#heartinhands

[ruinskies]

Sylvain stares up at the sky. It's not very bright out today. Overcast. Dimming. It must be late afternoon by now. They set out before the sun even rose and he could still see his breath in the darkness. His horse Delilah was laden with quilted fabric to keep her warm. Where is she now...? He glances down over his own chin to his hands where they're strewn loosely over his waist. The battlefield whirls around him, all smeary paint and garbled voices. It makes him feel sick. When he looks up again there's a familiar face hovering over his own. White scales glimmer still against the grey sky. A little bit of light saved just for her. A smile drags itself slowly across Sylvain's face. Syrupy and sweet.

@heartinhands says, ❝  i’m  sorry.  i  should’ve  gotten  here  sooner.❞

When he shakes his head against the cold, dead grass, Sylvain can feel his head throb once or twice. That's good probably--He's so cold the rest is almost numb. "You know I'd wait forever for you." He can't even smirk, so it just sounds true. When he tries to flex his fingers, they don't hurt under his gauntlets. That's good. Is he bleeding anywhere? His hair feels sticky. "But, uh--yeah, I could've used your help, I think."

This is what you get for not using the lance, he can imagine them saying to him. If Medraut could wield it, Seiros, the damage she could do. Sylvain could ravage the battlefield, too. It just feels so wrong, twisted and evil. A living, breathing creature of a weapon. How much could he ruin with it? Is all of this worth doing that kind of cruelty? Sylvain's killed plenty of people in this war without it. Medraut's cool pale eyes flit over his still form as his armor chills against the frosty ground. Yeah, his head must be bleeding--She almost seems like she's spinning around him. Or leaning in closer, which they probably wouldn't want to do. Sylvain still isn't sure if he disgusts her or not anymore. But that's okay. He feels okay.

"You look good." It's nice to see her. When he props himself up on an elbow, her scales seem even brighter. There's always blood under her claw-like nails. He can smell the iron, or there's just some dripping by his temple. "I wrote to you."

[escapedartgeek]

a quiet cul-de-sac after a storm. (from dante!)

There's something about the aftermath of a storm that really brings a certain energy to the immediate area. Zora still feels the lingering scent of rain, the feeling of the wind brushing past them and everything that they see.

And the sight of a cul-de-sac after these kinds of storms really had them considering some strange memories and feelings that came up for them. People really take places like this as some sort of refuge when Z knows how eerie they have been in so many ways. From history. From their own experiences.

The images in their mind being both very clear and very blurry. They knew they had visions of places kind of like this but it never felt so uniform. More of a communal kind of feel to it. It always felt more lived, more connected in their younger days than the true structures they had seen in their travels.

Places made to organize the departure and divestment from cities. A thought that leaves them feeling irritable just considering it a bit more.

Even now, they had finally stepped out further into the 'neighborhood' so to speak to gather their bearings before heading back..determined not to stay too long in this location if they can help it.

There's another party, someone else who is outside, taking in the feeling of the storm. And although Z might normally be inclined to go on their own way, the thoughts in their mind just have them inclined to at least speak a little bit.

If only to wonder if he also feels a little something about how this weather shapes an area, a perception, a mood.

"Just kind of feels a little different after a storm like that, hm?"

[vannaspar-a]

remorse will get you nowhere . (gojo for vann's modern verse? if ur not familiar w him. hear me out. i think their dynamic would be crazy)

❛❛ Somehow, I'm not surprised to hear you say that. ❜❜

it's not an ill - meaning criticism, far from it; he's said it far too casually to actually mean anything by it. There is, however, a note of wistful reflection in Vann's voice that stands in stark contrast to @heartinhands' far more definitive and, dare he say it, even carefree disposition. [ There's a kernel of merit in that outlook, however, especially among sorcerers: regret can be a heavy burden if allowed to fester, and later a breeding ground for the very curses that they exorcize. ] Perhaps that's how Gojo means it or perhaps he's simply ribbing a larger and more sensitive heart the way he usually does.

not to say that Gojo lacks such a thing, a sensitive heart. Never. If anything, Vann feels it's a bit of a problem at times, one that he manages in his own way.

❛❛ Ignoring it also gets you nowhere, though, ❜❜ Vann counters, as he always does, and watches for another moment as the bonito flakes over his takoyaki undulate, bidden by the heat. ❛❛ Like everything, there's a balance. After all, the difference between medicine and poison is the dosage, really and it applies to most things. ❜❜ He looks beside him, head tilted as he tries to catch Gojo's often inscrutable gaze. ❛❛ Don't tell me you're immune to it; I'll be hard - pressed to believe it. ❜❜

fantasy prompts, still accepting.

