#ofelitiism

[cursedfortune]

The pastry curse is upon you too... no escaping it down.

@of-elitiism

"As long as they aren't very sweet, I will not complain. Free food is free food." Proceeds to take a comically large bite of the pancake before offering to share.

[cursedfortune]

Smash or pass? (Rose from the dead to send this for Achim, lmao)

Smash/Pass. @of-elitiism

This one was tough. Was Achim attractive? Yes. He also had a fun personality she was enjoying getting to know. They also shared a mutual enjoyment of just... doing things. Making something or fetching something when it reminded them of the other. He also had a sense of humor in there that she enjoyed playing with.

Her main issue regarded his age. Not necessarily in a literal sense, as she understood he was a young adult. Mortem did her best to respect how mortals viewed age and how her kind did. But he still felt younger than she usually would take an interest in. Of course, that was just with where they were at currently - still getting familiar with one another. She wasn't even aware of his favorite color, so it was very possible she was only seeing through a narrow lens and things could change.

"I'm going to keep this one up in the air." The witch lifted her hand to the side of her face, pondering the matter. "I don't think I have enough information to determine how I feel on the matter. So Achim can stay on the table. Conveniently, a very fun place to smash." She quipped.

[punkbites]

@of-elitiism Cont. from here

"I can go for like ten beers right now." Jacks put the guitar down, running a hand through his sweaty mohawk.

"You said that for breakfast too." Connor retorts, plopping down on a box, giving the punk a smirk.

Jacks just shrugged and reached for the mini fridge, grabbing himself and Connor a beer and Damian a coke.

Damian caught it, giving Jacks a loong stare. "Why did you throw your pick?" He inquired, opening the can.

Jacks took a swig of his beer. "I always do that."

"Yeah but wasn't that one of your favorites?"

Again the Punk shrugged. "S' just a pick."

Connor and Damian looked at each other, shrugging as well.

[demon-slayer-kaiden]

[ Achim ] Her gift is very, very badly wrapped in brown paper and scotch tape amd the young wolf is visibly embarrassed by it. Regardless he offers it, even if it's kinda hard to look up rigt now. "Soooo happy birthday---" he mumbled at first but then immediately perked up. "Got ya sharpenin' stones. Ya got all the grits from shapin' to smoothin'. A-And there's also a leather pad and wax for bufferin' and shine. They work pretty much on any kinda metal and some ceramics too, his embarrassment sways the more technical he gets with his explanations, but then returns when he looks atvhis poorly wrapping job. "It ain't pretty t'look at but yea... hope ya like it, Kaiden."

Kaiden took the haphazardly wrapped gift, her lips forming a small smile. Wrapped badly or no, the fact that Achim took the time to get her a gift and he put quite a lot of thought into it while keeping it practical and useful? That was enough to brighten her mood.

Carefully tugging at the brown paper, she unwraps it and studies the new set of sharpening tools. Her own were in a desperate need for replacement after so many years of use. "Wow...this is..." she tries to find the words, 'High-Quality, expensive though, do I deserve it?' are a few thoughts that run through her head as she ran her fingers over the items.

One arm pulls the young wolf into a friendly side hug "This is wonderful Achim, Thank you. I'll be sure to put them to good use and take care of them well."

[ardauntly-a]

@of-elitiism  /  sc.

            the gentle tinkle of the bell above the door  ,  drawing the attention of the woman behind the counter  .  the open door ushers in a rush of cool  ,  fresh air  ,  temporarily overtaking the light earthy  ,  musky  ,  and floral scent of incense  .  ❝  welcome  ,  ❞  penelope greets with a smile  ,  standing from her seat  ,  ❝  please  ,  take a seat  ,  ❞  she gestures to the empty chair in front of her  ,  ❝  may i offer a cup of tea  ??  ❞  she queries  ,  ❝  or do you prefer another sort of beverage  ??  ❞  she should have some coffee beans around  ,  maybe juice . . . 

[moonescent]

"--Have you ever heard of Krampus, Achim?" Hinata asks as the two stroll past a shop with a Santa figure in the window. "He's, umm, part of European folklore, I think. . " @of-elitiism

[cursedfortune]

❰❰ PIN ❱❱ sender pins receiver during training [ for Achim ]

Self-Indulgent. @of-elitiism

Part of the witch's routine was keeping sharp her swordsmanship. She was diligent to sharpen and clean her weapon, even though it often stayed within the bag of holding tied to her waist. Typically, she'd venture out early in the morning into the clearing out front of her cabin to stretch and practice. Her sword first, the spear second.

