♡ (chinhands)
●●●●○ | ATTRACTION ○○○○○ | AFFECTION ●●●●● | INTEREST ○○○○○ | LOYALTY ●●○○○ | TRUST
"I don't want to talk about Griss."
seen from Pakistan

seen from Russia

seen from Yemen
seen from Russia

seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Yemen

seen from United Arab Emirates
seen from Serbia

seen from China
seen from Yemen

seen from United States
seen from Canada
seen from Canada

seen from Canada
seen from Saudi Arabia

seen from Serbia

seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from United States
♡ (chinhands)
●●●●○ | ATTRACTION ○○○○○ | AFFECTION ●●●●● | INTEREST ○○○○○ | LOYALTY ●●○○○ | TRUST
"I don't want to talk about Griss."
♡ 🐀
no longer accepting / the apothecary hikikomori diaries
●○○○○ | ATTRACTION ●●●●○ | AFFECTION ●●●●○ | INTEREST ●●●○○ | LOYALTY ●●●○○ | TRUST
LOW | ●●●●● | HIGH NEGATIVE ● | ● POSITIVE
Just thinking about him gives Bernie the chills! How'd he know about the rats that kidnapped me?! He—he knew, didn't he? He must have! He calls me Rat Princess! What if he was behind all of it?! But when he threw one of his squeaky subjects at me, it was all terrified of him... Ugh, I don't know anymore!
About Griss: Attraction
... Ew...
About Griss: Trust?
Well... he was the only one who agreed with what I said during that strategy meeting. Someone actually thought Bernie was right. Isn't that sad? He's officially done that more times than my father. Which is just sad.
But don't get me wrong! He's still terrifying! And needs to put on a shirt already! Wh-why are his— they're just out like that, on purpose? Really? Think of the children! It doesn't matter how defined they are!
♡ bats eyelashes
Send ♡ to see what my muse thinks of yours
●●●●● | ATTRACTION * ●●●●● | AFFECTION ●●●●● | INTEREST ●●●●● | LOYALTY ●●●●○ | TRUST *
"Coarse as unmilled seeds, as thirsty for blood as any Fell Dragon twice over, and at times thoroughly unpredictable. A knight only loosely by common understanding but one in perfect demand nonetheless. I've no need for honor or propriety, for lapdogs soft and uninformed. Only absolute presence and loyalty, only. . ."
"—ahem. In any case. Every existence is drawn to the search for greater meaning. A dog can be called a hound only when it possesses a master to serve. For some time now I have been that master and Griss my steadfast hound; nevertheless, our curiosities toward each other remain never ending. After all, the story of Gregory's counterpart is not yet one perfectly known to me."
Nor that of Gregory's lord to Griss.
i just read a book called the bible, have you ever heard of it?
♡ hey bestie 😘
Send ♡ to see what my muse thinks of yours
○○○○○ | ATTRACTION ○○○○○ | AFFECTION ●●○○○ | INTEREST (toa's heard sara's "hear me outs." now its time to hear dorothea out) ○○○○○ | LOYALTY ○○○○○ | TRUST
"i meant every word i said back there. i won't hesitate to knock out your lights if you try something like that again."
"...can't say i'm fond of you, though considering how professor rafal seems to enjoy your company, it seems like you just might be capable of holding some sort of sway over hearts. how exactly, i'm not sure, though i suppose some enjoy the gruff types. if you want to call yourself that. i'd settle for another word, personally. like disturbed."
♡ for gregory <3
●○○○○ | ATTRACTION ●●●●○ | AFFECTION ●●●●○ | INTEREST ●●●●● | LOYALTY ●●●●● | TRUST
For a man who has always been fearful of pain, he still makes the decision to put himself in harm's way for both her sake and Rafal's. A bravery not seen in many, though she doesn't doubt that he would downplay it were she to voice this to him. She only hopes that one day, she can come to repay the loyalty that he's shown; it's been many years since Nel accepted him as a part of her 'family', albeit not by blood-- all of the Winds occupy some position in that strange makeshift hierarchy. In the moments when she truly believed her Winds to be stilled, she could think of no greater regret than how she wished to express how much he meant to her.
He's laid down his life for her multiple times. Now it's her chance to return the favor, never hesitating if she gets the opportunity to tuck him under her wing and shield him from the harsh, outside world.
[ it's a grouse ] The sound of bells precedes him. But for once, Griss has no intention of sneaking. He swings a dead bird by its legs like its a bag or some other accessory, while other guests glance at him once, twice in horror as he jingles past them. Each of them would make a good recipient for his little gift (or... re-gift), but he has his eyes set on someone else entirely.
It's not easy to miss the tall, angelic-looking figures mingling in the crowd. Ethereal radiance aside, their white-feathered wings stand out by themselves. Griss doesn't think they're real. After all, he's seen plenty of people dressed up in feathers tonight.
This one just looks a little too comfortable, is all.
"Here." Griss bows his head in faux apology, presenting the dead bird, an arrow still protruding from its chest (its shaft affixed, now, with a little bell) with both hands. With all the reverence one might show a deity, he lays the thing at the man's feet.
"Sorry for your loss."
He turns away before he can break his straight face, but calloused laughter follows him as he strolls away.
Throughout his life, Rafiel has seen a lot of colorful, peculiar and often unpleasant people. On the auction block, though he did not personally witness the bidding for him, he could still recognize the peak of greed and arrogance surrounding him from all sides. In Micaiah's army, he silently hid behind Queen Nailah and Volug from the hatred and disgust flowing throughout the people of Daein akin to a pestilent river. Allied with Commander Ike, he met people of all ages, views and attitudes and then encountered more still on the battlefield, their auras coming together to form a complicated, tangled mess of a net that he navigated through with the utmost care and not without difficulty.
