toil and trouble

Closed Rhajat, Black Eagles student

[windherited]

天狗の陰陽師__________________________________✩₊˚.☪︎ ⁺₊✧

𝑹𝑯𝑨𝑱𝑨𝑻, from FE: Fates (Heirs of Fate/Birthright) | penned by mar

[ 𝑑𝑜𝑠𝑠𝑖𝑒𝑟 - 𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑡𝑠 - 𝑚𝑢𝑛 ] For Awakening muses, please see the dossier page.

Portrayal notes:

Rhajat is taken after the events of Heirs of Fate, wherein she returns to her post-Birthright timeline without memory of the events of the DLC campaign. As alluded to by the final scene, though, she will eventually recover her memories, over the course of her time at TOA. Therefore, she does not know that she knows the Nohrian cast, and at most gets a weird sense of déjà vu when she sees them. She is immediately familiar with any character seen as of the Birthright route, though.

For pre-established relations, I'm assuming Rhajat has obtained A-level support with all of the Hoshidan/neutral route Fates characters.

Though it won't be the focus, NSFW content may appear on this blog under the properly tagged warning. All such posts will include the tag #nsfw, as well as the specific warning. Ex: #cw: sexual, #cw: gore, etc. Please let me know if there is something else I have not tagged that you would like to be tagged!

Rhajat will lie and gaslight. It's not a warning, it's a promise.

[landsbluod]

and the weather outside is frightful

[windherited]

The way this woman takes her insult in stride... maybe she'll turn out interesting after all. At least if the hunt doesn't pan out, this woman can entertain her, in the end.

Under her shawl, fingerless gloves cling to her own reins, similarly freezing. Her normal baggy outfit is absolutely not equipped for this weather; but with a few modifications around her midsection, thanks to her helpful Forrest, it's easily the warmest outfit in her modest wardrobe. Obviously, her heat spell is the still working overtime to keep in her body heat, but it's the thought that counts. Or something like that.

Her cloth coccoon sits on the seat of a modest horse-and-carriage, though to call it such would perhaps be an insult to a proper wagon. A borrowed cart, empty save for a small chest and herself, rattles along the snowy road behind her mount. Of course, she had not been asked to bring this; but in the event that she must dissect the monster at the scene, she's prepared, if just a little bit. The scroll on her hip is still her only real preparation, in the event of confrontation; but this small box is the least she can do.

She eyes the fresh tracks delightfully. Soon, soon...

As the woman moves away from the road, Rhajat's little caravan follows closely behind. The less-than-ideal terrain prompts some jarring bumps in her plodding, though, and a frown creases her face. The pawprints are hard to discern, and do not seem particularly feline. More prominently, a curve in the trail marks something heavy being dragged along, scattering snow to the sides; the beast has taken its hunt with it. The underbrush is damaged, and the snow is subtly scuffed; clearly, they're on the right track. As a tracker, Rhajat admits that this woman is not unskilled.

"There, look," she points a dark fingernail at the tracks, mirth tinging her voice. "It will be too occuppied with its fresh prey to notice our approach. Muahaha..."

She supposes the woman does have a name. Irrelevant.

[landsbluod]

It took them a moment, coordinated, to get the girl's cart over the worst of the bumps as their path transitioned from road to wilderness trail, and while Lachesis felt privately in some moments that it might have been better to leave it behind, she had to admit an admiration for the forethought. If, after all, they were able to rescue any of the children, then those children would need somewhere to ride. 

It was almost...optimistic. 

"With luck," Lachesis murmured her agreement, eyes narrowing briefly at the utterance of the quiet laugh, though she dismissed this along with the odd phrasing for the time being. 

The steps grew more dense, and deeper, and another pair of tracks beside them to boot as they drew in closer, smaller, less confident in their steps to her eye. Lachesis drew in a sharp breath at the amount of them, trailing in from all directions, clustering at points and tromping over older paths marked by yet another pair of tracks – paw and hoof, to little feet. 

Some rounded, shoeprints, others bare. 

"Is it...making them walk?" Why? 

There were dragged troughs through the snow, as though some had stumbled, semi melted and then snowed over again for another pair of feet to step through. 

And, from the opposite direction, she saw with fair certainty, another path – larger, longer strides carving deep trenches in the snow, making its certain way in the same direction they were headed. 

