace. Her face, still weary, scared every person that came closer than a few feet from her. Finally she met her destination, which has changed only slightly since these last seven years. Although the worn out appearance, there were still a few trees around, some benches and a nice breeze that blessed her with an aura of peace.

Giving herself a seat by the shades of a tree, Kana watched a group of children that played nearby, gripping her right shoulder in reflex. As well as what was left of her right arm, it was still bandaged, and the cursed wounds were hurting as if they still were fresh. She sounded a painful grunt, a purring of displeasure even. But then she noticed a familiar figure. 

There, walking trough a trail of dirt. Could that really be...? “Xer--Xerxes...?” The cat waited, his face becoming clearer and clearer as he approached her. Her legs couldn’t help her with standing up at this point, they were still too weak. So all there was left to her was to wave her arm and hope that he would see her. She didn’t want to scream and give herself more attention with her hoarse voice.

[cirocchiomoved]

"Darkness framed him so magnificently, showed only what he wanted me to see."

Send me a ☮ for a graphic of your muse’s aesthetic. -- atatterdemalionfool

[felynefighter]

//I rewatched giant woman and reminded myself that Kana isn't aware that Oser and Xerxes hate each other sO

[cirocchiomoved]

22. Given a blank piece of paper, a pencil, and nothing to do, what would happen? 35. What activities do they enjoy, but consider to be a waste of time? 47. If they were to fall in love, who (or what) is their ideal (I want her ideal pre-Xerx, though I doubt he changed it by disappointing it)?

22. Given a blank piece of paper, a pencil, and nothing to do, what would happen? 

Ok honestly she would fall asleep. I think Ciri typically gets less sleep than needed (yes, I do know she sleeps in all the time, but at the same time she tends to stay up late; add Xerxes and his ‘i’ll sleep when i’m dead’ attitude, and it’s completely ruined. But fine, we’ll assume she has insomnia or isn’t tired, and will actually do something with the stuff given to her.I figure she’d begin practising her language skills & write down a word in a language she knew & think about the various translations of the word she knows. Which will be a frustrating work, since she doesn’t have a dictionary to look things up / check the spelling. That’s sad. But yeah, that’s what’ll happen. Or if she doesn’t feel like it, she might write a little letter to Gepetto (because yes i totally keep forgetting she has her ‘diary’ written to Gepetto. hush.)

35. What activities do they enjoy, but consider to be a waste of time? Browsing the internet, typically wikipedia, I figure. Usually she’ll start by looking up a myth she read about to find more info about the different versions etc. That’s the useful part. But as everyone, she tends to get side-tracked and thus ends up searching for the meaning of other words/theories etc. and probably ends up on the page about Quantum Mechanics, which is complete gibberish to her, of course. I guess it’s not entirely useless… But you did say she had to enjoy the activity…Ahh… maybe teasing Xerxes? Laughs.47. If they were to fall in love, who (or what) is their ideal?GARRICK. I MADE HIM BECAUSE HE’S (almost) HER IDEAL. He’s very Remo-ish (ok, I never fleshed Garrick out, but I’m not that good at him somehow ok), but I imagine a little calmer and not as… well, we do tend to play Remo as a somewhat ‘ideal’ person. Not entirely, but still. Perhaps it’s because both Xerxes and Ciri idealise him… anyway, I think they would be a mixture of Remo and Silvan? So Gepetto, but more ‘flawed’, a little quieter, a little calmer… definitely more extroverted than Ciri, but overall probably balancing somewhere in the middle of into/extro. They’d definitely have to accept her strong focus on fantasy; not necessarily understand it, simply accept it, show some interest. Someone who appreciates the occult but is more grounded than her. Someone with a lot of imagination, a story-teller. She wouldn’t like too much ‘drama’, so to speak. Someone warm, pleasant, with a deep, soothing voice – Ciri never truly had a family, so… you know, someone who kind of embodies what a family is for her. I think Farah gets pretty close too, but she’s a little too chatty, and not really personal (about her own life, then); she’d want someone who is fairly open about their past.

[cirocchiomoved]

Ciri had read about moments like these in books. The point where the plot unravelled itself, and the protagonist's whole world was turned upside-down. The moment when the spinning wheel finally came to a halt. The stirring, disorienting emotions. As though falling into a gaping hole with no end, as though an entire universe collapsed on top of you. The unpleasant twist in your gut, the moment in which time seemed to stop -- Ciri knew about it all. She had expected – hoped -- to feel something similar upon being reunited with Gepetto; and she had thought she would anticipate the moment: this is it, this is where everything changes, begins, ends. But reality, as always, turned out to be quite different.

