#timeline: unknown

[slugfox]

slowly developing my little scout into a proper silksong enemy

it would be originally found in a cage in Hunter’s March, and runs away immediately upon being freed. in any room afterwards , there would be a small chance for it to appear, and follows Hornet around. it doesn’t attack unless provoked, and flees again after a few hits, which would count as a “kill” for the hunter’s journal. the actual entry will not be the same as its counterpart in CE/WOL. when appearing in act 3, it will be the oxidized variant.

[meloraan]

open starter — aurelia

“Every year, Marigold Whovier has the best lights,” Aurelia mutters, crouched on the floor with a tangled mess of wires in her lap. She gives the strand a sharp tug, growling to herself when the knot tightens. “Perfect spacing. Perfect color balance. Not a bulb out of place.”

She exhales through her nose, fingers working furiously at the mess of string lights. “Well, not this year. This year I’m gonna beat that prim, perfect little prissy—”

[honeyedstxrlight]

@thegreatstrongbow continued from here

“No!”

The word left her sharper than she intended, breath catching as she lunged forward. Her fingers closed around his wrist just as the spoon hovered before his lips, the wooden bowl trembling with the heat of the broth.

“Do not,” Auriel insisted, golden brows drawn tight with alarm. Her other hand came up to steady his, guiding the spoon away from his mouth with careful but unmistakable urgency. The scent of the soup—earthy, rich, deceptively pleasant—rose between them.

“Is that the mushroom you used to make this?” she demanded, eyes flicking from the bowl to the scattered remnants on the cutting board beside the hearthstone. Her stomach dropped. She stepped away only long enough to snatch up one of the discarded caps, turning it in her fingers. Pale gills. Faint silvering along the stem. A blush of green at the base that would go unnoticed in poor light.

Her expression drained.

“It is,” she breathed. Then, more firmly, “It is poisonous.”

Not deadly—unless one was foolish. Or unlucky. She set the mushroom down as though it might bite her and turned back to him, incredulous and faintly furious in equal measure.

“Did you not see the sheen beneath the cap? The ring along the stalk?” She shook her head, golden hair catching the firelight. “In shadowed woods they resemble the meadow-kind, but they are not the same.”

Her grip softened, though she did not release him entirely.

“In small amounts it will sicken you,” she said, voice lowering now, the heat of her panic shifting into concern. “Cramping. Fever. Hallucinations, if enough is taken. In greater quantity…” She did not finish.

“You have not swallowed any, correct?”

[divinitatemxsanguis]

Open starter

“I would say that it’s nice to see you, but that would be a lie.”

[honeyedstxrlight]

@admirableringmaker continued from here // @curufiin muse mention

“It is of the utmost importance, of course.”

Auriel nodded her head, though the faint glimmer in her golden eyes betrayed her. She turned without waiting for protest, the fall of her pale hair catching the torchlight as she beckoned him with two fingers.

“Come,” she added brightly, as though inviting him to a council of grave strategy rather than a kitchen.

The corridors of Angband were ever cold, iron and stone swallowing warmth as easily as hope. Yet she walked them as though they were polished halls, light-footed and untroubled, the hem of her dark gown whispering across blackened floors. When she spoke again, her tone softened into something almost conspiratorial.

“Our lord has asked for more baklava to be made,” she said, glancing over her shoulder at him, smile sweet as the honey used in the treat. “And he wishes for you to assist me.”

They reached the great kitchens—vast, firelit chambers carved into black stone. The scent of honey and roasted nuts lingered faintly in the warm air, a rare gentleness amid iron and ash.

“I want it to be perfect,” she admitted, stepping inside and brushing her fingers lightly over the worktable. As she moved, Melkor’s voice echoed softly in her memory, silken and amused, remarking that his lieutenant seemed to be growing fond of her. She had taken it as truth, perhaps even approval. It had not occurred to her that the words might have been meant for anything else. If there was tension beneath them, she did not sense it; if there was falsehood, she did not notice it. In her mind, Melkor’s words had not been meant to wound or provoke, but to encourage closeness among those who served him. “He works so tirelessly. If something as simple as this brings him comfort, then it should be made with care.”

[meloraan]

@brokenclockwork continued from here

“I’d offer a tip,” she says dryly, “if they’d stop trampling my petunias every time they arrived.”

Aurelia rolls her eyes as she folds her arms across her chest, weight shifting to one hip in a posture that’s clearly irritated. She exhales through her nose and tips her head back slightly.

“God of Light,” she mutters, voice edged with disbelief, “what was so important?”

[meloraan]

“Hey! Who just assaulted me with a chalupa!?!”

[meloraan]

@th-aubade continued from here

Arden shrugged, idly twirling his cane between gloved fingers as his eyes swept over the woman in front of him. He’d never thought of himself as father material—too much time spent in the field, too many nights where duty outweighed sleep. Still, he didn’t mind children. They were honest in a way adults rarely were. And in the end, most of his work came down to keeping them safe, whether the reports said so or not.

“Kids are fine by me. You have any?”