#opo-opos

[gyrabanian]

finished commission for @opo-opos & @lance-of-fury !! this was such a pleasure to work on and not just cos i love upa  ♥

[gyrabanian]

Our love is dangerous We fill this space with us

i love @opo-opos and our ship so i had to draw them. because they are so sad and perfect and wonderful

[gyrabanian]

❤ FOR AMHA

Send me a ❤ for one of my muse’s diary entries

(Amha Maraksh’s Diary, a thick black book - clearly old, and well used.)

There is no date, nothing to organize besides each page assumedly coming after the last.

It used to be I was not so tired. The bags under my eyes were not quite so heavy, and I could face each day freshly. However, that person that I was has long since been murdered, slaughtered in cold blood, and left to rot. I killed her. He killed her. A joint effort in ruining my own life, effectively - though both for different reasons.

(Something was written here, but then scratched out.)

Now, I am always tired. It’s exhausting, being so tired, if that even makes any sense. I don’t suppose it does. Nothing makes much sense anymore. Nothing save for what I entrench myself in, these books - the ones he got me. Lehko’a. Lehn’ra, as he so cordially introduced himself to me at first. I have yet to decide if he is dependable or not. Perhaps when it comes to money, things he desires. I suppose I am lucky enough to have had something he wanted. (More scratched out words. These go on for several lines worth, and she has almost torn through the pages with crossing them out.)

Regardless. I have my books. I will continue to be tired, until the day what I learn from these forbidden pages that I etch into my mind each bell comes to be of use. And perhaps then, I will be able to sleep.

[gyrabanian]

❣❣❣❣ for ko'a and amha and ❣ for upa and oko pls ty ily

Send in a ❣ for a random kiss. 

a cheek kiss. for oko & upa

Through most of her training thus far, Oko had been.. unconfident. Her poor view of herself lead to a poor execution of most spells, and it was this that lead to, well, more frustrations. Yet, that hardly did anything to deter Upa from teaching her, which the younger Miqo’te would never, ever take for granted. In fact, Oko respected the woman far more than she ever respected anyone else who wasn’t family - perhaps it was her nurturing personality that made it so easy for the girl to look up to her. Whatever it was, Oko had come to truly care for Upa in the time since they’d met, brief as their meetings could be.

And so that’s why Oko makes a surprise visit to her mentor, holding a small box in her hands that she offers to her as she slips into her office after knocking. Setting it down upon her desk, the Keeper would smile warmly at her, bidding her to open it - and when she did, there would be a single orange inside it, a very shiny one, and underneath it a book. Upon opening it, it would be a blank grimoire, its leather bindings dyed a pretty blue and flecked with stars. It wasn’t much, but she knew that Upa would like it the moment she saw it.

Then, to top it off, Oko would lean in to very gently press a kiss to her teacher’s cheek - a chaste, fast one, but it was there. Having grown up in a family where actions spoke louder than words, this was entirely normal for her, and she could only hope Upa wouldn’t mind.

“I wanted to say thank you, for being my teacher, and being so kind. So… an orange to replace the one I destroyed, a book as thanks for letting me borrow yours.. and a kiss! Because I appreciate what you’ve done for me.”

a crying kiss. for ko’a and amha.

What was it about him? Gods, nothing was ever simple with him. Never. No matter how she wished to understand the complex web of emotions that spidered across her heart each time she thought of him, or saw him, she never could. It was beginning to grow tiresome. Yet there she was, sitting there pulled into his arms, chest bumping against his, his lips running the length of purple flowers underneath the skin of her arm where someone had grabbed her much too tight. Each time she has new ones, he asks the same question - it never changes. “Do you want me to kill him?” And every time she has to say no, and see that frown tug at his lips.

Each time, it makes her chest tighten.

As he lays his lines of kisses, soft little ones as if she were some fragile glass sculpture, it makes that tight feeling in her chest only grow. How she hated him for this, for making her feel like something special, something important. How dare he. As if he knew her well, what she was, where she came from, what she had done and what she was willing to do. He knew some things, but the whole of it? Would he look at her the same?

She hates his ignorance.

And it makes her cry. And those tears drip onto him, drawing his attention from her skin to her face, his thumb streaking across her cheeks to catch those little tears and pull them away. She hates this, too. The way she allowed herself to be weak for him. She hates how he looks at her with concern, and how he leans in to press his lips to hers, and…

how she lets himdo it.

a neck kiss.

