#matrixstreasuryofmuses

[cupcakesmuses]

[ continued from here with @matrixs-treasuryofmuses​ and Bambi ]

“Thanks, kid. How old are you?” The copper teifling shot the little druid a tired but sharp toothed smile. It was a hell of a day. Timon’s armor was off to the side, plated dulled bronze. He’d take it to get polished up... and undented at some point. That took coin he didn’t really have...

He looked down to the wound of his arm, flexing his fingers over it... but he had nothing for now. Not even a little bit. He sighed, leaning back, but looked over the kid’s handy work.

“You might have a future in the divine art of fixin’ up.”

[saintsdawn-archive]

A sleep potion.

give them an item.

It could be a powerful tool. In the right hands, the potion could remove several obstacles. It's a shame that the hands holding it belong to her.

Florence stares at the potion, admiring the way the liquid plays with the light. " I'm afraid you're wasting this on me. I lack the creativity to use it, and I'd hate to fall into a deep slumber here. It might be best that you take it back. "

[saintsdawn-archive]

[ SPARK ]: the sender builds a make-shift fire in a hurry in order to warm up a freezing receiver during a snow storm. from cassia

caught in a blizzard.

If her fingers would just work, then Cassia wouldn’t have to struggle against the wind. The joins are stiff, though. The words needed for basic incantations slip from her mind – blame shifts from the frigid storm to her own carelessness and, for the third time since they’ve found shelter, the cleric curses.

After a lifetime in the valley, she ought to know the signs of an approaching storm. 

Eventually there’s a spark, and Florence watches as Cassia feeds the growing flame. “ We should have made it to town, ” Florence mutters, pulling both the cloak and the woolen blanket tight. “ We should have kept going. ”

It would have been a terrible idea. 

[saintsdawn-archive]

If you ever need rid of the creature, there are plenty who would help you put it to rest - I would hate for you to get hurt because of a soft heart.

tell us about. . .

“ You speak as if I’m made of glass. ” 

The stranger is ushered towards the door. Beyond its faded, old wood lies darkness, and Florence doesn’t bother to offer them a lantern. “ I’m not, and I won’t shatter because of a mistake – a potential mistake – made out of kindness. ” 

A finger points. Her patience is growing thin, and it’s her hope that they leave before it dissolves. “ You’ve overstayed your welcome – go, and watch your tongue when you speak of Cassia. ”

[saintsdawn-archive]

"Don't ever let that heart go hard, Florence. It's beautiful and kind like the sunrise... it helps people feel like hope again."

make them feel loved.

For once, Florence is thankful for the changing seasons. Dropping temperatures call for thicker clothing and layers of clothes, and the hooded cloak she wears obscures all expressions. It's a small blessing.

What it doesn't accomplish is masking her voice. Tight with rising emotion, Florence forces herself to say, " You're giving it too much credit, but thank you, Cassia. I. . . I try. "

[moonridge]

"Thank you f-for helping me Ozus, I-I am glad you... you are here to help. You are quite a b-boon to the party."

( make ozus feel loved. || accepting! )

　　　　　　　　　*

　　　❝ ... wait. can you repeat that? the last part in specific. ❞ something about the praise sets ozus's heart aflutter. it's not often they get it, after all.

[saintsdawn-archive]

Perhaps you should ask the abomination itself, watch it omit the truth if not lie completely about it - it would not serve it's reason to tell someone like you, Saint. Perhaps it will try to kill you for learning the truth.

ask my muse about their relationships.

“ No. ”

With the final candle lit, Florence turns to face the ( unfortunately bold ) stranger. She doesn’t recognize their face, and she decides she doesn’t care. “ Cassia hasn’t dug into my past, and I won’t dig into hers. If she wishes to speak, she will. ”

There are several things in the stranger’s rant that sink in her stomach. The easiest one to focus on is their use of an unwanted title. This is where Florence channels her frustration, lifting a hand and guiding them towards the door ( the grip is strong, the push just shy of forceful ).

“ Unless you wish to be caught on the streets when night falls, I suggest you leave. ”

[saintsdawn-archive]

A corpse? Is it even it's corpse? Running around with a stolen face - what is it's goals even anymore? Does it understand it should be purged and put to rest. The thing you call Cassia is blasphemy, and cruel to whoever it's hijacked. Think of the people who cared for the person it used to be?

ask my muse about their relationships.

Morninglord, Watcher of the Dawn, Lord of Life, grant me your beacon of holy sun and turn these wretched abominations from your light. The chant repeats itself. Once, twice, and a third time before it’s silenced by the creaking of floorboards.

“ I know nothing of this, ” Florence says, lighting the candles, “ and I feel obligated to give Cassia the benefit of the doubt. How do you know this isn’t her face ? How do you know her past ? ” 

Of course, the teachings of her mentor demand that a sword be in her hand. The thought makes her face twist in disapproval. “ I think you should leave. ”