#devoursleuth

[vvaeritas]

Cyno grabs the sprout (ahoge) atop Alhaitham's head.

   '' Ow. ''    

   His show of pain is to stand massively unbothered, his hair sprout caught in the General's hands. What a vicious attack he's being subjected to.

   His response is to also reach and grab the longest strand that goes down Cyno's chest. But he does not yoink- they both stand at a stalemate holding eachother's hair.

   '' If you don't unhand my sprout, I won't unhand yours. Then, once the fourth Ice Age comes and goes, the survivors of it will find us in a block of ice, still holding onto eachother's hair. ''

[mendakium]

@devoursleuth ⊹ Draconic wings beat the air high in the sky and Durin's magenta eyes blink, focusing on the sight of the Grand Master he's found at the top of the tower of the Favonius Headquarters. How did he get up here? Durin thinks. "Ah ... Grand Master?" Durin tilts his head. " ... Are you hiding from Ms. Jean again?"

             at this hour, sitting in sunlight is the sweetest kind of pleasure. The breeze is just light enough, fresh enough and frequent enough to feel good on his skin, and the rustling leaves whisper reminders that he's finally back home.

Varka sits against the tower's rocky wall, eyes closed and mind blissfully empty. He could stay like this all afternoon, but an unexpected eclipse drags him out of this indulgent stupor. As his eyes crack open, he sees only a silhouette shaped like Durin before slowly adjusting to the light again

❝ Hey, Durin! ❞ Varka calls out, his wide grin cutting across his face as he lifts a hand to wave in wordless guilt. ❝ Good to see you. Mind keeping this between us? ❞

[odyniros]

Don't mind Cipher zooming about as she picks up the broken blood crystals Mydei leaves behind after a fight. They sell really good online.

the prince, sighing softly as the broken crystals eventually break away into dust. "good try, cipher."

[philomuthos]

UNPROMPTED

@devoursleuth asked: "Ms. Kuchiba, my, you are looking lovely today. A fresh haircut? A new perfume?" Ashveil smiles politely at the security officer. Perhaps, it is. His heightened sense of smell tickles with a new scent hanging in the air around her. "Look, I've brought you a, uh, lavender matcha latte that's all the rage right now. Here." His smile continues to beam ... and beg ... any cases he may tag along and help her with? For some side hustle of cash?

Really, she would have thought they were past this by now.

Straightening from the screen in hand, she gingerly takes the offered drink in gloved fingers. It dangles between them, slowly swaying back and forth, as though weighing Ashveil's fate. Then her palm curls properly around it, and she brings the drink up to her lips carefully. A slow sip, cautious- it's not bad, really. Could be better, given how badly the flavors are competing, but while it might be decent, she can't say she sees the hype.

What she does appreciate, however, is the effort. The consideration.

And the sacrifice.

Well aware of Ashveil's financial straits (what kind of officer would she be, if she couldn't figure out that much of her sometimes-coworker's situation?) she knows that spending the credits on this is... well. Not in his best interests to put it lightly. Especially not to simply hand it over in the very faint hope that it will be a good enough bribe to get him some work. Unfortunately, her caseload isn't what she'd call extensive at the moment, but if he really needs it this badly...

(Very pointedly, she ignores the wide, puppydog stare boring into her temple, narrowing her eyes slightly as she takes another sip of the latte.)

"If you're this free," she says, handing the cup back to him, lifted toward his face in a clear insinuation that he should finish it up, "then you can make yourself useful. Follow me."

Sure, she doesn't really have any cases that need an extra set of eyes or outside consultation- but it's the nature of the beast.

If she helps Ashveil now, he'll be more likely to help her later- and without nearly as much cajoling as it might require, if the case is one he doesn't particularly want to be involved in.

(It's certainly not, she tells herself, because looking at those big, hopeful eyes makes her feel just a bit guilty about dismissing him with nothing.)

[vvaeritas]

@devoursleuth ♡'d for the sampo event

    '' A... detective? All for me? '' He's still reeling from the brazen flirt he's being presented with. In fact, he's positive that his cheeks may have flushed a little. Impeccable delivery. '' And you'd say yes, if I did? It's only fair that I return the... services so kindly offered to me. '' A little, impertinent finger brushes imaginary dust off Ashveil's jacket, greens studying him under indigo lashes. '' Say, Mr. Detective- are you in need of a reliable, handsome information broker, perhaps...? ''

[graverider]

⠀⠀⠀* CONT. from @devoursleuth . 🪦

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀—— 𖦏 ⌯⁍ * several seconds go by . no movement on the screen . was it a mistake text, sent to the wrong person ? then, the bubble pops up, signifying a possible response incoming .

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ * 💬 : Boothill is Typing . . .

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ * it hovers there for a few long seconds .. only to disappear . like the person on the opposite end had written something ( * or spoken, in Boothill's case . ) before deciding against it & deleting it all . another stretch of silence & lack of movement .

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ * 💬 : Boothill is Typing . . .

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ * gone again . instantly, like he frustratingly abandons this line of thought too . silence once more, then, finally :

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ * ' yeah, sure thing, boss . as always, ya kick ass . sorry to be pestering ya so late at night . '

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ * the other Ranger never really makes it a habit to indulge in his dreams like this any other time, nor is he much of a texter in the first place . his message is oddly vague, almost dropping the subject before it could even begin . with so much hesitation beforehand, it would make one wonder if he even meant to say what he had ended up sending to begin with . Boothill was hard to read in person, much less so over the phone .

[mendakium]

@devoursleuth ⊹ A pink chubby raptor seems to have gotten lost again, but fret not, Ifa is not long behind his little assistant, chasing up to the scene. "Dude! Not cool, don't just fly off like that!" Ifa looks to who Cacucu has clung to this time and he removes his hat, bowing and thanking the stranger. "I'm so sorry, dude. He's hitting those rebellious years. Did he cause you any trouble or damage, I can totally pay you back, no sweat." ( Ifa/Cacucu and your Xiuhcoatl 👀)"

             life outside the sovereigns's rule has changed drastically; the flow of elemental energy has shifted, now belonging more to an unreachable place in the sky than to the veins pulsing beneath the earth.

This world is sick. Malnourished, its light stolen and rationed out like scraps in exchange for obedience. It survives off a project of ignorance imposed by usurping forces. Xiuhcoatl almost wishes his slumber had never been disturbed, that he could've remained unaware of what became of his home.

But what would that make of him if not the same as the humans he resents?

Now he wanders across Natlan's plains and slopes as though he were the one who first drew it onto the map — and, in a way, he is. The sovereign walks among his Dragonborn, learning of the ways they have changed from the forms he once breathed into life and, although he no longer sees, he would recognize his children by essence alone.

One youngling flies into the flamelord's arms this time, its bones so light it feels like anything less than gentleness might break it. Xiuhcoatl's gathers the small creature close, his arms folding around it like wings shielding a fledgling from danger and, if it hadn't radiated such approval for the figure trailing behind it, he would've scorched them off the edges of his territory before the sound of their voice could traverse the space separating them.

Instead, the marks adorning his body flare with phlogiston-bright colors, and his voice rises deep and heavy, like something breaking free from the earth beneath their feet. ❝ The young dragonborn has brought you here. Its choice is of no offense unto me, but intrigue. ❞ Silence lingers briefly as Xiuhcoatl exhales, caught in a moment of contemplation. ❝ Ifa. ❞