#shxmanisms

[lunasolandtheloa-blog]

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       “Pardon. Are you Farseer Euanthe? The one responsible for uniting the elementals?”

   The purple druid politely bowed his head and placed a hand on his chest.

       “ I’m Jashreth Starwalker with the Cenarion Circle.”

[aantiquity-blog]

@shxmanisms liked for a starter

         Hood’s time on Azeroth had been interesting to say in the least. It was a chaotic and broken place but it was also quite colorful. Enough so that he could pass without much effort at all. The floating city of Dalaran and it’s inhabitants were quite the wonder so he was grateful for that.

        He had, however, been rather badly startled studying a peculiar pile of rubble. Which was rather embarrassing given a large armor set does not simply jump that far back and make that much noise without being noticed. He was never a subtle man and his embarrassment was also quite palpable. With his eyes cast low he bowed apologetically to the woman who had startled him by suddenly appearing. In actuality the “rubble” he had been pondering had in fact been the portal to the Heart of Azeroth.

“Ah...sorry about that! Not used to cullis gates lookin’ quite like that.”

[cuervocanto]

@shxmanisms liked for a starter | not accepting

“Alas, a woman of your surpassing beauty, without a partner! A shame!” he says in stilted Draenei. 

“Dance with me!” 

[drlzzt-blog1]

@shxmanisms

“You’ll let her pass-- but not me?”

The draenei in question was a STRANGER, and had done nothing to provoke Drizzt Do’Urden except that she happened to be passing by. She had made her way across the guarded bridge without dispute, but Drizzt-- for reasons he understood perfectly-- had drawn the wrath of the guards.

“Don’t take us for FOOLS, drow. We know what you are, and you shan’t pass.”

It was the sort of rejection that the dark elf had come to expect from places like this. Most of the time he didn’t bother with guard posts at all-- he found some other means by which he could reach his destination, whether that meant fording a river or climbing a city wall. But the landscape here was too TREACHEROUS-- the bridge was the only way across-- and he had hoped beyond hope that he could slip by unnoticed.

So much for that.

Even this far from the land of his heritage they had heard tales of the horrific drow. As the guards moved to draw their weapons, Drizzt acted on DESPERATION, seizing upon the first opportunity that presented itself-- and that opportunity was the draenei.

“You misunderstand-- I’m here on peaceful terms at the request of my Lady.” He gestured toward the draenei, a pleading look in his lavender eyes. They were strangers, yes, but he was hoping she’d play into the ruse that the drow was some kind of loyal SERVANT. 

“She will vouch for me.”

[l-promised-him]

𝔗𝔥𝔢 𝔐𝔬𝔰𝔱 𝔉𝔯𝔢𝔢𝔡𝔬𝔪 ::Chapter Intermission:: 𝓕𝔦𝔯𝔢-𝔣𝔩𝔬𝔴𝔢𝔯𝔰 && 𝓢𝔱𝔢𝔢𝔩-𝔣𝔞𝔫𝔤𝔰

For @shxmanisms concerning 🔥

☕—“And what are your wings for…?

              ¿˙˙˙ɹoɟ sƃuᴉʍ ɹnoʎ ǝɹɐ ʇɐɥʍ pu∀

    He witnessed the effects of Mourningale’s name as the sound traversed through the shamaness’ thoughts and memories. His mention had not brought with it, a sense of comfort, nor reassurance. And Levi couldn’t fault her response even with how little he knew of that specter. But she did wear her dismay well. Now Levi was curious. The Draenei was graceful in her ministrations, even the gentle formula of her features, as she seemed to struggle against the discomfiting weight of the Plaguelord’s name without revealing her distress directly to her guest. She was the leader of these people? He’d been offered scant details concerning the request, which Levi undertook with a scathing sigh and an underlying interest in perusing the tea shops in any nearby settlements, anyway.           

