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Let the Games Begin

Emet-Selch ( @aumarot )

The sharpness of the goddess’ green-blue eyes maintains itself just as well as her even, blonde brows, remaining still without so much as a twitch. Eyelids fall softly, almost too slowly as if trained on an elusive thought that would slip from her grasp should she blink too quickly. Her fingers cage her lips as her chin rests against her palm poised atop a propped arm. In truth, she wants nothing more than to simply close her eyes as she listens to the mortal man’s blubbering rather than watch the scene unfold of him going completely against her words of advice that he had long sought after. On the same token, she partially wants to see that no harm comes to him in such a vulnerable and pitiful state.

The display could be far more picturesque should it be clear pebbles trickling down fair, rose-tinted cheeks rather than unruly streaks pouring down a swollen and reddened visage. His round face and ludicrous hair could very well cause the other deities to believe he had been turned into a well-ripened tomato with a withered and browned stem patch. Sona waves the thought, her tongue clicks. Though she is not childish to a certain extent, the very least that could have improved was for the moans of a dying whale from the same being to be replaced with dainty and hushed sobs.

She revisits their earlier meetings, wondering if she had even advised him against looking to drink for further inspiration. Perhaps she did not make herself clear to follow her instructions instead, for him to delve and cultivate his inspiration from he and his love’s convenient meetings to bring his song to full blossom. The goddess is almost certain that at this rate, his lines are just as slurred as his monologue; his ode to self. She catches onto a word, a brow arches as she pulls away from her hand at his diction and flitting disposition as he raises his hands to the heavens begging for a higher being of schemes to come to his aid instead.

#'Brioso! Brioso!' ( In-Character )#'A sublime duet.' ( Threads )#aumarot #The Muse ( League Muse verse )#// Yeets

@aumarot

the woman’s home was idyllic , perhaps the place of fairy tales . of course her design was entirely intentional , assisting weary travelers or those who found themselves shunned from prior communities was her remaining goal in life after leaving the mountain . a natural clearing was the small cottage raised , rambling vines of roses covered the outside and flowers and bushes were the garden . for those not looking , the house would only blend into the forest , unseen and safe . a small creek provided constant sound effect to the life , with birds and other animals flitting through the undergrowth . there was no other conclusion that this was a place of security - of rest .

jules , however , was kneeling over a flowerbed . clearly tending to the growths with care that only a healer could , though with a premonition did her head turn abruptly . she could feel something here , though she would not place such simple mortal terms upon it . it felt familiar instead . “ wherever , and whoever you are , if you are to keep out of my sight , you are not welcome here . and you may move on from my garden . “ she would call out with intention . “ those who hide too oft have ill intent , i will not have malaise brought to my home . “

#jules : league verse.#interactions : jules.#aumarot #.......... get off my lawn but polite . exe

☾ STARTERS ⇢ @aumarot

A LINE OF CONCENTRATION MARS AN OTHERWISE PERFECT BROW, chin propped atop two cupped palms. the subject of her study sits before her, paying her no mind as he pores over some reading material that demanded his undivided attention. the moon had slowly inched across the room, pretending to ignore him as a cat might before pouncing. she perches mere feet from his face now, reaching out to graze his forehead in a feather light touch, just shy of the sphere that rested there. ❛ this. . . what is its purpose? ❜