╰┈➤ˎˊ˗ @fatesown's anora to cailan, via a dialogue prompt: doing little has never agreed with me. it gives me too much time to dwell on things.
he won't ask what things she dwells on. he knows good and well just what they are. commenting on them further would only add salt to the wound, festering between them and in the face of the kingdom in screaming, agonizing silence. but as he stands at the foot of their bed — their bed, a novelty on its own, and a rarity that it is shared these days — he does not know if she seeks permission to act on the physician's recommendation, or ... if it is reassurance.
but when has she ever needed his validation? his permission? anora, the most sure-of-herself individual he's ever had the pleasure of knowing? what leg had he to stand on, considering … well, everything?
❛ i've never known you to do little. ❜ the mattress dips with his weight, and warm fingers curl over the jut of anora's hip beneath the thick, quilted blanket as cailan presses in close behind. cailan does not deserve the proximity, he knows that. yet he seeks the familiarity of her in the orange light of the fire in the hearth, anyway, as his arm drapes about her middle and his face finds the space between her neck and shoulder. ❛ it will be an adjustment. but you of all people deserve a break, 'nora. ❜
do i ship our characters together?: yes | no | not yet but maybe soon
would i like to ship with you?: yes | maybe, i'm willing to try | no
type of relationship i could see: childhood or high school sweethearts | exes ( omg could you imagine hold on ) | engaged | married | long-term relationship | crushes | unrequited love | fling | long distance | online relationship | just dating | new relationship | toxic lovers ( if you squint? maybe ) | friends with benefits
tropes i'd enjoy writing for them: friends to lovers | enemies to lovers | exes to lovers | fake relationship / dating | forbidden love | grumpy and sunshine | star-crossed lovers | surprise pregnancy | second chance | soulmates | amnesia / mistaken identity | forced proximity | secret relationship | slow burn relationship
would i rather plot first or jump right in and see where it goes?: develop their relationship first | jump right in | something in between ( i think just bc sesshōmaru is such a new muse for me there's still things i wanna figure out about how he views affection or connection of any kind? so like something slightly plot driven but i think we both know these two aren't Normal and can jump in accordingly if we wanted )
what now?: let's plot something | send me shippy memes | i'll send you shippy memes | write me a random starter | i'll write you a random starter
@fatesown // Y'SHTOLA : The Warrior of Light's newest friend has been a curiosity, indeed. His aether is the strangest mix she has seen to date (although her sample size could stand to expand), and he is uniquely guarded and strangely friendly. A static like an oncoming storm seems to linger under his skin, and she wonders when it will come. Worries who it might strike.
Subtly, Y'shtola's ears perk whenever Leon speaks, drinking in the insight he offers into himself, what little of it is provided, noting what he doesn't mention as much as what he does. She has ever been a diligent student, and for the moment, he is her favorite subject.
She finds him alone during the festivities to ring in the new year, another year since the calamitous destruction of Dalamud, another year survived, another year to remember those they lost. Their friends are a lively bunch, but easily ignored in favor of her studies.
Her fingers are lithe, and only faintly calloused from where she grips her stave—she takes care to keep them soft. They dance up his chest, along his pulse point, towards his lips. For a blink, she lets herself see his aether, watches the way it pools in him as her thumb reaches the soft pad of his lower lip. Careful strokes ensure she has found her target, and then she presses up to kiss him—curiously.
Unwittingly, just at the stroke of midnight, the sound of cheers and jubilation drowning the hammering of her heart.
LEON WOULD BY LYING to say that y’shtola lacks charm and intrigue . in fact , he’s been nothing shy of IMPRESSED by her wit both on and off the battlefield since his arrival within the warrior of light’s personal company . her command of the aether around her is , in no mince-able words , TERRIFYING . her mind doubly so , as he recalls learning quickly during their extended time together in the FIRST . and he would be lying once again to say that the sound of her soft-footed arrival isn’t often precluded by a dreadful excitement that burns low in his gut .
leon has never been GOOD at lying , with his words or otherwise , and so when her thumb reaches up to brush along the swell of his lower lip , his dark eyes peer down at her with a flash of that SAME EXCITEMENT . the sound of revelry has rung loud since the night’s festivities began in earnest : here , at the REVENANT’S TOLL . and yet , as he catches the sensation of her fingers curiously walking their way up his chest , the deafening cheers and drunken singing fades to a nearly INAUDIBLE tune .
he is trapped in her orbit , here . and for once , it’s the sort of trapped that doesn’t make him feel unnerved in the slightest .
y’shtola’s lips are warm , and perhaps it’s because of mor dhona’s biting cold that he leans into them almost AUTOMATICALLY . there’s an undeniably fascinated nature to the way his mouth moves against hers , however , that would certainly speak OTHERWISE .
instinctively , metallic hands come to rest on the curve of her hips , disappointed that he cannot FEEL THEM beneath the palms that operate as staves . thusly , they slide around and encircle her waist , until his arms wrap entirely around her — feeling her silhouette rest against him as the kiss unwittingly DEEPENS .
it isn’t until the COUNTDOWN behind them is long over , when leon realizes that he’s swept her away in the aftermath of a chemical reaction . one that makes the space between them feel irrevocably changed when he pulls back enough to allow her leave for a BREATH . and he knows instantly that there is no way he'll ever be able to pretend that IT ISN'T :
the DREADFUL LIAR that they both know he is .
