#fromxgrace

[wyrdhearth]

@fromxgrace : gets a starter.

❝ so... I understand you have a healthy disrespect for the gods, ❞ zhenya started as they walked through the underbrush. the shifter's bear ears twitched as a bee skirted by, the green of her eyes surveying the forest with a searching look. but it was quiet, for now. ❝ don't worry, I have zero inclination to convert or corner you. I simply wanted to say I find that admirable. I myself worship a god I know intimately; a lesser deity of the forest who feels more like an uncle or, at times, a parent to me than some all-knowing, all-powerful figure in the sky. ❞

the jewels and gold baubles wound through her hair clink gently as they come upon a river to rest their feet. ❝ but who hasn't questioned their faith once or twice? or more than? ❞ she reaches for her pack, stomach rumbling. ❝ anyway, if you feel any derision or judgment towards me, just know I'm not offended. but not all clerics are lambs with their necks so readily set upon the chopping block, either. ❞

zhenya smiled and retrieved a small pot of honey to pair with the bread in her other hand. ❝ would you like some? ❞

[rhapsodyr-a]

@fromxgrace  liked  for  a  starter

  Each  step  is  taken  with  careful  precision  as  he  nears  the  camp.  The  soft  sounds  of  fire  crackles,  nocturnal  creatures  in  the  distance,  and  slumbrous  snores  accompany  the  quiet  shuffle  of  his  shoes  against  the  hearth;  Eyes  on  constant  watch  as  he  closes  in  on  his  tent.  A  wry  grin  slowly  curls  at  the  corner  of  his  lips  as  he  believes  he  succeeded  another  night  of  returning  to  camp  without  notice,  after  participating  in  another  hunt.

Blood  of  boar  lingered  on  his  tongue  and  lips  as  he  finally  relaxed  his  shoulders  once  he  was  close  to  the  entrance  of  his  tent.  However,  as  alert  as  he  could  be,  he  failed  to  notice  the  young  man  awake.  Astarion’s  eyes  immediately  flash  toward  Daemon. 

Fuck. 

The  elf  straightens  his  back  and  clears  his  throat  in  an  effort  to  look  well  composed  and  less…suspicious.  “Ah,  hello,”  he  begins  with  a  tone  that  is  too  well  staged.  “I  was  just…surveying  the  camp:  to  make  sure  there  aren't  any  monsters  lurking  about.”  His  well  explained  lie  comes  too  quickly,  leaving  little  room  for  Daemon  to  greet  him.

[divinelght]

❝ you obviously don't know what these people are like. ❞ ― @fromxgrace , ( howl's moving castle : accepting )

She knows exactly who her brother is talking about ― can see the twist of his snarl everytime his eyes linger on their party's resident vampire spawn a little too long. Even now, his mismatched stare drifts down to Astarion who is flipping ardently through the book of necromancy she had singlehandedly delivered to his hands. Aurora rolls her eyes. Whether it's the parasite that bonds them or the way she regards every living (and, now, unliving) thing with a tenderness that'll most certainly be her downfall, Aurora considers the members of their party below to be her friends. Astarion is not an exception to that. She refuses to believe otherwise for the sake of her own sanity and the growing realization that they desperately need all the allies they can get. "I know quite a bit about them actually." There's a matter-of-fact edge to her voice, one reserved only for Daemon, as she shifts herself closer to the edge of the small cliff that overlooks their camp. "For instance, Wyll is quite the dancer and Gale has a tressym companion. Her name is Tara." She accentuates each fact with a point of her finger. She lists off the arbitrary things their friends have told her until, finally, she gets to Astarion. Her hand falls in her lap. There's a long beat of silence. "He's not what you think he is, Daemon."

[rhapsodyr-a]

based on this thread w. @fromxgrace ft. @divinelght

[lunyte]

@fromxgrace : ❝ make no mistake, my girl. you are playing this game as someone’s pawn. ❞

❝ your girl? ❞ if the arch quality of her tone isn't enough, shadowheart's vaguely amused gaze speaks for itself. ❝ why, daemon, you speak so confidently for one who knows nothing of my faith, or my lady. ❞ a shard of something hard lurks within her voice, but shadowheart is nothing if not removed as eyes flicker down his form. her spine, though, is as straight as can be. ❝ I'll take your words as well-intentioned concern. but mind your own, and be wary, for next time I won't be so genial. ❞

she relaxes then. ❝ now, was there something else you wished to talk about? perhaps something less offensive? ❞

RED QUEEN : accepting.