    Levi’s arsenic eyes averted from the shamaness for a moment, conceding to her efforts to remain discrete in her misgivings. He glanced over her entourage, curiosity evident in his otherwise impassive expression. The armor-clad being before him was effectively a behemoth to the human’s perceptions.  He gazed upwards, from chest-height to the guard. Unspoken inquiries drifted from a precocious mind, but they were quelled into silence upon a tongue equally reluctant, as it was maladjusted.   

   His notice wandered from the aged, but impeccable guard, to the territory, beyond the gate he had been stalled at. The shamaness’ people were tasked to various processes, all of which Levi could recognize. Tending earth. Maintaining homes. Cultivating nourishment. There was a methodical diligence, and an honesty in the motions made by this strange race, and Levi was endeared to them by their work. When he regarded Euanthe, again, his brow had smoothed slightly - indicating a subtle current of comfortability in his visit. 

  She spoke, and the sound was melodious, syllables twirling and turning on an accent he’d never heard, before. Elegant motions soothed over the initial silence of their meeting, and he accepted her goodwill with a fist engaged against the space above his heart - decorum by way of the salute associated with his comrades within the Survey Corps, and the other military divisions of his home island. He had painfully few other polite habits to draw upon, in times like these.

    Why the hell had Myrundiel put him to a diplomatic correspondence?

                                         The bastard knew he wasn’t exactly ambassador material.

   As his arms returned to his sides, he issued an idle, unconsciously anxious adjustment to the cravat at his throat. Was he at the heart of a lover’s quarrel? It hadn’t occurred to him much, before, but now he was irked. What was the history between his ship’s physician and this elegant Chieftainess? Was he delivering a threat by arriving here with mention of Mourningale’s name, or something unsavory like that?

This is why he despised getting involved in personal matters, on the behalf of others and his own. Yet the shamaness smiled, and Levi stepped forward a bit - rather invested in her well-being. His speech was informal, and frequently uncouth, but the sincerity in his concern could not have been more potent. A soft, ‘tch,’ set his doubts aside, and he addressed her to the best of his survival-roughed capacity,       

   ❝He was busy studying, and ‘couldn’t be begged to leave his infant samples to wither, wane, and die’, is the reason he gave.

    Mourningale has taken residence aboard my ship. Even though he had no obligation to do so, he saved the life of one of my comrades when I had no recourse, otherwise. So I asked him to remain as our physician.  He accepted - and later, added the condition that I deliver this to you. The lazyass bat had been asleep in a crypt for a year or more, prior to all this.

  It was a shitty bargain, considering that I had to intrude on your settlement, but he’d already fulfilled the critical part of his role, and as his so-called captain, I couldn’t refuse. If that rotten compost-pile has wronged you, though, I don’t mind if you destroy the Vivre Card while I’m standing here.

  ...don’t let the Shitlord trouble you too much with his dramatics.❞

   Myrundiel was enigmatic, eerie, and too capricious to let anyone feel completely at ease. But his otherworldly medicine was an incredible asset in a crew where few would suffer under conventional maladies, and his words upon placing his support within the crew had struck a favorable chord with Levi. He couldn’t guess as to what sort of sordid history he shared with someone as seemingly virtuous as this shamaness, and so while he intended to accept Mourningale in all of his morbid glory - he would hold the Chieftainess to none of his own sentiments. 

   ❝In your hand is what is called a Vivre Card. It’s an expensive piece of paper with a fairly useful purpose. It tracks the location of its creator, in a sense. If you lay it flat, on your palm...❞

  He made a gesture, to illustrate, holding his palm upwards, and tapped on the surface of his hand with his other forefinger. If Euanthe placed the paper on her palm near the center, in mimicry of Levi’s gestures, the little scrap of paper would begin drifting slightly, towards the heel of her hand, as though drawn south-bound. 

  ❝It’s like a shitty little compass - only, instead of reading magnetically, it’s always pulled towards a specific individual. Mourningale was concerned you wouldn’t know how to contact him while he’s at sea. His fatass bats can’t always make it so far, and there are complications that could stall his filthy damn zombies. So... as stupid as it might seem, this is a reasonable method to find him, if you need to.

