#fauilte

[verumking]

⚔️ *:･ﾟ✧┆❛  𝐈 𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐋 𝐇𝐀𝐕𝐄 𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐄𝐑.  ❜  ❪ zhongli aesthetic / @fauilte​ ❫

[vulpesse-arc]

♡･ﾟ: *   MUN MEME !    ┊   not accepting.  ↳   @saintswept​  &  @fauilte​   have entered the fox den:   ᚡ - Random fact about the mun? 

Random fact  ?  I have a weird scar right below my left eyebrow because when I was a child, I randomly decided to headbutt a form of cheese while having dinner and... Well, the strike must have been more violent than I remember because it indeed left a sign, lmao. 

BUT since I’m a generous bun, I’m now going to give you another  (  hopefully more interesting fact  )  about me  !!  I actually love drawing, I love it much more than any other type of hobby even though I am not good at it and I’ve stopped practicing. I grew so attached to it because it’s also my dad’s passion  (  he legit proposed to my mom with a drawing, it’s the two of them drawn as disney characters and it’s the cutest thing, i swear  )  and even though he could not pursue this dream because of his parents, that’s how we spent our time together when I was a child  !!  We would just draw a lot together and he’d teach me everything he knew and we’d even have little contests... I have so many beautiful memories about those days, so it’s stuck with me until now. Even though I no longer draw as much as I should, I love seeing others drawing and watching videos about art is one of my guilty pleasures  !!  So I hope I can begin to pursue this lil’passion of mine, again, one day. 

[fcragil]

❝ it’s been a while since i saw you and the boy… have you seen him recently? ❞ he avoided saying his brother’s name—it didn’t know how much pain it brought her. he sighed deeply and feigned a smile, ❝ let me see the boy ❞

@sinwashed / @fauilte  / @elyslian  /  random asks welcomed

he was kin , though he mirrored the face of the man who 𝓫𝓻𝓸𝓴𝓮 𝓱𝓮𝓻 𝓱𝓮𝓪𝓻𝓽 ; amos was more than welcome to visit .     it was sweet of him to avoid speakin’ the name of the outlaw who found his calling above being the family man he should have been .     but it was a moniker that parted from her rose bud lips regardless , let alone the nephew amos wishes to see looks much like his old man & just as similar to his uncle .     her gentle gaze provides a silent response to his query , one that is 𝓽𝓸𝓻𝓷 𝓫𝓮𝓽𝔀𝓮𝓮𝓷 𝓱𝓮𝓻 𝓻𝓮𝓵𝓲𝓮𝓯 & 𝓭𝓲𝓼𝓪𝓹𝓹𝓸𝓲𝓷𝓽𝓶𝓮𝓷𝓽 that she has no news to share of seeing his brother . 

‘     micah bell !     ‘     she calls out , an endearing way about her voice in regards to this being her son she beckons for .     ‘     you come say hi to your uncle ! he’s come a long way to see you , baby .     ‘     her hand gently slips behind her boy’s head , 𝓯𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓮𝓻𝓼 𝓬𝓸𝓶𝓫𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓽𝓱𝓻𝓸𝓾𝓰𝓱 𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓽𝓸𝓾𝓼𝓵𝓮𝓭 𝓫𝓵𝓸𝓷𝓭 𝓱𝓪𝓲𝓻 .

‘     uncle amos !     ‘     the little one is excited , jumping around as he bounds past their company eager to show him something .     aerith shrugs with a little laughter , hard to keep a young boy still .     though it may be the two of them , the little one has some friends .     however , it was different ; 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓪𝓫𝓼𝓮𝓷𝓬𝓮 𝓸𝓯 𝓪𝓷 𝓸𝓵𝓭𝓮𝓻 𝓶𝓪𝓵𝓮 𝓯𝓲𝓰𝓾𝓻𝓮 in his life had an affect that was noticeable .

having amos’s company was nice     (     for the both of them     ) , it gave aerith a little solace to know she 𝔀𝓪𝓼𝓷’𝓽 𝓪𝓵𝓸𝓷𝓮 𝓲𝓷 𝓽𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝔀𝓸𝓻𝓵𝓭 .     ‘     stay a bit , will you , amos ?     ‘     she adds , hoping it is not a bother .     ‘     for my boy’s sake ?     ‘

[heartate-aa]

@fauilte​ sent  :  💝 from legolas uwu    //    send a heart for an ahri smooch.  (  accepting  )  →  💝 for a a kiss on the forehead.

