#misty text

[mistysteps]

Going about my day and just periodically getting disrupted remembering that they named that man Frons. Frons Tachonis. Young Lord Frontal Bone himself. Frons????

[ellies-enrichment]

yellowjackets + text posts

[ellies-enrichment]

[mistysteps]

I have not been keeping up with this campaign at all but IMODNA REAL? IMODNA REAL???

[mistysteps]

Thinking about Mollymauk waking up for the first time. Disoriented, blind, suffocating. Immediately having to dig and claw and fight just to keep from dying again right there, under the earth, where nobody would know he’d been alive at all. When he breaks the surface, gasping for air (and he didn’t know he would, maybe didn’t know there was a surface to break through to), he doesn’t know where he is. He doesn’t know who he is. It’s just him, choking up lungfuls of dirt in a shallow grave, an overwhelming emptiness, and no one in sight.

And thinking about now, Mollymauk waking from the dead a second, impossible time. He doesn't wake up already horribly dying. When his reknit chest expands, the breaths come easily. He opens his eyes, and he isn’t surrounded by darkness, but a carnival of color, his body covered in flowers and fungi. New life blooming even as a whole, massive city fades and dies quietly around him. 

And this time, this time, he isn’t alone. Kneeling at his side, standing over him, are people. People who stare at him with disbelieving eyes, like he’s too good to be true, who catch him as he bolts in fear and hold him like they’ll never let go. They laugh and cry and speak to him gently, and even if he can't make sense of their words at first, they are insistent, reassuring. Here are clothes, here's your name, here are ours. This is you, this is us. This is, all nine of us, us. We missed you. We love you. Welcome back. 

He doesn’t know where he is, and he doesn’t know who he is. But these people do. And somehow, he recognizes them, knows them better, perhaps, than he knows himself. 

The emptiness is there, but it's filling. The second word out of his mouth (the second concept in his mind) comes not in days or weeks this time, but in seconds, and it's "love." Love is the woman weeping into his shoulder. Love is what’s flowing from these people into him and what’s welling in his heart for them, even if he doesn’t know why. Love is family, his family. They're here with him, and they are not leaving, never again.

[mistysteps]

It blows my mind just how powerful and dangerous Lucien is, and the fact that Molly had all of this capability within his body, but just straight up forgot how to use it??

Like Lucien can evidently notice and trace a Scry back to its caster and their physical location. He can track his way to this fortified location; stealth into the quarters of one of the most magically and politically powerful wizards on the continent; and murder her without much of a struggle under the noses of the seven level-13 adventurers hired to protect her, without them noticing until the middle of the next day.

MEANWHILE, cut to Mollymauk Tealeaf ten months ago, writhing around on the floor of a doctor’s office in a mess of assorted breakfast foods and his own blood in an unsuccessful attempt to steal a handwriting sample 

[mistysteps]

Artagan: fucked around and found out

[mistysteps]

BAD TO LOOK AT