HEART LIKE A CLENCHED FIST.

who is in control? —— sherry blendy of fairy tail. adored by jana

[verticordiia]

welcome to verticordiia,  an independent blog for sherry blendy from fairy tail.  the blog is written by jana  ( she / her,  29,  esl ),  runs on central european time and should be active.  please read my rules and my about page or take a look at my carrd as my portrayal is canon divergent and headcanon driven.

[resolvebound]

The day was not a particularly cold one, and he wasn’t exerting any of his magic, nor were there any sort of weather changing devices around, yet anyone who might come by him and Sherry now…well, it might just feel as if any wrong move or word would shatter the air between them as if it were delicate ice. Gray frowned as he caught her soft words, an instinctive defensiveness rising within his chest, along with confusion that momentarily twitched his eyebrows into a deeper furrow. Issues? Oh…yeah, that. He didn’t want to get into it either. He might have (silently) forgiven her (not that she really needed it, it wasn’t her fault after all), and might now even relate to her experience, but…she was right, it wasn’t what he was here for.

Out of habit, he folded his arms across his chest as he regarded her, frown remaining in place. She had plans. It put a sort of time limit on their time together, which could be a good thing, yet did add pressure to finding a suitable gift while they had the chance. She made a good point too, about if he were to settle on something that needed customising, it was best to get started on it as soon as possible. Once again, he considered the fact that she was willing to stop what she was doing in order to help him, even despite his sudden (likely unwelcome) appearance. Was she just a good person? Or was it because he was there to do something for Lyon? After a moment, he decided it really didn’t matter.

He gave a nod of acceptance as she readied herself and spoke again. Clearly, she was prepared to give up part of her day now. He’d given her an out, and that’s all he could do. Even with that in mind, a level of discomfort continued to squirm low in his stomach, but perhaps that was not strictly related to a sense of guilt at his intrusion.

His gaze shifted to the garden, glad for the distraction. Carolina the treasurer, huh? Now that he thought about it, did Fairy Tail have a treasurer? Maybe it was something Mira did. He supposed he hadn’t paid attention to things like that before. Not that it mattered to him anymore anyway.

“Plant magic is pretty cool,” he said, simply for something to say, as he became aware of his awkward silence. It wasn’t a lie, however; he did admire such magic. And because he continued to feel like he should speak, he added, “The garden’s nice.”

Inwardly kicking himself for his lame attempts at conversation, he tugged distractedly at his clothes and very much wished for the entire encounter to be over with already. “Uh, so…ready to go then? Lead the way.”

[verticordiia]

Sherry nodded. She had known Carolina for a very long time and she had known for many years that the older woman took a lot of pride in her work. "Yes," she said as she unlocked the shed to put away the tools she had used earlier, "I am just happy that she can focus on something that exists purely for her enjoyment again. She has been tasked with growing medicinal herbs quite often lately and . . . she is not exactly young anymore. I was worried, almost."

Almost because while the marionette mage had no interest in knowing what, exactly, the dynamic between her guild master and the treasurer was best described as, she did know that they were close---and she knew that Ooba Babasama suffered neither fools nor people who tried to take advantage of her mages. Sherry's guild master was abrasive and not always nice, but it was a mistake to believe that niceness equalled kindness. And this was a fact Sherry could rely on---which she did. She was glad to know that Master Ooba would spike someone's drink with poison if it meant to protect her mages.

Leading Gray away from the garden and towards the city, she kept her hands clasped in front of her body. "We can start at the bookstore," she said, doing her utmost to sound conversational. "There is a book that came out yesterday---it is titled Tales from Saltmire Harbour---and it is written by an author Lyon usually enjoys."

It was a collection of short stories that were all set in the same (fictional) city, and though Sherry preferred a good novel, she had to say that if one was reading a book on the train on the way to a job, it was sometimes useful to be able to finish the story before the job properly commenced. Being stuck on a cliffhanger was never fun, but it was particularly unpleasant if focus was crucial for survival.

