#lostindrink

[daedaluscried]

@lostindrink

“ Have you ever... seen a dead body? “ A pause as she considered the question, a smile growing across her face, “ Would you like to? “

[magicmirrored]

@lostindrink liked for a starter! {x}

{ ☼ }

”Hey. Whatcha doin’ out here this late? S’dangerous in this neck of the woods.” Despite the battleaxe resting on her shoulder, Laine’s stance is lax, and she eyes the strange man curiously before her eyes travel down to the wineskin. “Get back from a party that’s a bit too borin’ and wanted t’spice it up?”

{ ☀ }

[forwardmoved-a]

        “i feel like we’re past the point of no return, mate.” it was as if the deep gnome had actually taken the other’s words in consideration and was going to move towards a better and more collaborative future with his party members. yet there was no one who was more eager to throw in the towel than he was. “anya has... disappeared, i don’t even know what went on there, but we’ve also got a hoard of zombies and an undead minotaur abomination who has the hots for me.”

STARTER CALL // @lostindrink

[codedsarcasm-archived]

     ❝  i’m not gonna be long and then i’ll be outta your hair. promise me you’ll  TAKE  CARE  of pault -----  ❞   nessa glances up from her pack, expecting the figure behind her to be diath ; he’s always checking on her, ensuring she’s okay, and she know he doesn’t agree with her decision to leave. but she knows that even under the spell’s influence, paultin was right about her.   ❝  oh. paultin. i’m -- i’ll hurry up.  ❞

@lostindrink   /   starter call.

[fatesought]

( @lostindrink | is the most patient person on this hell site )

     Call it a calculated risk when Quarth stepped back from nudging the collapsed creature with the heel of his boot; a haphazard test for nerve responses in the padding of its foot. (The last thing he wanted was to turn his attention towards the human that he had found cornered by it, only for the damn thing to get up and take a swipe at his backside.) All the while, never once opting to introduce himself; not when he first so the fight break out, or made a point to intervene and help the stranger. "How are your hands?” he asked warily, “Those are rather important for a musician, aren’t they?”

[savagedesign-a]

liefdesverdriet

wordstuck.co.vu    prompts.    |    (    accepting.    )

liefdesverdriet    :    the    sadness    ,    depression    or    pain    one    feels    about    a    love    unanswered    or    love    that    is    gone.

The  head  clutched  in  their  hand  is  cold    -    features  permanently  contorted  into  an  expression  of  shock   ,  of  fear.  Portion  of  the  spine  hangs  from  the  neck    ,  skin  in  tatters    ,  dangling  from  thin  strings  of  flesh  and  veins.  It  bled  little    ,  small  dots  spattering  upon  the  floor  with  each  of  their  steps    -    it  had  done  most  of  the  bleeding  on  the  walk  back.  Their  home  is  empty  and  cold    ,  feeling  much  more  like  a  cave  rather  than  a  place  of  residence.  Lifeless  skull  is  dismissed  over  their  shoulder  as  they  enter  their  bathroom    ,  and  they  strip  to  their  bare  skin    ,  gazing  at  their  reflection  in  the  mirror  with  apathy.  What  a  beast  they  were    ,  caked  with  layer  upon  layer  of  gore.  It  served  as  a  protective  barrier    ,  almost    ,  isolating  them    ,  ensuring  their  safety.  As  water  begins  to  wash  away  blood    -    theirs  and  foreign     ,  they  become  vulnerable    -    just  as  weak  as  any  other    ,  flawed    ,  tainted  by  the  gratuitous  solitude.

They  wanted  to  imagine  imperfections  upon  their  fragile  muscle  being  traced    -    hands  gliding  over  sensitive  skin    ,  then  again    ,  if  their  own  spouse  could  not  bear  to  look  at  them    ,  much  less  touch  them    ,  then  it  must  be  a  want  that  must  stay  unanswered.  How  ugly  they  were    -    all  bones  and  skin  covered  in  foreign  blood    -    what  would  their  wife  say    ?  As  they  bathe  themselves    ,  they  pretend  the  hands  that  lather  their  body  and  trace  the  scars  are  not  their  own    ,  sliding  over  rough    ,  worn  skin  with  no  other  intention  than  to  make  them  feel  better.  Fingertips  drawing  designs  upon  their  sides    ,  their  neck    -    they  imagine  gentle  coaxing  being  whispered  into  their  ear  recounting  how  strong  they’ve  been    -    how  pretty  they  are.  Or  perhaps  no  words  would  be  said  at  all    ,  and  each  other’s  heartbeats  would  be    .    .    .    

                                                                             enough.  

The  fantasy  that  they  had  created  for  themselves  was  just  that    -    a  fantasy    ,  and  they  were  reminded  of  that  as  a  calloused  finger  catches  on  a  particularly  sensitive  patch  of  skin.  A  sharp  inhale  is  given  in  response  to  the  unwelcome  sensation    ,  eyes  which  had  been  previously  closed  suddenly  opening. 

Hands  fall  to  their  side    ,  and  their  head  is  set  upon  a  tiled  wall    ,  unmoving  as  the  shower  head  spits  water  devoid  of  heat    ,  at  someone  devoid  of  love.

[lightsmace-blog]

@lostindrink liked for a healer! {x}

{ ⚕ }

"A bard, are you?”

It was a late night in that tavern, though something hung in the air that caused its patrons to sink low into their seats, and the overall atmosphere to feel somewhat oppressive. Sefris jingled a few coins in her hand as she glanced to the bard’s instruments.

“Wouldn’t happen to take a request for a bit of coin?” Gray eyes traveled down to the mugs near him. “Or would you rather me pay you in drinks?”

{ ⚕ }

[plainborn-a]

@lostindrink // x.

❛ i have come to accept the fact that you will do something to stress me out at least once a day. ❜