PRODIGY.

[tomeatoes-blog]

maligcious:

Such hope in his precious eyes. There was that unmistakable gleam of childish excitement and oh, she can’t help the laugh that so easily slips from betwixt rose tinted lips. Though her forever hardened heart regrettably flutters and painfully softens at such a thought - had she kept him, her darling baby brother waiting too long?

An ease of almost claw like fingers draw through the blessed golden strands of Leo’s hair. There, there. From here on she would worry not a single precious hair on his prodigal little head. Here in their  kingdom where darkness reigned with the intent to swallow them all, Leo was one of her two darling suns and not even the darkness itself could blotch him out or take him into it’s depthless grasp.

― ❝ Oh, darling. I always have time for you. If ever you need me I will always be here. Now, to the beginning. Let’s put that ingenious brain of yours to good work!  ❞

It was acceptable wasn’t it? In the safety of solitude with his elder sister and himself alone, surely it was more than okay to release the tension of perfected posture and practiced speech. With every comb of hair strand he feels more of the boy his age suggests as opposed to the battle hardened strategist he quickly became in the midst of all this strife.

Allowing himself to bask in the rare attention for a moment more, leisurely he recollects his thoughts. Tracing along the symbols, ah yes this was where he found himself just a few moments before. With the slightest scoot to the side ( how selfish to occupy the entire space so thoughtlessly ) with a pat or two on the seat besides, how long had it been since such a moment was offered?

Ingenious. Recognition from those he held in high-esteem always felt doubly as important.

“Ah yes, I’ve gotten this far at the moment - but back to the beginning would be wiser. Perhaps I have misinterpreted a symbol somewhere.” ( Returning to the beginning would extend their time as well, correct? ) “From the beginning, it all seems rather obscure. I believe they mentioned a white and black dragon?”

[vwyn19]

His father’s crown, heavy and cold on his head

my hobbies include: thinking about King Leon in Birthright route and d y i n g

[quiveringshaft]

Gone is the year, fleeting and incandescent like past woes and sorrows. What remains is dear Zero, ever loyal and constant. So the prince, he sits beneath the star light flecks and the moon in her glory; a growing ritual. He moves ever so boldly to entwine their fingers, and nothing, not even festivities, gifts, or words can express the love, honor, and appreciation in his heart. "I hope to spend every coming day together. I wish for nothing but your well being and happiness. Happy Birthday."

To think they’ve come so endearingly far. Poor forgotten him plucked from untimely rags to the very seams of their own so blissfully heart woven gold riches. Nothing in his second life possibly compared to the Nohrian prince where all else eternally paled. Ah, the ever timid wink of a moon to silently bless each passing in her luminous pearl wake was just the touch of serenity to perfectly crown their occasion of unexpected sorts.

Tenderly so, calloused fingers tighten almost shyly around Leo’s own as foreheads pressed together and breaths mingled with intimate passings in flutter as unseen a butterfly’s tender wings. The greatest gift of all was the loyalty and love of the little prince adamantly set as every star in the sky to remain none other than at his lowly side, after all.

“How admirably quaint. Teasing me with the softness of that heart you keep hardened so much… I’ll be sure to cherish every moment. Thank you, Lord Leo.”

[crownedflora]

@tomeatoes continued from here.

All nudging ceased once the floral monster’s efforts proved fruitful. Not only had he received the physical contact he sought after, but it was distributed to his petals as well as his head. The large plant began to produce low purr-like sounds as he had the tendency to do. His head relaxed as lips widened into a smile. He was in a state of bliss.

To say he’s been oblivious to how much has changed over the years would be a lie. Time spent together wasn’t as frequent anymore. When was the last time he had a story, or book in general read to him? He misses those times. At some point he used to think the lack of time together was due to his large size, but things were cleared up after the Nohrian prince explained to the plant that he had been busy with duties. Petey understood that, but he never guessed just how busy Leo’s life as a prince could get. The plant was under the belief that there would always be time set aside for him.

Even though he knew the whereabouts of Leo, or was within his presence, the feeling he experienced as a young sapling would return, albeit weaker. It was as if his friend was never actually there at all when he became too consumed by paperwork. Luckily, for him, not all of the prince’s work included paper, so Petey would still be given the opportunity to spend time with him by joining Leo on missions, unless Leo forbids him to join for whatever reason. The plant had even been gifted with the honor of becoming his creator’s personal mount ever since his accidental revelation to others. That’s not to say he never carried or attempted to carry Leo around before then, though. So he was grateful for and tried to cherish every second he was given with his master.

