#backwaternoble

[obsidean]

I SLIDE IN TO SAY I LOVE U, AY, IN PARTICULAR and for gerome all i gotta say is damn son ur hairline :(

[deathgraced]

“ we die so easily. “

the song of achilles starters— accepting.

there’s a POIGNANT pause before he dares speak, soft gaze fixed to the chipping polish on his nails. memories of years long past threaten to breach a carefully crafted surface, to crack composure that’s been holding strong for DECADES. cracking bones and blood flowing like a crimson river from his mouth and nose, choking him. sensation disappearing until he was…nothing. and nothing he REMAINED for over half a century. just the whisper of a life lost in an uphill battle. the chance to fight back had been RIPPED from him, and for what ? a few stolen kisses in hidden corners, the ache of a teenage heart that only wanted to love and be loved ?

he knows that’s not what lukas is referencing. how could he when he doesn’t KNOW ? and even if he was privy to the rather PITIFUL tale of jem’s undoing, he wouldn’t mention it so casually, jem is sure. he clears his throat, baby blues flicking up to meet his friend’s gaze. his facade hasn’t slipped yet — even in a heartbeat of remorse threatening to overtake him, he knows how to keep a straight face. even as his heart clenches at the thought of green eyes and a smile that never failed to make him breathless, he beams, tapping his pencil against the table.

“that we do.”

[deadicated]

@backwaternoble 

‘ Forgive me. My talents with a blade far surpass my utility with a bandage. ’

A hackneyed suture, to say the least, but nevertheless one that would hold until they reunited with the encampment. Hopefully, anyhow. The wilderness was no purveyor of safe havens, and with brigands afoot, it was certainly no arbiter's ground, either; every second squandered between collecting themselves and convening with the others was yet another hypothetical nail in the metaphorical coffin. 

        ‘ Are you able enough to walk? ’

[caellyx-blog]

⋆ ․˚ ♡ › @backwaternoble​.

                                            ❝   i’m ready now.    ❞   

                     some gust of wind pulls her hair from atop her back like an unrequited lover. ashen stands parting from themselves, only to be left not a moment later. back where they came from, back where they started. the venture was useless. she stands, resolute, fingers gripped tight around the base of her lance & she feels her palms sweat. it makes her nervous -- her clammy hands -- she feels she might just drop it with how she consciously fixates on keeping careful.

                       ❝    oh, um  .  .  .  you... are going to help me though, right ?    ❞  

[velocrux-blog]

:)

not this guy…