She would have been content to walk in unshattered silence, but that would look strange to the people that surrounded them---and Sherry had made pleasant smalltalk with people that she had actively wished would trip down stairs. "Did you eat?" she asked. "Because if not, we can take a break at the café and get a snack before continuing the search."

[resolvebound]

He had thought earlier that there were a good number of reasons why this entire encounter was uncomfortable to him, and now? He realised there was another reason (or two) to add to the list. Sherry was…helpful. And damn, if that didn’t make him oh-so aware of the fact he’d all but turned up on her doorstep at the eleventh hour. She was willing to go along with him right now, despite the fact he’d just randomly dropped in on her. She must really care for Lyon huh.

Guilt stirred and he shifted his weight from foot to foot as he ruffled his hair again and looked away. Her price range was fine with him, money didn’t have much importance in his life, and her knowledge of Lyon’s preferences and places to go was going to be invaluable. But still…he hesitated.

“Uh, listen…I’m sorry –“ and maybe he almost choked on that last word –“for just coming out of nowhere and dumping this on you. I, uh…would have sent a letter ahead or something but I didn’t realise how close I was cutting it, and I would have contacted you on your MCL but I don’t have your number. Plus, mine is…”

He pulled the device out of his pocket to prove its current state, only it slipped through cool fingers and clattered to the ground. “Fuck.” A new crack in the screen joined with the others, and he wondered if he should just leave the damn thing where it fell since it was hardly any good to him anymore. With a sigh, he crouched down and picked it up again.

“I don’t have very good luck with these things…” he grumbled, frowning and shoving the MCL deep into his pocket again. Aware that he was hardly making a good impression (also aware that there was a small part of him that wanted to make a good impression – for Lyon’s sake), he inwardly winced and was compelled to add a defence for himself, “But only these things. I don’t usually break my stuff.”

But damn it, he was getting away from the point he wanted to make. Standing up, he pulled in a breath and then said, “Anyway, I get that I’ve just interrupted your day and you probably have plans, so I can just come back tomorrow or something if that works better for you. We’ve still got a few days until his birthday.”

[verticordiia]

The awkwardness was almost unbearable and this was something she could not allow, not if she was supposed to do a good job. "Lyon," she said quietly yet . . . pointedly, "deserves a nice birthday. Whatever issues we have, we will set aside. I am not currently in a mindset to get into that."

She almost choked up for a moment. She did not really remember what had happened when she had been under, when she had been possessed, but as she had recovered from the incident, she had noticed bruises blooming on her throat and for a time, eating and drinking had been difficult because swallowing had hurt. But she did not want to talk about this. She did not know Gray well enough to feel comfortable with opening that can of worms, to get into the mess that Nirvana had made. Few people knew just how long it had taken her to feel normal again. She did not feel inclined to reopening old wounds.

And so, Sherry blinked repeatedly as she saw the MCL fall. For all her flaws---and she was so often reminded of her flaws by others---she could not say that she was clumsy. Quite the opposite, really. "I have dinner plans, yes," she said as she adjusted her ponytail and swapped her gardening boots for something more suitable for a walk through the city. "But there are hours between now and the dinner so we can head into town now. If you end up choosing something that needs to be customised, it would be prudent to get this show on the road, as they say, as soon as possible."

She sighed, accepting that she might have to further 'sell' how unoccupied she was in the afternoon to Gray. "I will finish my gardening tomorrow," she said calmly. "Chances are that Carolina is going to enhance the growth of the roses later so I will have to return tomorrow morning to take care of it." She paused for a moment and blinked twice. "Carolina is our resident plant mage and treasurer," she added, an explanation that might just be needed because Gray likely was not very familiar with her guild.

[resolvebound]

He continued to survey the surrounding area, becoming unfortunately aware that he and Sherry were the only ones in the immediate vicinity. While that was a good thing, as he didn’t particularly want to be seen by anyone, it also brought to mind the last time they’d been alone together. Ignoring the sudden tightness in his throat and the urge to touch his neck, he clenched his hands in his pockets. She hadn’t been herself back then, he knew that, and…well, now more than ever, he found he understood that, related to it. Influenced and overwhelmed by dark magic, he’d tried to kill Natsu. The guilt and disquiet stirred low in his stomach, but now was not the time to get caught up in such things.

