#empirefire

[withpromise-a]

quiet  moments  /  light  in  the  dark

a  little  late  night  reading  with  a  small  friend.  

@empirefire

[atlasburdeneda]

@empirefire​​ once asked the question none of us needed the answer to : what would the members of tmn give if they had to do a resurrection ? this is that answer .

jester feels the tears streaming down her cheeks before she even registers that she’s crying , her fingers on caleb’s chest as she tries to pump a healing spell into him before she realizes that it’s not going to help . she’d failed him . she’d been so close & she’d failed him . caduceus puts a soft hand on her shoulder & she doesn’t dare look at him , the somber tenderness she knows she’ll find in his eyes is too much . he doesn’t ask , he just starts setting up the ritual around him . veth is there , whimpers escaping her lips as she clings to his side and jester doesn’t let herself think about the possibility that they won’t be able to bring him back . she feels beau at her back and wonders , briefly , if maybe she should let someone else - yasha , fjord - contribute to the ritual but as caduceus starts , his chanting as he places the diamonds on caleb’s chest she finds veth’s eyes on her , pleading silently . caduceus looks at her expectantly & she nods quickly , wiping her tears on her sleeve before she looks back at caleb’s form . 

❝   hey –   ❞   she says , forcing herself to find her voice & a small smile through her tears as she pushes a lock of hair out of his face & she’s struck by the peace she thinks she sees on his face, peace that fails to appear even in his sleep . she sniffles as she finds his hands and clasps them tightly in hers , colder than they ever have been .  ❝   i’m here with you , caleb , remember ? whatever you need , i’ll always be right here . you’ve come so far & I know that you have so much more to do in this world . you have to forgive yourself before you go anywhere, caleb . you said ... you said once that i change people caleb but you do too . you change them , for the better & will never forget how you changed me .   ❞   she releases one of his hands to lay the piece of parchment she’d ripped out of her journal gently on his chest . it’s a quick sketch of caleb in profile as frumpkin sits on his shoulder , both of them with their faces tilted towards a sun that had taken on a cartoonish visage as she had neared the end of her patience with the sketch .  ❝   i - i drew this of you - like , a couple of months ago . you’re smiling . see? i think … i think you were talking to beau & you smiled ! you’re so handsome when you smile , caleb & i - i couldn’t get it out of my head. i couldn’t sleep until I’d sat down and drawn you with that smile on her face and i don’t want this to be the last smile of yours i get to see . ok ? i can’t lose you too. come back to me caleb . please come back .   ❞   she kisses him , her lips pressed softly to his forehead , as caduceus’ voice reaches her ears again & she doesn’t let go of his hand until the breath fills his lungs once more .

[graviturgist-archive]

@empirefire.

    [ text / essek ]   looked it up online and zoo tickets are only 20 bucks and there’s also a museum of science close to the hotel.

[ text: caleb ] well i believe that’s extended our stay by at least a day. [ text: caleb ] not to sound incredibly out of the loop or anything but i have to admit i’ve never been to a zoo before.

[heavenlysouled]

charm person @ fjord from @empirefire

it, of course, is just logical to fjord. something about the way caleb looks at him just bothers him, like an instinct that feels alien and familiar at the same time. his long sword is already drawn, and he turns it on the wizard with a mixture of a blank expression, and a confused one.

“don't make me fight ya, caleb,” the half orc mutters, shaking his head as he takes a quick step toward the human. “just put your weapon down. no magic. we can be civil here.”

his command is punctuated with a curt nod of his head, fingers aglow with the intent to fight if necessary.

[broughtflowers]

love

challenge my writing. send me a word, and i will write a drabble about that topic—but without ever using the word you said.

there are no flowers in the badlands. nothing bright and colorful, no grass or meadows to lay out in and stargaze. everything here has a purpose. she has a purpose. her hands were never made to be gentle - she cleaves things in two the same way others find ease in healing. strength has always come easy to her, far more easily than gentleness. 

zuala does not need her to be gentle. zuala does not need her to be anything but herself, whatever that might be. not useful, or strong, or orphanmaker. 

the only thing they need to be is a secret. 

