#trinketh

[divinatiions]

The Empire nights have always been cold. It's not like it's some sort of secret for Beau to gawk and bluster at. Her childhood is full of bundling up in blankets and such when winter encroaches. Faintly she remembers a fireplace in her room. And then, the fireplace in the one she shared with other Cobalt Soul monks.

But here she is now, shivering under the protection of the stars and a few scraggly bedrolls. She sits up and tries her best to focus on her watch, and not on the blissful snores of her party who are all cuddled together. Lucky fucks.

" You’re cold, " says the gruff voice of @trinketh , as Yasha. Probably here to relieve her of her watch. " Come here. "

Beau blinks at the offer. " Me -- ? Uh, yeah. Sure. " Hey, she'd be a fool to argue, right? Still, she feels awkward as she sidles up to the aasimar's side. " You uh. You here to keep watch? "

[adveanture-archived]

*    @trinketh​​    —    ELVEN  AMBASSADORS’  DISAPPOINTMENTS  COME  IN  PAIRS 

THE   DIRT   IN   HIS   MOUTH   TASTES   ONLY   A   LITTLE   FOULER   THAN   THE   WORDS   OF   HIS   CLASSMATES.         hateful,   derisive   words   he   ought   to   be   used   to   by   now      —      do   you   ever   get   used   to   it,   vax   has   to   wonder      —      spat   his   way,   shoved   down   in   the   school   courtyard   because   .   .   .      well,   there   won’t   be   any   trouble   from   knocking   syldor   vessar’s   othlir   bastard   down   a   peg   or   two,   will   there?      once   they   leave   him   be      —      four   on   one,   that’s   quite   fair;      he   wishes   for   vex’ahlia   and   is   thankful   they’ve   not   got   the   same   schedules   at   this   time   all   at   once      —      chuckling   amongst   themselves,   chattering   about   him   in   elvish   as   if   they   still   don’t   remember   he   speaks   it,   too      (   father   made   sure   of   that,   didn’t   he   ),      as   they   return   inside,   vax   picks   himself   up   and   runs   the   opposite   way.      fuck   those   lessons      —      he’s   no   good   at   them   anyway.      and   even   if   he   was,   like   his   sister,   it   wouldn’t   matter;      he   learns   that   long   ago.   

an   alcove   and   some   privacy      —      that’s   all   he   needs   before   he   melds   with   the   shade   and   the   stone,   knees   to   his   skinny   chest,   school   clothes   all   dirty   and   scuffed,   fists   tight   and   pushing   into   his   eyes.            “      don’t   you   fucking   cry,      ”            he   orders   himself.      it’s   not   the   hurt   of   it      —      they   stopped   being   able   to   really,   truly   wound   him   long   ago   .   .   .      or   perhaps   there   is   simply   no   more   left   unwounded.      no,   but   it   is   the   frustration.      mother   would   have   never   let   anyone   hurt   you      —      she   never   would   have   fucking   encouraged   it   either.      he   stays   for   vex’ahlia   .   .   .      and   because   there’s   nowhere   else   to   go   but   days   and   days   of   travel   to   byroden      —      a   route   he   does   not   know   how   to   find.      but,   gods   above,   he   wants   to   truly   melt   away   into   the   shadows,   not   just   for   the   moment,   and   follow   them   all   the   way   back   home.   

[archived-hellesfeuer]

*    @trinketh​​    —    I  NEEDED  TO  MAKE  IT  STOP. 

HE   WISHES   HE   COULD   HAVE   SPARED   ADAINE   SO   MUCH.         she   comes   to   them   too   late      —      finds   her   friends   too   late.      not   too   late   for   her   to   have   a   full   and   happy   life,   but   too   late   for   her   to   have   the   childhood   she   deserves.      caleb   sits   down   in   front   of   her   where   she   sits   against   the   wall,   backed   into   the   corner   of   her   cabin   at   the   adventuring   camp.      he   rolls   up   the   sleeves   of   his   shirt,   exposing   the   litany   of   scars   on   all   sides   of   his   forearms;      he   does   not   hide   what   is   done   to   him   anymore,   but   he   does   not   display   it   so   often   for   the   children   in   his   care.   

“      oftentimes,      ”            he   begins,   slow   and   careful,   tearful   in   a   quiet   way,            “      we   are   only   able   to   protect   ourselves   when   it   is   too   late.      and   .   .   .      some   may   say   that   any   sort   of   action   taken   after   the   fact   is   nothing   but   revenge.      that   it   .   .   .      serves   no   purpose   and   helps   no   one.      but   i   don’t   believe   that’s   true.      it   may   not   change   how   you   feel   about   what   happened      —      not   now,   not   yet.      but   i   believe   that   you   did   the   right   thing.      ”            his   expression   hardens   a   bit,   and   he   sees   the   halls   of   the   sanatorium   once   again,   here   in   the   vault   of   his   mind.            “      and   you   should   not   allow   anyone   to   force   you   to   feel   guilty   for   it.      ”   

[nightstalk]