"Come, we must be nearly there. The density of the footsteps grows by the meter." 

[windherited]

At her indication, Rhajat zooms in on the marks in the snow. To have a predator save its hunt for later is not so unusual; why, then, is this woman sounding so confused? Rhajat rolls her eyes beneath the fringe of her bangs. Must be one of those bleeding heart types after all.

"It's probably just saving the children for a different meal. It's just an animal, after all."

Maybe it's naive of her to believe. But for now, there's no indication that this excursion should be anything but an opportunity for more data or ingredients... on top of the chance to save some kids, of course.

As the frail winter branches bar off more and more of the narrow road, she must eventually contend with bringing her rattling cart to a halt. Rhajat hops from the saddle, her feet landing with a muffled crunch into the snow beneath. She quickly gets to work tying her horses to a nearby tree. "Guess we gotta go the rest of the way on foot. Great," she says sarcastically. She eyes her companion a little suspiciously, as if somehow the terrain is her doing. But Rhajat says nothing more, only trudging onwards behind Lachesis as they approach more dense woods.

[windherited]

Yes I'm trans: transporting this wine into my mouth

𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐓 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐑𝐇𝐀𝐉𝐀𝐓

[brynherited]

     “Yes, yes. Of course I’ll lead you, darling,” they retort, and with the kind of punchiness that breaks through the obscure wall the diviner put up around her answer. Forrest sets to work without delay, tucking into a spot on the floor reclusive enough for Rhajat to revel in a bit of shadow, but still very much a part of the pack. And they wait, the pair: just holding themselves while the final lute-plucked notes of last song die beneath the hum of chatter at the floor. They pick back up again when a minuet commences — slow & sensual in the way it dips behind the ear, but with enough rhythm to inspire passion. It takes the noble a moment to turn their ear to the sound and to infer from it how to move, during which their attention is pried away from their witch. They close their eyes. They listen intently. A gentle bob of their head acknowledges what the bards wish to produce, and before long they begin to take their partner into a dance.

     First, her hands. Unlinked from Forrest’s they are smoothed by the caress of the Nohrian’s digits and gripped only tight enough to suggest her upwards. Upwards, and onto their shoulders: one on either side, able to be linked behind the nape if she so chooses. Then comes Forrest’s own, which slide past Rhajat’s arms, past her figure — docking upon her hips. A quick clutch of the fabric-wrapped flesh there betrays, perhaps, just a sliver of the possessiveness she reserves for her partner. Time spent together tends to rub those kinds of qualities off, doesn’t it? “You need only mimic the steps I make,” they continue, and they take one to elaborate. It isn’t complex — just a quick tap east — but will develop into all kinds of turns & swivels as the two build affinity for each other. For the moment, Forrest cranes their head forward, fighting the pinch of their top, 

     and their eyes finally flutter open. “There is one thing I’ve been far from perfect at, though,” teases the cleric, just baiting the hooks with the trill in their whisper, “without you to protect me, I’d be hopeless in a fight. Does that make you feel any better?”

[windherited]

The party isn't so bad when Forrest leads. It's small consolation, but it does warm her slightly. Especially when they start listening to the music, hearing some extra sort of pattern that Rhajat just can't quite capture with samples, data, and witchcraft. It's not freaky, she just doesn't understand it. When Forrest instead moves her hands about their own neck, her own limbs comply, but when they place their own around her waist, she moves herself closer, too, keeping at least some point of her core attached to the princess.

You need only mimic the steps I make. "Yeah, yeah, I can do this."

Rhajat's normally downcast gaze works perfectly for this simple instruction, tracing the formal slippers she'd given Forrest as they sweep so gracefully over the floor. Her own tight-fitting shoes mimic the movements, only in slow fascination with the Nohrian's own. Clumsily, they follow as best she can. Forrest doesn't seem to notice, thankfully. More likely, they're ignoring the shoddiness, as they tend to do with things concerning her formality. It's a relief when they finally speak again.

"You can handle yourself, I know. But no one will get the chance while I'm around, it's true," she says. "Don't try to appease me like that. I don't fashion is more art than magic."

The Hoshidan pauses to flick her hair from her eyes, before continuing.

"I can't believe you're right, though. About finding solitude in the middle of a crowd of losers."

