⚔️ *:・゚✧┆❛ 𝐈 𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐋 𝐇𝐀𝐕𝐄 𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐄𝐑. ❜ ❪ zhongli aesthetic / @fauilte ❫
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⚔️ *:・゚✧┆❛ 𝐈 𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐋 𝐇𝐀𝐕𝐄 𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐄𝐑. ❜ ❪ zhongli aesthetic / @fauilte ❫
♡・゚: * 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.
❝ 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 ? ‘
@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 ! ”
@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.
🎥 - 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.
@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 ❫
♡・゚: * 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.