He wishes he could help his best friend, though. It had been apparent even to the plant that, besides taking up a majority of the royal’s time, all of this work was taking a toll on Leo as well. He just wasn’t certain how he could help. Since these papers were the problem, the plant would think taking them all and shredding or devouring them would fix the problem. That was not the solution apparently since he’d already tried that before, which resulted in receiving a harsh scolding, and punishment in return rather than praise. So, that was most certainly out of the question. All he can ever do is stand, or rather, sit and lie by, and support his master.

His head would have perked up in response to the prince’s decision had it not been for the current stroking it was receiving, which he was far too busy enjoying very much. In fact, he was just going to remain at that level until whenever his master would decide to stop so they could begin their stroll.

[tomeatoes-blog]

“You lazy plant. Whatever shall I do with you?” he mutters with all the fondness of a companionship spanning years. With a couple more pets, he taps the plant on his head, not unkindly, but firm enough in a mock scolding.

“Now, now Petey; I fear I may catch your laziness - we ought to move.” For a moment he struggles beneath the plant’s heavy head. Ah, that was right it had been quite a while since he could physically move Petey anywhere. Where had the time gone? It fled through the skies like every beat of a bird’s wing, gone like a far off memory.

Yet it wasn’t really gone. Every moment was treasured. From the late nights where he sneaked about to the kitchen to retrieve food, to the very days that battled side by side like a duo possessed by righteous fury. Who would have ever thought he would grow attached and filled to the brim with sentiment to a spotted plant?

“I suppose only one question remains. Would you prefer a stroll in the garden or through the halls of our home?”

[tomeatoes-blog]

quiveringshaft:

Yes, yes - oh, that’s right.

Zero in every undeniable absolute. A filth ridden no one, only the most bittersweet nothing. He can’t say the insistence of the memories sudden as can oh so dreadfully be were the most pleasant experiences he’s had, ah, but hardly the burrowed worst by far.

He knows that look, the way carmine eyes study so deeply and the tick of a prodigal mind winding any and all reason that made him away as if he held command over the very hands of corroded time itself. Hmph.

What a thought. Oh, feeding him delectable little details now, was he? But of course. A near silent swish of his cloak twitching this way and barely trembling that as he less than graciously stepped forward to take the lead. They’ve the ever welcoming embrace of a forest appearing too welcoming for it’s own obscenely damnable good splayed out willingly before them, what harm could a simple moonlit stroll coax from the tender folds of night?

Hah, any unthinkable so long as they lacked any wits about them. That was where their little princeling genius came into provocative play. Should the enemy be so desperately bold, Leo would have them wound to their knees in spellbound instant all while his thick shaft of prettied deadly delights sinks into their deliciously writhing core.

“Hah, you nobles. Think you know everything there is about lil’ ol’ me, hm? The most I’ll offer is the skin on our very backs. We would do well to seek some form of cover.”

Nobles - how ever mocking. It was too much to hope for the comfort of anonymity. After all, it was rather obvious wasn’t it? Brandishing the ancient tome with well-forged armor; it would perhaps be more insulting if his identity remained a mystery.

The edge of shaded forest and sunlight filtered leaves,  ominous and protective; a mystery just like the very man who walks beside him, arrives at last. “Cover won’t be a problem. I can can create something resembling such with Brynhildr.” Yes, he could imagine it quite clearly. A simple abode of grown trees, twisted and bent with vines. Sturdy enough to endure the weather, yet simple so he wouldn’t find himself winded with the strain of creation or hesitate to leave it behind should the need to relocate arise.

Arms crossed, “Perhaps deciding a location would be more beneficial. Somewhere easily defended, or simple to escape from.”

[maligcious-blog]

Oh, Leo. Precious Leo. Their tactical genius wrapped in the brink of his own studies. Of course, given the ever elusive veil of Nohr in her most silent of berating nights she would find him here, nursing the barely lit remnants of what lone candle stood in flickering attempt to illuminate the loneliness of the library. How exhausted her sweet baby brother must be. How it saddens the elder bloom to watch as his nights so seamlessly bled into days and he still hasn’t slept a wink. If only she could wrap him in the safety of her loving arms and sing him to sleep…

Even the most skilled warriors procured cracks in their flawlessly finished armor and darling Leo was certainly no exception. A silken finish of lavender curls fall neatly over his shoulders as she sneaks up on him to peek in on his most recent studies. Oh, was this…? Someone got his gauntleted hands on the ancient scriptures!