The hint of a smile plays at her uniquely glossy lips. Maybe it's a flare of the lights; before it can be verified with a second glance, though, the great hall hushes itself into darkness with a snap.

[windherited]

Yes I'm trans: transporting this wine into my mouth

𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐓 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐑𝐇𝐀𝐉𝐀𝐓

[brynherited]

     Forrest’s posture remains fixed, even when their hand is seized by slender fingers painted amaranth. Any attempts made at slouching face the resistance of those spines, and overly correcting would bend the structure in Forrest’s skin enough to dimple it. Simply put, it’s a downright lethal set of attire, harkening a truth the diva knows all too well: that beauty is pain. “Try not to think of it like a party. No one is wont to tell you this, but when we’re all out on that floor, we enter our own spaces. Like bubbles, containing just ourselves & our partners. It’s not unlike being in a Deeprealm, when you get down to it…” Isolated, but interconnected — it’s how Forrest would describe the roving sea of bodies dancing to the minne currently swirling around their ears, as the wedge heels Rhajat outfitted them with take them to the maw of the dance floor.

     They have to strain their legs not to fall over in those gigantic things.

     “Now, I’ve experience in both, but I need to ask,” they then begin, acknowledging their date with a quick squeeze of her palm. Said squeeze avows a gentle tug of Rhajat closer to Forrest’s arm, because standing just at the precipice of the most populated room of the Ethereal Ball puts them into quite a congested line of traffic. Eager couples dart past the mismatched pair and nearly bump their shoulders. Eager-er bachelors run at twice the speed in search of a partner. And Forrest’s concerns lie not in what they could do to Rhajat, but the opposite: what she would invoke onto them should they sufficiently stoke her ire. In the event that hexes do go flying, Forrest has already taken the liberty of stashing a couple of countercurse talismans in the bouquet cradled in their arms. They come from the Nohrian’s personal stash: protective wards meant for their sake, but utterly useless to them in the looming presence of the bodyguard attached to their hand.

     “Do you lead, or do you follow?” A simple question, asked as capriciously as someone’s favorite color or season. To the princess, the answer would matter little; Forrest intends to shuffle Rhajat in and join the movement of the crowd. Amidst the picture-perfect blazonry of just about every surface the space has to offer, and the bright beams of the spotlights cast upon every duet — seemingly infinite in number — the barrier for entry stands tall. Room to squeeze between other people proves scarce, and the ballgoers sway so tightly-packed that even a single misstep threatens collision. Managing to carve a path forward in the jaunty footwear Rhajat lent would similarly prove challenging, but Forrest would do so anyways. Careful, measured motions guide them toward the center of the room…

     It’s their night, and without a single toke from a tome, they will make it magical. 

[windherited]

If Rhajat ever intended sarcasm, now is the time. Because when Forrest tells her to not think of it like a party, or worse, that this whole affair should somehow be reminiscent of the Deeprealms, she all but narrows her eyes and raises an eyebrow in teasing. Ever empirical, she only frowns slightly at the suggestion, as there's been nothing to confirm anything like these sorts of statements. But, if there is privacy in the throng, then she'll just have to believe it.

She lets herself be led towards the dance floor, slinking along beside Forrest despite the unfamiliar outfit. Her lynx-like movements make her more sinister snake than woman, to most eyes. A squeeze of her hand prompts her eyes to the other's, and she nuzzles closer instinctively.

"I'll follow you," is all Rhajat replies. Normally, she's a fish out of water— but her familiar effects bridge the gap. Here, in unfamiliar garb in unfamiliar atmosphere, though, she wants to cling tighter to the noble. They should let their prior knowledge guide them, she thinks. As always, Rhajat is happy just to hold her, and know that the royal belongs to her, as much as her clothes.

"You know what you're doing. Like with clothes—I used to hate that you could be so perfect. So show it off, dumbass."