Firstly, there was no reunion with Gepetto, Remo, her creator, her parent... Or, she did meet her father again ( had she ever met him before? ), but it was not the man she been searching for. Not Remo. Instead, a man who claimed to be his brother. A man with her eyes, her nose, one who bore a strong resemblance with Remo as well ( the years had been kind to the man; she could effortlessly see his brother’s youthful face in his ). A man who claimed to be her father. A man who could, would not be her father, no matter how similar they looked -- Ciri knew this; her heart did not beat faster for him, she felt no irresistible pull towards him, no invisible bond which tied them together. And she saw it in the strange man's eyes, too. He seemed both frightened and saddened by her presence, and failed to meet her eye. There was no delight or relief. He was not someone who would come to see her as his daughter. Still, she could not dislike this stranger, not even for his past, cowardly behaviour. The story he told her sounded true, even though it went against the theory she had stubbornly been following for all these years. She did not protest. She believed the man, which might be another proof of their familial bond.

Secondly, it did not feel as though a grand truth had just come to light. The pillars of the earth did not seem to shake, the walls of the house did not seem to collapse on top of her, and even the unpleasant gut feeling wasn't present. Ciri listened to the man in silence, calmly, without ever interrupting, without shedding a tear, and without trembling. The truth of what had happened did not seem to shake her in the least. She was numb, and when the man – when her father -- had finished explaining, she merely, flatly, excused herself and went out for a walk. Expecting to break down once alone. Expecting to feel more when there were no curious eyes watching her.

But even the fresh air had no effect on her mood.

She grew more restless, yes, and began to play with her thumbs, paced up and down as she pondered Silvan's words. She considered lies, misunderstandings, intentional deceit. She considered false reports, deception by magick, and much more. Even so, this time the nagging voice in the back of her mind could not be ignored ( the one who had always accused her of being stubborn & foolish, of willingly deceiving herself, the one she'd always dismissed with ease ); Ciri found herself admitting that the voice had always been right, even, and that she had always been a fool. It made her resent herself for a moment. How stupid, how blind she had been! How stubborn and childish she had been! Then, she pitied herself. Poor child; witnessing her parent’s death must have been such a shock, so painful, so gruesome – to the point where she erased the memory from her mind. Finally, Ciri understood herself. Nothing in this world would make her want to remember such horrifying event. Whether she had intentionally repressed her memory for all these years or not, it mattered not. Perhaps it was for the best, that she had come up with such an impressive fantasy to coped with her loss. Still, the understanding did not make her feel at ease. Something was missing, and it was obvious what. The devastation, the tears, the anger, perhaps even denial and rejection. Instead of experiencing these emotions, Ciri felt like a bystander, or the reader of a book. As though this was not her story, not her life. She could sympathise, empathise with herself, and analyse her own feelings. But her calm was unsettling, worrying, and she could only furrow her brow and fidget as she waited for something to happen to her. Something more meaningful.

---

She heard him approaching, eventually, after the sun had set, and she had spent more time thinking. More time trying to cry, shout, or even laugh. All she had accomplished was to etch a deep frown in her forehead -- one which deepened when the man drew nearer. There was no need for her to lift her head to check who it was: having spent so much time with him, she could recognise Xerxes even by the sound his footsteps.

More than her looking up being unnecessary, Ciri was unwilling to meet his eye. Xerxes had brought her here, after all. He had revealed that he knew someone who had information about Remo. It had been thanks to him that she had found out so much about Remo, and Ciri realised that Xerxes must have known about everything even before they had come here. Way before. She buried her hands in the heap of rocks piled at her feet ( she had busied herself with collecting them while organising her thoughts ). Maybe Xerxes had never believed her in the first place, not in the slightest. Not even when listening to Farah’s tales. Not even when they had met the were-cat. Not even when she had spoken of the vampire lady, or the odd woman-in-dog (the dog had, in fact, turned out to be a wolf).

Well, that would have been fine. He would have been far from the only one ( in fact, she had probably been the only one who believed herself ), and since she loved him, it would not matter. Not much. However, Ciri could not comprehend why he had not accompanied her to listen to the story, why he had chosen to stay and 'guard' the van. Why he had allowed her, brimming with excitement, to meet those strangers, while he had known that what she was about to hear would be anything but pleasant. Cowardice? Again? Ah-- or did he think he was not worthy of hearing it all, not worthy of supporting her? No matter the reasons, they were too selfish, and not pitiful enough for her to approve of his behaviour. The mild unsatisfactory emotions she bore due to her lack of adequate reaction grew stronger and she turned them against him, greeting him with bitterness and a rasping voice: "You -- go away." He deserved the cold welcome, and the rocks she threw in his direction, one by one, when he tried to come closer. What had made him show up, after all this time? Worry for her, that something had happened? Worry for himself, that she might hate him? Or simple consideration – ahh, something like: she must have calmed down by now. She must be more agreeable by now. She will be less angry by now. Did it matter? He shouldn't be here now, if he couldn't even bother to be by her side during the dreadful tale. When she finally glanced up her expression betrayed her troubled expression, not out of sadness, but frustration. "Leave me a-alone. L—fuck’ffXerxes!!" And with those shrill, hurriedly shouted words, she threw the remaining handful of rocks towards him.