&.        .      .      .        ☾     plotted.     /     @trinketh​​

fate.    it was a concept david had never believed in, never gave a second thought.   but tonight, all that was about to change.    it was a normal night on all accounts, nothing out of the ordinary.    the vampire visiting the boardwalk in search of entertainment, always leaving the who, how, and what up to the randomness of the night.    but nothing could ever prepare him for this.    spurs chime out against the cement, making his way down the ramp from the second level to the exit of the boardwalk.   but right as he hits the landing, he turns, and that’s when he sees someone staring at him like they’ve seen a ghost.    was this his prom queen moment, stopping someone dead in their tracks as he cascaded down the stairs ?    brows pinch ever - so - slightly, a familiarity in the boy he’s looking at, but he can’t pinpoint on where he knows him from   .   .   .   that is, until it all comes rushing back.    a laugh leaves the vampires lips almost immediately, features washing with the sheer amusement of the situation before he calls out in the other’s direction.     “   laddie thompson   .   .   .   is that you ?!   ”

[adveanture-archived]

*    @trinketh​    —    BIRTHDAYS  IN  BYRODEN 

IN   THE   EARLY   DAWN,   THE   TWINS   STILL   SLEEP   IN   THEIR   FIRESIDE   PALLET,   LIMBS   TANGLED   UP   IN   EACH   OTHER.         in   the   dim   light,   elaina   can   barely   tell   them   apart.      but   there   they   are:      vax’s   little   nose   that   is   just   that   much   longer   than   vex’ahlia’s,   vex’s   hair   that   curls   against   her   forehead   while   vax’ildan’s   falls   straighter.      elaina   smiles,   stooping   down   until   she’s   sitting   close   enough   to   brush   her   hand   through   her   children’s   hair   to   wake   them.            “      good   morning,   chickens,      ”            she   coos,   smirking   and   kissing   their   heads.            “      it’s   a   very   special   day   .   .   .      ”            vex’ahlia   will   wake   first,   she   has   no   doubt,   as   she   always   does.      and   her   very   pointed   jostling   will   wake   vax’ildan.   

[adveanture-archived]

*    @trinketh​​    —    TWINS  &  TRINKETS 

VEX’AHLIA   RETURNS   TO   CAMP   AFTER   SUNRISE,   AND   VAX   NEARLY   YANKS   HER   INTO   HIS   ARMS.         holds   her   tight   for   a   moment,   too   relieved   to   take   note   of   the   bundle   between   them   just   now,   before   pulling   back   enough      (   just   enough   )      to   keep   his   hands   on   her   shoulders   and   take   a   good   look   at   her.      she   looks   .   .   .      well   enough,   if   a   bit   bruised   and   dazed      —      not   much   worse   off   than   him   actually,   after   returning   from   a   job   in   town   to   their   little   hideaway   inside   the   mouth   of   this   cave.            “      where’ve   you   been?      ”            he   asks,   a   bit   breathless   with   the   release   of   knowing   she’s   alright,   brow   furrowed.            “      i   got   back   at   dawn,   and   you   weren’t   here,   and   i      —      ”            it’s   then   that   he   notices   the   bundle      —      not-quite-bundle,   something   else   entirely.      vax   lifts   an   eyebrow   and   cocks   his   head.            “      is   that   a   bear?      ”   

[cathaedra]

*    @trinketh​ starter    —    dextyr roan  &  jessamine de silva 

he tries to get his hair just right  —  just so, where the de silvas won’t have another piece of him to irritate their sensibilities.    his hair has always been a bit unmanageable  —  curls in every direction, waving off and doing what they will no matter how many times folks have cut them or combed them.  but dex also needs to keep it long enough to cover the tips of his ears  —  he wants that, especially around these people.

jess, however, looks beautiful  —  effortlessly beautiful.  but she’s used to all this, even if they’re more often than not sequestered in the countryside these days.  she seems to slip right back into her old ways and old manners when they visit her family.  dex envies that ease a bit, but he’ll mask all that like he always does.

“  want t’ help me here?  between this doublet and this hair, ‘m a bit of a mess.  ”    he smirks at her over his shoulder, meeting her eyes in the mirror before him.

[deputyfangs-arc]

@trinketh​  + starter call.  ♡.    /    cassandra.

HE IS BITTEN IN THE WINTER SNOW,  an arm above his head shielding amber eyes from an unwelcome sunshine. he moves quickly and quietly, daggers gripped in both hands. it is hard, being who he is, but the filed down teeth and the mutagen blood in his veins help, somewhat. he knows that there is someone out there who can help him, in exchange for coin,  and he has seen the de rolo contraptions with his own two eyes.  ashley is a marksman,  wicked grin and deadly sights, so christian knows that these guns work.  he’s watched them take down all they have ever needed to do.  he is blessed with a hunter’s sight, knows where ashley’s bullets are going to end up long before the ranger pulls the trigger. if there is someone out there who can get him what he needs to save ashley, it’s the people who make ashley’s gun.

he arrives in whitestone.   he knows what vampires have done to this family.   he prays to the gods he doesn’t believe in that they do not figure out the truth about his blood.  christian knocks on the doors.