His eyes finally returned to Sherry as she spoke, contemplating her words and giving a slight nod. She asked a good question, and truthfully it wasn’t one he’d really thought of until that very moment. While he typically liked to have at least a rough plan laid out, his trip to Zinnia and his intention to buy a present for Lyon had been…somewhat spur of the moment (read; he hadn’t wanted to overthink it and had pushed himself out of his comfort zone with little thought). Did he have a budget for this? How much was he willing to spend on Lyon?

Once again, his gaze drifted, thoughts churning. Money wasn’t an issue, he might not have the steady flow of jobs the way that guild mages did, but the independent jobs he took were enough, and with his low expenses, there was always enough to add to his savings. But, considering this would be the first birthday present he’d have brought for Lyon, how much was appropriate? Too much would be weird (and would set a certain standard he’d have to keep besting), too little would just make him look cheap (and his pride wouldn’t allow that). Ugh.

He pulled a hand out of his pocket, ruffling it through his hair as he sighed. What kind of pricetag suited something that said ‘we have shared history and I guess you’re kind of like my brother but I’ve been avoiding you for months but I’m here now but don’t make this weird’? Eyeing Sherry again, he shrugged. “I’ll match whatever you spend.” Yeah, that seemed like a good enough solution.

Supposing he should offer some suggestions, he frowned and added, “Maybe there’s a book or something he’d want? Has he mentioned anything like that? Or…I dunno, a new cloak or cape or whatever.” Did Lyon still wear such things?

[verticordiia]

Gray did not have the appearance of someone who had thought farther than "I will go to Zinnia and ask Sherry for help despite the fact that we never really talked before", but the marionette mage could be . . . merciful. At least she could refrain from prodding him about plans that he likely did not have. That alone might not be enough to guarantee that she would look actually nice, so she supposed that she could toss in a cup of hot chocolate to go, should they make it into the vicinity of the Glittering Cup, the---in her humble opinion---best café in town. And no, they had still not approached her for a sponsorship deal. Their loss.

And maybe her little excursion with Gray would not be entirely awful. She would set her expectations low and just see how this situation would develop. "Alright," she said as she clapped her hands once. "I usually spend about 50,000 jewel on presents for people close to me. But that's me being me. You are not obligated to match. That said, we should look for something that's thoughtful."

You are a good person, Sherry. Remember, you are a good person. Good people are nice to others, even when they are a little weird. She focused on those thoughts to centre her as she studied Gray for a bit. Suffice to say, he did not seem to have any idea what to get Lyon, and that was . . . that was a bit sad, she decided. From what she had heard, they once used to be close. And loss of close . . . relationships, whatever shape they had taken, was always something that made her a little sad.

Straightening up, she decided not to look at her MCL to determine the time. She would possibly late to dinner with Carolina, but that was almost expected---mage work meant that most 'scheduled dates' were closer to a hopeful wish than to an actual plan. She would text Carolina once she had an estimate on how long this would take. "Lyon usually buys the things that he is interested in without much concern how suitable they would be for gifts," she said as she rummaged through her bag to make sure that she had her bank card with her. "We can check out a bookstore to see if there's any new publications that he wouldn't have had the time to get yet. I do know some of the authors he favours. As for clothes, I also know what boutique he gets his more specialised clothing items tailored at. If you'd rather get him a lightweight summer cloak, that would be the place to go."

[myrrhbearer]

“There were grief and ruins, and you were the miracle.”

