#random drabble is random

[outofcalms-archived]

PSA

Want a bit of an insight as to why I chose my url? Well, let me tell you!

Moonlit-Summoner

I always loved this name. I edited a video that was Yuna-centric a long time ago, and the song I chose was Moonlight Sonata (a version by E.S. Posthumus). The song is one of many that embodies Yuna’s spirit, and it helps that her name is akin to the moon. I just envision her encompassed by a mysterious veil of moonlight, accepting and acknowledging her duty to the people around her. It gives her strength, but it also allows her to shed the facade along the dimly lit shadows of the night. 

Fragmented Persona

As for this? Well, considering how many canon verses there are, along with many others, it felt befitting. I like to think that each verse is a blank canvas for me to paint her as I see fit, though I try to stick to her character as much as humanly possible, with my own nuances peppered in here and there. But, also, each verse is but a piece of her--a journey into human emotion and growth and personality--and only when you take into consideration ALL of them, is she whole. 

Or maybe this is just me rambling? I dunno. I feel STRONGLY about Yuna. Just sayin’. 

[blackjackkent]

Dom takes a sharp slash across the midsection during the battle against Imshael at Suledin Keep. He’s only half-conscious when the battle’s done; in the end, Cassandra heaves him over one shoulder and carries him back to one of the Inquisition’s encampments, Vivienne taking the lead through the ice-caked landscape and Sera trotting close at Cassandra’s side, bow up, eyes tracking Dom’s body like a worried dog concerned for its master.

When they reach the camp, Sera takes it on herself to build an enormous bonfire in among the tents. The local quartermaster expresses some dismay at this, but Cassandra silences her with nothing more than a sharp scowl; Dom has been shivering ever more violently in her arms ever since they left Suledin. In the end they have a roaring blaze around which most of the Inquisition regiment gathers gratefully, warming their hands and faces with eager eyes trained through the flames on the Inquisitor as healing magic slowly works on his abdomen.

He lies like the dead for several hours, his head in Cassandra’s lap. Her fingers move absently through his hair, every once in a while shifting to brush against his temple and feel the heavy thud of his pulse to reassure her he will live. Eventually he shifts, rolls his head slightly to the side to nuzzle drowsily against her hand.

“You frightened me,” she tells him. The tone is jesting but her steel-blue eyes are hard with remembered fear.

He smiles, cups her cheek with a sword-roughened palm. “I am not letting anything so ridiculous as that demon take me from you,” he murmurs hoarsely.

Sera, crouched near the fire on her haunches, looks up and smirks. “C’mon, Dom. Don’t tell me you weren’t at least a little tempted by that ‘showering in virgins’ bit he offered.”

Cassandra rolls her eyes and Dom laughs, a harsh barking sound that twinges his healing stomach. “I'm well satisfied already,” he answers mildly. “What, were you hoping I’d share them with you?”

“Pffff...” Sera spits cheerfully; she’s relaxed considerably now that the immediate danger is behind them. “One’s enough for me, thanks.”

[shadows-in-the-light-of-day]

She took in the shards of glass, the empty shot glass and the ripped label on what was once a full bottle of cherry liqueur. It took a moment before she saw the blood soaking through my sleeves, and if I had not moved so quickly, she would never have seen at all. 

But she grabbed my arm, then my shoulders, dark eyes sparking with a fire that I have never had. 

She whispered my name, and I turned away, only to have her pull me into her arms, holding me as if it can wash away the blood and the oncoming intoxication.

“Listen,” she said, her voice hoarse, desperate. “I didn’t show you the wonders of alcohol so you could kill yourself with it.” 

-a story that needs to be written one day-

[holyleonheart]

Dark Valkyrie

Delicate fingers clenched into the pallid flesh, gripping tightly in a while-knuckle grip, body trembling and muscles contracting as supple form curled against the corner where the light couldn't touch. Teeth gritted, digits digging into untainted skin almost to create a bruises from those fingertips and the touch. Azure optics were hidden from view, overflowing moonlight locks cascading just enough to make for a mask shielding the beauty's expression from sight.

Emotions were raking inside of her, the strong, powerful emotions welling up inside her chest as her fingers dug against the area above her heart, almost as if she wanted to rip out the organ just to end the feelings that were threatening to overwhelm her.

The dark power trapped inside of was being stirred, fueled by the emotions that increased from her mind and consciousness. Refusal to succumb, as the female tried her best in containing the said sensations. The urge to release, that dark, cruel, blood-thirst warrior goddess that had awakened some time ago.

Protectiveness, anger, fury. Such lurid darkness twirling inside the small body. Fingers bruising her own pale flesh as head lowered carefully, hugging herself tight to prevent the said identity trying to take over.

