#spookypyromancy

[oholyvile-blog]

@spookypyromancy

                           ❛ If someone attempts to dress me up one more time, I shall dispose of them. I do not care if I will look ‘cute’ or ‘endearing’ in a costume. I despise this infernal holiday only for the irritating company it brings. ❜

[vintyvanora]

Puts down a heart

attraction meme||accepting

Romantic attraction: none | very low | low | medium | high | very high | extremeSexual attraction: none | very low | low | medium | high | very high | extremeAesthetic attraction: none | very low | low | medium | high | very high | extremeSensual attraction: none | very low | low | medium | high | very high | extreme

[thatwhichdestroys-blog]

@spookypyromancy liked for a starter.

It was a strange thing to be in someone else’s corner of the Fade; it was unfamiliar, not like Home. All that surrounded her seemed to shift away from any recognizable form, and yet it held some strange sense of... familiarity. It did not put her on edge, and yet she can’t help but feel that she should wonder if she is safe.

There is one shape unchanging, though - a man, an elf even. Was this his creation? Or maybe  both of them were outsiders, trespassers, undesired company in a place they should not be.

Another possibility is that he is another Fade creature, and that this is a trap. In such a case, she is already doomed - her figure here is not human any longer. It retains some aspects - the face, the general form, but it is twisted and warped and ugly. It is easier to maintain that presence here; it takes too much focus to assume something closer to the physical body she inhabits.

“All of this is yours?”

[blindedhubris-blog]

stop trying to get w/ me you demon trash

you think you can just say things to me

[vintyvanora]

♖

kind gesture meme||accepting

♖ comforting after a nightmare

   The Harvestmere celebrations have lasted long into the night, the sun creeping out from    the horizon before she and Valeriu collapsed, exhausted, into bed. His room is closest,    the expensive adornments they had worn before carefully placed aside before sleep. After    all, even with alcohol neither of them were negligent enough to sleep in their gold and    jewels. Sometime in the wee hours of the morning, not long after they had fallen asleep,    Valeriu jerks awake. The motion and his heavy breathing wake Vanora from her sleep, the    healer groggy and already sporting the dangerous signs of a hangover. It isn’t until she can    focus on his face, noting how shaken he looks, that she realizes something is wrong.    Fingers wring around his wrists, rubbing absently along the scars that remain there, and    she doesn’t need to ask what it is that’s haunting his dreams. Sighing, she pushes his    mussed hair from his face and coaxes him back down.

   He protests, insisting that he cannot sleep after this, but she shushes him quietly, wrapping    her arms around him and pulling him to her side. She hums some lullaby her nursemaid    sang her long ago, fingers stroking repetitively through his hair until he releases his wrist.    Eventually his breathing evens out, the elven magister falling back into sleep. This time,    hopefully dreams come instead of nightmares. Sure that he is asleep again, Vanora doesn’t   budge, falling fast asleep beside him, fingers falling from his scalp to the pillow behind him.

[calisvol]

    a thinly EXHALED breath stutters through fangs as he sinks to his knees , not from some SUPPLICATION , but rather of pain . houses of worship were so very much the same in their covetous holiness , doing ENOUGH to banish those such as he . alucard wears robes in this place , blending with the DECADENT raiment of the people . outside the temple , and where he could not be SEEN , he slips the outer and under robes off his shoulders and allows cool air to frankly assuage their BURNING . those intricate and violent scars , still scathing to his flesh .

[diiscordaremoved]

🌹

                                             Send 🌹 to give my muse a rose.

                many know even from myths that Dragons were material creatures, their hearts easily swayed with gifts lain at their feet.  What more could you expect from creatures of greed ?  They are hoarders at nature who appreciate finer things, or meaningful gifts, no matter how big or small.  It simply depended on the Dragon and their tastes, and the one gifting them.  Luckily, they weren’t too picky when it was from someone they deem respectable, or who they find themselves particularly ( possessive ) protective over.  It was simply a treasure that they had them in mind at the moment. 

                              The Firelands were, surprisingly, quite abundant in vegetation that had adapted over the centuries to Volcanic soil.  Most assumed it to be a scarred, ashen wasteland--to which it could be in many areas, no doubt--but there was live among the ashes other than the stalking beasts that prey.  Adrastia herself finds peace in wandering the blossoming jungle of her Empire, gathering plants and fruits that were precious to her kin.  And, due to Valeriu’s background, the mage he was, she thought it ideal for him to tag along.              ( he seemed happy to oblige, perhaps moreso for her company than                                    the plants she wished to harvest today. )

            “ --- while we do have a garden near the palace, it is nowhere near as rich as the wildlands. Of course, nothing can quite match up to untamed nature, can it ? A garden is too confining for anything to grow... “ Rambled the Empress as she treads lightly through the undergrowth, coal-colored claws sweeping barely over a giant orange flower’s petals. Dust seems to fall with the faint touch, glistening with light as it cascaded downwards.  The scenery truly was lovely; plant-life of another world, less green, more warmer, richer colors that compliment a lavender sky not yet at sun-fall.  Trees with charcoal bark stretch out towards the heavens, tipped with golden-red leaves that would fall upon the two in a gentle shower.  It causes her to smile, turned towards the other mage as to see what he had been observing. 

             ( and there it is held, betwixt his fingers ; a delicacy to the dragons,                                   though she wonders if he knew ? )         for a second, Adrastia can only stare mildly puzzled into the gentle face of the elf before her, waiting to see if perhaps he might speak. But it seemed as though this gesture was all he wished to convey, a step closer taken, and the bloom remain offered forth. It would be quite rude of her to deny, especially something so sacred, and from one she cared for. As glowing eyes lid, the Dragon reaches forth and takes the offering, admiring the way light cascades off of folded petals; how embers seem to burn within the very core of the flower.  It was called Ixen for a reason, after all.

           “ Noxhi, Valeriu. This flower is revered in our culture, did you know ? Our legends say that the core of this flower alone can resurrect a fire dragon’s spark--reignite their heart from ashes. They do not grow much anymore... “ once her eyes have finished inspecting it close, they rise to lock with his, graceful steps taken til she settled at his side. A set of wings drape loosely about him--the Empress coaxes him to walk with her once more.               “ I must thank you for such a rarity, Ixen. It shall last for quite a while. “