— Pablo Neruda, “A Song of Despair,” Twenty Love Poems and a Song of Despair

[lucidloving]

Franz Kafka, Letters to Milena // Alain de Botton, Essays in Love // Eden Robinson, "Writing Prompts for the Broken-Hearted" // Chloe Liese, Always Only You // Anne Carson and Euripides, An Oresteia // Two—Sleeping At Last // Studio Bones, SK8 the Infinity // Trista Mateer, "is it okay to say this?" // @moodylilac // D. H. Lawrence, "The Rainbow"

[emperorvastias]

sherry was still that sickly pale and lyon had already gained back his vigor. in fact, he bounced back from imminent death quite well and he cursed the fact he could not transfer his vitality towards sherry.then, she would be fine and wouldn't need to worry at all. she would be healed more. alas. he cannot. and so, the only thing he could do from this point was help. and why? well, the distrustful part of lyon reared its ugly head the moment the council got too close to this.

there would always be a part of lyon vastia that resented them. he knew this. lyon reserved a lot of his anger at the structures rather than the branches nowadays. he felt it was a more efficient use of his energy, not a waste. those that labeled his teacher as a saint would always earn his effort. she was not a mythical creature. she was real. she was human and she's gone. that old resentment was the hand that held the dagger he always pointed to the council. he didn't trust the council around sherry at all. he felt justified for that, considering the stakes of the nirvana mission in the first place.

"a peace of mind for one thing," lyon answered. quietly, just above a whisper. these days, secrecy was the key success. "i don't trust the council, not a bit. nor their intentions at any point. i joined lamia scale because i trusted you and i respected master ooba as a mage." he was certainly not rushing that much to a guild. even if gray had inspired him somewhat. only a bit. lyon didn't want to think about him right now. "and...sherry, you need the help. i will always provide it, no matter what."

and that was true. lyon would do anything for his team. marriage, real or not, he didn't care. as long as he could help sherry, he was willing to do it. that was a big part of it, too. he wanted to help one of his closest friends.

and well. the guilt was also there. that was always lingering.

[verticordiia]

Her hand, ungloved and unprotected, gently reached for his. Her hands, usually steady and certain, had the tiniest hint of a tremor to them, the tiniest hint that still gave away how unmoored, how unsettled she had become. Her gaze, blue and clear, found his allowed herself to study him for a bit. He was her friend. Friendship was a form of love. She trusted him. There were plenty of simple truths that she found comfort in---and comfort was what she needed.

She had not felt this small, this fragile in a long time, but what had happened to her had been devastating. There was no soap that could wash away the darkness of the tendrils that had wrapped herself around her very soul, that could wash away the slimey feeling that had seeped through her entire being. And she had tried. But she could only wash her body, not her spirit. A regrettable limitation.

But as little as she found herself able to trust herself, to trust the Council, to trust so many of the people around her---she did trust Lyon. And that she trusted him was why she had suggested the plan. (There is a story here, but it is not yet a lovestory.) She sighed quietly as she threaded her fingers through his, creating something safe, something unbreakable.

Under different circumstances, she might have pushed him for more answers, but she was so very tired of fighting, always fighting. She curled against his side, her hand still clinging to his as if it was an anchor---but she could not tolerate the thought of sinking. "I really, really care about you," she whispered back. (This is not a confession. This is just a truth.) He had tried to advocate for her. She knew that. She was grateful for it. But legalties and bureaucracy could be wielded like weapons, and they were cutting her deep. She ran her thumb over his knuckles, quietly affectionate. "And I know you are right. I know Jura is a wizard saint now, but. I cannot say this means I now suddenly trust the Council."

There were too many stories about wolves in sheep clothings, after all.

[rp-meme-glaceon]

Send “📂“ for a random yet completely useless headcanon I have

[verticordiia]

fact: kagura Loves thunderstorms and such weather

As she is from the North of Fiore, Sherry has a lot of fond memories of snowy weather. During blizzards and the like, the family would gather around the big fireplace in the living room, quietly talking or doing crafts.

[resolvebound]

Discomfort crawled along his skin, but he couldn’t be sure if it simply due to the fact he was in a town for a change (so many more people than he’d become accustomed to lately), or that he was now at least somewhat committed to exposing the fact he’d remembered Lyon’s birthday and that he kind of, maybe, wanted to do something for him. Or maybe the discomfort came from the idea of spending any amount of time with Sherry. Really, there were a number of reasons why this was an uncomfortable, really bad, horrible idea. But it was too late to back out now.

He shoved his hands deep into the pockets of his pants to keep from fidgeting, a frown pulling at his lips at Sherry's question even as he stepped forward. Defensiveness burned in his throat, yet he knew better (for once) than to let impulse release childish words. His avoidant gaze swept over the nearby garden, finding it an easier sight on his eyes than the marionette mage.