               𝐢𝐭 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐭𝐨𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐨𝐟𝐭𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬,  𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬,  𝐚 𝐬𝐢𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐞 𝐬𝐢𝐠𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐭𝐮𝐝𝐞.  the distant voices of spirits,  lost and distraught and so agonized in their pain,  call to her from all over,  and she passes through the thresholds of where the veil between the realms of the living and the dead are the thinnest to reach them.  she offers her hands in guidance,  all with a comforting smile stretching over her lips,  and they follow her without question so obediently.

it is in this world of unknown lands,  territories she hasn’t yet seen before,  with strange people whose kind she has never crossed paths with before,  she finds herself lost in their endless forests.  there are unfamiliar magics burning in the soil of this earth,  but she makes do all the same,  perhaps only with the aid of a newfound companion,  a friend who has offered her a kindness in navigating throughout the world.  ahri isn’t trapped here  —  no,  she only needs to find the tear between the realms to slip between its folds,  and every world has one.

she rests atop a log in the woods around their camp they have set for the night.  turning her head,  ahri looks upon him with a gentle gaze,  the heat of the fire radiating to kiss and warm her cheeks.  the flames are mirrored in her eyes,  simply radiant,  a dazzling sight to behold,  a bright and rare jewel lost in a sea as blue as its own mesmerizing hue.  he looks so exhausted.  hopping to her feet,  her tails come to coil around her waist as she approaches him where he is resting,  neatly and quietly upon his own bench of wood.

“    mm . . . i don’t think i’ve really properly thanked you yet,  for helping me on my journey,    ”    ahri begins,  her voice soft and ethereal as it fades away into the night.  she leans over,  hair as beautiful and full as the petals of camellias,  carnations,  roses,  spill across her shoulders.  lips fall to his forehead,  lingering for only a split moment in time before she pulls away.  warmth finds its home in the depths of her eyes,  and she winks subtly,  yet another quiet gesture in her thanks.    “    we should get some rest.  good night,  legolas  !  see you in the morning  !    ”

[fellthegods]

@fauilte​: ❝  and  still  you  fall  into  their  hands…  ❞  aera  lowered  her  eyes  and  frowned.  ❝  does  the  man  i  grew  to  love  feel  nothing  but  the  icy  cold  in  his  heart?  ❞  she  placed  her  hand  above  his  chest.  the  warmth  she  wished  to  pass  on  to  him  ghosted  over  like  the  wind.   ❨ for Aera. ❩ 

