#mercyburned

[thoserubyeyes]

2, 3, and 13!

From here ── 𝐌𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝐌𝐄𝐌𝐄 -- 𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒 .✦ (Yes, yes, I know it is no longer mun-day but I was bored)

2. Do you listen to music when you write, something else, or do you need silence?

I love listening to music while writing! It inspires me, gets me into the flow and the mood of things. I listen to different bands and genres depending on who I write as and what tone I'm going for. I always listen to Depeche Mode when I write Astarion.

3. What are themes you enjoy exploring in your writing?

I love psychological stuff. Thoughts and feelings that I can really describe from the character's perspective. Like how they would react to being told something. How they would feel, what their body language and facial expressions are like. The wider impact of something so small, yet massively damaging. Can't get enough of it!

13. What do you find is easiest to write about?

I feel like my writing reflects this but I find that descriptive pieces come naturally to me. It's easy for me to set the scene, describe an object, feeling or how a character might be feeling or did feel. Sometimes, I feel like my writing is a little over-descriptive and it gets a little boring? But that's just an honest self-criticism, I'm not putting myself down.

[pcrseverance]

|| @mercyburned asked: ❝  come sit a little while with me.  tell me how you’ve been? really.  ❞ / Sahar

There's something about Sahar that soothes him, although he's never been entirely sure what. The cadence of her speech, perhaps, or a subtle scent he's come to associate with her. Or maybe it's just the way her expression never pinches no matter how bullheaded he's being.

He sits beside her, considering his answer, gaze trailing over the waves of her hair as if that might help his words, but it doesn't and all he can really think of is

"Tired," he admits, "although everyone must be, so I can hardly complain about that."

[fatedmuses]

❛ when i look at you, i don’t see your mistakes. ❜ / rhys to shadowheart?

"What mistakes?" Shadowheart asks playfully. "I've never made a mistake in my entire life."

They both know that's not true. Not for anyone, and especially not for them, raised in shadow and darkness, where every mistake was met with... correction.

Despite this, she smiles at Rhys, hoping to maybe pull a smile out of him for once, too. "But you're sweet to say so. Tell me, what do you see, beyond the mistakes I don't make?"

[thoserubyeyes]

[ MANSION. ] for our muses to explore Cazador’s mansion. / Rhys

These halls were a gaudy sight, unsightly gold and red adorning every wall, every inch of ever surface. It's exactly what Astarion had anticipated as him and his party shuffled cautiously through the endless maze that was Szarr Palace. He was incredibly surprised by how easily they were able to simply walk in without questioning, but he knew that this is what Cazador wanted -- he wanted his missing puzzle piece to return willingly.

"Ugh. It's everything I imagined it would be -- horridly tacky."

The further they traversed, the spawn's features gradually contorted to show pure disgust as he inhaled the worsening stench of death and stale blood. He glanced sideways at Rhys, "--Do you smell it too?" He asked, voice barely a whisper, laden with distain for the entire venture they found themselves in.

It evoked one of the most confusing feelings he'd ever felt. It brought to him unpleasantness, revulsion, the urgent need to flee. But it also brought an uneasy comfort, an uninviting safety, in a place he was somehow familiar with, even though he'd never once stepped foot inside his Master's abode until now. It didn't make a blind bit of sense. But what really did in his wretched life? He thought he would hate coming here, simply dreaded the thought of it. But instead, it felt strangely... like home.

[fatedmuses]

[   LIPS   ]     ,     sender  kisses  receiver  on  the  mouth. / Clare & Gale

Gale had been about to say something, when Clare kissed him, and all the thoughts in his brain disappeared, floating away like butterflies in the wind. He leaned into her eagerly, bringing up a hand to cup her cheek, pulling her in closer.

When they finally parted, he let his forehead rest against hers, drinking her in. If this was to be their last night together, he would make it a special one.

"I love you," he whispered solemnly, searching her gaze. Perhaps that was premature, but it was how he felt. He longed to spend the rest of his life with her.

If only they had more time.

[lcftwild]

bellamy can feel the pressure building at the base of his neck, compressing what little bit of patience he's built up over the day. it's not much, and he knows he's walking around like a ticking time bomb, but he's done his best to keep it from leaking out onto anyone else. he's hidden away from the others, using miscellaneous chores that no one else wants to do as an excuse to stay away. it's not like anyone's really asking too many questions, after all; no one wants to be there when he finally explodes. except, maybe, fucking finn. bellamy doesn't even have to look, just knows by the other's steps who it is, and he heaves a sigh that feels like it comes from the very bottom of his stomach. "unless you're here to tell me something is actively on fire, collins, might I suggest turning around." pushing his luck? maybe. but bellamy figures if something was on fire, or otherwise wrong with the ship, the other man would be a little more hasty with his steps.

starter call for @mercyburned !

[thoserubyeyes]

Clare hadn't exactly set out to draw Astarion that evening - her doodles in her journal were usually more relevant to information or battles or important players in the Grey Warden's version of the Grand Game that she might need to call upon, or at least recall, later on. But she found herself sketching out his face anyway. She couldn't imagine not remembering what her own face looked like. It was sad in a way that was peculiar to express, though she didn't think he'd appreciate being told that part outright.

Carefully, she tore out the page with the sketch on it and decided she'd done a good enough job of it. With a slight noise of discomfort as she stood and put weight on her bad knee, she mosied over to Astarion and handed him the sketch. “Don't think into it too much, but you should be able to see your own face.”

The night was still young. The companions had wound down for the night. The vampire had just had his fill of blood and was lounging among his assortment of pillows, whispering to imaginary friends in the form of shadows around him and the stars in the dark sky.

His ruby eyes clapped to the movement of Clare waltzing over to his den, a piece of parchment in-hand. What was it? More schematics to share? Her enthusiasm was beginning to bore him -- he always preferred to be more... spontaneous. Plans never went well, anyway. He quickly sat up, realising that this was for him. It found its way into his hand. He raised an eyebrow at the red-head's words at first.

Then he looked down at the paper which gave him all the context he needed.

For once, the vampire was lost for words. His eyes narrowed as he studied the intricate sketches of pencil lead, a mixture of soft and harsh lines and shading that shaped his face, outlined his features, every perfect curl of his hair, a sharp profile. And those eyes. Those piercing eyes. It was no wonder everyone seemed to flounder over him.

"--This is..." He gently traced a part of the drawing with a single fingertip, the very faintest bubble of a tear collecting in the corner of his eye. "--I never took you for an artist." He quickly blinked it away before Clare could notice, looking up at her. "This was an unexpected surprise, my dear. Thank you."

[lcftwild]

"why are you on my couch?" bellamy's nose wrinkles in the slightest distaste as he walks through the door, eyes drifting around the room briefly before landing on the other again. he didn't remember making plans with finn, didn't think they had anything to do that required for him to be here, but that didn't mean anything really. bellamy wasn't the only one that planned his life, something that he was very aware of and didn't necessarily agree with -- but fighting with octavia or, hell, even clarke was not worth the time or energy. "whatever it is, you're gonna have to let me eat first, man."

itty bitty starter call for @mercyburned !