[windherited]

Yes I'm trans: transporting this wine into my mouth

𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐓 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐑𝐇𝐀𝐉𝐀𝐓

[brynherited]

     The descendent of light isn’t kept in waiting very long. Her darker counterpart click-click-tap!s their way across the red carpet, wearing a befuddled look as they regard the orchids added to their ensemble, but more importantly, Rhajat’s style. Pastel pinks all but vanish off of Forrest’s attire — found instead in the quilted dress hugging the Hoshidan’s sides. It bears the frilly, pearlescent filigree of the Nohrian’s handmake: in the edge of the dress itself but also the lacey half-cardigan shrouding her in its sleeves. Easy-wear pumps match the theme, and the headscarf Forrest stressed as strictly optional gives rise to a beam from them as they peer away from their bouquet long enough to notice it. Despite the darkness clinging to their body, the royal looks a tad worn from conversation already — like their breath had been stolen in droves by the ballground’s entryway. 

     “Even in my finest works, you find a way to seem so gloomy…” The sigh that follows isn’t truly weary, kindling more of the cadence of a joke than any real dismay. Further strides take them closer, until the footwear Rhajat picked out for them comes into view. If the sharpness of their wit hadn’t alerted her, then that length of leg most certainly will. “Is it really so bad, Rhajat? I think that the makeup in particular suits you rather well!” An inspection is then made of her face, and the rosy blush embellishing her cheeks: almost a perfect pair to the pink on her lips. Her black eyeliner had been stolen from her before the pair readied themselves to attend, and in its stead, Rhajat wears Forrest’s white. 

     When she looks to them, they cant their head and offer an arm. “In any case, the hour has arrived for us to dive in. I won’t make you mingle, but you do owe me a dance.” 

[windherited]

Rhajat avoids locking eye contact. "I'm not gloomy," she grumbles. A hand magnetizes to her other in an attempt to fidget; with obvious effort, she manages to separate them again. "As long as you like it. That's all that matters to me. It's more so just this party I'm not..."

Her gaze finds Forrest's.

"...thrilled about." Not compared to you.

Motion returns to idle hands, and she makes for Forrest's own, catching one from the same sleeves that she herself has worn. Really, she doesn't mind the clothing she wears tonight (Forrest's clothing always seems to meet her in the middle), but seeing her in the witch's own clothes has given her heartbeaet accleration. Somehow, although it is an outfit that Rhajat has made herself extremely familiar with, it might as well be entirely new threads draped on the Nohrian. Loose, dark sleeves run about her, snaking from the breast about her shoulders, then coming down around her sides in black tears. Beneath, mesh nets encase the skin. The dress is a somber exoskeleton of fabric, outlining Forrest's glowing shoulders and sensitive palms, and on her back can be viewed the bones. Thin rods hold together the backless garment, truly offering skeletal vestments to the dark witch's robes. Long cords embellish her normally slight figure into one befitting a true sorceress. Forrest's blonde curls, usually an accessory to bright skies, are a beacon from the black ensemble.

At the mention of dance, Rhajat stiffens ever so slightly. Of course Forrest would ask this of her—that is the purpose of this outing. She only looks down at her lover and bites her abnormally pink lips. I don't dance.

"I've seen others dance. I can dance."

[windherited]

Yes I'm trans: transporting this wine into my mouth

𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐓 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐑𝐇𝐀𝐉𝐀𝐓

[windherited]

Of all the things she's agreed to for Forrest's sake, this one has got to be the worst. Showing up to a party—the biggest of the year, no less—and wearing an outfit of someone else's choosing? She could already tell that anyone, ANYONE who DARED to give her any sort of misgivings in a glance would be receiving several hexes, curses, on top of her usual grim profanity. And if anyone were to jeer at her lover's clothing, her own clothes, she might add, they would absolutely not be enjoying the rest of their pitiful lives. Even her dark eye makeup, made primarily from her own prominent eyebags and long bangs, could not withstand Forrest's force of fashion. She's exposed. It's ridiculous.

Entering into the central hall has got to be the worst part, she knows. Brilliantly lit, and teeming with nearly everyone in the entire monastery, there's really no place she'd rather be less. She spies no one familiar in her first recon either; and so, awaiting her princess, she leans against a wall, as inconspicuous as one can be on such an energetic evening.

Around her, students and faculty adorn the dance floor, laughing gaily, freely. Rhajat's fingers twitch and convulse, and she holds herself back from feeling and tearing at her clothing. For this Hoshidan witch, the floor beneath her seems the best place to plant her eyes in the meanwhile; and so, she holds her gaze there, at least until someone worthy of her attention can hurry along and show up.

