#thank you... <3

[freesiadotcom]

ohhh right. i see yes. god answers prayers. oh my gosh. oh. ough .. ohhhhhhh holy shit

[guzmapkmn-archive]

Hey! I'm sorry you're feeling bad. F/os kissing your hand and saying "what's the matter, my love?", ok? <3

~@huggsbury

SNIFFFFFF I would cryyy I need that so bad rn </3

[honey-milk-depresso]

"Hey Honey! I heard you're doing really bad and... I just want you to know I'm here for you. I love you, you know? And me, Ace and Azul don't want anything bad happening to you. I baked you some treats and hot chocolate, so don't feel sad, okay? I'm here for you. We all are. <3"

-Love, Trey Clover your husband <3

PS: By the way, I can cuddle you all night, every day. Just tell me, alright?~

EUGHHHH.....

Y-YOU...

ah i'm too tired to refute you today...

[gentlebliss]

roguefort for the character bingo thing..smirks

BINGO <3

[feathersinthesun]

im pathetic. id probably find most things you do attractive :P

(its true i do find most things you do really attractive)

awww haha that's kinda gay <3 /silly

[everybodyknows-everybodydies]

13 for kharish <3

13: too loud

“—in the third, heavily warded—wait,” she says, nearly reaching her usual volume with alarm as she throws an arm out across the desk.

Urag stops, looking skeptically over his glasses at her. “What?”

Mug in her other hand halfway to her mouth, Kharish waves a hand over the book he was about to pick up. “Don’t touch that one bare-handed,” she croaks, and takes a long drink rather than explaining why.

He takes the pause to study it visually instead. Heavily warded as it might have been to start with, she’s done a number wrapping it back up for transport—he counts seven distinct layers of shielding. The magicka signature underneath is faint, but identifiable; even without the Jhunal owl stamped in the corner, he could have recognized the spell-traces they’ve found on the three Ulfsild texts besides the first.

She sets down the tea. It doesn’t seem to have done much, as she’s still hoarse and scratchy when she says, “It yells.”

“It… yells.”

“At you. If you touch it. Especially if you try to open it.”

“Hm. And did you yell back at it, or—”

“It uses your voice,” she says miserably. “I couldn’t get whatever’s laid on it undone while it was—er, while it was going.”

Could be a handy trick to know, he thinks, if they can work out how to replicate it after they’ve picked it apart to let them see the book itself. Place it on the door to the restricted section and it would be much easier to listen for anyone in a sharp black uniform who thinks they don’t need special permission from both himself and the Archmage, despite the clear signage in multiple places.

Just for example.

Urag nods, smoothing out the page he’s taking notes on. “I’ll have to see it engaged before I can look for how to dismantle it.”

She grimaces. The shielding layers peel off one by one; the book almost shivers, and when she touches the edge of the cover it unleashes an ear-splitting scream that has them both jumping half out of the chairs.

“Right,” he says, heart having lurched solidly into his throat, as she jerks her hand back on reflex. There’s a jagged black line of ink across his notes that wasn’t there before, his pen tip snapped off—he takes a rag to it and clears his throat. “Well, now that our blood pressure’s up.”

“Ha,” she wheezes, and tries again.

“Oh, look at me,” bellows the book in a concerningly accurate facsimile of Kharish’s voice (notably, not hoarse) as soon as her fingertips meet the leather binding; “I can’t remember whether I’m meant to lead with the left or the right when I start a circular rune, I have to check someone else’s notes because I can’t organize my own—”

The inkpot at the other end of the desk rattles right off the side. He leans to catch it—misses—with a crack it lands on the floor and sweeps a perfect arc of ink across the stone tile.

For a moment it is deathly silent. He rights himself in his chair with the grim deliberation of a glacier. Kharish, both hands pulled back to herself, says with a pained expression, “I don’t really sound like that all the time, do I?”

Urag gingerly wraps her scarf back around the book to pick it up. Despite the physical barrier, there’s a tingle in the back of his throat when he does. “…on second thought, let’s take it outside.”

[shepherdsofhaven]

ʕ⁠っ⁠•⁠ᴥ⁠•⁠ʔ⁠っ♥️