#paragein

[tinytitcn-blog]

@paragein

“I swear it wasn’t me that made the floor dirty!” He claims, despite being covered from head to toe in dirt and mud. “It was probably a squirrel...or something.”

[pleasedxntgx-blog]

@paragein

“Why is your face stuck in this permanent scowl? It’s so unpleasant!”

[xngryxngstyteenxger-blog]

@paragein

“Le-Heichou, I want to ask you something. It’s Important.”

[secretsandhushedwhispers]

2. a letter written by your OC’s family member

(A letter is contained in a beaten and dirty envelope, some of the ink running from water that already dried. The handwriting is chicken scratch but readable to those trained with it.)

Eon,

    I know it’s not easy being a soldier, nor being Inquisitor. It’s been months since we have last heard from you and we wanted to check in. Last we heard, you stormed the Adamant Fortress and recruited the Wardens. I cannot voice enough how proud I am of you. We have even heard rumors that you entered the Fade physically? Is that true? I want to hear all about it and make sure that my boy is alright.

    Nothing much is new back home. We hired someone to come help us with our farm. The two of us are getting old now and our backs aren’t helping. We hired a young city elf who was looking for a small job to earn some extra money. They work hard and sit with us for dinner at times, though nothing will replace you. 

    I’m looking forward to hearing from you again. Take care.

                                                                         Your Father,       P.S. Are you still with that man                          Dorian? I’d love to hear from              Kaablas            him!                                                  

[orderandsophism]

@paragein

I’m ruined? WHAT IS THIS

[orderandsophism]

[ account. ]

The blade scraped against his skin, and Erwin’s jaw tightened reflexively at the sere sound. Like she sharpness of paper being torn, or something innocuously savage like that. Too late, he noticed a spot of red where he’d nicked himself, just below the angle of his jaw. Blood beaded there, dropped without a sound into the sink muddy with the lather of his shaving cream. Quietly, he uttered an inconceivably objectionable swear— the likes of which were unlikely to ever leave his lips in the company of another —rinsing away the blood and daubing furiously after it with his face cloth. 

It didn’t hurt. He knew it didn’t hurt. It was only the sublimation of the anxiety that spiked electric through his veins at the thought of what they were meant to do tonight. 

The dress blues went on a little easier than his usual uniform. A few less components to worry about, but he donned them with the same methodical approach: shirt and trousers first, then the harness, attach the garters, button the coat from the bottom up. One last pass of a comb through his pomaded hair, and he was finished.

Outside the bathroom, Levi lingered by the bed, already dressed, the navy blue agreeing a little too well with his complexion. Erwin noted for far too long how it seemed to exacerbate the striking blue of his eyes, and could not help the appreciative sweep of his own down Levi’s perfect form. “Should we do something about your hair, I wonder?” Erwin asked softly, brushing back Levi’s dark, silken hair. It slipped back into place, as defiantly as anything Levi himself would do, and Erwin smiled wryly to himself. “It doesn’t matter. These Sina nobles will be hopelessly enthralled with you, no matter how you choose to wear your hair.”

He immediately regretted his words. Not for the truth of them, but for the shameful guilt of which they reminded him. “Are you ready?” he asked briskly, turning away to avoid his eyes. “Your first contact will be waiting.”