#hylaen

[janeivesarchive]

tbh if someone was trying to stitch you up in the middle of the woods no anesthetic whippin out a needle they got from their fuckin leather satchel i think “hhhhh” is a perfectly good response

[aencience]

CROWN DIPS, SLANTING LIGHT DRAPES ITSELF ACROSS HER GLEANING HAIR & BOWED FACE WITH THE FONDNESS OF A LOVER. mouth softens to rot  ;  the decay of spring  &  the crisp sweetness of rain sits heavy ‘gainst roll of tongue. she draws in a sharp breath between clenched teeth  &  at last eyes open so slowly. her eyes are clear  &  dawning blue but they are tired, concern makes a flickering thing of itself there.            “     is it pathetic to admit that i am scared  ?     “

@hylaen

[kuzconian]

hylaen replied to your post: discguise replied to your post: ...

i hate the tomboy shit bc whenever ppl try to invalidate DFAB nonbinary ppl theyre always like “ur just a tomboy lol” like i hear it too often for me to not flinch whenever i see/hear it JKGFHJKDFYUGUH

thas me when my fam finds my blog

me: o-oh.. im not trans im just a tomboy lol? 

[theislesunfamily]

VII

Music prompt: Kärlekens Alla Färjor

Ithanar had not planned on his morning starting out the way it had. 

He had woken up later than expected, rising out of bed slowly but surely. His old bones had creaked as he tried to pull on a pair of trousers, deciding to go shirtless for the time being, a decision he had ruminated on but only for a moment as he shuffled down the staircase and into the kitchen.

Where was- his answer to an unfinished question came rather quickly in the form of a small letter resting on the center island counter, perhaps sent by magical means.

Card game last night got a little out of hand, so I will not be home until the afternoon. You are on your own for breakfast.

Hylaen

No breakfast this morning or- no, no, he could certainly make it on his own. He wasn’t incapable of such mundane tasks.

Where to start? He decided on something simple, searching the pantry for a loaf of bread and perhaps… some jam? Yes, that had been a good start. Old hands reached up high for a jar of the stuff, blueberry (a favorite), and had nearly watched it topple down. However, his reflexes had been quick.

“Close call…” He muttered to himself, not able to hold back a small laugh. It had been quite some time since he had prepared breakfast on his own. It was almost like his kitchen was enemy territory.

He decided on tea, his next task being finding the kettle and tea leaves; it had not taken long surprisingly enough even if the items had been hidden away in a cupboard on the other side of the kitchen away from the pantry. The particulars were attended to: water was fetched during a quick trip outside, and the bread was toasted and jammed (to rather solid perfection, something he was quite impressed with).

Now he waited, leaning against the counter, a piece of toast in hand. It had been quite a while since a quiet moment like this, something he could savor on his own. He munched on the first piece of toast, relishing the gout of steam and whistling sound that came with properly prepared water.

A pause. His gaze turned out the window and onto the field outside, tea in both hands, as he watched and waited for something.

Most mornings never went like this one had, but Ithanar was rather alright with that.

[aencience]

i just wanna take a second to say that @hylaen has such an incredibly beautiful & unique writing style & every time i read something they write fro link it literally leaves me breathless bc the imagery is so beautiful & warm and its just so fitting. like res is just amazing okay, i love the flow & literal warmth i feel when i read things they write for link....

[janeivesarchive]

hi i am hereby announcing i love res @silvaer / @hylaen everyone else just go

[theislesunfamily]

[Your Affairs] Who Needs a Will?

It’s been a frustrating afternoon.

Ithanar spends what feels like too long in the study upstairs, shuffling through files upon files, nicking a few choice fingers with paper cuts. Who ever would’ve thought those hurt so damn much? His fingers aren’t just hurting, but his ego is too… just a bit.

It’s been a frustrating afternoon, and paperwork has never been his forté.

His gaze returns to his desk, only a small portion of the mess the study has become in recent hours. Files are strewn everywhere in haphazard fashion,  and stacks of parchment rest in the most peculiar of places (how did he fit a whole stack of them on the globe in one of the nooks?). The old elf growls, looking at one of the cuts on his index finger and shaking his head at it, as though that may make the thing seal out of fright.