But even among them all, including the most disturbing ones he can recall, this one is... new. Even as his attention is drawn and he turns to face the man approaching him, he is already feeling a sting of nausea coming in.
And once they lock eyes, it does not get better. Though the sight of the grouse with an arrow protruding from its chest startles Rafiel, sending a cold wave throughout his body, he has seen the results of the Wolves' hunts several times in the past, so as unpleasant as the sight is, it is... bearable.
But something about the man bothers him. Disturbs him. Terrifies him. He does not understand what to make of it.
There is a mixture of darkness, distortion and some strange form of suffering and joy within that heart. Eyes full of tears stare into his soul, and at the same time a loud, wild, sickening burst of deafening, unhinged laughter rings in his ears,
drowning everything out,
drowning him within itself.
He has to remind himself to breathe to stop himself from collapsing, and the words spoken to him register with too much delay.
"I—I don't know wh-what you..." He begins, but by then, he has already turned away to leave, laughter following in his trail. Rafiel is left standing there, pale on his face, with the dead grouse lying before him.
Maybe he can... call Naesala to take it for a snack or something...
But he really needs to sit down first.
"You're--!" Here. In one piece. Alive. A professor? Griss can't decide how to complete the sentence as he pushes through the throng of dismissed students spilling out of the classroom, bumping shoulders with a few of them but not even looking back. His eyes instead fix on a familiar figure - the goddess appointed by his dying words - certain that if he were to look away, she'd disappear without a trace.
But when he reaches her, jostled and breathless, the look in her eyes tells him, beyond a doubt, that she's as real as he is. If they were both dead, at least they wound up in the same place.
"You took your sweet time." He doesn't care about the answers to questions, how she got her, or why. Disbelief seems like a waste of breath now, so what he offers her instead is a smile. A rare one: genuine, and soft, like the look he'd given her when they were saying their goodbyes.
"Paperwork must've gotten lost or something." It cracks a little wider with the joke, but doesn't disrupt the clarity in his eyes as he looks up at her. "You're a sight here, that's for sure."
IT HAS ONLY BEEN A DAY SINCE HER ACCEPTANCE, and yet, the church inclines itself to work the mage dragon to her very bones. when she dismisses the class, it is with a faux smile pinned to the curve of her lips and a half - hooded gaze of relief. oh how tiring humans were when faced with knowledge━━━beady eyes bright with curiosity; unearned, unprovoked. there was a willingness to participate and learn and indulge that, at the very least, filled zephia's still heart with the slightest twinge of hope. the monastery was a lost cause the moment she drew her first breath before its gates━━━its students' inclination to devour information first and ask later simply proved their weakness. it was almost a shame that━━━
she hears him before she sees him. or, rather, her ears pick up the ruckus that his presence always brings before her eyes can reach him.
students look back as the man forces his way through the mass of bodies, ever so selfish in his conquest of simply existing. and zephia could not be more sure of this if not for the mere reverence in his gaze; its sole fixation on her and only her.
for but a moment, she remembers how revitalizing it is to be worshipped so eagerly.
"g... griss?" her voice leaves her without thought, hardly audible and too breathless; it's too late for her to trap the name between her teeth. ironic, it becomes, when both hounds are finally standing before one another, their breathing thin and eyes wide with respective shock. the silence is not long, for it never is when griss is near. and that, the realization that yes, he is alive and breathing and unharmed, steels zephia's body.
her shoulders lower and away goes the surprise; thus, painted lips straighten into a thin smile. a monotonous expression that almost immediately threatens to soften at the tenderness griss reveals to her. it is anything but right━━━fierceness should be his default, always, always━━━and yet, zephia can only utter a small laugh in response.
"trust my words; if i had known you were here, i would have awakened sooner." because he deserved it. what else could she give in light of his sacrifice? his trust? instead of entertaining the thought, zephia sighs━━━unmoved by the man's joke, but relieved all the same. "is my presence here that much of a surprise? think now, it was inevitable. this monastery is a fraud of safety, after all; allowing two hounds into their ranks."
she does not comment on her position as a professor. neither does she comment on what his position might be. ( something bloody, surely. something to entertain his urges. )
but the admiration in griss' gaze quickly becomes unsettling; it has been too long, too soon. zephia hides away her smile, turning away to set down the ink - stained papers she has been holding without pause. "have you been in fódlan long? to me, it was just the other day that i, or rather, we..." died, she almost finishes, but the words never comes out. she continues, "anyway, i trust that you have been vigilant in my absence, darling?"