seen from Morocco
seen from Poland
seen from Türkiye
seen from United States
seen from Japan
seen from China
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Italy
seen from Russia
seen from Netherlands
seen from Russia
seen from United Kingdom
seen from Georgia
seen from Switzerland
seen from Türkiye
seen from Armenia
seen from United States
seen from United States
Crimson runes unfurled across her back, etching the claim of the Black Empire—the same voidbrand born of transformation. As they climbed, the light smoldered to a whisper. A forgotten ritual threading silver through the scar along her chest. Stormlight gathered at its edges, a familiar melody rising beneath the waves of some distant ocean. Calling.
@dawn-blossom
Runes spotted in rp (edited for plot mystery)
Zevvix had nearly drifted off at the desk when the first knock landed. One would think a shop full of cursed things offered nothing but endless excitement...but on a night like this? Well, even questionable objects understood tedium. Especially the really old ones.
Tedium, or was it prelude?
Definitely prelude.
Storms had a way of announcing something inconvenient—either well-dressed or with teeth. Sadly, never both. But with any luck, the inconvenience would be in the market for ritual or trade.
The second knock jolted him upright. A mysterious clatter followed. Quills, a few ledgers, marbles for some reason, and then the inevitable expletives. K’areshi ones, naturally, muffled, just before the door swung open.
He attempted what usually passed for a welcoming smile. Hard to say if it worked with an Ethereal’s facial…situation. Still, he stepped aside, the gesture normal enough to compensate. Whether the man was trouble or simply carrying it under his arm, he had likely expected someone else to greet him.
Zevvix waited.
This was always…fun.
Nother silly birthday piece from my friends and is multifandom server. Happy 2 days late birthday to Aerith specifically
Death and a Man
“Surfal,”
The word came out in slow motion, or at least it hit Eilithe’s ear in just that way. “Perhaps you coul’ pu’ her in touch with him,” Kurel was looking at her- and Eilithe forced a sweet smile over her face. “Of course I could, darling,” she let herself grow vacant in the eyes- whispers vibrating to Hellhound’s ear, the most secure channel she knew.
“Percival, the Breakfast girl is seeking your Hellhound. You and I should speak while you’re at it.”
As Breakfast left, she and Kurel spoke of betrayals and whispers behind backs. “She could have assumed,” Eilithe suggested. “Woul’ a grudge be your firs’ assumption?”
And he was gone.
She lingered in the tower a moment before she wandered after him. The familiar glimmer of Glitterfuck’s ™ magic caught her dim eyes, and she did not some much as pass her a glance as she walked by to join Kurel at the door to the brothel. “Yes,” was what she said, handing off the glasses to the man watching the door. “Then maybe I’m wron’,” he was already on his way back to Dead Sun, though her next words stopped him long enough to warrant a scowl.
“Maybe, Surfal,” she said it loud enough that those in earshot would hear it. Lucia had always called her a petty, though she would laugh about it. Kurel was not laughing.
“There’s a drink on the counter, in the center,” she said from the doorway of Wheel of Fortune, her back to him and tightly rolled joint hanging out of her lips. “I shouldn’t have taken a stab at her,” she added after taking a long drink from her free hand.
“A’ who?”
She was almost angry that he forced her name from her own lips. “Demytrya,” she took another long drink, “It should not be a surprise that I am a spiteful woman.”
“Tha’ you hold grudges.” A pause, “Bring tha’ over here.” He said once he had caught the potent stench of felweed.
She obeyed wandered to him. “She disrespected me in my home, and she hurt you. I can and have forgiven the forgivable.”
“Misery is where I am a' my bes'---do no' forge' tha'”
"Do you think I want to make you happy? Do you think I want to save you from yourself, or some bullshit?"
“I thin’ you want my approval..” was the first and last thing she heard. It was after kicking the stool between him away that she was right in his face, fingers counting into his chest. It was not until she had defended his initial remark that the other parts caught up. The parts about him waiting to die, about her needing him.
“If you really wanted to die, you would be dead. But you know as well as I that you want to be alive and you and to be here, because at the end of the day I am giving you what you want. Power. Control. You don't think I could do all this without you, Kurel? I could. I have.And you know you could do the same without me. So why the fuck are we doing this together? Because we do make a good team and you know it."
