#fateslookingglass

[spells-and-scales]

@fates-looking-glass continued from here

Keaka tilted her head a moment thinking before finally sighing and nodding. “I suppose that’s true. Just thought it would be nice for your to have.” She fiddled with the ring on her finger.

[luxadaisical]

@fates-looking-glass​ asked: ❝ I’m addicted to shiny things. ❞ From Barb to whoever you feel would enjoy the tiny macabre doll :3

“Oh that’s a big mood.” Lys nods with a grin, barely holding in a laugh. Shiny things were very nice. And Lys did have a fondness for the ways they could get their light to sparkle off of shiny objects. 

After a brief moment of consideration, they do hold out the shiny glass thingy they had just picked up. This... person? (they weren’t totally sure what was going on with them, but anyways) Lys thought they’d like it in any case. “Y’can have this if you’d like?”

[themightyzwei]

[ @fates-looking-glass​ sent for Caleb ]

"Thank Lathander you’re breathing."

“Not-- easily...” Caleb took a pained breath in and then... slower, much slower out. He could feel it happening... his life draining away. He wondered, idly, who Lathander was before his life left him entirely. 

[alcriti]

𝑴𝑬𝑻𝑨 𝑯𝑬𝑨𝑫𝑪𝑨𝑵𝑶𝑵𝑺

vulnerability plzzzzz how do you characterize it in him - how does he respond and vice versa :3 / @fates-looking-glass​​

vulnerability is a weakness.

i’ve said it before in another post, but astarion admires strength and power: in himself and in allies. being weak allows room for being taken advantage of, and after suffering at the hands of a monster for two hundred years -- because he was forced into a position where he had no power -- he defies being powerless, and having his vulnerabilities used as a weapon against him. likewise, astarion will not follow anyone he believes as weak; he’s seen firsthand the kind of following strength demands, and he wants much of the same for himself and those he aligns with.

that said, astarion is also very candid about his past with cazador; what he says isn’t for gaining sympathy from others ( he doesn’t want it ), but he uses it as a motivator to be stronger than cazador ever could be, and ultimately, to destroy him.

there are rare instances, though, and this is usually reserved for close friends or a lover, people he unquestionably trusts, where he does soften. astarion is extremely private in that regard; no one other than his intended is meant to see this side of him, and it’s only because he trusts them. he trusts them not to hurt him.

[spells-and-scales]

@fates-looking-glass​ asked: “How early is too early to leave?” from Merit to Welyn ( Seems appropriate for the meme :D

“We have to be here at least an hour and a half.” Welyn hated parties like this. He had grown up being forced to attend them growing up. “I’m sorry that you have to be roped into this.”

[themightyzwei]

[ @fates-looking-glass​ sent from Barb for Nott ]

“I found them under your bed! And you know what? I licked every one of them.“

“You thieving little robot!” Nott shrieked and launched herself towards the Collectori. She didn’t really care that everyone seemed to consider the construct type thing a child. Especially sneaking the candy she had bought and saved to send to her own child. Her own child that no one knew about.

[themightyzwei]

[ cont from here with @matrixs-treasuryofmuses​ with Shiloh ]

It was the first time in several weeks that he hadn’t woken up with a jolt, not realizing where he was. Maybe it was the smell of books, of better memories... Maybe it was because he’d been asleep for about 20 minutes or so, only. Not enough time for dreams to turn into nightmare memories and take hold.

“I am... um, sorry.” Caleb glanced to the person next to him, realizing they were sitting entirely to close. He held up a hand before scooting over away a bit.

“Forgive me, please...”

[unsungxheroes]

@fates-looking-glass (x)

Muir;

Her foot almost finished putting pressure on the paper underfoot - green eyes looking down and peering at the drawings. A curious tilt to the purple tieflings head, before leaning down and picking it up to examine it closer. Muir's wrapped in greying clothes, a hood over her head with her horns poking through.

"Where is this from?" Muir asks, turning the image around.

  “It is mine.”

  His voice is soft, fleeting almost. Unfit for a proper assertion of ownership, should the defence be necessary. Even though he towers over her like a young tree, thin and tall and firmly rooted to the ground, it is hard to shake the impression that he might still topple over if a strong wind were to hit him. Phileas blinks, pale pink eyes staring through a pair of absurdly thick glasses.

“I, ah... draw, sometimes.”

  Even with his glasses, it is difficult for him to see without stepping closer. If he has to make a guess, it might be one of his portraits. Hassan, perhaps, judging from the darker tones of what he thinks to be the skin. The sun does not help his vision at all, and he thoughtfully tugs the black scarf protecting his head and neck farther into his face.

  Such is the life of one Phileas Stavros. This... blurry vision and sensivity. A life meant to be lived inside or underneath the moonlight, when colours change and shapes dissolve into darkness like shadows. Looking at a tree, Phileas could guess the existence of individual leaves - he could hear them whisper in the wind - but he has never actually seen them before. So naturally, his pictures kind of look like that too. Faded. Wistful. A bit smudged. Not that he cares. They are not for showing, not for anyone but him.

  “I must have lost it here last night. Sorry. Can I get it back?”