#bellamy-mp

[celosiaxmp]

;;sleeping draught.

@bellamy-mp

It was not often a new face wandered into the shop. Most of the customers were repeats that knew what they wanted, what they were after and where exactly to go to get it. The shop was not the most occupied like For the Fairest, but it had it’s own unique charm; he guessed. Which was why even on his shift between shoply duties the long haired demi-god found himself leaning into the counter top with his sketch pad wide open, doodlings of all his newest designs for outfit ideas. The countertop around his stool was decorated in the colors, in the gothic, in the chic; in the Celosia Mae name brand he intended to fill Mount Phoenix’s streets with. It was a long winded dream, for sure, but it was blossoming - slowly but surely. 

Lost in his daydreams of thought, the boy hadn’t even realized the door had chimed and a customer had come wandering their way inside. Like every other he assumed it was a regular, and didn’t pay much attention to it thinking they knew their way around. That was, until the clearing of a throat caught his attention and drew his attention up. “Welcome to It’s a Motherly Thing, your one stop shop for all your potion, spells or brew needs. How can I-” His voice drolled on, thick with boredom as his eyes rolled up towards the person standing there. 

Standing before him was by far the cutest treat to have walked in the store lately - and Celosia’s attention narrowed in him as soon as he realized it. In a flash his doodles were gathered up into his arms, stashed to the under side of the counter before the long haired brunette was leaning against it, chin perched contently on the top of his hand that was held up by his elbow. “Well, hello.~ How may I be of service to you?”

[phobetorxmp]

Fear Council

starter for @bellamy-mp ft phobetor & bellamy  

With long legs Phobetor strides confidently down the street, mouth and nose tucked up in his scarf as the April chill still hangs in the air. The streets were calm, but busy, as the evening rolls in and residents emerge for dinner excursions or late shopping trips. The lower the sun sets the temperature drops, street lights flickering to life and an orange glow spreading across the horizon. The god intended to return home to rest, when he senses something, a niggle, a tug on the edges of his mind, as a body passes. Standing head and shoulders above most of the people milling on the street at 6ft, Phobetor pauses to turn easily, eyes narrowing as he seeks out the cause of that sensation, a person consumed with the intoxicating scent of fear. 

His eyes settle on a pair of slim shoulders as they walk, gaze narrowing as he tries to hone in on just who and what he was sensing. No better way to find out then asking! Turning fully he takes a few strides after him, catching up easily with his hands still slung low in his coat pocket. “Hello, excuse me-” he calls out, now much more sure that indeed this young demigod was the one tingling with fear.