“ 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐄𝐀𝐑 𝐓𝐎 𝐀𝐕𝐎𝐈𝐃 𝐃𝐈𝐀𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐔𝐄. 

𝐁𝐎𝐍𝐄𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐐𝐔𝐈𝐓𝐘 𝐘𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐄𝐃 𝐓𝐎 𝐁𝐄 𝐑𝐄-𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐂𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐃 ;    for their stories to be re-told and nevermore forgotten.  even the dead grieved in forsaken tongues, silenced tongues, mouthing entombed names.  removed and re-fabricated historic fairy tales.  with that premise she had risen along thrill-embodied, shrouded in gold and silk and feverish interest.    “ then let us hurry, lest somnus catches and infects us with his sour mood at this fine hour. ”    her tease was as merciless as her titter was melodic ;  gone quieter with synchronized steps, two arms entangled in one friendly knot.  the angels still observed them in their far too enthusiastic escape, shortly halted at the edge of the road where they called for the ride that would carry them away from their prayers.    ( when was the last time we were mere girls ? )    the lofty governor, the dragon among gods, did not desire their nostalgia of this simpler time ;  devotion now a law to be followed under his iron fist, and by the lamenting heart of eos, the dawn since ebbed into a loveless retreat.  stepping into the carriage’s interiors, she falls into the besotted trance at the sight of forest-green beyond the small window-frame, waiting patiently to be explored.    “ perhaps, i, too, needed an excuse for a day of freedom, and i am most grateful you asked me to join you. ”

         Hands lightly pressed together, ghost of smile peeking out from behind gloved fingers. Although subdued ( a blank canvas, white and pristine and empty, for heavenly words must shine pure through mortal coloration ), budding excitement leaked through the cracks of the vessel’s impeccable poise.  ❝ Wonderful ! ❞  The lavish yet modest accommodations granted by the town for their momentary repose was nice, but she yearned to peer into remnants of times bygone. For but a fleeting, almost even restless moment, silence draped its limpid cloak on her. Imagining what lay before them weaved an entrancing work of art, mind swept under the tide of anticipation beckoning her to search for what had been long forgotten. Perhaps it’s unbecoming to devote so much of her attention beyond sacred duty, conveyance of the holy grace of the gods, but as she rose from her chair, sleeves undulating with the brief motion, steps ached to carry her forth to the mysteries of the unknown all the same. Fortune smiled upon Aera, for her to be blessed by the stars with a sister who humoured her fanciful interests.  ❝ Adventure is what you shall receive then. I seek to walk along the paths laid out within the ancient ruins of the forest to the east. There will be much to see ! Once word of it reached me, I knew I had to go. ❞

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑-𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐋𝐃 𝐖𝐀𝐓𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐃 𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐃𝐀𝐔𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒, 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐈𝐑 𝐃𝐀𝐔𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐅𝐓𝐄𝐑.    within eons, they dwindled away like a flame sunken into candle wax, and it proved as a scarcity of occurrence, indeed, to find them among the rubble of ruins.  she would join the half-grave of this withering, arid earth only to find a little sprout.  thusly, beside you, she kneeled to examine further, wondrous and keen, an unintended mimicry.    “ the pleasure is mine, marlene.  i am lunafreya, or luna if you prefer to shorten. ”    even the hound barked in greeting, his sister a silent observer to a ghost communing with a child.    “ how come you are all alone here, are you waiting for someone ? ”

Though the child somehow feels eyes staring in her direction, she does not turn her gaze away as she eagerly awaits a reply. Once she hears the woman's confirmation, she can't help gleam happily. "Really?"

Only a single word in spoken, but the way her happiness takes over the atmosphere speaks volumes. She doesn't seem to look around her, completely oblivious to the result of her excitedly raising her voice.

"Umbra..." She repeats, looking in the dog's direction. Before even approaching the dog, she carefully extends her hand towards him.

"It's nice to meet you. My name is Marlene."