 𝐭𝐡𝐞  𝐰𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬  𝐨𝐟  𝐭𝐡𝐞  𝐨𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐥𝐞  𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐝  𝐟𝐚𝐫  𝐚𝐜𝐫𝐨𝐬𝐬  𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬,  𝐡𝐨𝐰  𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐲𝐧  𝐰𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐬  𝐡𝐞  𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝  𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐩𝐞  𝐡𝐞𝐫  𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞,  𝐬𝐡𝐞  𝐡𝐚𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐬  𝐡𝐢𝐦,  𝐚𝐧𝐝  𝐢𝐭  𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐬  𝐡𝐢𝐦  𝐚𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭.  the  mere  sight  of  her  was  like  pouring  salt  into  opened  wounds.  no  matter  hard  ardyn  tries  to  avert  his  gaze  from  her,  her  name,  and  all  the  wonders  she  does  for  their  people  touched  by  the  scourge  on  this  damned  star.  he  is  haunted  by  his  own  weaknesses,  reminded  of  how  he  failed  her.  left  with  only  knowing  that  he  is  but  a  tool  of  the  gods  to  be  used  to  usher  in  the  darkest  so  that  their  prophecy  shall  be  fulfilled.  he  is  to  play  the  role  of  the  villain,  to  follow  suit  in  bahamuts  story.  with  the  torment  they  put  him  through,  why  shouldn’t  he,  was  there  truly  a  choice  in  the  matter,  why  should  he  attempt  niceties  with  the  young  king?  the  resemblance  between  noctis  and  somnus  was  far  too  similar,  the  rage  it  stirred  in  him  was  immeasurable.  the  similarities  brought  forth  their  own  scornful  emotions  within  ardyn,  for  the  people  of  insomnia  would  never  know  the  truth  of  their  first  king, 𝐭𝐡𝐞  𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐞  𝐮𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐩𝐞𝐫,  the  torture  he  put  his  own  flesh  and  blood  through  for  a  taste  of  glory,  and  perhaps  now,  they  wouldn’t  care  —  the  usurper  deserves  not  pity  from  the  people.    no…  the  time  for  niceties  had  since  been  passed,  now  was  the  time  for  vengeance,  he  would  have  blood,  he  would  see  the  world  bathed  in  red  and  darkness  by  his  own  doing.  no  matter  the  cost,  even  if  he  could  never  leave  this  accursed  star,  he  would  drive  his  blade  through  the  chosen  king,  and  darkness  would  reign  true,  and  soon  after,  he  would  fell  the  gods  for  the  cruel  fate  they  had  forced  upon  him.  

 and  now  with  the  world  engulfed  as  it  was  ordained,  he  sits  on  that  which  rightfully  belongs  to  him,  —  the  throne.  his  throne.  he  leans  his  head  into  his  knuckles,  theres  a  giggle  that  bubbles  in  the  pits  of  his  stomach,  a  premature  celebration.  he  couldn’t  contain  the  happiness  he  felt  in  his  small  victory  against  the  gods,  but  given  his  luck  throughout  his  lifetime  he  knew  the  gods  wouldn’t  allow  it  —  a  slight  of  nostalgia  hit  him,  remembering  the  times  where  he  would  sit  and  play  chess  with  his  younger  brother,  using  three  extra  pieces,  giving  himself  the  advantage,  what  a  cruel  turn  of  events.  he  was  now  in  the  other  seat.  he  sighs,  pushing  himself  to  his  feet  —  it  was  torment  enough  to  live  through  old  memories  of  a  life  that  was  now  tainted  with  blood  and  betrayal.  pacing  back  and  forth  he  waited  for  that  blessed  king  chosen  by  the  gods,  he’d  remained  for  years  now,  there  was  nothing  for  him  but  this  revenge  he  felt  clinging  to  the  pits  of  his  soul  and  through  the  silence  of  the  empty  room  there  is  a  eerily  familiar  voice  that  echoes  through  the  throne  room.

“  𝚊𝚗𝚍  𝚢𝚘𝚞  𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚕𝚕  𝚏𝚊𝚕𝚕  𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚘  𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚒𝚛  𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚜…  “

 the  voice  is  but  a  whisper  —  his  eyes  shoot  open  as  he  paces  around  the  throne  room, filled  with  terror  and  shock  when  he  sees  her  figure,  he  dares  to  blink  her  away,  yet  she  remains,  and  he  can  feel  himself  tremble  under  her  cold  touch.  no,  no  not  now…  he  wants  desperately  to  wish  her  away,  but  her  hand  on  his  chest  is  firm  and  very  much  real.  ❛  fall  into  their  hands?  ❜  parroting  back  to  her,  he  grabs  her  wrist,  tightly,  scorn  twists  his  expression  as  the  scourge  blackens  his  face.  ❛  do  you  see  not  what  they  have  done  to  me  —  ?  i  was  a  fool  to  believe  that  i  was  given  a  gift.  nothing  could  put  an  end  to  my  suffering.  ❜  his  grip  grows  tighter  and  tighter  ❛  would  that  i  could  simply  pass  along  as  you  already  have,  aera…  do  you  think  that  i  have  been  given  a  choice  in  the  matter  —  ?  in  fact,  i  am  doing  all  i  can  to  defy  the  damned  gods,  i  have  been  cursed  with  life  eternal!  ❜  he  hisses.  ❛  have  you  any  right  to  judge  me,  and  my  cold  heart?  —  i  have  remained  on  this  accursed  star,  my  humanity  has  been  stripped  from  me,  my  soul,  aera,  died  with  you.  i  am  a  monster,  and  the  gods  will  use  me  until  i  am  nothing  —  and  even  then,  i  dare  say  they  shan’t  let  me  rest,  i  will  be  left  to  suffer  in  darkness  without  you…  as  i  have  been  without  you,  can  you  not  understand?  ❜        no…  he  pulls  her  hand  from  his  chest,  releasing  her  from  his  grasp.  ❛  you  are  dead  —  you  have  been  dead  for  thousands  of  years…  you  could  never  understand  the  aching  i  feel,  the  hatred  that  fills  me  —  i  will  bring  about  the  darkness,  the  man  you  loved  is  no  more,  aera,  leave  me…  ❜    the  last  words  fall  softly  from  his  lips.  ❛  leave  me  !  ❜    his  breath  was  ragged,  he  shouts  at  her,  shutting  his  eyes  until  her  figure  fades.