︶꒦꒷ NEW YEARS EVE KISSES ! ꒷꒦︶ // unprompted , always accepting !
"Nothing happened." The lie, obvious as it is, falls from his lips easily, spoken as readily as if he had said it a thousand times before. With how often she's asked, he might as well have.
For all that he does not regret his meeting with Solas, he does regret that had his friend's blade truly stuck, Ziphrane would never have known of his fate. There would not have been opportunity to tell her of what he'd gone to do, though he knows well enough that he would never have told her to begin with. And afterwards, when he had woken in that forest with Mihris of all people tending him, he had cut himself off from the Fade — and her — to cover his tracks until the time came.
Felassan takes a long drag of his pipe, closing his eyes as he exhales through the cloud of smoke, leaning back against the trunk of a tree in Skyhold's gardens, heedless of the disapproving looks the passing clergy throw his way. "Do not ask again, lethallan," he says, almost a warning. "My answer will not change."
oh how she vexes him. and he delights in it, usually, the fact that she alone can elicit such a feeling in him. and with so few words. he talks himself into circles under that steady gaze, any attempts at provoking a reaction falling flat. she gives nothing away. cards held close to her chest, as it were. usually.
he knows to listen when she speaks. knows it is an honor to hear her. he does not tend to question her without reason, much as his flair for the dramatic longs for a bit of banter. but her words bring his world screeching to a halt, here, shatter whatever witty retort had been resting on his tongue.
his body acts on instinct when he takes her jaw in his hand. a desperate attempt to grasp at control of the situation when he feels as though she's shaken the very ground beneath their feet. he tilts her face up towards his own, searches her expression for... something. deceit, perhaps. mischief. but he does not know her to be a liar and he sees no playful twinkle in her eye.
she tolerates his grip for a moment longer than he'd expected her to. there is a restrained annoyance in her movements when she shakes him off—annoyance, as though he is the one being unreasonable.
his arm falls back to his side. harmless. for the moment. and he fixes her with a smile that does not reach his eyes.
"though i am not fool enough to doubt your sincerity, i do wonder if you've put enough thought into what your companions might think of such a proposal."
he hates to even mention them. yes, hates. he is precise with his language and has decided no other term can capture the feeling. they monopolize her time and attention, drag her on quest after quest to save the world. jealousy is an ugly emotion and one he thought himself above, but he seethes with it.
But sometimes - … even Y'shtola proved to surprise him, to curl around his ankles like an aloof house cat when she deigned him worthy of attention. Those moments were few and far between, especially when they were involving themselves out in Sharlay proper.
He must have done something right. Whether it was the mug of coffee he had brought to her, sitting on one of the many benches around the campus, or the arm he had so carelessly slung across the back of the seat -
Something had swayed him into her favor, and the gesture he received felt as if it could sustain him for the rest of his life.
Send me a 🚶 and I’ll introduce you to an NPC in my muse’s life.
First up is Dockmaster Boland!
Amaranthine's Dock Master is a grizzled man with his face worn by salt and sea, his gray beard tangled and frothy. He is tall, stocky, and dresses almost exclusively in wool. He lives in a tiny two-room shack at the end of the docks, and has for as long as anyone can remember.
He is actually undead, though no one has ever gotten close enough to notice. He hasn't even noticed, truth be told. He's possessed by a spirit of the sea. He fell off a dock in a storm trying to tie down a boat, and drowned. He woke up on shore, and carried on.
send "OTPs + nOTPs + [a muse name]" for me to list out my favourite pairings, and the pairings i am not interested in, for that muse
CLERITH
there's no one else, that's it, clerith. that's my OTP. I'm sure for anyone that has me on discord this is not a surprise lol I can't encapsulate all my feelings about them into coherent words but I will say that I love all their little details and their themes and and references throughout the games as a whole.
How he 'doesnt dance', he doesnt high five, he doesnt take on work for charity — until it involves aerith, then suddenly he does all of it. she doesnt place any pressure on him, she sees him for who he is, accepts him as he is, and because of that it makes him want to try harder. and then he opens up and they have such fun and teasing banter. everything about them just makes me so soft.
And I'll preface my nOTP by saying a few things. I don't care about fandom shipping, I don't care what others ship, but I do have my own preferences and thoughts. I'm not going to elaborate on my nOTP thoughts here because I don't want to deal with any potential fandom uprising in my inbox or whatever, but if you want more details you can ask me privately. but my nOTP for her is zack so yeah
outside of those two, again it's just up to chemistry. I see the potential with Tifa (more for her than I do with Cloud tbh) and I think she'd have a lot of other fun ships, but nothing else quite reaches OTP levels for me