[windherited]

“Mm? Oh! You’re finally awake?”

Forrest wrenches their attention away from the dresser they had been staring into for the last hour. It isn’t their dresser (and by their standards, could do with a few upgrades) but lies close enough to a dormroom bed for them to close the distance to it without much effort. 

They regard Rhajat’s first titillating twists — the dawn of her wakefulness — and they beam finding a place by her side. From where they sit, they can reach forward to set right a few tresses of her hair. The space had been left when Forrest vacated it to curl tight their own locks: ever the early bird. An apologetic turn of their brow acknowledges that they had left her Forrest-less as they got ready, and the hand on her head sweeps down to cup her cheek. “I take it you know what today is, so…” 

Abruptly does the noble stop to rummage beneath her bed, and produce a large black gift box accented with golden silk. Its size is too large to have concealed walking in; Forrest must have had arranged for it to be delivered this morning. “Happy birthday!” they announce, placing it on her lap and delivering it with a peck to her cheek, “I know you don’t have any memory of the last outfit I made you, so I decided to take another crack at it… you know, make one you will remember for the rest of your life?”

The ensemble consists of many dark layers of fine, lacey material built for livability as much as aesthetic. The fabrics cascade the body when worn, and provide particular flare in all four of the limbs. The box is only so big to accommodate a pair of short black boots to go with it, as well as several extra chains. Space exists to attach them across the neck, on the thighs, down sleeves — even onto finger rings. Everything should fit her like a glove, being tailored to Rhajat and all. 

“I promise I didn’t take any of your measurements while you were sleeping, either. I seem to have a particularly sharp recollection of them, hehe~”

The first step of every morning is the same: curling her arm or fingers or both around her Forrest, snatching them back to her side, clinging to them, preventing their escape. So when she instead curls around nothing, a cold space left behind by a warm presence, dark eyes snap open immediately, livid...worried. But, she sees her Forrest, groggy vision clamping down tightly to familiar blonde curls and a posture befitting a noble. "...What today is?" is all she can manage. Weak morning arms push herself up into a sitting position, taking the blankets around her for cover. She tucks them under her chin, wrapping her thin nightshirt in a compress that can pass for a robe. Now bundled up properly, beady eyes follow Forrest's movements.

The day is revealed to her in the form of a package, a gift, one of those things that Forrest is so fond of. It's placed beside her, and her lover finally leans in for a kiss. Automatically, she tries to turn her lips to match their own, intercepting what was once a simple peck, hungry for the warmth of their tongue. She leans into the kiss, trying to latch onto their comfort as penance for their early rise. The Nohrian manages to pull away eventually, though—due most likely to Rhajat's hands being trapped inside her blankets.

"Oh. My birthday." It's with a sour tone that she relinquishes Forrest's lips, and it's not properly ameliorated by the occasion, either. She'd never much cared for the sort of thing; after all, birthdays were something for friends and family, and Rhajat did not keep much of either. Father had appeared on some of her early birthdays, but none too recently, and the festivity of the occasion had faded as she had grown up. She's unenthusiastic for the day, yes; but for Forrest, her dark eyes do light up a little, and she wrenches her gaze away from them while she frees her hands from her blanket robes.

Knowing Forrest, it's mostly likely an outfit, tailor-made to her measurements, and thoughtful to her preferences. How Forrest manages to do things like this is a dark magic of their own, a different power she can't compete with. So it's with reverence that she unties the gold ribbons, and reveals this thin, fluid, dress...? Thing. Her eyes dart to theirs, as if to make sure this is the right box.

Without warning, she springs from her fortress, and plunges herself into her new attire. It fits over her head nicely enough—of course, perfectly snug to her body, too. But it has a nice, loose quality, like her diviner attire from back home. Her skin can breathe easily in this. The clinking of chains confuses her, though. Should jewelery really be sewn into the clothes? She supposes that Forrest would know, so she resigns her doubts to their expertise.

As she slides everything into place, adjusting coils and coils of thin fabric and chains about her, a smile begins to tug at the Hoshidan's face. She fights back, of course, and a creepy half-sneer is the result; but as she lets fall the clothes to drape properly over her, Rhajat gives into joy. The ensemble fits about her so perfectly, measuring just widely enough to allow movement but to keep her shrouded in its fabric shadows. The material is slightly transparent; but layered as it is over her body, her undergarments are impossibly obscured. She raises a hand gently, watching the liquid silk flow around her, letting the chains move from her rings to her arms. Turning to Forrest, she bites at her nails, unsure what to say yet.