― ❝ Forgive me, Leo darling… where did you find this one in particular? Naughty brother, I can help you decipher this one! No cheek pinching. I promise!  ❞

[tomeatoes-blog]

Caught - how embarrassing. 

He had not meant to pluck the book from the guarded archives, nor pour over every detail until the sun itself retired. Allure breathed in its pages. each cryptic symbol humming with its own life. As he began to inspect each marking, he found himself inexplicably seduced by the words, unable to pull away.

“Ah, Sister, I know I shouldn’t have, even the hour is late; I hope I did not disturb you - ” with a thousand apologies set in his mind. What was that - ? An offer to help? He was nearly certain with, or without assistance, the ancient script would yield to his deciphering eventually. Yet it was he who feigned a myriad of false needs to capture the attention of his elders. Was this not the opportunity he so tried to create?

“Certainty,” ( Did he sound too eager? ) “I am having some difficulties, of course, only if you have the time.”

[tomeatoes-blog]

OOC. ALL DRAFTS DONE. Feel free to hit me up if you wanna start something with Leo. 

[tomeatoes-blog]

danlatha:

        YEVLAROS MAKES AN UGLY FROWN, a low ‘eugh!’ escaping him as he takes a step back. He offers an uneasy laugh, steadying his dagger as the grip around it tightens. ❝Wow… Okay, you’ve got balls, kid. Really persistent, STUBBORN balls, but I’ll take it.❞ 

He shifts in place, infuriatingly tense, eyeing the young mage as he crackles and jeers in his anger (or fear, considering this whole hiding-from-the-Templars catastrophe.) Eyes squint and his head falls slightly to the side——why in Mythal’s name did this kid look so GROSS? Yevlaros had seen sailors who were castaway at sea for months that looked better than he. Didn’t mages know how to heal themselves, or use magic to make themselves appear clean?

He almost felt pity for the hand that tried to kill him, then.

❝You’re making some really reckless decisions here, apostate. Make a ruckus now, and you’ll be drawing more than some damn twisted Templars.❞

The slightest tremble, nearly unnoticeable - already he could feel the ache in his fingers, how pitiful. Like a trickster out of lore, this one, with his casual words. Yet, perhaps the same could be said of him, after all, he was the one flaunting strength that he only once had. When he had nothing, he still had his words, and so he clung desperately to each one.

They would not save him now.

 If this did not end this here with one burst of magic, he would surely be ended in return. The chance was too great. Hands still tense, though the fight drains from his shoulders, eyes narrowing in suspicion. “If you are not here to harm, what is your purpose?”

An arrogant scoff, brows raising, “ - or are you one of those fools who wander without purpose? You certainly could play the part.”

[crownedflora]

@tomeatoes

Weeks had passed since the accidental creation of the floral creature. By now, it was able to understand human language half the time and was content with its rather simple life being enclosed in a room. But as far as it knew, with itself included, the entire world consisted of a room filled with various things that were completely unknown to it, what it believed to be a giant being, and a large thing that would occasionally swing open and shut. Sometimes it would open before closing and the giant would be there. Other times it would do the same thing, only the giant would be gone once it closed, leaving the creature confused and feel…not good. It did not understand why it felt that way, but it didn’t like it. The feeling would subside upon the giant’s return, however.

It liked the giant. They seemed nice since the giant would water and feed it on a regular basis. Sometimes the giant would even spend time watching or trying talk to it. Although some things would get lost in translation, of course, since, unlike the large being, it could not actually speak. This led to the plant responding in small and simple sounds, like squeaking. If audial cues failed, it would express itself through body language, such as smiling or nodding its head for something it likes, wants, or approves of. 

As a result of being cared for, the small plant had been growing at a steady rate. In fact, today was the day it reached a noticeable size increase, almost a foot long now from head to stem! Height wasn’t the only thing that increased either. Unlike other, normal plants, however, the stem appeared to have gotten thicker, even more so the further down one went along it from the top. Back when it had first sprouted, the entire thing was evenly thin, now the top portion resembles more of a neck while the bottom was giving off the appearance of a partial body. It resembled a small, but very slightly pudgy stomach. 