“Having trouble?” Hylaen asks from the doorway, appearing from out of nowhere. His form rests against the frame, as he tends to do, a smirk etched across thin lips. “What are you looking for?”

Ithanar shifts his gaze up and in the elf’s direction, shrugging a shoulder and letting out an exasperated sigh before gesturing to the clutter around him. “My will,” he says plainly, as though having to look over the document designed to be the lay of the land after death isn’t a gargantuan deal.

It isn’t. This isn’t the first time he’s had to look over the thing, and it most certainly won’t be the last.

Or will it? That particular thought flutters around the back of his mind for a moment, but only that before he lets it fade away. 

“Oh, you… uhm… You kept it in the bookcase, remember?” Hylaen says, pushing off from the doorway and pacing across the room, certain to not knock over anything with his adroit steps as he shifts up to a bookcase on the other side of the room and looking over the tomes there. After a moment, he lets out a small “aha!” and pulls out what apparently is the right one, a thick thing with a dark blue cover.

“Probably should’ve asked you for help then,” the old elf grumbles, sucking on a paper cut on his thumb but only for a moment. “But I didn’t want to-”

“You’re awful with paperwork, so you should always ask for help,” the younger elf responds as he opens the tome and pulls out a small stack of parchment hidden between the back cover and final page. “Just looking it over before you leave?”

The silver-haired elf nods once, shuffling over to the chair behind the desk and falling into the seat, kicking his legs up atop the surface. He nearly wipes out another stack of parchment, but quick thinking saves it from certain doom on the floor below.

“Yes, I was planning to,” Ithanar answers once he settles in, hands clasping over his belly. “Perhaps making a few changes as well.”

One of Hylaen’s thin brows perks in curiosity at this statement, but he doesn’t comment on it immediately. No, he looks over the will in detail, lips curling in a frown before looking up at Ithanar. “Want me to read it aloud? We can go over it together,” he asks, leaning against the bookcase behind him.

“Why not?” Ithanar says casually, spinning in his chair to look in Hylaen’s direction. This time, his feet do kick up a stack of parchment, which explodes into the air, which is accompanied by an exasperated growl before he sits up to try and gather them all again. “Damn it all! Just… Hylaen, just skip the-”

“I, Ithanar Islesun-” Hylaen begins with a smirk, watching the drama unfold.

“Fuck off!” The older elf barks in his direction, though it’s uncertain whether Hylaen is the intended target… or a rather devious piece of parchment which evades his grasp.

“You really want me to skip this glorious introduction?” The younger elf quips from his spot, holding the stack in both hands. “Did you write this? The Honorable and Right-”

“Just read the damn thing, Hylaen…” Ithanar insists exasperatedly, having finally put the stack back together. No paper cuts this time, so he takes it as a victory.

“Oh, fine, fine… do you want to get to- which part is most important for you?” Hylaen asks, gaze back on the parchment as he looks it over.

Ithanar waits for a moment to answer, lips turning thoughtfully. He looks up at the ceiling, head tilting back and forth. “I…” He finally answers after a while. “Well, you tell me.”

“You’re much too casual about this,” the younger elf responds almost too quickly. “I think this whole affair is important in general. This is your will we’re talking about here.”

All this sounds familiar. Too familiar.

Ithanar knows his almost too cavalier attitude when it comes to sort of thing often leads to conversations like this unraveling. At this point, he’d almost rather not have this discussion. It’s been a frustrating afternoon, and working on his will has never been his forté.

“Sure?” He finally answers, once again too casual which draws a groan from Hylaen.

“You don’t think so? You don’t think this imp-” The raven-haired elf tries to say.

“Don’t do this, not right now. Just… who have I left my possessions to?” Ithanar interjects, arms crossing his chest now. He’s put his foot down, figuratively, given both feet are still resting on the desk.

“To Ithaerin…” Hylaen begins without pause or reluctance, appearing to have given up on the endeavor of stressing the importance of this.

