" come now , your majesty. cowboy disco is not above royalty. "
⸻⸻⸻⸻ . . . ⸻⸻⸻⸻
⸻ @curenone
alexa pls come get this immortal ancient crusty old grandpa im so sleepy i literally cannot do this rn
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" come now , your majesty. cowboy disco is not above royalty. "
⸻⸻⸻⸻ . . . ⸻⸻⸻⸻
⸻ @curenone
alexa pls come get this immortal ancient crusty old grandpa im so sleepy i literally cannot do this rn
“ you flatter me, chancellor. “ lunafreya answers, after a particularly icy pause. the only indication that his presence had been regarded was the slightest turn of her chin in his direction.
no matter how pristine the room was, the air was dense. words stuck to it like a thick fog, final syllables practically echoing off of the walls. she figured the two of them were both plenty accustomed to tension.
umbra stirs at her feet.
“ though --- if i may, i believe you misunderstand your role, as well as mine. " as if he would ever bow to her hand, his role as usurper notwithstanding. ardyn seemed to confuse himself with the much more modern treatment of the oracle, perhaps highly different from his own time. to call his arrival in service was laughable, if maybe in more agreeable company. but, no, this was no royal manor. as soon as one stepped foot into her domicile .... this was a prison.
you’d mistake house fleuret as an imperial garrison, with the amount of armored soldiers stationed in such a domestic, let alone holy, place. she’d known from the very beginning the reason as to why. the empire saw her as a dangerous player. a threat to the so carefully planned future ahead, as if the plague encroaching on their domain could be contained or even weaponized to serve a single man. absolute madness.
it served one, but he was no man. not anymore.
“ the emperor believes that i can be dissuaded with a strong arm and a sharp blade, despite all my words, as well as actions harboring nothing but complete subservience. “ she talks to the mirror again, hands busied by the placement of earrings. she’s sure niflheim would want nothing more than for a serious harm to befall her. though, she supposed even monsters kept afraid of gods. it was simply a game of who moved first. “ i will not submit to fear. ---- that being said, please make yourself comfortable. we will be called upon shortly. “
" Identify yourself, " His lance is firm in his hand, not yet pointed t'wards the stranger in a full show of hostility but ready to if needed. / @curenone
" breathe, slowly. " for under the illumination of a gilded hand are the downy flames of phoenix's curatives at work— pulsating and bleeding in the colors of a sunset, the source of the stranger's ails is targeted and set to be remedied beneath waves of ocher, azure, and claret fire. ︴ @curenone
HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!! 🫵🏼🎂
THANK YOU!!! Sorry I'm replying so late, we just got settled in at home fhjfj ❤️
"you do not understand fate in the slightest."
CLOUD.
“ fact. ” a nod, high above the fold of arms across wool.cloud’s face lacks all trace ofinterest & emotion, but-
“ your intimate understanding... comes from being made its bitch? ”
@curenone | inbox call
" disgusting. " a scrunch of the nose. very unnatural. " && you think this smells good? "
@curenone
He was unfazed,letting the frying scent from flesh and bones fused with daemonic fluids comeacross his nose. There was a burning-like ‘odor’. Much to a skin’s incineration.
Verstael was used to it. Notthat he liked the smell of it but more like the fact that those bodies weredecapitated, absorbed by the daemonification. and slowly worked into the metalmembrane.
“If this would keep you out of my lab thenlet it smell like this always.”
Twisted he was.
@curenone asked: " your eyes speak volumes."
any interaction had with the usurper seemed an uphill battle. if she was to be dealing with divinity, any mention of the accursed was to delve into legend. made sickeningly, hauntingly real. an ancient bogeyman, if that interpretation were to be given any merit.
she was well versed in his history, past and present. she knew of his true name, and of his entanglement and influence in niflheim military 'advancement'. to her understanding, he was the essence, and root, of all evil.
so, if she were tight-lipped around him, it was merely that she had a lack of words for him.
it wasn't her purpose. not to instigate him, not to banish him, not to blow the whistle on the mass gathering of darkness encroaching on the realm. her god-given mission was to have bahamut's will executed --- to prepare the true king with every tool necessary to dispel the darkness. as his purpose was to flood the star with it.
she supposed, if noctis were here, he would lunge at him, eyes blinded by hate. she didn't feel hate. gentiana always seemed to hav a certain curtness in relation to the accursed. she wasn't sure if it was natural to even embrace that. of course, there was an unsettling aura about him. skin that only barely bonded together against the rippling black ichor beneath it, a phantom taking the guise of a man. though, fear wasn't exactly the right expression of her heart, either. he knew her form was not wholly physical. no harm he could impart to her would impact anything, nor would she do anything of the sort unto him. if he were to kill the body, the spirit would still remain, as was the same for him. they were on two paths set in motion. an impasse.
but it reeked.
despite everything, what he had was an affliction. his body was riddled with the starscourge. could someone ... born of darkness truly be so addled? the thought never failed to twist her expression. he emanated a thick miasma. a living, breathing, parasite. wont was she to question the astral's teachings, but ... his origin was ... puzzling, at the very least. perhaps there was an oversight. perhaps ardyn lucis caelum was equal parts man and monster.
it wasn't her job to think. but it was her job to heal the afflicted.
pity wasn't quite the name for it, either. she's sure it ached. even being within speaking distance of that amount of ick was enough to make her skin crawl. she's sure it burned like a fire none other. that it tugged and rended at the flesh, the mind, the spirit. she was certain they both knew, that death would be a mercy. she doubted it would come gently, if at all.
she knew the gain he had from speaking to her. bahamut's eyes from the ground, hers is a vessel of pure sanctity. in essence, she is his next-best thing. but he knows better than to shoot the messenger.
perhaps the word was troubled. and if her eyes spoke all of that, he had no need for any of her words.
if anything, she wished he'd know peace. once and for all.