Its head had also grown larger, contributing a portion to its height. Its leaves, which were now capable of bending, folding, and even grasping on to things, also displayed growth in length and width. It was not likely to display that last ability, though. Thanks to not only being stuck in a pot, but as well as most things being out of range for its leaves. Plus, it was accustomed to reaching for things with its mouth, and that seemed to work out well enough for the plant to not worry about the lack of usage of its leaves.

Green lips spread as a small squeak emitted from the plant’s tiny maw as it leaned forward. Then another, followed by more of various tones and volumes. A breath was taken in between each squeak, as indicated by the consistent motion of pulling its head back during each brief pause. The creature not only desired the prince’s attention, but it also wanted to be fed.

[tomeatoes-blog]

It was growing. That much was clear.

He found himself half-hoping that it would stop before it became an issue, but also that it would continue only to document it’s oddities and growth. Reviewing his own notes, the plant named Petey had been created from his own magic. What was meant to be red rounded tomatoes became a red, spotted head of a plant with an apparent maw and tongue as well. Petey ate just about anything he offered, from the quill he was quite fond of to any part of his meal he stored away for the creature. 

It had not spoken, but it responded as if it understood at times. He was beginning to suspect that for a plant it could be quite clever. At some point he had stored away his fire tomes once more, the plant no longer a threat to him. Then at another, a secret science experiment grew into a soft fondness for the creature. No longer could he regard it would the cool, distanced mind he intended, but it was very much a companion of sorts. 

That sentiment only made this entire endeavor more dangerous. Should Petey be discovered, the prince could not predict the reactions towards the creation. Would he have to sent the innocent plant to its death?

“Hush Petey! Are you hungry already?” It seemed the time and quantities were steadily on the increase. “Here I have some scones and bread I pocketed from earlier.” Trusting the plant not to include his hand in the meal, patting the plant once, twice and offering the snacks in an outstretched hand in the other.

This truly would become a problem soon.

[tomeatoes-blog]

Leaning forward, the large plant gently pressed and nudged his head against the prince as an attempt to urge his creator to bestow affection upon him. He even threw in some begging in the form of low whining and murmuring.

“Petey,” he murmurs sternly, pages upon pages stacked high. There was work to be done he could not afford to play like he did as a child. Blinking tiredly, his eyes fall upon his hands, pale skin stained by black ink. 

He hadn’t done that since he was a child either. Was he truly that exhausted? A soft exhale of air, and gentle chuckle. With a shake of his head, disbelief at his own actions softly he pets through the top petals of the plant’s head.

“You silly creature.” Though, in hindsight he was being rather silly himself, was he not? “I can spare a moment for a walk. The day is quite warm; it will be pleasant.”

[tomeatoes-blog]

quiveringshaft:

Oh, wishing to dig ever so insistently beneath what warily parted folds of him just may give way? How cute. Speaking as if they weren’t simply tools of another misfortune deliciously made, but that of an almost daringly friendly sort - intimate, even. Not a query trimmed in the delight of curiosity at all, but the unshakable voice of command. A prince indeed! 

My, my. Pushed so close together in their desperate time of need, what oh what would the ever loyal denizens of Nohr think? Prince Leo and an abhorrent slum rat like him…

Despite the ever insistent flare of disorientated memories dissecting him just beneath his sweltering surface, something jagged and explicitly raw, all he knows well is the bowstring pulled taut as every form of punishment all too tempting he promises to inflict just as soon as their naughty little perpetrators are caught in the oh so dubious act. Ah, time to move on? Just when they were getting in each other so deep. Tsk! And there it was. Admittance sweet as can be. 

Trotting along just beside his companion in arms, the faintest hint of a smirk should have tugged at his lips, oh… but he damn near clenches at the thought of all too similar recollections dripping of poisoned honey ready to spill from the tip of an unpleasant tongue instead. As all good and hard earned things go, well, well! Was this too good to be true? 

“From what fleeting remnants I can gather, the jut of our most unwelcoming little chasm could barely fit that body of yours. To fit us both, I suspect we must have been pressed close together in some questionable way or another. As for a name, well… you may call me Zero.”