Even if Forrest had taken her sizes while she was sleeping, she wouldn't have minded, either.

"You really have a knack for this thing." Her eyes finally flick up to theirs, and Rhajat crosses her arms awkwardly. "Uh...I don't celebrate my birthdays, but I'm celebrating this one. Because of you. So get excited."

She walks a step towards them, towering over their seated figure. Instead of a threat, she instead plies herself over, clambering neatly onto Forrest's lap, straddling them in her happiness. Her arms wrap around their neck automatically, and she rolls her hips, leaning in for the closest embrace she physically can. "It's perfect, but not too perfect. I guess... I know what I'm wearing today. Only..."

Then, she leans in close to the Nohrian's ear, tipping their hat askew. Her long nails scratch lovingly at the back of Forrest's neck, underneath their hair. Rhajat's warm breaths sears their skin, heavy and heavier. "I want to break it in with you first."

[liightborne]

<unknown number>

[ TXT ] : finding location data is easy

[ TXT ] : [attachment: kris's location]

[ TXT ] : don't ask how i got it

[ TXT ] : Who is this???

[ TXT ] : What is this???

[ TXT ] : I do not know what to do with this. But why do you have this, and who are you, and how did you know to text me?

[ TXT ] : Are you the car driver? Please do not text strangers. Call an ambulance.

[windherited]

[ TXT ] : You require MY help?

[ TXT ] : I am most happy to assist, of course, I am quite the fan.

[ TXT ] : Not that I would refuse to help if I did not enjoy what you make, of course.

[ TXT ] : Regardless, I shall admit had not expected that my assistance could be of any use.

[ TXT ] : I shall be heading over posthaste!

[ TXT ] : and don't tell anyone where you're going

[ TXT ] : i don't like onlookers

[ TXT ] : this spell also requires a large amount of cash so bring that too

[windherited]

[ TXT ] - Hello, this is Ferdinand Von Aegir of Aegir Publishing? Is this the person behind 'darkmagicuniversity'?

[ TXT ] - There are quite the number of writers working for us who are big fans of your work. Is it possible that I can arrange a meeting for you to talk to them personally? They would like to ask a couple questions.

[ TXT ] - Additionally, have you read: “I Opened a Witch Café in the Apocalypse and It’s Doing Surprisingly Well"? I suspect it may pique your interest.

[ TXT ] : how did you get this number

[ TXT ] : yes

[ TXT ] : submit your staff's social security numbers and i'll be there on thursday

[ TXT ] : and i'll know if they're fake.

[windherited]

[ TXT ] : are we ever going to talk about it?

[ TXT ] : that shrine of twigs and bones you left in my room and then told me not to touch

[ TXT ] : i think it's starting to rot

[ TXT ] : you disinfected the bones, right?

[ TXT ] : 🙄

[ TXT ] : [Apple payment request: Rhajat is requesting $50 ]

[ TXT ] : make me

[windherited]

[ TXT ] : Are you asking me to sneak out? [ TXT ] : Won't we get in suuuuper big trouble if any of our parents find out?? [ TXT ] : (｡ŏ﹏ŏ) [ TXT ] : I don't want my dad to get mad at me...

[ TXT ] : you'll be safe with me [ TXT ] : probably [ TXT ] : you can sleep over at my place after [ TXT ] : i'll tell your dad we went to something boring instead

[windherited]

[ TXT ]  :   have you seen the news?

[ TXT ]  :   i have a sinking suspicion that i know who the culprit behind the incident is... 

[ TXT ]  : and that i might be talking to her right now

[ TXT ] : that's not me i was home all night boomer [ TXT ] : legit [ TXT ] : [attachment: picture of an empty bedroom. it's obviously a stock photo, and the watermark hasn't even been attempted to be removed.] [ TXT ] : see [ TXT ] : unrelated but do you know how old you have to be to rent out a storage unit?

[windherited]

[ TXT ] : Just to be clear now / you're asking me to sneak out? / We could just stay home.

