#whofavorsfire

[shatteredionysus]

@whofavorsfire from here

A witch, a mortal, brought to the domain of a god. Her eyes bore into the deity’s before her in defiance. Though, it didn’t quell the fear in her heart, worried of what was to come. She was disposable, vulnerable, and oh so fragile in comparison.

Her wrists were bound before her, even if they were originally behind her back. It truly didn’t take much to maneuver herself to get more comfortable in the bindings behind her original captors’ backs.

After taking time to study the man, the brunette canted her head to the side curiously. An obvious question at the tip of her tongue, yet one she never would speak aloud.

What was to happen next?

The world had shattered, myths and legends, monsters, surging to the surface again. Magic and belief tearing across the world, some fighting against it, others fighting for it, so many gods rising and falling.

Dionysus swelled in power, desperate people, partying desperately, looking for relief, for solutions, conventions breaking down, him holding together three small fiefdoms as relatively stable areas.

“And just who did you upset, that they’d give you to my people, to me, as an offering?” he asked her, he hadn’t bothered to ask his people.

His were a ragtag lot, some wearing revealing things, some suits, some tactical gear, all of them with wine skins or flasks though, and those closest to him all with staves. They lounged around, some whispering and chatting, a loose court.

He lifted his hand, the ropes around her wrist shifting, tightening for a moment, before growing scales, slowly slithering off of her, hissing as it transformed into a snake, rearing up for him to idly stroke its head.

[middlexpath]

@whofavorsfire from here

She wrapped her hands around the strap of her bag as she walked beside the woman, glancing up toward the trees with a faint smile on her face. She loved the woods. The sound of the wind through the trees was probably her favorite sound in the world. There was a peace there, a power, that was unlike anything else she’d ever known. 

Salem trotted through the leaves ahead of them. 

“My aunts used to say that the woods were our church,” she said softly. 

[calabrun]

@whofavorsfire -- ;

It was a secret few who had dealings with demons truly knew about, something no grimoire knew of: in order to keep a demonic contract from selling your soul, you kept them well-fed. Oftentimes by feeling them the soul of another demon, a practice he’d learned early on in the Scholomance and this proved no different. For this, for what he and Rebecca had planned they needed the demon Valak to be the fodder--something no ordinary person would undertake, were they not an expert Solomonari of the likes that he was.   

Candles were lit in all their profusion, Vlad genuflecting near the pentagram to ensure it was painted right. With how complex it was, nothing could be amiss lest some grievous error be made. In the dark and dim in these Parisian catacombs beneath the earth, their work was to begin. 

“Are you ready?”

[anotherxpath-blog]

@whofavorsfire liked for a starter with Cyrus (it won’t let me tag the other blog)

The warlock sighed deeply, rubbing a hand over his clouded eye and attempting to get whatever weirdness was in her mind out of his. Satan, he was going to teach her to shield her thoughts just so he didn’t have to deal with it anymore. 

“Y’know they frown on killin’ students, yeah?”

[protect-lethally-blog]

@whofavorsfire from here

It was an odd arrangement, but yet it was one she planned to ignore until the time came. Do the job, get paid, and worry about the wedding business later. But, doing a job with her betrothed was proving to be somewhat amusing. Working alongside him, it was a good way to gain measure of a man. How they would be during times of frustration and times when things panned out.

Rebecca spent ages doing research in the RV at a table, sipping a mug of tea. Historical documents, previous attempts to find this elusive treasure. But if it worked out, the payday would be well worth it.

When the door open and closed, the woman didn’t even look up, though she knew already who it was.

“So what clues were found, I went ahead and sent to a university for authentication. If it pans out, we can go from there?”

It wasn’t exactly what he’d expected when he’d agreed (or been pushed to agree) to this arrangement, but he supposed it could be worse. He’d expected to be forced into a more formal, quiet arrangement. Imagine his surprise when his betrothed turned out to be nearly as unconventional as he was. She’d asked him to help her track down some lost treasure in a situation that sounded almost like Indiana Jones. 

He liked Indiana Jones, so he was okay with this. 

He returned to the RV that was their current base of operations, groceries in his arms. Rebecca was researching when he left to get them some food, and they had, sadly, hit a bit of a roadblock. He just hoped she had something in mind. Pushing open the door, he found her exactly where he’d left her and smirked faintly to himself as he squeezed past the table to start putting the groceries away. “Yeah, that works for me. What happens if they don’t pan out, though?” he asked, glancing over his shoulder at her. 

[powerofkings]

@whofavorsfire liked this for a starter

Noctis glanced over his shoulder nervously as he slid up beside the woman, clearing his throat. “Hey, um, I promise I’m not some creep. But would you mind just, pretending to be with me for like five minutes?” he asked nervously, unsure if she’d recognize him or not. Not everyone did, on sight, and he was on street clothes. 

But, she seemed approachable, the right age where he wouldn’t stand out if someone was just rushing by.

“I might be being followed by some paparazzi. And I’d appreciate your help, a lot,” he said, sheepishly. 

[clypeusamicitiam]

Gladiolus was grateful for the weekend away from Insomnia, even if things were..dangerous. He still thought it was important to get out, explore as much of Lucis as he could. Both for himself, and for his duties some day.

The chocobo riding was more just for fun, it was nice picking up skills, filing it away in case it was useful. And there were apparently quite a few that showed up to the chocobo post for fun.

As he rode, he accidentally bumped his large black bird into a woman’s, and he flashed her an apologetic smile. “Sorry, first time riding,” he said easily.

@whofavorsfire

[ivory-paragon]

• research partner | @whofavorsfire

Day…. I don’t remember. I was told I was supposed to keep a journal. I’ve had this disease for going on two years now… and I was supposed to be logging all the differences I feel on a day-to-day basis.  At first, I didn’t take heed to the advice. I didn’t think I needed it. The effects of contracting this disease never really showed until recently. There were spots on me, small ones that gathered along my chest and spread to my arms. It now aches and the seizures that produce it from my pores are more constant. I am dealing with changing my bandages on a regular basis. I’m a little late to the party, as they say, but I’m logging this to make sure there’s a record of it somewhere.

A shadow is cast over the paper from where his loopy handwriting is scrawled across the length of it. It’s Elena, he could tell by the silhouette.

“OH good! You’re finally writing in the journal I gave you!” she’s very elated about this. Her smile reaches her eyes and she’s trying to read the handwriting she knows so well by him. There’s a furrow of his brow and he leans back in the leather chair for her to take a glance. She seems a bit disheartened by it. “It is a good start.. I guess,” she forces that smile now.

“I’m trying.” He follows his words with a shrug. “Do you have any information on the woman who’s conducting similar test runs in the lodgings?” Kilmister is particularly wary of her. He feels it has to do with the Mako stimulates and just how much hoarding he is doing with them. Her interests rest purely on finding a cure, however. He feels she should warn her and has his Turks relay the message. For the most part, she’s kept to herself and the research at a low-key status. Rufus hardly knew of her work until a few neighbors have whispered their involvement in her tests. They weren’t in the later stages of the disease like Rufus was.

Kilmister was very slow at his work; at least this was the hypothesis that Rufus was conducting. If this woman was faster with better results, he’d wished to have an audience with her. “Rude is visiting her as we speak. Let’s hope it goes well.” Elena speaks with crossed fingers.