( zuala is warm like the edge of a sunset, when the orange fades into pink and bathes the world in gold. yasha spends days and hours in private alongside her, laughter buried in the crook of her neck, fingers soft in her hair, on her arms, on her face.

with zuala she does not need to be gentle, but she is. with her it comes naturally, as naturally as the swing of a blade or the heft of weight over her shoulders. pushing strands of hair behind her eyes to better see the laughter in her eyes, the way the corners crinkle when she smiles. leaning into each other after a hard day. 

they spend time together when they can, in secret and away from the rest of them. there’s never enough of it. time slips away as fast as they can get it. it’s as exhausting as it is exhilarating. 

she wants more, always. wants more quiet moments than they can get. wants to spend nights with her instead of alone or with the person that’s been chosen for her. wants more kisses that aren’t stolen. 

for awhile it seems they might be invincible. 

( a wedding just before dusk that’s just the two of them, a thing unto itself. sweet and sad and knowing, but not afraid. ) 

they’re only secret until they’re not. 

( she keeps the flowers in her pockets until they wilt and wither, until he gives her the book and shows her how to press them inbetween the pages so that they seem to never die. ) 

mollymauk is -- well, he’s mollymauk. 

he is bright and ostentatious and everything she’s not, but it feels like they know each other. it feels like they match. 

her soul is quiet around him in a way it hasn’t been since zuala, like her heart is at peace, not at war. like the past few months of blank void don’t matter, because he spends hours at her back, hands braiding flowers into her hair with a calming swiftness, curls around her for warmth in the tent they’ve recently starting sharing with horns pressing into her shoulder and tail wrapped around her ankle. 

she is not a person who shows off or makes friends easily; she is withdrawn and silent, putting together the tent or taking it down or following molly around as his own personal bodyguard, but he does not let her fade into the background - always pulling her in for a joke or an arm around her waist or coming to her defense. 

he is hers. not in the same way zuala was ( is ) but entirely her own. 

( many months later, she will tell them - because he was mollymauk. this is the best and only way to describe who they were, when they existed in a space together. ) 

there is a terrible and empty space where he once was, and some part of her feels like she’s still waiting to wake up from the iron shepherds and see him, and that she might be that way for the rest of her life. 

maybe they are the last thing molly gave to her: this strange little group of people who will not let her leave without a fight, even when she thinks they might be better off without her. 

they are: speaking celestial in late night conversations with caleb, an understanding that can only come from shared pain; painted murals by jester, wh ohugs her only minutes after she is freed from obann’s control; stealing nott’s flask and not giving it back because that’s what family does; caduceus with tea that warms her and sleepovers where they talk until one of them falls asleep, and sometimes after; learning about faith from fjord while he learns it himself; and beau: who fights and takes the damage with her and calls her beautiful in a sudden way that is more than flirting, and more about yasha herself. 

if they’re the last thing molly gave to her, she’s going to protect her. 

they’re family. 

they’re the mighty nein. 

[aelsell]

@empirefire​     [call]

                “Trees are sanctuaries. Whoever knows how to speak to them, whoever knows how to listen to them, can learn the truth, the ancient law of life.”

[sapphiretrickster]

@empirefire.

    [ text / jester ]   hey if there is a better reason to go drink than  ‘ i’ve been fucking robbed ’  i have yet to hear it.     [ text / jester ]   also, i’ve been fucking robbed.

[ JESTER 🧁 → cayyleb ]: a break up, i think, is probably a better reason?? probably [ JESTER 🧁 → cayyleb ]: wait, what? are you okay?

[gravemaker]

---- ---- @empirefire liked for a starter !

on nights at the xhorhaus when he finds himself unable to fall asleep, it’s customary for caduceus to descend the steps of the tower & fix himself some tea to relax. as he puts the pot to boil, he lets out a deep, contemplative exhale -- then long, droopy ears perk up at the realization that, despite the late hour, there’s a good chance caleb is probably up doing ... well, whatever it is he’s up to when he’s writing in that book of his. in fact, come to think of it, he’d never actually asked the wizard what he was always writing so diligently.

once the tea is brewed, he carries the pot and a pair of cups on a tray out of the kitchen and to the library. the door is somewhat ajar, revealing the warm glow of candlelight inside. as expected. finding both of his hands occupied, caduceus foregoes knocking, deciding instead to do what he can to announce his presence before he can fully enter. ‘ mr. caleb? ’ he calls, nudging the door open slowly such that it gave a whining creak. ‘ i hope i’m not intruding -- but i figured you could use a break. ’