#mahclani

[quickbow]

She sat near the edge of Saviour’s Respite, contemplating all of the outlandish and impossible things she’d seen in the past few weeks. Sure, there were some elements that reminded her of home, like the peaceful quiet by this daunting cliff-side. Not many people deigned the spot interesting or safe, so Sera usually didn’t have to worry about other people interrupting her internal freak-outs. But today was different, as she heard the newcomer before she even turned to look. 

It wasn’t curiosity so much as survival instincts that brought her to turn her head, peering over her shoulder at an elf who’d taken the colourful path here. She didn’t resist rolling her eyes at the sight of those pointed ears and odd clothing. As tempted as she was to look away after that, something caught her eye—a green mark on the elf’s hand, eerily similar to that of the Inquisitor.

She scrambled to her feet with remarkable speed and balled her hands into tight fists. She knew one explanation for how that mark could be on a stranger, for at least one other person had tried to rip it from her friend’s hand.

❝Where is she?!❞ Furious beyond belief and a great measure afraid, Sera rounded on the stranger without hesitation. The elf was hardly shorter than herself and she wanted to smack that shocked look from her face. ❝What’d you do to the Inquisitor, you poncy elf?!❞ she cursed in a tone more accusatory and threatening than it was questioning. 

@mahclani

[flyingspinkicks]

@mahclani

The nights have been getting colder. For most, this time of evening people have gone to their homes to enjoy the warmth and coziness of it. However for you. This type of weather is growing to be nostalgic for you. To the time back in the temple when the bitter colds of winter welcomed your ever morning. Sometimes along a parade of fresh snow. 

This time of year however, wasn’t the time for snow but it was the time of change and rebirth. Trees reaching their horizon and turning the same hues of the setting suns and in due time follow the bleakness of winter. 

You breath in deeply, feeling the bite of the air in your nose as you let out a happy sigh. You didn’t have a destination but your ambling have led you to a small part of the lakeside park that while comfortable in its own darkness, had on its opposite the yellow glow of city light. A light that reminded you yet again of Sparrow’s Roost. 

You walk to the shore and take your shoes off, soaking your tired feet in the ebb and flow of the cold lake water. Another sigh leaving your lips. 

“Nights like this are perfect no?” 

You call out, not needing to close your eyes but feeling the presence of another near you. An aura of tranquility not unlike your own. 

[compassionatefade]

@mahclani @solium

There is a problem.

(There are a few problems, but the others are Cole’s, and so they aren’t very important. The largest - the tugging, burning need to follow both Inquisitors at once, even when they are apart and others are hurting - is, at least, not one now he’s gathered them both.)

The problem is that Elaria is hurting. The problem is that Rowen may hurt, in the same way, if this place does not keep him stuck in time. The problem is that Cole knows what they do not, and he won’t - he can’t -

The Mark will not consume them. That is easy to decide on: the rest is not.

“You should learn about each other,” he’s told them, and he does mean it - it’s just that it’s not the thing that needs most to happen now, but that thing isn’t something he knows how to say yet.

What will hurt them the least? What will stop future bruises from blossoming? They will be hurt, to learn about Solas - and what if he comes? When will he come from? Will he be hurt, to know Cole has betrayed him? Will it snuff out the ember of guilt that had been growing, that had made Cole think he would turn his back on his plans?

He isn’t meant to make choices. That’s what they do, strong and bright and quick in thoughts and battle, and he follows, unless it feels wrong. But he can’t tell them without making a decision in the doing, and no one else will understand what’s at stake.

The whirling-swirling of his thoughts would show up somehow in his movements, he knows, and distract them from what’s important - so he’s guided them to a room to talk where others can’t hear, and found a cabinet outside to perch upon once they’re inside. He tucks himself into the space between the wood and the ceiling and chases worries around and around, rocking back and forth.