A barely registered huff, how could he make deductions without information?Whatever entwined their limbs and such was questionable indeed, but of no consequence when juxtaposed to their current predicament. Should their entanglement be the cause vicious intent there would be a myriad of ways to punish a criminal, death the easiest. Still, there’s a familiarity about him; what would ordinarily be a burning sensation of annoyance was of quiet concern. 

Zero, a name with its own mysteries; A walking conundrum of contradictions. 

He looked like an outlaw, one eye removed through what must surely had be an unfortunate incident. A walk of an experienced thief, so careful in his movement - then came the oddities. Despite the damage of the fall, it was not difficult to tell the quality of garments, was it stolen, or was he so truly fortunate as to garner enough riches to provide for such lofty objects. 

 All questions for another time, as the winding trees expanded from a speck to a forest, falling into view. Luscious pine greens, dense,only the barest flicker of filtered sunlight to pour against the ground. Yes , this was indeed something they could work with. Enough so that should they require days, (he dared not think of weeks or months) their lives would, at the very least be sustainable. 

“Zero... Look ahead.”

“While in theory I understand what we ought to do while stranded, and do pardon me for the assumption, but I believe you have a great deal more practical knowledge in the art of survival. Your input would be more than welcomed.”

[sephisephi]

Inktober days 21 and 22

[tomeatoes-blog]

quiveringshaft:

Perhaps this was fate.

The only morsel imaginable to hand spin such wickedly delectable schemes on insufferably swift whim. Oh, that was quick. Eager to finish, was he? At least one of them held to a solid point in the right direction. To think that face rattles his memories when just some few choice raggedly drawn breaths of moments prior all his wretched canvas of a body sought better to do was rest.

How cunningly jagged the scenario as it repeatedly thrusts into him unwillingly so, ah… and then suddenly, it begins to make just a teasing touch of practical sense. A boy grasps tome in gauntleted hand, coaxing forth whispers of the majestically divine spilling forth from pages to eternally condemn. Such spine tingling prowess only truly befitting the dark knight of Nohr. He blinks once, twice - assesses the little tidbit still prattling on before him and offers nothing in filling turn but the sharpness of a fleeting glance to rival each point of deadly delights tucked beneath cloak and corroded belt.

After all, if the prodigal prince wasn’t willing to spill for him, what reason did he have to give himself in turn?

“Yes, yes. Move if you can. I can take them better from behind.”

It wasn’t as if an assault from behind would benefit the man, not while he was at the ready for it at least. Still, a look of suspicion and contemplative thought, eyes narrowed ever so slightly. Above all he trusted his own judgment, leading would surely be more preferable than tailing a stranger in even stranger lands.

With a huff, a glance spared - so quiet, not even an expression of worried words. One would think he would say something. If it weren’t for the pressing concerns of a very possible death he would be insulted.

“... Very well,”

Eyes set upon a forest; ( though what laid in it was a mystery - what manner of beasts or enemies he did not know ) an area teeming with life meant food  and an area to settle. Whatever was foolish enough to cause trouble, would quite simply be destroyed. Steps softly padding over untrodden ground, careful for possible traps, there was something uneasy about the silence.

“Stranger, I have a need of a name to address you by. Leo simply will be enough for me -. I remember a fall in a chasm much too deep for a common man to survive, yet here I am. Tell me, is this a memory of folly or do you recall a similar event?”

[duckhymn-deactivated20250329]

Today’s warm up! 

[danlatha-deactivated20180120]

        AH, APOSTATES. By living among the grand elves of the Dales and traveling from place to place, Yevlaros has grown quite immune to seeing these rebellious little rascals wreak ‘havoc’ (and he uses that tentatively) throughout Thedas. Even years after leaving his clan, whose company seemed to always fill with those of the magically inclined, he still found himself running into these guys.

Which brings him here.

❝Listen, kid.❞ He starts, waving his dagger at the stranger as he talks. ❝I’m no snitch! I swear! I wont go off tattling of your existence, so long as you let me go in one piece. Just put the staff down, let me go, and everything should turn out as smooth as wine…❞ —— @tomeatoes LIKED !!

[tomeatoes-blog]

‘Kid’ - as if youth meant anything in this world.

“Clever words from one about to lose his life. I always find a loose tongues stiffen when their owners’ are dead,” a hiss of mistrust, knuckles going white at the clench of staff beneath his fingertips, stolen away in the night when he made his own escape. 