[departedcrown]

🎥 - What’s your favorite tv show/movie?

(  mun questions  /  accepting !!  )

i actually don’t watch a lot of shows lately, but i got super hooked on the witcher and would kill to make an au verse for aulea at some point. as for movies, my all time favourite movie is probably the princess bride or the first pirates of the caribbean movie.

[verumking]

@fauilte asked:  ⚔️ + the feeling of longing for someone or something 👀

⚔️ *:･ﾟ✧┆send “⚔️ “ for a voice line about your muse. ❪ slow but accepting! ❫

ABOUT LONGING...

❛  Since the day of the operation... I’d convinced myself I was incapable of emotion. It was only years later, did I perceive the pain in my chest as something more than a physical side effect. It was never constant... and only happened when I looked at her.  ❜

❪ @fauilte ❫

[vulpesse-arc]

♡･ﾟ: *   BOTANICAL HEADCANONS.   ┊   not accepting. ↳   @fauilte​    has entered the fox den:   zinnia.

ZINNIA   ───   How has the loss of fallen comrades and/or loved ones affected your muse ?   has it taught them anything or given them any new perspectives ?

Well, Ahri has always been a rather solitary creature. If we don’t take into consideration the time spent with the little clan of snow foxes that nurtured her after she was cruelly abandoned by her parents, there is only one person who ever managed to acquire a sentimental importance for her: THE ARTIST. Quite lamentably, their time together was just as beautiful as it was brief: he should have known that loving a beast was unsafe, that loving a beast was akin to adopting a lion as a pet and expecting it not to bite or eat   /   Even if he indeed made her happy, that was not enough to satiate the hunger that she felt inside and, ultimately, he joined the endless list of people murdered by her. 

Well, she did not handle his death well. Aside from the fact that yes, she was the one who killed him, she could not get over what had happened and thus began a slow descent into a mixture of madness and depression: for the very first time, she realized just how monstrous she really was and this is something that indeed scarred her for the rest of her life. She was so unable to deal with the pain of loss, that she entered the Garden of Forgetting in pursuance of feeding her memories to the sentimentally carnivorous plants there  ;  only the prompt and wise intervention of the Garden’s guardian hindered her from abandoning herself to the comfort of amnesia. 

As it can be easily inferred from these small tid bits about her past, she is not someone who learns from her mistakes, nor does she has she ever learn from the tragedy that has been interwoven with the very threads of her existence. The pain of losing someone was so atrocious that she simply swore to never become that vulnerable ever again: rather than working on her faults and on the one reason behind the artist’s death, she simply came to the conclusion that keeping herself sentimentally far from people would have been enough to PROTECT her from similar aches. Death is something that she has generously dispensed among those who were unlucky enough to cross her same path, and yet... When death was bestowed ‘pon someone that she cared about, it suddenly became unbearable and suffocating, unforgivable, worse than death itself. 

The artist’s death did not give her any new perspective: it solely gave her a good enough reason to further strengthen the walls around her cracked heart whilst using her identity as a beast to poorly excuse her murderous mistakes.