Laying in bed, blankets strewn over them, their bodies close to one another, Amha can’t help but let her eyes wander. The sun filters in lightly from outside, a window shining light across his tanned skin like a spotlight, showing him off. Even in his sleep did he put on airs, somehow still managing to be perfectly disgusting when not even trying. Or perhaps was she growing attached, that she found something in him even when nothing was to be found? The thought scares her, should send her fleeing out the door, but her folly keeps her where she is.

Her hand splays across his skin, the stark difference in their tones accented by the light, tiny specs of dust floating in and out of her field of vision, and she admires him. Wholeheartedly. Because in this moment, he was asleep and she was awake - a rare occurrence, he was so guarded in his everything that rarely was there a time she could look at him without his ever watchful gaze. She lets her touch lightly trace the slight curves of his chest, brushing fingertips along the dip of his collarbone, thumb running the length of his jawline, stubbled and strong, a work of horrid art that she was growing ever more accustomed to.

She can see the little scars peeking over his shoulder, ugly things, a story she had not yet been told (one she believes she might never hear.) Not once has she touched them, she knows better. 

Vision moves from them to his neck, somewhere so vulnerable. Intrusive thoughts ebb at her, tell her there was so much she could do - he was at her mercy, here in this moment, wasn’t he? A voice in her mind sings that she could tear his throat out there, a voice all too familiar reminding her she has fangs that can be used for more than intimidation. 

And she leans in, but only just, as if considering,to lay instead a small kiss upon the skin.When she does it, she swears she hears him chuckle.

a bloody kiss.

This inn room had seen many things, of this she was sure. Within this city, this realm, this wretched Hydaelyn, so much happened that no one was around to truly witness, save for memories etched in walls, energies absorbed and left behind like traces of a murder. Unfortunately (or, perhaps, fortunately,) they do not speak of these things, keeping them locked inside, mysteries to be found when wallpaper peels away to reveal scuffs in the wood, dark spots, holes.

In this instance, it would be fortunate that walls do not speak. Upon the couch, seeping blood from a wound incurred of his own folly, Lehko’a sat unspeaking as Amha fussed about him, cursing at him for being an idiot, for letting such a thing happen. It concerned her, truthfully, that he did not speak; for a man with so many words lodged in his mind, a silver eloquence that she so hated most often, to be so silent? It made her wonder if this was worse than he let on.

But she does not stop to heckle him on his choices, on what he does - because she knows. Not the long or whole of it, but she has an idea. And so instead she busies her hands stopping the blood oozing from the knife-wound, red staining her fingers, the gauze she has bundled into her hands to sop up the brunt of it all while making sure he remains awake. He was lucid, but barely, and it frustrated her to no end since when he’d arrived he’d had that grin on his face, holding his hands over the wound, careful to express to her that he was totally fine, that he’d had worse. And now here he was. What a child.

As she straightens up, to look him in the face, he seemed bleary - her bloodied hands smack at his face, nothing too hard, just to jostle him; he blinks languidly, eyes on her as it seems he’d been elsewhere entirely for the time being. He knits his brows, apparently mouth cotton-dry as he tries to say something, and before he can even form half a word she leans in to press her lips to his, a swift thing, the taste of copper upon them as she backs away.

“Don’t say a word, in exchange for that. Just.. stay awake, you fool.”

[gyrabanian]

Oko's: ❤❤❤ Hope to see mention of a certain miqo'te :3

Send me a ❤ for one of my muse’s diary entries

(Oko Kaprei’s Diary, a thin book, with flowers etched on the front.)

A good day!

This page is written in old, long dried ink; it is growing over a year old now.

It has been several moons since my last diary entry, mostly because I left this book under my bed, and forgot to bring it with me. There is much to fill out, and so little time in my days to do so. Usei’to got injured some many weeks ago, and his legs still refuse to work, but today he smiles. Karo’sae brought home fish, fat ones from Limsa Lominsa, a gift for his son’s mother. She was pleased, and she made stew with them, the scent drew in the neighbors. They brought their own food, and we all shared it. Usei’to got to sit on the grass outside with some children his own age, and they treated him kindly. It was a first. He goes to bed happy tonight, and so will I, knowing my hard work has paid off, even if it has taken years. 

While I will never consider this place home, these people my friends - perhaps my young brother shall.

Lessons! (feat. @opo-opos)

This ink is no longer fresh, but it isn’t fading either. It was written only weeks ago.