[evilanew]

[ 5PM ] a [ restaurant / diner ], interior lights flickering under a fierce storm. (from dante if i havent sent something from him yet already! icr. anyways they should be bitchy besties)

@heartinhands [ ℒ ]

ㅤㅤWintry climes bring about the early setting of the sun, a turbulently winding flurry of snow exacerbating conditions despite the chill being inconsequential for the undead, a cloying heaviness to the inky grey sky that’s nigh foreboding  (  comme si la main lourde du ciel descendait pour répandre sa colère—  ).  And yet there’s something altogether  wrong within this setting, a stillness present as the blond attempts to steady his easily meandering concentration, the din of cutlery meeting with crockery amidst the fading of indistinct chatter. Animated violet eyes peer through the broad window adjacent to the pair’s booth, tracing past the border of condensation settled around the edges, a haze present due to the comparably warming presence of mortal bodies and whatever  pungent sustenance is being prepared upon the griddle.  “ It smells terrible in here, I would not bring my dog to such a place. And yet, the food interests you. ”  Lestat remarks bluntly, cheeks hollowing while worrying at delicate flesh at the innermost corner of his mouth, line of vision not leaving the sight outside, noting how individuals walked in odd patterns.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤThe vampire hones in on a woman in a crimson coat seemingly passing through the blustery street for what appears to be the fifth time, stuck on a loop with her dog who always barks at a particular pitch when passing a hydrant, the timing of trotting paws a little off by his estimation. The blond finally drags himself away from the spectacle, glancing back to Dante seated on the opposing side of the booth, a low breath drawn out as another plentiful plate of food is brought to the table, a comparably humble cup of coffee placed before Lestat.  “ When you enquired of my availability for a hunt, this is not what I had envisaged. ”  Cool hands curl around the vessel for the mere contentment of its warmth, the tip of a sharp nail peeling away at a layer of grime that had accumulated from ineffectual cleansing of grease  (  cet établissement est répugnant  ),  the motion catching the surrounding light.  “ How much longer do you anticipate we are to wait? ”

[spirestar]

@heartinhands 😇 for bb

"C'mon," Kaz leans over their Jeep's right side mirror, his wrists dangling as he droops his head down between his arms. He's sweaty enough in the scorching sun for his sunglasses to slllllowly start to slide down his nose, too. Urgh. If this keeps up, they'll have to start staking trees for sap or something. They're way too far out from any port to find a way back to the base. "Boss, you said you already knew what was wrong--"

It's hardly been a year since he was recruited on as the Militaires Sans Frontières second-in-command and he likes to think he's a competent member--tactical, thoughtful, ambitious. He believes in what they're building, he believes in Snake, and he doesn't pick fights every single time he disagrees with someone--usually on account of their disagreeing with the other man specifically--either, which has to count for something. How was he supposed to know that hot-wiring cars was meant to be in his skill set? Kaz would do a better job navigating them through the middle of the woods out here than he would getting this stupid engine to restart. He reaches to untie his short yellow scarf and starts to fan his face with it once he's yanked the fabric free. Never let it be said he lacks in drama, even in the face of most benign of inconveniences. Snake is the man he admires most in the world but:

"--And if you say one more time that you're just getting a better look at it--!"

[bloodycharge]

“ Could you handle the truth if I told you? ” (Bern...i think she should make shinji her new miko)

it  goes  without  saying  that  shinjiro  is  quite  confident  -  perhaps  entirely  without  cause  -  that  he  could  handle  the  truth.  his  life  has  been  nothing  but  facing  cold,  harsh  reality  -  what  could  she  have  to  offer  him  that  is  any  more  difficult  than  what  he's  already  faced?  (  shinjiro  has  no  idea,  truly.  he  can't  even  begin  to  imagine  the  depths  of  his  ignorance.  )

“  hit  me.  ”  he  says  it  so  confidently,  yet  so  urgently.  maybe  there's  a  part  of  him  that  truly  loathes  the  idea  of  remaining  ignorant  to  the  truth,  whatever  it  may  be;  a  part  of  him  so  used  to  understanding  cruel  realities  that  it's  almost  embarrassing  not  to.  “  there's  no  point  in  dancin'  around  it,  right?  either  say  it  or  don't.  ”

but  clearly,  foolishly,  he  wants  her  to.

[jpunkhead]

@heartinhands / medraut said... [TXT] :you left your jacket here.

[TO: MEDRAUT - SILVERLINE, 21:10] Eh?? I did?

JP leans back against the handlebars of his borrowed motorcycle, squinting down at the screen of his tiny phone. Oh yeah. He did have to grab a different jacket than usual when he rolled out of his apartment for a snack. He lifts one arm to tap at it as it dims and then pops his cigarette back between his lips to type with both thumbs, squinting all the while.

[TO: MEDRAUT - SILVERLINE, 21:11] Meet @ the mesa in 1 hr? ur engine fixed up yet??

He's just been watching the sky dim to twilight most of the evening anyway.

[TO: MEDRAUT - SILVERLINE, 21:11] Know ur still in town

[TO: MEDRAUT - SILVERLINE, 21:12] 😎 Bring it pls?

[beenwaiting]

Hello. It is I, Gabriel Ultrakill. Why is the sky green? What has happened here?

hello  gabriel  ultrakill.  you  are  in  danger