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@crystaldrain

skekUng knows that his exile did not end because the emperor genuinely desired his return. the very thought is laughable. he remembers the calculation, and perhaps something akin to fear, in their mighty khrokon’s eyes as he so graciously bestowed upon him the title of spy-master. an honor, he had said, to ensure continued prosperity outside, in thra, rather than the castle, rather than near the throne.

but, with that blundering oaf skekVar gone, he can see how desperate the emperor grows. he needs another general, someone to man his automaton army, and skekUng is only all too happy to oblige. as someone who is adept at giving orders, he is naturally willing to obey them to the letter-- only when it suits him, of course. the throne is still in his sights, especially now that he can see how weak skekSo is growing, now that he can smell how death clings to him.

all he needs are those who will support him when the time comes.

of course, he realizes that his claim on the garthim did not initially endear him to the scientist, but he also spies glints of resentment in their golden hues whenever they glance at the emperor. skekSo was a fool for punishing them with the peeper-beetle, an even bigger one for ignoring the scientist’s warnings and disdaining his valuable work.

well, the garthim-master is no skekSo. he won’t make those same mistakes.

he swaggers into the laboratory, the spurs on his boots lightly tapping the stone as he goes. “scientist,” he gruffly greets, eyes narrowing as he observes it’s newest specimen. by thra, how can a creature remain alive when it is cut open in such a way? he snorts, shaking his head as if to rid it of such unrelated thoughts, before continuing. “the soldiers have done well. we overran two towns and managed to grab a few gelfling under the former councilor’s nose. the emperor is pleased.”

he cants his head. “but not pleased enough to invite you to the banquet upstairs?”

#crystaldrain #{ v ;; master of my own fate }

🐒

Send a symbol for your muse to tell mine that they're: 🐒 immature

The Entertainer’s beak curled into a snarl. Today has been one of his “bad representations”. The other Skeksis were not available as volunteers, all stuck in their occupations. So he had to use some Podlings, and we all know the acting quality of a Podling ! It was a disaster ! The Emperor left the room before the end ! What a tragedy ! The Scientist chose the worst moment to criticize him, if good moments existed.

“I had the worst critic the Emperor could give : silence ! And you know whose fault it was ? Don’t make me tell you, I’m sure you know why my wonderful, epic tale about our great emperor and his Sifan conquests failed ! I know its his favorite story ! I built the best boat I could, I painted it myself ! A Skeksis sized boat !”

As he spitted his words, he came closer to his interlocutor, his twisted beak almost bumping into his. He then took a growling voice, squinting eyes full of accusations.

“Not a Podling sized boat...” He took a deep rumbling breath. “You know that my Art is not childish, Scientist. If our Emperor shows you mercy these days, it’s because he is in a good mood. Why ? Thanks to me ! You should be grateful, Skektek. So stop playing with your toys if you want to call me immature.”

#forgive me...he's the worst...#ACT 1 “Once I had the most marvelous theatre”#-answers-#-RP-#crystaldrain #-SkekTek the Scientist-

@crystaldrain

she had thought this day would never come. as she was forced to watch her father’s talons grip the courtier’s strings and orchestrate their movements for his own twisted amusement, she had consigned herself to a life of silent suffering and selfless giving and giving-- vices from a childhood spent with nary a sympathetic companion in sight. but then, the peeper-beetle, damnable ritual from a skeksis she would love to subject to his own tortures, was turned on her friend. she remembers biting, clawing, and kicking as phantom claws ripped her away from a screeching, bleeding Chamberlain.

she had feared after that, that skekTek would become victim to apathy, anger, and fear-- she was not there to protect them. she was sorry. so so so sorry. it should have been her-- but it appears that the stars were finally taking pity on her. she walked into the laboratory one day to skekTek packing up sparse equipment. it tensed and jumped, shiv in hand, ready like a cornered animal to fight it’s way out, until silver met diluted gold. “i’m going with you,” she had said. no room for argument or regrets, barely enough time to pack, or slow for another stowaway’s benefit.

they left through the catacombs and the teeth of Skreesh, and they never looked back.

skekLach knew of plenty of dwellings they used during their field studies-- abandoned podling storehouses, mainly. such a place is where they currently rest. she has done her best to make it a home, doing practically all cooking and cleaning whilst the skeksis contemplate their newfound freedom, and what should happen to them should they be caught. not that Snow would ever let that happen, but hundreds of trine spent under skekSo’s increasingly unforgiving eyes had affected them more than her.

she approaches skekTek from it’s good side, purposefully making noise by tapping a wooden cup filled with ta. she set it before them on a roughly hewn worktable. “olpirt manin, the three sisters have long been at their zenith, and you’ve no more deadlines to fret over. why don’t you rest?”

#crystaldrain #{ V ;; Rot Painted Black }

habits and mannerisms.

character headcanons

Jenny uses her eyebrows strongly when frustrated, such as furrowing, lifting, and sometimes scratching them.

She’s got a lot of scabs and scratches on her knees, elbows, and knuckles from bouldering and climbing, and when she’s bored, she habitually picks at the scabs (at least when no one’s there to tell her not to do so).

Due to walking around in bare feet so often, her soles are pretty calloused, and, if she had her way, Jenny would only wear shoes when the pavement is incredibly hot (or freezing).

#thank you!!!#;about Jenny #crystaldrain

@crystaldrain asked: “The rooms spinning.”