“I was dead. I didn't wan' to come back. I didn't ask to be brough' back. I didn't -know- the contingencies Mavas had made; death has never wanted me an' when i' had me, i' didn't keep me. There is nothin' in this life lef' for me to conquer bu' godliness; there is nothin' I live for an' I have everythin' to die for.”
Eilithe’s left her fingers where they were, pressed into his chest. His words brought a shake in her hand, though she quickly steeled herself. Sliding up, she left little space between herself and the bar top. Another shake. She lifted her hand and touched a single index finger between his brows. "Say you want to die. Say you really want to die and I will do it. It will be quick at this range, it will mangle your brain and you will fall dead right here, in the place we built together. Or. Or you find something to live for. Find a fucking purpose."
A creeping grin slid across his lips and still the toxic vice remained hanging from the pinch of his lips near the corner of his mouth. "I already said it." He said casually. "Bu' you won't do it. Whatever, finger wigglin' fuckery you're threatenin' or promisin' with righ' now. For two reasons, the firs', it doesn't do either of us any favor. The secon', i' ain't a proper death for someone like me an' you know tha'." It was just seconds after those words that a bird arrived. A large courier fowl that flew into the gambling house and landed on a nearby table with a thick packet of papers bound in leather.
She held her fingers there long after he hand said what he'd said. Her hand had stopped shaking, by all rights she was ready to kill him if only because he told her she wouldn't. A claw of a nail dug into his skin just enough to let him know it was there. When she dropped her hand it immediately caught gripped his jaw, and she leaned in to his ear. "You will die an old man in his sleep when I am good and ready for you to. Live because I wish you to, if you won't find your own reason."
With the release of his jaw the tension left the room- and they were left in silence as Eilithe retrieved the package meant for Kurel. The game was becoming increasingly hard to keep up with.
@kurel-andiel || @percy-dewdancer @roewyn (for mention)
“I can’t. Not like this. Not when someone you love is in pain. Go to him. ”
“You can’t ask me to choose between pain levels, Tejshar… Your pain matters as much as his.”
@tejshar
Gently closing the journal, she studied its cover. A finger nearly tracing the design, though careful not to disturb what remained.
Then, a pause. A thought.
Eyes flicked to his hand. Finally, with a smile, “It's lovely.”
@dawn-blossom
“Dear Scholar...you weren't changed.”
“You were clarified.”
From here.
“Clarified,” she repeated, the word tasting of something once divine, now burned to ash. Heavy with rot. Useless.
Then—“By you?” A cruel laugh.
There was no flinch. No awe. Perhaps it was defiance, in a way.
“The inevitability belongs to purpose. Design.”
Her chin lifted, eyes seeking a bitter admission. “If I was...clarified, what does that make you? The purifier? Or the residue?”
A tilt of her head fluttered the veil between them, breathing aside but for a moment. More disturbance than invitation.
“No, you didn’t come for less. You came to see if I would bend. If I would yield.”
The breath that followed twisted with amusement. He thought himself the arbiter of some grand revelation. A herald of her need. Yet, it all fell so terribly short.
To her ears, anyway.
“To you.”
As he stepped closer, darkness reached. Asked, even now. But she only smiled. Her eyes wandered over him, waiting. His truth—if it could even be called that—was clumsy and plain, as always. And she let him see it. Laid bare in the curve of her lips.
All that performance, only to reveal nothing new. A pity, really.
With a frown, she unceremoniously plucked an unseen speck from his shoulder, carelessly flicking it away.
“How…quaint,” she said, mourning the effort.
He was but a relic, still clawing for relevance. Buried not in time, but worth.
And a thousand daggers at the ready.
@allasticus
His enthusiasm seemed to rise above the long, bittersweet centuries standing between them. Ones she had not lived, but a weight left upon the world—waste and wonder quietly calling from pages, from history turned with reverent hands.
And so acknowledgment reached across time, the cracked gem at her throat whispering memories of exile. Of kin. Though merely born into this legacy, she shared its inheritance all the same.
@solexstras