[ TXT ] : i'm out of instant ramen packets [ TXT ] : and energy drinks [ TXT ] : i usually order a box from the capital but they got my order mixed up. of course they did [ TXT ] : and then obviously we'll come back home. i'm not stupid [ TXT ] : why would i go out when i could stay in [ TXT ] : i require sodium and caffeine [ TXT ] : i'm tracking your location right now are you ready to go

[windherited]

[ TXT ] : hey i didnt know you were tiktok famous [ TXT ] : just saw u on there [ TXT ] : [ VIDEO LINK: witch caught live on camera ❗❗❗ NOT CLICKBAIT ❗❗❗ ]

[ TXT ] : people love what they don't understand [ TXT ] : heh [ TXT ] : already more likes than your surfing videos [ TXT ] : anyway i didn't post that [ TXT ] : that wasn't me [ TXT ] : [VIDEO LINK: darkmagicuniversity has gone Live! 🔴 long range curse testing] [ TXT ] : this is mine

[ohisms]

✱˚｡⋆ ↪ 𝐀 𝐆𝐀𝐌𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝑻𝑬𝑳𝑬𝑷𝑯𝑶𝑵𝑬 .    (  a  collection  of  texting prompts.  feel free to change phrasing.  potentially mature content within.  )

[ TXT ] : why are you still awake?

[ TXT ] : hey, where did you go?

[ TXT ] : it's getting bad again.

[ TXT ] : guess i'll just sit in bed. alone. by myself.

[ TXT ] : you can't ignore me forever.

[ TXT ] : i can't stop thinking about you.

[ TXT ] : just saw i called you last night. how'd that go?

[ TXT ] : i really need someone right now.

[ TXT ] : we need to make plans asap.

[ TXT ] : have you seen the news?

[ TXT ] : you were blackout drunk.

[ TXT ] : testing to see if you blocked my number...

[ TXT ] : do you know anything about doing stitches?

[ TXT ] : just please let me know you're okay.

[ TXT ] : did you forget we had plans?

[ TXT ] : i know you see my messages, your read receipts are on.

[ TXT ] : meet me at [ location ], it's important.

[ TXT ] : do you need comfort, to vent, or a solution?

[ TXT ] : is there anything i should bring?

[ TXT ] : call me. please, it's important.

[ TXT ] : i can't sleep.

[ TXT ] : have you eaten today?

[ TXT ] : you are always going to be my priority.

[ TXT ] : i haven't seen you around in awhile.

[ TXT ] : i had a dream about you last night.

[ TXT ] : the names are gonna get mean if you don't text me back.

[ TXT ] : at the risk of sounding cliche, what are you wearing?

[ TXT ] : just say the word and i'll drop everything.

[ TXT ] : do you seriously not remember?

[ TXT ] : come to the front door.

[ TXT ] : have you been drinking?

[ TXT ] : how do you feel after last night?

[ TXT ] : are you up? please be up.

[ TXT ] : you looked beautiful today.

[ TXT ] : i have so much to tell you.

[ TXT ] : no one's heard from you. are you okay?

[ TXT ] : who is this?

[ TXT ] : are you taking care of yourself?

[ TXT ] : thought i'd reach out and see how you're doing.

[ TXT ] : i miss the taste of your lips.

[ TXT ] : that kiss was really nice.

[ TXT ] : stop acting so high and mighty.

[ TXT ] : i left my [ item ] at your place.

[ TXT ] : are we still fighting?

[ TXT ] : i need help and i can't go to the hospital.

[ TXT ] : are you thinking about me too?

[ TXT ] : call me, i wanna hear your voice.

[ TXT ] : i don't want to talk to you.

[ TXT ] : what do you have to lose?

[ TXT ] : you don't have to ask, i'm already on my way.

[ TXT ] : i want to take a nap on you.

[ TXT ] : even if you called 6 months later at 3am, i'd answer.

[ TXT ] : what's my name in your phone?

[ TXT ] : how's trying to forget about me going?

[ TXT ] : i have nobody else to ask.

[ TXT ] : what do you mean you're at the hospital??

[ TXT ] : sorry, i think you have the wrong number.

[ TXT ] : good morning! you up yet?

[ TXT ] : do i sense sarcasm in your tone?

[ TXT ] : you start your day at 2pm?

