#oldmuse

[now-wouldyoukindly]

🔪

Scathach sighed. "Go ahead- try to kill me." The knife wouldn't kill her, but it'd weaken her enough. "Or are you simply trying to threaten me?" She could easily disarm Catherine if she really needed to.

[now-wouldyoukindly]

"I've been shot," Catherine said plainly, as if she were announcing what she'd eat for lunch (if she ate lunch) as she looked down at the wound in her abdomen that she couldn't feel.

@catherinetheboldScathach ushered her to a couch and grabbed her medical supplies. "How long ago, what happened, come on lass!" She grabbed a damp cloth and began gently cleaning away blood.

[now-wouldyoukindly]

open

The old warrior leaned heavily on the nearest object for support and swayed slightly. She wore a jacket with long sleeves covering her arms, gloves, a long skirt that covered her legs and feet, and kept the jacket zipped up to cover her neck. Her body, as it usually did when she ran out of potion, was starting to decompose. The visible skin on her face was waxy. Her hair was limp and dry around her shoulders. She looked like a corpse walking.

She picked up her bag and slung it over her shoulder, ignoring the way it sank into her skin. The clerk in the herb shop she went to knew her well and wasn’t surprised when she came in. 

She nearly hit someone with her bag and backed away. The ailes in the shop were narrow and two people couldn’t fit by each other without effort on both sides. “Excuse me, I need by.” She tried to look as alive as possible.

[now-wouldyoukindly]

"Is that my shirt?" Morgan asks.

@queen-yggdrasil

“Um.... It may be.” She wasn’t about to tell him it wasn’t. It was comfortable and she needed to wash her shirts.

[now-wouldyoukindly]

Morgan walks up to Scathach and embraces her gently. It seemed she was in need of a hug and it was done without asking, but it was a necessary action. There was no need for words, or he didn't believe so.

@queen-yggdrasil

Scathach was a bit startled. She didn’t say anything for a moment, just letting her head rest on Morgan’s shoulder. It was unexpected but pleasant. “Thank you.” She mumbled into his shoulder.

[now-wouldyoukindly]

Open

Scathach pinned her sparring partner and waited for them to tap out before easing up. "I think that's enough for today- go shower." She helped them up and grabbed her water bottle. She was done training others for the day and had the gym to herself. She cleaned up and had decided to start stretching when the bell on the door opened. "I'm back here- who is it?" She straightened up and moved toward the front.

[now-wouldyoukindly]

Open

Scathach barked a laugh and grabbed her children. "Inside, come on." It looked like it was going to storm. "And you, if you've nowhere else to be." She motioned to the person her twins had been bothering. "Skies are going to open up and you don't want to be out when they do."

[duskidove]

Purple-Lit Memories — from The Chronicles of Tartarus

El mundo, con sus giros extraños y su memoria caprichosa, me ha devuelto una de mis musas más antiguas. Aquella que fue mi primer amor jamás confesado, el enamoramiento secreto de una quinceañera que encontraba refugio en un jardín violeta, allí donde la tarde caía como una bendición. Bastaba escuchar su risa para que la sal del día se volviera dulce; bastaba verlo hablar, incluso cuando decía cualquier tontería con sus amigos, para que todo pareciera digno de un cuento.

Yo fantaseaba con cada gesto suyo: con su masculinidad tibia, con esa caballerosidad espontánea que, sin proponérselo, me hacía sentir cortejada. Sus palabras, simples para él, eran bálsamo para mí. Me regalaban valor. Me enseñaban algo profundo sin darse cuenta: que el coraje puede nacer de la constancia, que la fuerza se revela en quien se enfrenta a la vida cada mañana, aunque nadie aplauda.

No sé cómo, ni en qué momento, dejé que se desdibujara de mi memoria aquel caballero vestido de morado, un poco atolondrado por la vida, con esa risa que brotaba de lo que él mismo inventaba. Armaba películas enteras en su mente, historias que nunca contaba del todo, pero que encantaban a cualquiera que tuviera el privilegio de cruzarse con su magia—la magia de ser tan él.

Madre mía, musa mía.