( He did not want to murder without a cause; it was but an unfortunate accident that trapped him in a place of kill or be killed.) A descent of Templars upon his hidden camp would surely spell death. Hunger ate at his flesh, and old injuries. untreated clawed at his bones. Yet still, the last draw of breath was preferable to being caged.

“Stand still and your death will be a swift one!”

[tomeatoes-blog]

εїз : How does your muse feel about bugs and insects? ☆ : Of the sun, stars, and the moon, which is your muse’s favorite?

εїз : How does your muse feel about bugs and insects?

Pesky, a flick there off his tomato plant ; swiping at a fly. As all things that lived, insects had their purposes, but he much rather they keep their distance. They were interesting enough to observe, each segment and evolution a marvel in themselves - but bugs often meant filth. Filth was shame and so it was such it was by definition, mandatory that not only was he at peak performance in intellect and improv, but also that he looked the part, hair combed just so; back straight, clothes impeccable ( albeit it was prone to being inside out.) Bugs - no matter how interesting, could be no more than an intellectual pursuit. 

☆ : Of the sun, stars, and the moon, which is your muse’s favorite?

The celestial bodies were mocking at times were they not? Up high in their comfort, looking down on the unfortunate mortals in their own eternal state. Yet, they too in their own way cared for what was below. When he was a child he longed for the sun to pierce the darkness of Nohr. Years of turmoil taught him that the sun would likely never show its face, and he learned to find the sun in the faces of his loved ones. The sun of the skies was of no consequence for it was for people more deserving than he, and so he turned his back on it. The stars and moon were more comforting. Dewdrops of light against the dark night, a quiet gentle glow. It was hard to say which he preferred. His answer came in the form of a very odd retainer who begged for death at their meeting. While the night was one he appreciated, that particular someone watched the moon more than any other. Stars were always appreciated, constellations aplenty, beautiful -glistening. The moon, it was no more that a reflection of what the sun had to offer, was it not? How incorrect that assumption was. One could never look at the sun, it would burn your sight away as punishment for the hubris of believing you could look at such a grand being. The moon, comforted; gave light upon dark paths and welcomed the gaze of mortals. He could never shine as brightly as the sun, he was never meant for such a thing, not when innocence was lost so early and his hands were stained with blood. The moon - perhaps (one day) - he could try. A poor substitute for what life the sun brought, but helpful none the less, and what an empty night sky it would be without its presence. 

[rosy-rpmemes]

Random headcanon meme!

⍤ : What does your muse’s voice sound like? Is it light? High pitched? Scratchy? Deep? 

✍ : What is your muse’s handwriting like? Is it neat? Sloppy? Fancy?

☕ : Does your muse prefer coffee or tea?

⌚ : Is your muse good with keeping on schedule for meetings, appointments, or events, or are they always late? Or, are they always a bit early?

♿ : Has your muse had any injuries in the past?

☺ : What is your muse’s smile like? Do they smile often?

⚡ : How does your muse feel about storms? Are they afraid of them, or do they calm them?

⚠ : How does your muse react to possibly dangerous situations? Do they face them head-on, or do they plan out their actions first?

☃  : What is your muse’s favorite season? What about their least favorite season, if they have one? 

☂  : Does your muse like rain?

☼ : Does your muse like daytime or nighttime more?

🏨  : How well does your muse sleep?

❤ : What are your muse’s thoughts on love? If they are not in a relationship, do they believe that they will ever find a perfect someone for them?

☘ : Does your muse believe in luck? How about fate?

⚯ : Does your muse have good eyesight? If not, what is it like? Are they nearsighted or farsighted? Or both? Do they use glasses? Or do they prefer contacts?

👓 : If your muse wears glasses, what are their glasses frames like?

♨ : Does your muse have good table manners? How do they feel about bad table manners?

❀ : What is your muse’s opinion about flower crowns?

♬ : Does your muse sing well? Regardless of whether they sing well or not, do they enjoy singing?

📐 : Is your muse good at math? Do they like it, or do they hate it?

♞ : What is your muse’s favorite animal?

εїз : How does your muse feel about bugs and insects?

📱 : Does your muse prefer calling or texting?

☆ : Of the sun, stars, and the moon, which is your muse’s favorite?

ツ : Does your muse prefer lots of friends, or just a few close ones?

✝ : Is your muse religious?