[ TXT ] : you need MY help?

[ TXT ] : stop texting me.

[ TXT ] : i'll leave that up to your imagination.

[ TXT ] : are you asking me to sneak out?

[ TXT ] : when will i see you again?

[ TXT ] : if you come over, i'll order us a pizza.

[ TXT ] : are we ever going to talk about it?

[ TXT ] : can you come get me out of here?

[ TXT ] : you mean like ... a BODY - body?

[ TXT ] : it's just been one thing after another lately.

[ TXT ] : forgiving and forgetting is harder than it sounds.

[ TXT ] : i want your legs wrapped around my head.

[ TXT ] : call me when you wake up.

[ TXT ] : what are you doing that's more important than me?

[ TXT ] : i'm out of town right now.

[brynherited]

˚✿˖ i'll keep your aches away

BOEL Med Tents

[brynherited]

“Rhajat? Ah—” 

Barely a foot through the tarp, and a woman’s spindly arms clamp around their waist with no intention of letting go. Forrest stifles something in the back of their throat — pain, likely, from the wound that she presses — but steels themselves enough to stay sturdy and part with a laugh. “Well that didn’t take long… Though, I suppose it was never going to in the first place.” 

They bite the corner of their glove and free the bare softness of their hand, wrenching it toward their midsection to address the diviner currently hogging them for warmth. “You’re quite cold: I take it your battle didn’t go great either?” Equal but opposite, the pair bear the lingering stamps of their bouts. Where Rhajat feels freezing to the touch, almost enough to make Forrest shiver, the Nohrian has burnt up. They smell faintly of charred fabrics and their body still radiates much of the heat they were assailed with — their own heat. It serves to reason, then, that they would each regulate the other; Forrest warms, Rhajat cools. The longer they stay intact, the closer they come to complete thermal equilibrium.

So Forrest wastes no time budging their Hoshidan with their knee and directing the both of them onto her cot. Its size belies that it was made just for one, but doesn’t that just keep them closer together? “I’m sorry I wasn’t there to assist, but I am now, and I’ll remain as long as you like..” 

Rhajat is draped overtop, such that her jaw sits at Forrest’s clavicle and her face absorbs the balminess of every breath they take. And with her laid & comfortable, the blonde deploys their de-gloved hand to stream through her hair. Careful digits lift, stroke, and knead between her locks — pressing occasionally against her scalp so that she can feel a few ginger circles.

The moment exudes a soothing air of utmost calm: the perfect respite from the storms they both braved.

Starter for @windherited !

[windherited]

Once the masked man's left her alone again, Rhajat kicks up from her cot, swiping the new cup of juice on the way. The throng of people moving in and out make for easy cover as she hobbles her way, aching, towards the mouth of the tent. She doesn't really have a plan for what to do once there, though. She just wants to reunite with her Forrest as soon as she can. Under her breath, she curses the monastery staff that would have them separated unwittingly. If someone were to have scarred them, her terror would become boundless, and her rage infinitely-reaching.

At the door, she doesn't have to wait long before familiar pink and gold enters. She jumps to them, grabbing them about the waist firmly. (Her drink is tossed aside.) Taller, she presses her cheek to the side of their head, lingering in the familiar texture of Forrest's hair. Her own attire, stiff from the frost, is unable to push its way any closer to them, though she tries, insisting her body as close as she can. They're warm, burnt; it sears her skin, but she only clings tighter. "They fucking froze me."

Their voice is much softer than her own. She lets the combination of it and Forrest's gentle movements guide her back to their cot, clambering uncomfortably into the blankets together. With gravity as her ally, she folds much nicely into Forrest's body, and tucking her nose next to their ear, breathes them in deeply. Were she not exhausted her mind would already be all over the place, concocting soothing ointments and rejuvenating potions. But, for now, she's content to just breathe Forrest in deeply, applying an ice cube mage to their burns.

When she feels the fingers in her hair, she initially bristles. She can't help but to, when she's touched, even by Forrest; but her apprehension subsides with every stroke.

"Guess you didn't win either, huh." It's not meant to be a mean statement, but Rhajat's inflection reveals nothing. She wiggles a hand free from under Forrest to slip beneath their uniform, feeling the burned skin for herself. "What were you thinking, going out there without healing magic..."