Thirst for blood, fueled by anger and hatred. Blank, cerulean orbs were glowing, turning to red, the color of blood, as her lips pressed together into a thin line, teeth sinking into the soft flesh almost hard enough to draw the sanguine liquid oozing from the self-induced fresh wound upon her lips. The throb could be felt so strongly, reminding her that it was still her body as mind, despite her eyes glowing slowly in ruby color.

Her form trembled uncontrollably, feeling the emotions rising as she couldn't seem to get a hold of herself. The dark valkyrie inside of her was gnawing at her mind, clawing for escape to the surface of the body, yearning to be free. To be released, so the sensations that raked inside would burst out in the explosion of power.

Sadness. Pain. Agony. The urge to revenge, happiness that was replaced by fury.

Her head shook in the slightest, as she refused the overwhelming force that threatened to overcome her. She wouldn't give in. Despite the raging anger, the cutting agony, the burning of pain and hatred, she wouldn't give in. The release of the Goddess of Death would only bring about more pain and suffering. She didn't want that. No more pain to those she cared for, no more than what already is done. No more.

You won't come out.. I won't let you..

I won't let you destroy everything..

...Hel...

[tonychaldean-sna-blog]

Tony sank into his couch, slipping off his glasses and rubbing his eyes. It'd been a long day of job hunting-- and still nothing. Not even when he tried to use his powers to get some agricultural gig. Nothing. Frankly, he was tired of trying. And tired of his friends and family thinking he was off his rocker. Even after that Thomas man had made the announcement, they'd still still been so distant he felt it was just easier to avoid their presence. 

He exhaled, running an absent hand through his hair. "Isn't there some kind of mental hos--" He broke off suddenly -- which was probably a good thing, considering that he'd been talking to himself -- and noticed a small, white envelope among the mail he'd collected from the mailbox that morning. He leaned forward, staring idly at the address. "Are you kidding me?" he huffed, practically tearing out the letter inside. 

Dear T-bone,

Your mother says you're still not over that 'flower power' kick. I figured this was just a passing obsession(you've always been the odd one in the family), but it's obvious now that you need a little nudge in the right direction. 

Your brother and I are coming for a visit. We'll play basketball, watch ESPN, get your priorities in order. I'm 100% sure it's just the thing you need to get back on track. 

Anyway, we're coming in a week from now(Wednesday). Get your place together. That means no cutesy plant salt shakers, no Gardening Weekly, all that crap. 

All right. See you, then.

Tony pressed his lips together, slowly untensing his muscles. His father didn't understand, obviously. He never really had.

He was still working out, still struggling toward his goals -- really, his father's goals. He was still a man. It was only because he could actually get the plants that his love for them was showing now, stronger than ever before.

There was also the small matter that his brother had been annoying him for the whole of their lives. A visit? They live on the other side of town! A Sunday lunch or something, anything would be better than this.

He stood, shaking his head with a small chuckle. "Love you too, old man," he muttered, tossing the letter to the trash bin at least ten feet away. Thankfully, he didn't miss.

[trip-n-troll-blog]

she was living a lie.

and it was when she was all alone that she came face to face with the cracks in her half-truths.

How she saw the world was much different than everyone else. She lived in her own world, stealing bits and pieces of all that she heard, and shaping it from the ground up with the parts she liked. To her, it was a beautiful world. No pain, no suffering, no harsh memories, nothing; it was only filled with what she enjoyed. She very rarely let anyone step foot inside her palace, because if they stepped a certain way, the illusion broke. She was living in a world of fantasy and make-believe. And she loved it that way.

But it wasn’t perfect.

Far from it, in fact.

She was living a lie.

And it was when she was all alone that she came face to face with the cracks in her half-truths.

The blue sky looked so pure, so innocent, like she always believed she was. The thin, rolling white clouds looked peaceful; so peaceful that she wanted them for herself. As she reached up towards them from her place on the ground, the thought struck her. “Why can’t I fly?” Surely, it would be nice to wave your hand through one of them, shifting its form as the wind does. She knew she could do so once she joined the angels in the sky, and as she so often did, she felt as if she were welcoming death. The thought should have given her that familiar, uplifting, blissful feeling. But in the same moment another thought had struck her, hard and devastating; one that, as if a trigger, caused tears to swell in her eyes. “What a joke. The sky is no place for me.” Her heart hurt. She was imperfect, impure, sinful, undeserving. She knew what she had to do; leave the throne’s chair of her created palace, hand the reigns of her life over to Him. She had to believe. She had to have faith.

But she couldn’t bring herself to do it. She was too afraid of leaving it in the hands of someone she only half-heartedly believed in. She was too weak to stand strong and face the challenges and sacrifices that go with it. Her plan of hiding from the truth until her heart gave out was flawed. She couldn’t catch the clouds as she always dreamed of.

So what was left for her?