The Khrokaf’s movements are airy and graceful at the best of times, but it is still surprising how swiftly she can move when given the mind. In the blink of an eye, she is by the Scientist’s side, a hand coming to gently rest on a shoulder as it bends over a table with ragged breath. “Katakontidzeh tekka,” she curses, but there is hardly any bite in it. “You self-destructive ignoramus, you told me there was no reason to worry. ‘I’ve eaten enough’ were your exact words.”

She is perhaps the bigger fool for believing it’s nonchalant grumbling, but that is beside the point.

She guides it to a desk chair before pouring a cup of water out of a flask she’d had the servants send up that morning. The laboratory is perpetually humid and stale, with poor ventilation and no windows. Such conditions are not necessarily dangerous to her, who has no preferences for heat or chill due to a perpetually burning core, but it can be easy for another to become dehydrated in such an environment, especially when toiling over tomes and experiments for days on end.

She sets the cup before them and crosses her arms over her chest, brow stubbornly setting and fangs grinding against each other out of frustration and worry. “Pokht. I can wait.”

#crystaldrain #{ V ;; Rot Painted Black }#in which skekTek is forced to take care of itself #skexish: katakontidzeh tekka- empty-headed bastard #pokht- drink

@bxlakor asked: 📂

I’ve talked to a lot of people who have this image in their head of Snow’s figure being traditionally feminine and curvy, but the more I’m writing for her, the more I’m picturing something a bit more androgynous? Like, she’s very tall and lanky, with small breasts and narrow hips. When she disguised herself as a male in the past, she was able to pass as one from a distance, and she often did so, just because a lone traveling man raised less brows than a noblewoman.

@crystaldrain asked: 📂📂📂

Snow doesn’t necessarily have claustrophobia, per se, but it’s very easy for her to go stir crazy when in a confined space for an extended amount of time. She was made to live outdoors, and as a child, she often slept in tree tops or in burrows outside. Staying in small spaces reminds her of days spent in Landshut’s tower, so she’ll be fidgety, constantly pacing or finding things to toy with. Noise, constant activity, and the presence of those whom she trusts helps, but it’s still not ideal. (Which, boy, that adds another element to her living in the laboratory.)

She’s an uncanny eldritch abomination in a flesh suit, and she knows this. Since she really has no taste for fine metals and gems, you can more often find her wearing hair nets made of spider webs, or wreaths of leaves and flowers, or jewelry made from feathers and animal bones.

Whenever Snow writes, she actually prefers to write nonfiction historical text or scientific notes. Whenever she delves into creative writing, it’s mainly poetry and songs, most of which she never shares with anyone, as she finds them to be ‘painfully saccharine.’

#{ Listen to the mirror ;; Headcanon }#bxlakor #crystaldrain

@crystaldrain

it is clear that the linguist wants to be anywhere but there. however, her head is pounding, and she is clutching an arm that is still bleeding from a well-aimed swipe from the slave-master’s claws. it will require stitching, the supplies of which she does not have-- unless she were to commandeer some of the ornamentalist’s needle and thread. but such would still need to be sanitized, and she would still need to be safe.

skekTek doesn’t seem like the type to kill another skeksis in cold blood. at least, that’s what she hopes.

she shuffles into the laboratory with bowed head and tensed shoulders, a grimace painting her features. “this needs to be stitched,” she announces in the pod language, holding up the injured arm. “skekNa and i got into another... disagreement.”

#crystaldrain #{ v ;; rage against the machine }#this is back when skekSo actually let her in the castle #lol #a mistake obviously

“ did you just forget about me? ” / edited the og quote slightly but I'm here to commit hate crimes against u specifically

The question steals all breath from her lungs. Trembling lips part, and her eyes reveal just a bit of how the phrase wounds, gaze stricken and full of an ancient regret, before she purses her lips and turns aside. She breathes deeply, in and out, and hides behind the facade of a soldier and untouchable protector once more. She does not blame it for asking such a probing question, not really. The very fact that it is still so brutally honest with her, and willing to let her linger in Rakhash, gives her hope that some things can still be mended.

But the inquiry brings to mind memories she had tried to leave behind the moment she fled from the castle in a wake of alarum and shed silver ichor, yet how could she leave such behind? Neither the thrill of battle nor the rush she gained from successful defiance (she could not save them, but she’d be damned if she didn’t save the gelfling) nor even skekYag’s mischievous smile or urVi’s songs could have wiped their memory from her mind.

On rose-colored days, her thoughts were fond, full of the playful insults they exchanged, the great scientific heights they reached, the bond so deep that they could understand each other without even uttering a word. Yet there were also many stormy days and nights where she fretted over their health and status in the court. The emperor had grown mad. Who knew if he would rob the Scientist of a limb or tongue next. A part of her even came to regret setting those captives free, of shattering their already decaying relationship and of leaving them alone– just as she did when they needed her most.

It is foolishness, she knows. The gelfling needed a champion to help them resist the garthim, something equally as formidable and vicious, something that could shield them without fear of death or sickness. That does not make her rueful thoughts any easier to bear, however. If only it had listened. If only it had come with her. There was nothing for them there but self-destruction and loneliness.

She steels herself and meets their mis-matched gaze– one of TekTih’s golden eyes and the other one that she could not save. “We were together for nearly a thousand trine. You already know the answer to that.”

But as with most of their conversations, more is exchanged between them in the silence.

You forgot about me. You left me alone again, it’s eyes accuse.

Only because I was given no other choice, her furrowed brow and pleading eyes retort.

Olpirt manin, not a day passed by where you did not haunt me.

#crystaldrain #{ V ;; Rot Painted Black }#setting this in movie verse bc I'm a glutton for punishment