With the agitation bubbling in his stomach, he wondered if he should keep his distance, lest his hold on his magic loosen enough for him to ruin the budding plant life around them (he didn’t want another dead garden on his conscience after all, and ruining Sherry's work would not do him any favours with her). He cleared his throat and forced himself to meet her gaze, “It’s nearly Lyon’s birthday.” It was a stupid thing to say, he realised, (of course she’d already be aware of the upcoming day) and it didn’t explain anything. He sighed and added, “Thought maybe…you might be able to help me pick something out for him, or if you don’t already have something for him yourself, we could…I don’t know, pool together or something.” He winced, allowing himself to look away from her.

[verticordiia]

She did not think that she had ever had a one-on-one conversation with Gray for which she had been fully lucid. And almost, she would have pinched herself to ascertain that she was, in fact, awake and that this was not some strange figment of her imagination. But doing so would be really strange and she did not feel like fielding any strange questions Gray might ask. Thus, she decided that she would . . . play along. She could pretend that their last---that is to say: only---one-on-one interaction (the one she had not been lucid for) had been something other than a murder attempt.

She was a good enough actress.

And she figured that Lyon---since he cared about Gray---would not want her to antagonise his . . . brother figure. Heavens above, Gray was lucky. Lucky that she cared about Lyon enough to set aside all personal grievances.

"You are in luck," she said, keeping her voice calm. "Lyon is out of town right now, a quick solo job before his birthday." She had not liked the idea of him going alone, but they were still growing back together. The fracture had not healed entirely, and she could not change that, could only hate it. "And I am getting him a gift basket, mostly all the little things that I know he enjoys but that are more of a treat than a real necessity." Two bottles of the good massage oil, for example. " . . . Lyon unfortunately didn't get around to sharing his wishlist with anyone so, hm, we're all guessing. That said: what budget were you thinking?"

This, to her, was an important question. There were some stores near the waterfront that had really nice things, but those things all tended to have a certain pricetag. And she did not want to take Gray there, only for him to tell her that they should have gone elsewhere from the start.

[verticordiia]

She blinked. Once, twice. Then, blue eyes narrowed into a glare and she took off her gardening gloves to swap them for her regular gloves. Taking the moment to not address the wrong ice mage's sudden appearance in her presence, she surveilled the work she had been doing in the guild garden and deemed it satisfactory.

"Okay," she said as she levelled her stare at Gray, "why are you suddenly coming out of the shadows?" Aren't you supposed to be somewhere in the mountains right about now?

@resolvebound

[verticordiia]

Logging out and just scrolling through @thousandflame's dash after this because I feel bad for abandoning my child

[chaoticormemes]

Inbox prompt: send a fact about your muse and I will reply with a related fact about my muse !

[archaeologian-blog]

send me a topic to write a meta about my muse on

I might write anything from a paragraph to a whopping essay, but send me something you’ve noticed about my characterisation or just something you want to know about my muse and I will write what I can!

[rpsourcedmemes]

Send ⭐ for a sample of a new muse I am thinking of writing

[velvetcloak]

david koma | fall 2019

[verticordiia]

Under the cut are the subclasses I'd entertain for a DND inspired verse for Miss Blendy

Artificer: battlesmith

Barbarian: idk, maybe ancestral guardian

Bard: college of glamour

Cleric: grave domain bc that's cool

Druid: ik ik that spores is the gothy druid subclass, but nothing beats circle of dreams for miss blendy

Fighter: cavalier, probably

Monk: way of the long death

Paladin: oath of devotion

Ranger: feywanderer, babey

Rogue: uhhhh.... Uhhh...... Hmmm.... I'd love to say arcane trickster but that subclass feels more whimsical than she is. Phantom is more likely

Sorcerer: aberrant mind, unfortunately

Warlock: unfortunately probably great old one. It's a tragedy for me, personally, because we all know I'll make it about nirvana somehow. tfw ur patron is your trauma

Wizard: necromancy ☺️😌🪦