“Strike him from the record,” the older elf interrupts again, drawing a furious glare from the elf leaning against the bookcase. “I’m not-”

“Ithanar. You cannot be serious!” The younger elf interrupts, fury showing in a sharp tone as he pushes off the bookcase and raises his arms wide.

“Yes, I am,” he responds with his own glare, lips twisting now in a furious snarl. “Completely serious, which is what you were looking for earlier, right?”

“I assume then Inthius should be stricken from the will?” Hylaen snaps, drawing an uncomfortable silence.

It’s a clean thing, clashing with the mess around the room as both men glare daggers at each other. Ithanar considers his next words carefully now, rid of his cavalier demeanor from earlier. This whole conversation has struck quite a nerve.

“Yes…” Ithanar answers, almost saying something more but deciding to close his mouth.

“Let me guess… Il-” The other elf asks, his glare now directed toward the page as though incredibly furious at it instead of his friend.

“Yes, yes, especially her,” Ithanar counters with another growl and his own narrowing stare, teeth bared. He has no plans to include her in the will no matter how much Hylaen might protest… which he immediately does in unsurprising fashion.

“You haven’t even spoken to her about this? About where you’re going?” He inquires, gaze back on Ithanar.

“No, and I don’t plan to,” the older elf responds flatly, gaze shifting out the window to those murky night skies again.  

“Then your will is blank. You realize this, don’t you?” Hylaen states, shaking the stack back and forth in a hand. Again, he isn’t wrong. He never is.

“I’ll leave something to Ris then,” Ithanar responds, still looking out the window. He’s ready for this conversation to be over, but he knows it’s far from it.

“Morningrey?” The younger elf asks, sounding incredulous.

Once upon a time, she actually might’ve been part of the family but that fell through, and for the best. She was too young, and Ithanar… he wasn’t one to be tied down, not then and possibly not now either.

Possibly never. There’s enough on his mind.

“Saoris, yes. I never exactly got back to her after-” He says, attempting to make sure he’s getting the correct Morningrey added to the will.

“Ithanar, can you please take this seriously?” Hylaen threatens, both hands tightening around the stack of parchment to a point where he may tear it all apart.

“I told you I was being serious, Hylaen,” Ithanar responds curtly, looking back at his companion now. “Given how involved you seem to want to be, why don’t you just execute the will and make the decisions.”

A scoff and an angry yell gives way to Hylaen stomping across the room and slamming the parchment against the desk. He doesn’t get this frustrated too often, but Ithanar has indeed struck a nerve to the point where the younger elf gives him a stare that is full of both fury and terror.

“I am not picking up after your mess… no, never, I’ve done enough of that!” He growls in the silver-haired elf’s face.

Ithanar stares right back at him unblinkingly, leaning forward so he can get a better look at Hylaen’s face. There’s another quiet moment, this one tense, perhaps a breaking point of a sort before the older elf finally gives way and leans back, sighing, hand rising to rub his temples.

“I’ll take care of it then. Just… just go,” the old elf says, waving his free hand to try and usher Hylaen from the room.

“Will you?” The younger elf demands, rising from the spot and already pacing across the room toward the door. He stops for a moment and turns, waiting for an answer.

“Yes, yes, I will,” Ithanar growls once more, watching Hylaen leave the room at that. The old elf’s gaze returns to the window, a calm quiet reaching across the mess and settling over the room.

He knows that he won’t take care of it. Without a family member on it, there’s really no need for a will. Not anymore.

Besides, it’s been a frustrating afternoon, and paperwork has never been his forté.

Written for the “Your Affairs” quest for Turn One of the “Edge of Night” campaign.

[rosirae-a]

[text:] i have to kill him. idk how to hit on him so he has to die.

grinning  down  at  her  phone ,  she  hesitates .  would  this  joke  be  taken  well  ?  she  hoped  so .  he  seemed  to  have  a  similar  sense  of  humor  just   from  that  text ,  so  it  seemed  likely .

[text]   :   oh mood ??

[text]   :   if u need any help talk 2 me

[text]   :   honestly tho i can knock him tf out if need be ..

@hylaen​