I do not often take chances, nor do I often try new things. Perhaps it’s an innate fear I have of excessive change, but I am trying to break free from this. I found a flyer pinned aboard the Adventurer’s Guild in the Drowning Wench - oftentimes I do not pay attention to these things, but I think in this instance, something caught my eye. Regardless of what drew me to the board, what’s to take away from this is I’ve made a friend? A teacher, primarily, but she is kind, and pretty, and so very smart. I yearn to be like her, I think. She seems dependable, and strong. She is going to be my teacher for Arcanima, which seems to be the cure to what has ailed my family for many moons now. It’s… exciting.

Upa Zuvhe, is her name. I look forward to my future lessons with her, and seeing where they take me. I think it will be good for me!

Confusing? (feat. parthmakeo)

This page is brand new, ink rather recent; the page is smeared, perhaps from tears?

It used to be, I didn’t think on him at all. Not whatever it was we had, not his disappearance, nor his resurgence just to let me down easy. Now, for whatever reason, it’s on my mind nigh daily. It doesn’t hurt the way it used to, no, but… it still pains me to recall, even only for a moment’s time.

I have tried to discover the reason, and with some deliberation, I have done so. P’rth. Whom at first reminded me so heavily of Gira’to - mind you, he still does - now seems to occupy my mind at turns I find unexpected. The way he acts reminds me of so many in my life, some unfair amalgamation of all the people I love and miss, dearly. Of course it stands to reason being with him dredges up memories best left behind me.

… I am not sure how best to proceed with these feelings. I don’t think-

Whatever was written after this has been scratched out. It does not continue.

[lance-of-fury]

also:

what is with a’rihnn and ending up with miqo’te ladies with red hair

first @loreleisyren, then @opo-opos ‘s khena

this is a trend

(I multiship btw, so I’m not infringing on either relationship/having them in the same timeline)

[lance-of-fury]

Finally cleared Dun Scaith today, with the help of @loreleisyren , @opo-opos , and @shofie-ffxiv . Lore and I got these screens after we were done.

[theafkcat]

Ⓐ for upa~~

Attractiveness:

repulsive || hideous || ugly || not attractive || unappealing || not unattractive || meh || no preference || ok || mildly attractive || nice looking || cute || adorable || attractive || pleasant on the eyes || good looking || hot || sexy || beautiful || gorgeous || hot damn || would tap that || perfect || godlike || holy fuck there are no words

Personality:

grating || irritating || frustrating || boring || confusing at best || awkward || unreasonable || psychotic || disturbing || interesting || engaging || affectionate || aggressive || ambitious || anxious || artistic || bad tempered || bossy || charismatic || appealing || unappealing || creative || courageous || dependable || unreliable || unpredictable || predictable || devious || dim || extroverted || introverted ||  egotistical || gregarious || fabulous || impulsive || intelligent || sympathetic || talkative || up beat || peaceful || calming || badass || flexible

How likely they would have sex with them:

not if they were the last person on earth and the world was ending || fuck no! || never || no way || not likely || not sure || indifferent || I’m asexual || maybe || probably || it depends || fairly likely || likely || yeah sure || yes || would tap that || hell yes || fuck yes! || wishing that could happen right now || as many times as possible || we are already having sex

Level of Friendship:

never in a million years || worst of enemies || enemies || rivals || indifferent || neutral || acquaintance || friendly toward each other || casual friends || friends || good friends || best friends || fuck buddies || bosom buddies || practically the same person || would die for them || true friends || my only friend ||

First impression of them:

I hate them so much || I don’t like them || I don’t trust them || they annoy me || they’re weird || I’m indifferent || meh || they seem alright || they’re growing on me || truce || I think I like them || I like them || I’m not sure if I trust them || I trust them || they’re cool || they’re genuine || I think we’re going to get along || I really like them || I think I’m in love || oh fuck they’re hot || I love them

Current impression of them:

I hate them so much || I don’t like them || I don’t trust them || they annoy me || they’re weird || I’m indifferent || meh || they seem alright || they’re growing on me || truce || I think I like them || I like them || I’m not sure if I trust them || I trust them || they’re cool || they’re genuine || I think we’re going to get along || I really like them || I think I’m in love || oh fuck they’re hot || I love them

How good of a kisser:

worst kisser ever || terrible || bad || awkward || just okay || alright || pretty good || good || makes me moan || excellent || exciting || oh god they’re good || I dream about it || fucking amazing || absolute perfection || we haven’t kissed