#llymlaenscompass

[ronsenboobi]

look, i’m not saying morgana plays favourites, but bear is clearly her good son,

[uldahnwitch]

llymlaenscompass replied to your post:@llymlaenscompass No lie, I might start tagging...

OF COURSE ITS OK TO REBLOG

OK! I DON’T KNOW WHY BUT I THOUGHT IT MIGHT HAVE BEEN WEIRD ha ha ^__^’

[yuri-cocaine]

llymlaenscompass replied to your post:i actually really dislike heatwave weather for...

Even for not using photoshop all your screens look really pretty, crisp, and bright. I DIG EM BRAH

thanks for the compliment cap'n!! i'll keep at it then until i figure out how to pirate a photoshop for meself

[traversingtherealm]

♥ also i am sending one on behalf of sammish for thierre/maddy bc i'm shipping garbage thank u

SCREAMS OK……

“Ah… Madelaine. You know, when I first started to get to know her, I always believed she was quite beautiful. But that was when she was in her disguise, and now that I know what she truly looks like, I am blown away. Her vibrant red hair is… There’s such a fire she possesses and it’s so clear with the colour of her hair. Her eyes… Turquoise like the gem itself.” He felt a blush coming to his face, perhaps his fondness for Madelaine was a bit too obvious. “And I especially want to note the tattoo that she has over her eyes. It’s beautiful, and it is a shame she had to keep it covered for so long. Its statement is important.”

[traversingtherealm]

I shouldn’t have to wear my disguise anymore.

My part of an art trade with llymlaenscompass. I LOVE MADELAINE!!!!!!!!!!!!

[ronsenboobi]

llymlaenscompass replied to your post:gore talk related to the rp that was tychon’s...

OH DEAR…. yeah lmao RIP myself i do think I will be avoiding those GOT episodes when they come up

yeah it’s just

pretty awful and gross

(for the record, the ones you wanna avoid are the end of 4x08 and relatively at the beginning of 5x10)

[benzedrine-bear]

Urianger and Tataru for Bristol and F'real :'D

Added some short answers for Sedha, too.

“What does mycharacter find cute?”

Bristol

He pauses, thencontinues putting the heavy tome he was holding back on its shelf.  The motion is noticeably more stiff than ithad been.  Does red skin make blushharder to see?  The roegadyn scruncheshis face in consideration and clears his throat, buying time.

“Uh…excitement,I guess.  When someone is passionateabout something, and they get worked up talking about it.  It could be about anything, really.  Their work, something they ate, a game theyplayed at the Saucer…  Anything likethat.  It’s good to see someone soexcited about anything.”

F’real

“These questionsare really all over the place, aren’t they?” He smirks, thinking over the question through a lengthy sip from hisgoblet.  “There’s a lot, isn’tthere?  I think I’d have to say mooglesare cute, but that’s a given.  In termsof people… It’s hard not to stray into things I find ‘attractive’ as opposed tojust ‘cute.’  I think someone who likesto be playful with their dress is cute.” He nods.  “You know, someone whomixes it up now and then.  Changes theirhair in an interesting way, or tries a really different kind of outfit youwouldn’t expect.  You can be surprisedwhat ends up working really well!”

Sedha

“Cute?  I’d like to see a baby behemoth one day.  I bet they’re adorable!  Coeurls, and goobbues, and qiqirns, andgoblins are all cute, too.”

“Huh?  People?” A shrug.  “I don’t know aboutthat.”

“Has my character lost a loved one?”

Bristol

“I’ve been lucky.  I haven’t lost anyone that I can remember –not yet, anyway.  Everyone I held dear tome was with me at Carteneau, and they’re still here.  Somehow.”

F’real

“My parentspassed away a few years ago.  They werefairly old…both got sick in the same year. It was peaceful.  I didn’t reallyknow any extended family.”

Sedha

“I don’t think I’vehad much to lose so far.  I do now, and Idon’t think I would let that happen.”

[broccolifabre]

Louisoix, and Raubahn!

Louisoix: What is the greatest sacrifice my character has made?

     Bricole Fabre raised an eyebrow at the question. Shrugging, he grinned “I didn’t eat for an entire week so I could afford a new bit of tech, if that counts.” He took a long drink from his mug before sighing. “Why do you people insist upon following me about, asking such invasive questions? Can’t you see I’m sitting alone in a bar?” He made a sweeping gesture as he spoke, as if his interrogator may not have realized where they were. “No man sits alone in a bar when he’s full of cheer, does he? Were I seeking company,” He raised a finger, pausing for a moment. “Which, mind you, I’m not. But if I were, it certainly wouldn’t be the sort that asked me to dig deep for all sorts of emotional garbage!” With a loud harrumph and a slap to the table, Fabre stood.

