#lovemercifully

[thepelagoislands]

Alisa is going to work part-time at the Daybreak Orphanage~

Awesome! Be sure to update your bio and the Character Information Doc!

[promessedumonde-blog]

Faded Blessings || Henri and Alisa.

@lovemercifully

Traveling wasn’t particularly out of character for Henri. 

In the off times of the month, when there was nothing to nurture or harvest, he’d have a friend watch his animals for a few days and he’d go exploring and see other towns. 

Truthfully, he was in search of his hometown. It was so long ago, such a blur that he couldn’t really recall where it was, but he was sure if he visited enough places, he’d find home eventually. He had no real intention to move back, but just knowing it was there would soothe him a bit.

Perhaps it was habit that drew him into the church before the main town in Bluebell. Unsure of his surroundings, Henri tugged a bit at the green strand of hair at his nape, eyes darting around nervously. Maybe this was a bit of an intrusion, and he was being inconsiderate....When he spotted a priestess nearby, he lowered his head apologetically.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t bring anything...”

[incantesimi-blog]

The one I knew. || Alisa and Gale

@lovemercifully

He wasn’t someone that visited the church often.

It really wasn’t his realm. He had nothing against the deities, of course. He actually got along rather well with the goddess presiding over the little island, remembering her from the time he first set foot in Castanet, overwhelmed by the warm sensation of a very pure sort of magic.

Sephia sang.

She serenaded drowsy sprites from the tree in her spring, she sang to children and newborn babies, she sang to some sort of lost centuries old fool like him, and the mere water around her felt light and alive.

But her magic had grown cold as of late. Perhaps it was a lack of belief, or the progression of mankind, but the warm pulse of her influence was starting to fail, become irregular. But Castanet was not his place to save. Perhaps one of the newer residents, but not him. Rules and curses kept him and the witch from aiding, and so all he could do is walk to the church, sit, and think.

There weren’t many pilgrims or men and women of the cloth in the dead of night, and he could ponder, maybe even try to pray as only the starlight illuminated the flowing green hair in the stained glass.

“I wonder...if you still sing, even now....”

[vagrantfirn-blog]

strength: what’s something you’ve done on impulse?

Impulse was a thing familiar to the young man. Honestly, it could had became his middle name. He never was able to push himself to do things until he felt like he had the strength to strike out the world on his own, like the one time he left his mother and sister behind after a heated argument. Cliff has many mixed feelings about that situation, but the predominant thing that always had stuck to him was the fact he felt freedom for the first time. That he was able to breathe, and live and let live for that moment. How the endorphins in his body were kicking in, breathing as he lay in the snow. The flakes dancing and greeting his skin. That was a moment he never wanted to regret. Even if in the end it had it’s consequences. 

[vagrantfirn-blog]

moon: do you have any recurrent dreams?

“…. Several, actually.” Some places he’ll only be able to relive again were in his dreams, of the few times the vagrant had something of a family. His mother smiling, his sister, not filled of anger and resentment towards him. A homecooked dinner. Some of his dreams, he thinks of the snow- how it gracefully falls down and blankets itself to the ground. Beautiful, really. And other dreams…were more like nightmares he wouldn’t want to think about. Other than he believes he deserves the worst.

[vagrantfirn-blog]

tower: what do you most want to change about yourself?

“….”Everything.Maybe that reply was a bit too honest. Except he couldn’t utter the words out loud. Cliff was never quite happy about how things were about himself. How he was always too shy, how he was always too scared- afraid of so many things. How he can’t ever seem to speak up loud enough for people to pay heed to his words. How he has nothing to his name, no redeeming features or qualities– anything. Everything.If it all could start all over, he would do everything he could to become a better man- a better person- a better…me.

[lackadaisycasanova-blog]

devil: is there anything you’re addicted to?

He laughs warmly, and it echos the room. “There are a lot of things I’m quite addicted to, love. Beautiful people, drinking, gambling- oh I sound like I have a ticket straight towards the outer ring of hell! “After all, these vices will lead one to an inferno. And perhaps, that’s where he’ll be heading towards to if he doesn’t straighten his act up. Or, he could pray and pray and hope to the Goddess that she’ll forgive.

[lackadaisycasanova-blog]

ace of swords: Insecurities?

“Hmm….Any insecurities? Not many comes to mind.~” Dante hums along to himself, not exactly answering the question. Sure. He had plenty of insecurities. How he never worked hard enough. How he had never found something to fill that empty cup in his life. How everyone he’s met had tried ten times- no a thousand times- tenfold of millions of times harder to just, live.They were admirable really.As he scrapes on by- from the kindness of others. It seems rather disappointing to confess he wasn’t as lovely as he seemed.“Maybe my singing voice? I sure can get quite loud while i’m under the influence. Haha!”