#lolthswear

[rew0205]

[selunight]

@lolthswear said: "your world doesn’t make sense."

the symbol drawn through the dirt is rudimentary at best — a rough sketch of the defining emblem of her goddess, not highly detailed but still recognizable... at least, in celeste's opinion. there was no intention behind it; her prayers would be heard with or without symbols around, but idle hands were always a struggle for her and the twig had been within reach as she had unburdened herself into the open air, hoping that selûne had the time to listen. even if she didn't... it felt good to let it all out.

she doesn't let the interruption bother her, nor the words spoken. "anything can be understood," she points out, looking up at azril with one raised brow; there was a challenge there. " if you take the time to try."

[peacereflecteda]

𝙱𝙶𝟹 𝙼𝚄𝚂𝙴𝚂 𝚂𝚃𝙰𝚁𝚃𝙴𝚁 𝙲𝙰𝙻𝙻 // @lolthswear

𝙶𝙰𝙻𝙴 𝚆𝙾𝙽'𝚃 𝙻𝙸𝙴 to himself ; she intimidates him . but , he reasons , that's no reason not to socialize , try to get to know her more than just what her appearance shows . they do say not to judge books by their cover , don't they ? ❝ i , for one , am glad we crossed paths with you . i'd love to know more about anything you'd kindly divulge , ❞ and he smiles warmly , hoping such an invitation isn't dissuading . ❝ and of course you can ask me anything as well . i'm an open book , truly . ❞

[ravingardmoved]

patron’s voice rings across his mind, the feeling of her claws across his face, the smell of brimstone and ash that fills his lungs, suffocates words before he can speak them. this is a part of his pact, the inability to put it to words, to explain. mizora had said this was due to her desire of privacy, it had been necessary, she could not have demons and devils discovering her work for the greater good, that she had given power to a hero.

or at least wyll had assumed as much. as of late, the blade has started to question the nature of their pact, his patron's true intentions were still a mystery to him.

you're not telling me the full story. you're leaving things out

wyll does not find himself defensive, he understands curiosity is a part of their nature, what has led them together, bonded their party of misfit adventurers. he knows that if the situation were reversed, if the shoe were on the other foot, he might feel that same spite, that same hesitance at lack of answers, at the spaces left for the imagination to fill.

“ i would tell you if it were important. ” the blade counters, avoidance is not malicious in nature, and he truly hopes @lolthswear knows as much. “ i hope i have done enough to ask you to trust me in these regards. ”

[archivestarlyht]

what’s up with your ears.

he didn’t give a fuck who asked,   despite himself.   the question stirred a cold rush of anger through him,  and his posture stiffened.  it was out of line,   presumptuous,   arrogant.   as though they were owed anything!   —-   well,   he supposed she fit right in there.   the ranger blinked at her through cold red eyes.  humiliating enough without such brazenness.  flatly,   he simply responded,   “no.   we’re not doing this.”  she could rage at him for all it mattered.  what was the worst she could do?  it would be a miracle if she could survive on her own!

[archivestarlyht]

❝ Do you take me for a fool? ❞ / sol

𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐌𝐁𝐎𝐑𝐍 : 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐎𝐍𝐄

“by the dark mother's web,”   the ranger swore,    “i didn't say that.”   a pity he was so fucking desperate because he swore he would rather be devoured by gnolls than endure another moment of azril's company if this was how she insisted on being.   “i'd say there's a strong chance that out of everyone here i'm the only person whose fought a minotaur before.”   why would she ever have needed to,   he thought,   when she would have had soldiers like him do it instead?

he didn't know why she had insisted on coming along rather than allow him to scout ahead ono his own.   couldn't she have let him enjoy a moment of peace for once?   the company he traveled with now was the largest he'd been a part of in decades.  he missed being on his own.   and,   dare he think it,   as much as he disliked baldur's gate,   he found himself missing his old life before being thrust into this nightmare.   “i'm just telling you.   they're strong and can sniff out prey like hounds so we should avoid getting closer until we have some sort of strategy.  it wasn't a slight against you.”

[archivestarlyht]

❝ Guard your tongue or I'll have it out. ❞ / sol

𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐌𝐁𝐎𝐑𝐍 : 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐎𝐍𝐄

she meant every syllable.   there was something in her eyes,  in the sharp lash of her voice.   it was a cold cruelty familiar to him despite his efforts to forget,   one he only now realized he did not wish to test.  the surface was not menzoberranzan.  he needn't twist himself into a groveling thing, but two centuries of careful conditioning clawed at his throat.  and he'd seen her cast.   he'd seen what she was capable of.   he would not put it past her to flex that carefully cultivated cruelty on him.

though there was a bit of a displeased set to his jaw,   the ranger lowered his eyes.  very quietly,  trying to gauge her reaction,   he said,  “i didn't mean to overstep.   all of this   ----”    he gestured around,  clearly indicating the dinn of the goblin camp and its zealous pandemonium in praise of their false god.  but he meant more than that,   guarded as he tried to be.   he wanted to claw his own eye out,   how terribly the parasite in his brain writhed in response to the bursts of psionic energy all around.   it was agony,  knowing how at any moment he could turn,  becoming a hideous tentacled mockery of himself and at the mercy of an elder brain's will.  “----   it's overwhelming.   all i'd meant is that i think it's best to be cautious about these parasites.”   the power they offered couldn't be worth it.

[menzoberras-archive]

stop squirming! you're going to be fine!

He can liken his reaction to that of a squirming child with how adamant he is that he is perfectly fine. He has had worse in his long, long lifetime and there would certainly be worse to come. It is not one of those ailments that can mend themselves if he simply chose to ignore it, and both of them know it. Were it not for the poison that coated the blade that stuck him, he would be keen to throw a bandage over it and hope for the best.

Shi'ndra scowls, but that deep rooted notion of respect grips him tight, even this far above groud. Begrudgingly, he relaxes. Unhappily, too, if the creases between his brows are anything to go by too. "It will be fine." It's said through grit teeth, and as the fabric of his shirt bares more of his ribs, he is aware of the warmth slipping over his skin from where it peels from flesh. "Ffffffuck, could you not do that a little more carefully?"