     “If you’re asking for a story of grand sacrifice for the greater good, ask somewhere else.” His expression was suddenly grim, his eyes cast toward the floor. “I can not claim any sacrifice.” A solemn shake of the head and a deep breath allowed him to think for a moment. “No, the sacrifice was not mine. I crafted weapons for a good while. Weapons that were sold in order to fund my research.” He was clearly distraught, running his fingers through his hair near constantly. “The customers paid up all the same, regardless of quality… To meet the high demand, I was forced to craft weapons that didn’t live up to my standards. Or any standards, for that matter. They were trash.”

     Fabre moved to the exit, no longer feeling social. “Makes you wonder, doesn’t it?” He spoke softly, no audience in mind. Musings of a depressed man. “How many of those weapons were used to kill innocents? Worse yet, how many were purchased by innocents for self defense, and malfunctioned, leading to their death?” His choked on his last words, hanging his head in shame. “I may as well have pulled the trigger myself, you know?” He dabbed at his eyes with his sleeve and breathed deeply in an attempt to calm himself. “As for your question… I’ve never sacrificed a thing. I made those poor men, women, and children give their lives for my work. So I’ll keep crafting. If only to some day make something that saves more lives than I’ve taken. It still won’t be enough, I know. But my judgement will take place after I’ve passed. Until then, I can only strive to make their unwilling sacrifice worth the price.” Hunching his shoulders against the cold, he stepped out into the Ishgardian night and was gone.

Raubahn: What scars does my character have?

     “I bet you’re hoping for a tale of battle, huh?” He joked with a smile. “Saving the fair maiden, slaying the demon that enthralled her? Maybe I got these scars from Ifrit himself?” With each suggestion he struck a different dramatic pose. From that of a stalwart knight, shield raised, to a fierce fighter crouching low, and finally a mock gesture of fear, trembling with arms held out before him. 

      “The truth may leave you wanting, I’m afraid.” He took the last bite of a sandwich he had been eating. “Buh tuh weh,” His words came out muffled by a mouth full of food. Signaling to wait a moment, he chewed a few more times then swallowed. Smiling, he forged on “By the way, how do you keep getting in here? You just sort of… show up and ask me these wild questions. I’d like to call you a friend, but I feel that requires both of us know something about the other. As it stands, you know much of me and I know nothing of you.” He paused for a moment, hoping for a response. A name? A small bit of history? Receiving nothing, he sighed and shrugged. “Right, strong silent type. I guess you give me something to think about, at the very least.”

      Fabre cleared his throat, brushing his hands on his pants as he did so. “Your question. Most of these scars” He pointed to the scars on his face and arms. “Are caused by my own stupidity.” His grin indicated he was quite proud of his ability to be just dumb enough to get hurt, but not dumb enough to die. “This one here,” He pointed to a nasty burn along his forearm. “Is from a smithing incident. So I’m carrying this length of red hot steel from the forge to the anvil, right?” He stretched his arms out and began to walk across the room, mimicking his story. “But I didn’t have the tongs quite right on the thing. So it began to slip.” His face took on a shocked expression as he fumbled his arms about. “Me being the smart guy I am, figured I ought to catch it. However, I didn’t want to burn my hand! You know, the hand with a protective mitt on it designed for occasions just like this one. Couldn’t burn that. So what I did,” He leaned down, stretching one arm out much further than the other. “Was try to catch the steel with my forearm. Less damage done that way, yeah?” He shook his head, chuckling to himself. “At this point, I really wish I could make some whimsical statement about ‘oh, to be young’ or some such. But to be honest, I’d probably still do the same thing were I placed in the same situation this afternoon. I’m a brilliant man, understand” He tapped the side of his head twice to accentuate his point. “Just not very smart.” 

     “Anyway,” He spoke fondly, still cheered by his own tale. “As you can see, I’m quite busy.” He gestured to the remainder of his lunch that still sat on the table. “The rest of the scars will have to wait for another day. Wouldn’t want to get them all at once, would we?” He turned and opened the door, indicating it was time for his new ‘friend’ to leave. “Do come back, though. I’ve come to enjoy our… Or, well, my ramblings.”