[dvvouring-blog]

@mahclani​

he could feel his instincts dulling with every passing day. like muscles atrophied in prison, the peaceful environment was waging a quiet war on that which made mukuro deadly. even when he wanted to cause trouble, he was limited well within mortal bounds and then some, weapons hard to come by, law enforcement nothing to write home about, and the worst creatures that slithered here along with him were equally ineffective. it was not just mukuro weakened, but everything. peace was the only option.

that, he had decided, that war, was the worst of his time here. it was beginning to pull at him the same it had in his fifth life, and he would be damned if the path of humans took him again.

that was what had lead him to the edges of what the island allowed, branches they had been called, and further still to the aptly-named mistwood. to think it had taken him so long to approach something so clearly suited to him, and he wasn’t disappointed either, the sense of something lurking familiar and... dare he say comforting.

“fancy meeting another soul all the way out here.” his voice was quiet and measured, but rang clear in the silence of the forest, as he approached the woman from behind, curiosity ringing. she was still outside the range of his playfully-twirled trident, but that didn’t mean he was out of range of whatever she considered a weapon. “i was after a spot of hunting. i don’t care if you want to be prey or fellow hunter-- it’s all the same to me. but i fear those things on the edges of the mist might not suffer an innocent bystander.” fear, hope, what did it matter?

[existentialismee]

mahclani

The abundance of food before him delighted Watanuki in a way he had not felt in some time; dishes and smells that replicated what he knew from home invaded his senses, but in the most welcoming way possible. To think that those who controlled Spriale could bring in dishes that comforted their residences was astounding, and perhaps somewhat frustrating.. but for the time being, the shopkeeper couldn’t help but revel in what he had found. 

Japan was one of the many countries he knew that had a booth set up in the area, but there were also counties from other worlds he had never seen before, just as busy as the rest. His eyes scanned each and everything they could find with pure interest; he did, after all, appreciate the creation and art of cooking sometimes more than consuming it, though he wouldn’t mind trying what he was able to. Mismatched hues soon fell onto a woman who seemed to be eyeing the same things as him, and although he currently held a plate in his hand of food from his homeland, he was eager to try something unfamiliar.

“Ah, pardon me.. are you familiar with this?” a slim finger pointed to one of the steaming dishes that sat below them, smile soon following suit on Watanuki’s features. “There’s so many different dishes here I’ve never seen before, I’m not sure what I should be trying first.”

“If you have any suggestions, I would be happy to hear them.”

[calamitressed-blog]

            THERE’S   melon... ... Everywhere. 

            Whole melons. Melon dishes of literally any possible combination --- some of them she hasn’t even seen before. There’s contests boasting one’s ability to handle melon ( she... may actually consider it, if currency’s involved )... She’s even seen people wearing clothes centered around damn melons. 

            It’s a passing thought, but she wonders what Phi would make of all this; odds are he’d jump right in, wanting to experience it all before it went away. For the first time in a long time... She felt a pang of hunger that had nothing to do with her arm. 

               ❛   What’s the  DEAL  here ? Does this city... Worship melons ?   ❜

@mahclani  --- STARTER CALL. 

[uchihacycs]

“ you’re wounded. and i don’t wanna fight you. ”

the 1OO’s king roan starters || accepting

@mahclani

Sasuke was sat up against a tree with his hand pressed into a deep wound that had been struck into his side; he’d been trying to keep himself from bleeding out. And not only was he dripping with blood, but his body was covered in blade strikes, some deeper than others. But despite his condition, he had been ready to defend himself against the next person that crossed his path; just in case they tried taking advantage of him while he was wounded.

‘I don’t wanna fight you.’

The soft words caused Sasuke to loosen the grip on his sword, and it allowed him to focus more on keeping himself conscious. “Then…help me.” He didn’t want this to be his first death, he didn’t want to give those men the satisfaction. The samurai that had struck him down were not honorable, and they hadn’t fought Sasuke under honorable terms either. The story of the who, how, when, where and why, would be saved for another time. Preferably after Sasuke’s life was no longer in peril.

[dvvouring-blog]

The High Priestess

the high priestess: are you good at keeping secrets?

“weaving lies and truths together to assure everyone thinks exactly what i want them to think is my specialty. secrets are child’s play.” xe probably had a half dozen secrets being kept right now.