#sorrowlessons

[thoserubyeyes]

❛ when will you give up this ridiculous crusade? ❜ ( from @sorrowlessons )

The vampire stared blankly at the cleric with his arms folded.

"--When you get a better hairstyle, darling."

[accultant]

❝ I completely fucking hate you, because you are a hideous witch from hell. No offense. ❞ ( from @sorrowlessons lol )

@sorrowlessons

Correct and fair by all counts as far as Iago can tell. They nod plainly, not exactly rolling over for her, but entirely devoid of dignity as they agree without hesitation, "None taken. Unless that would make you feel better, then I'm sure I could find something to wail about. The hideous bit, maybe? Just say the word and I'll feel struck through the heart."

[caniasfire]

bloodtwin asked: ❝ Amay, your taste in men is . . . ❞ Shadowheart trails off, fails to think of an adequate word. Interesting, maybe. ❝ Well. We're all entitled to our opinions, I suppose. ❞ ( from @sorrowlessons :)c )

He tilts his head. It's a janky movement, barely even there, looking more like a flinch than anything else. His unblinking eyes hold Shadowheart's gaze, but his expression remains empty. As usual, or so he'd like to believe. "My... taste in men? What do you mean? Elaborate." It comes out as a demand.

[accultant]

“Can you at least vomit with the door closed?” - @sorrowlessons

sickly thing. @sorrowlessons

The glare Iago shoots at the Sharran (or ex-Sharran. whatever her problem was now. hard to keep track and the least of their worries at the moment.) would be enough to kill were they not hunched over a washbasin, looking even more sickly than usual. Shaky as a newborn deer, with a sheen of cold sweat plastering down all that's fallen loose from their braid, and a truly admirable restraint to keep from throwing that smug woman out of a window.

They can't be bothered to move (nor do they think they're entirely capable of such), so they merely flick their fingers from the white-knuckle grip they'd taken. The mage hand that flashes to life slams the door inches from her nose, hard enough to shake the frame and quick enough to blow those awful bangs out of her face. A lock turning somehow manages to sound downright vitriolic.

[emwrcte]

@sorrowlessons | Plotted Starter

She did not know how to reply. 

Comfort, the giving of it, did not come naturally. She stands beside the halfelf as she spoke, voice laced with a pain she simply did not comprehend. And so she listens. Takes in every word, absorbs every swell of feeling with an unchanging demeanor. And when silence falls; no reply comes. Not for some time. ‴  I do not understand. ‴ Her words are softer, somehow. Voice quieter, projecting a gentleness she could otherwise not. Indigo eyes almost seem to lament something that never was, lips turning as she lowered herself besides Shadowheart. It was not a seamless motion. It seemed alien to her, like mirroring what she believed the natural movement to be like. ‴  You are blessed and cursed, in that way. ‴ She begins uneasy. Unsure. ‴  I do not know the love you feel or the love you were given. And as such I cannot know its loss. Not the weight of it nor the pain it leaves behind. ‴ 

She does not know why she seeks to comfort the woman. ‴  I am poor company to console you. I cannot fathom sadness. My heart will never swell with grief. I know only the assignment of blame and the deliverance of consequent pain. ‴ She purses her lips. Deigning to look away, expression nonetheless neutral. She hesitates then, breathing out once as sight directs itself elsewhere. A change in tone signaling an attempt at something kind. ‴  When I see you, I see something altogether human in a way I am not. I see a daughter who was loved and returned love in turn. I see your eyes bleed a kind of redless blood I will never know because of that love. I wish to deliver you from your pain, and know I cannot. ‴

The demon sits, unsure and uneasy of what words may follow. Settling only on a select few. ‴ But I shall try. Be that as it may, all I may be good for is to listen in silence. But if that is what aids you; my attention is solely yours. ‴

[witchsabre]

❝ Right, you’re not even pretending to pay attention. ❞ ( from @sorrowlessons )

@sorrowlessons.

No. No she was not. She was far too occupied by the delight of being heralded by chickens all vying for the feed in her hands. They reminded her of the quails her coven used to keep, all little blobs of feathers hopping after the young witch who, like now, would hoard the seed a little longer than she should so that she could dance with the birds a few moments before scattering it about.

"Hey, now, be nice, be nice," she chides quietly when the chickens grew a little too restless and started to peck at each other. She sprinkles their food at last and they happily saw to it, any slights against them forgiven with each fistful. "Especially to that one, he didn't get any yet."

Dropping to their haunches, they let the smallest one eat out of their hand the same way Sumie would always get onto them for since it usually earned them a few nicks on their palm.

"Here you go, bud. A pile just for you, our secret."

No, Faust has not heard a single word out of Shadowheart's mouth.

[witchsabre]

haven't you already made up your mind? why ask me now? ( from @sorrowlessons )

━━ ⭒𓍊𓋼.˚₊𓍊𓋼𓍊.˚☾⭒.˚ AS SAID BY INKY !!

    It's a fair question despite the way it cuts the witch and makes him shut his mouth so quickly that he bites his tongue. Rarely - if ever - has Faust ever asked for permission each time he comes and goes. He's gotten better, at least, at announcing his departure when he remembers to, giving Puck a hug around the neck, Scratch his scratches, accepting a pinch on the cheek from Shadowheart, a warding motion over Puck's tummy where a little one grows.

But he doesn't usually ask. He doesn't know any more than she does why he bothered this time, seeing as he was already midway through packing his bag when the question, Is it alright if I head out for a bit? came out.

Faust freezes with a shirt bunched up in their hand, prepared to cram it in the bag with the rest of the unfolded clothes and haphazardly packed necessities.

"I don't know," they answer with a shrug. "I wanted to... I don't know. Just a heads up, I guess."

When they do resume the motion, stuffing the clothing in beside the ear muffs that Puck knitted them last year, they feel a few inches shorter, a couple years younger.

       "It is?" they ask again. "Alright, I mean. If I go."                And if I come back again, too?

[accultant]

❛ You are cruel to him.  ❜ ( from @sorrowlessons lol )

the princess bride. @sorrowlessons

Iago assumed their avoidant and sulky behavior was sign enough to ward off the others. Most of them didn't even need a hint, happy enough to give the traitor a wide berth on their own.

Shadowheart does not fall into that category and has made this known more than once now. This time she doesn't look armed, at least, which is a relief as much as it makes Iago want to slam their head on a wall. Talking is often more difficult and less satisfying for all those involved.

What she says is a simple. A fact.

Iago nods slowly and replies just as simply, "I know."

They didn't ever want to be. They don't ever mean to be. They're sorry, they're sorry, they're sorry. But they've said all that before, haven't they? It doesn't really matter. They were cruel to him. That is true.

Opening and closing their mouth a few times while they watch for her quicker-than-expected fists and calculate their next words, they eventually add, "He deserves someone kinder. Thank you for being that for him."