  Take care, if you do use this, though. While I doubt he was anyone to be seen with before, I see plenty of things here that I wouldn’t risk, chasing down a pirate ship.❞

  Almost as an afterthought, he frowned and added, 

  ❝I’m Levi,

         Captain of the Freedom’s Wings.

  I hope I haven’t brought you some really shitty news with all this.❞

          —Isn’t the sky within your cage,                                     ‘ǝƃɐɔ ɹnoʎ uᴉɥʇᴉʍ ʎʞs ǝɥʇ ʇ,usI

                                            too narrow for you?.”                                                      “¿noʎ ɹoɟ ʍoɹɹɐu ooʇ

[bxrrows-blog]

     ——— ☾ shxmanisms​ liked your post for a sᴛᴀʀᴛᴇʀ

      ❝ Show me how you do that, how you make fire. ❞ Conjury spoke, gently pulling at the opaque mask that hung in front of her face. Her fingers twitched and she produced a small flame at the tip of her index finger, swaying gently in the air. She remained fixed on her hand for only a few moments before looking up to the shaman, her finger lifting a little as well.      ❝ It’s so strange to me the way it works. I don’t understand it. ❞

[zetori-blog]

thanks to her deployment in draenor, zetori had become quite accustomed to the ways of the cleft-hooven race known as the draenei. she had of course had her qualms upon seeing the man’ari eredar, though thanks to the unlikely leader yrel, she found herself able to trust the inherently peaceful beings. she offered a hand to the creature before her as a friendly gesture, although her common tongue was perhaps lacking moreso than her manners. 

‘ what an unfortunate place to be meeting, I am sure in other circumstances I would be able to greet you with cake in hand rather than weapons. ’

@shxmanisms ❤’d.

[blackshadcw]

❝ i know i am not an easy person to like. ❞

SOMA (2015) starters

Once he’d believed such tranquil moments were nigh impossible to find in these turbulent times.  A small part of him still does, to a lesser degree.  They are indeed a rarity, but if one chose to expend the effort and search for them, they’re anything but impossible.  Fleeting and hazy at times, but not unattainable.  And, there’s no harm in indulging, if only for a short while; for one like Alarin, that is a difficult concept to grasp.  In his world, there is only the drive that fuels him, the endless pursuit of vengeance, and such things do not allow for downtime.  Downtime gets one nowhere.  But, he’s beginning to see things differently.  It’s not often that he takes moments like this–sprawling out on a grassy knoll to just be for a little while–even when they’re presented, and he’s relearning that there’s no harm in the occasional break.  Much of the credit for that goes to his current company.

Idle chit-chat further eases his mind as he lies there on his side, propped up on an elbow with his focus now overtaken by the Draenei there with him.  Such is common, he’s finding, when in her presence.  Still that baffles him, yet he’s since left all thought of question and wonder in the past.   That’s simply how it is, whether or not he knows the full specifics of why it is so.  In fact, so comfortable is he there that the shift of conversation, from mindless small talk to something more…serious, he doesn’t think twice on it, though he does remain quiet through much of it, content in letting her express and vent as she pleased.  Rather, he was, right up until the very end.

Not an easy person to like.  That had best be in jest, as the concept is nothing if not laughable.  Surely she means someone else, as the Euanthe he knows is one of the few truly enchanting personalities he’s found in quite some time.  That she’d remained soft and kind and so genuinely hopeful throughout the time he’d known her was a refreshing change of pace for one who’d spent much of him time surrounded by both pessimists and the outright defeated.  While Alarin understands-he’d fallen into the former category for quite some time-it’s a rather depressing experience when one is surrounded by nothing but such things.  Euanthe had given him a much-needed break from that.  Where he is concerned, the world needs more people like her; those few who make this fight seem worthwhile with their bright visions of a future to come-

Alas, such could never be, for even with striking similarities, there would never be another quite like her.  Of that, he’s entirely certain.

“No?  In that case, I must have missed something, as I’ve found the opposite to be true.”