#wnisa

[lekkkkkkk]

There’s a time when you miss the person you shouldn’t miss but u can’t do anything ‘bout that and you just keep praying for them to get their shit together and come back to the good time’s we had!

[lekkkkkkk]

Dak urime; tedua💙

[lekkkkkkk]

Lets just have a talk, u know i miss ur energy!

[lekkkkkkk]

Imissu

[soundless-jack]

Shake It Out // Isa & Jack

Sitting atop his brother's shoppe's roof, Jack held his flute in his hands while he thought of the entire kingdom. It was massive and the fact that he couldn't hear the birds nor the bustling merchants below seemed to really get to him today. Maybe it was because he was realizing how hard it was to communicate with people...or because his brother kept him close. He understood that the older Quint would worry but Jack was fine. He was getting older. Either way, Jack wanted a bit of space from Orrin today.

Placing his flute to his lips, he started to play a soft and peaceful melody in order to ease those who heard it. It didn't help him much but he knew if he saw one smile right now, well, it would be worth it.

[thatwickedman]

Mettle || Grigor & Isa

The last blade fell, drawing first blood and ending the match. 'First blood', in Grigor's opinion was misnamed. It was deceitful. First blood meant a limb or a life as often as it meant a few drops on the ground. The crowd in the benches and around the pit did not seem to care overmuch--Grigor rather thought they liked the violence. The more devastating, the better. He kept good books; the bloodier a fighter's hands got, the more people bet on him.

Or her. Grigor watched the mass of bodies break apart and slowly diminish as money changed hands. There was a great deal of grumbling today. No one had anticipated Antarco's victory. He was a wiry, short little man, rather like a goblin. He had lost teeth in the match and was headed home to the barracks, rubbing his bristly jaw, when Grigor stopped him with a raised hand.

"No," Grigor commanded. "Hold. I have another opponent for you yet."

Antarco looked to the dark gray sky above, and the gray figures of the people dispersing, going to their warm homes, still red-hot with the excitement of the fights, of money lost and won. Grigor seldom gambled himself, these days, but brokered and loaned the bettors the money. In this way he was always assured something, even if he had to claw it out of them. For a moment, Antarco seemed as if he were about to protest. 

Grigor grinned at him, his face taut but cheerful. A trick of nature made his blue eyes seem black, in certain lights. "I said hold," Grigor repeated. His smile was a long, thin line, tipped up at the corners. He seemed almost friendly. 

Antarco hunched low and stayed. He must have thought better of whatever he had meant to say, Grigor supposed. Grigor turned, scanning the benches for the figure of a girl--if she wanted to prove herself, this would likely be her only opportunity.