Not many took her seriously upon first glance with a sword. She knew why, she was a delicate looking creature. Lithe, her muscle mass hidden beneath an inky black dress - it didn't help that spell of regeneration left her skinnier than a woman of her height ought to be. In a normal circumstance, someone of her build shouldn't be able to wield a sword for more than a few swings - let along a polearm. But she was built for adversary, she existed as the push and the pull. Forever acting as a challenge for mortals to overcome.

Seeing Achim up early led to her paying him a quick glance, sword in hand still for she hadn't gotten to the latter half of her practicing. She often preferred to do these routines by herself, never certain of when her hand would grip the handle and her body would seize up - the trauma of war washing over her. Thankfully, she seemed in the clear this morning.

Inviting him to join her was met with hesitation at first, but the more they danced to this violent rhythm, the more he began to reveal himself. His instincts were sharp and getting sharper. For Mortem, it was less about winning and more about learning about Achim. Her footing was measured, playing it safe (though, not for her sake). She studied how he reacted, observed his strength and speed and how sharp his instincts were. It made his intuition a thing to marvel at

Her experience combating werewolves was limited, if only due to those she has known having a preference to avoid hostility. Achim was young but she saw the potential in the way he moved, how he grew more comfortable with their little spar. Good. She liked seeing this side of him. The lack of hesitation, feeling in his element.

He disarmed her. Less good, but not for herself. She felt his hands upon her, reality twisting as she was right-side up one moment and crashing down upon her back the next. Swift of him. The air left her lungs and she acclimated, finding Achim's hands planted on either side of her head - his weight upon her, straddling her middle as he managed to fairly tackle her down into the grass.

For a moment, the witch's black eyes stared up at him - air filling her lungs once more. The world slowed, the birds ceased to chirp, the gentle breeze within the clearing couldn't be felt even when they were so still.

"Achim..." The witch cooed. Her hands lifted slightly, but she was disarmed - her blade laying a few yards away.

That didn't stop her from acting, however. Quickly her hands thrust away from herself, colliding into his arms to throw him off balance. The force she used was always the greatest advantage she had over others. People often grew comfortable with a witch using a sword, they rarely considered she used a weapon to restrain herself. Her real skills laid within hand to hand melee.

Yes, Mortem knew proper swordsmanship and how to use polearms - but her true manner of combat was a wild sort that utilized how vicious her strength could be. Strength that went beyond her physical limitations.

An off-balanced Achim was perfect. In an instant, she reversed their position and pinned him back against the ground. Her weight, light as it may be, still settled atop him as her hands sought to correct the mistake he had made - to secure his arms and pin them back into the grass.

"If you disarm, you ought to subdue immediately." Mortem chuckled lowly as she leaned over him, nearly laying atop him so pleased. Not because she pinned him, but because he was able to disarm her and surprise her in the first place. "I feel like I got to learn a little more about you. Thanks for that, lovely." The witch's ashen lips curved into a grin.

[moonescent]

“I hope— I hope you didn’t get those tears from helping me.” Hinata’s garden-gloved hand reaches to briefly brush the bit of freckled knee that peeked through a tear in Achim’s ( @of-elitiism ) jeans before she rises to her feet, tackle box filled up mushrooms in hand. 

Guilt weighed heavy on her like the blanket of leaves that covered the forest floor. A man familiar with the local woodlands, Hinata’d asked Achim to acompany her in searching for a certain strain of mushroom that needed to be studied for disease.  But along the trek they’d found more than just mushrooms: Bushes decorated with thorns, thin vines covered in spikes, probably some sort of poison ivy.  Hinata’s durable gardening overalls had been up for the task but perhaps Achim’s old jeans had not been.  She internally swears at herself for not remember whether the tear had been there prior. 

She begins to circle him now,  pale eyes searching for any other clothing tears or exposed skin.  Getting the fungi home was put on the backburner of her mind; Ensuring Achim was okay came first.  

“Do you have any scrapes? Umm, anything feel itchy?”