“ 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐄 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐃 , 𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐃𝐎 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐘 𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐑 ?  are they reveling in bliss, or do they agonize? “ // @asterites

✧ @selenorites asked: Dain kisses Luna so softly it almost doesn’t feel real. “…I’ve wanted to do that since forever.”

Long ago has it been since Dáinsleif has given up on love, or so he thought. Contrary to what many would think were he verbalize this openly, it is not out of a bad experience from which he has not healed yet or if he did, that it touched him forevermore in such way that he doesn't want to subject himself to it. Nor it is not because from some ill belief in love either as a result of bad experiences that did not exist to begin with or because of however his character is. In fact, to this day, he is struck with longing which then morphs into melancholia in few moments when he is witness of the love shared betwixt other couples.

Unlike his peers whom have long since forsaken attributes that makes them human like love, believing themselves to be above it, he is not immune to the yearning of the warmth of a gentle hand in his. Of an embrace to share a sad or happy moment. Of lips dancing with his own for minutes that feel like hours. Of tender touches that lead to gentle love-making. No— to the positive surprise of some or the disappointment of others, he is not above these.

Alas, these acts pale in comparison to a bigger desire yet that was never fulfilled: intimacy. Physical intimacy is soothing and gratifying in more ways than one, but it all ends in the superfluous surface of the waters at best. That which he found out with time that he lacked all along is the growing necessity to speak up his mind unbound by the shackles of the societal context they live in, muted and frozen with the passage of time out of reluctant resignation. To be the safe haven of another who can do the same. To connect sentimentally and spiritually with. To not be ashamed when moments of vulnerability rear their ugly head neither him or his partner.

When he believed he has given up on love, then she came to bring light to his dark night.

Like the moon that no longer hangs in the abyssal sky, she showed him the way to a path he did not consider once to be necessary. One of self-acceptance, of ceasing to look up to others above himself when he, too, shines with a light he's still in disbelief he has —he has been doing better on believing more in himself, he truly has—. Amidst that way, he took notice of the selfless care she poured on him. It was unsolicited, but much eye-opening and needed when thinking about it in hindsight. Lunafreya shared her pale light with him, but just as the moon reflects the light it absorbs from the sun in essence, so, too, she was in need of light. A light that emerged from the humble mote of light he began to believe himself to be in times of need of serious reflection, of finding herself in moments of doubt, of seeking answers to understand her place in this world. A light that, to his own surprise, was more than enough to her.

Upon realizing that he's found in her what he used to long in the yesteryear, he did not pursue her love. Instead, gathering a habit that should've been discarded long ago and in direct opposition with the foundational belief of this kingdom, he became more than her knight— he became her silent devout. Dáinsleif was happy of standing in this position, looking for her closely, being her guide when she needed one. Until one night, that contentedness has begotten something else, fuelled further still with a courage he didn't think he would dare act upon.

Moments of silence are sometimes regarded as moments to be avoided, as they may breed discomfort and awkwardness. It was never so between them, rather finding comfort in it and their mutual company when there is naught to say at that time. Cornflower eyes are locked to the eclipse that now reigns supreme the Khaenri'ahn skies, her semblance neither betraying any thought or sentiment she might feel. Sometimes, when she does that, he wonders if she seeks to find answers that only the moon would give her. Under the dim light that now illuminates the slumbering kingdom and whatever little light reaches from behind them, he marvels in her beauty, star-shaped pupils quivering within sapphire depths.

It is when she looks at him out of the corner of her eye and realizes that he's been staring all along that his heart skips a beat at the mesmerizing sight before him. Surprise melted into happiness, as if she herself is revelling at the notion that he was looking at him. The rosy glow on her pale cheeks and the smile sat upon her soft-looking lips make his own eyes soften in an indescribable look. At that moment, for reasons he didn't stop once to consider, she ceased to be the oracle, the saintess he devoted himself to from strict quiescence. At that moment, he knew: he belongs to her.

Driven by a kindled sentiment does he step forward, eyes unable to peel off from her to engrave that smile in his mind. He wants to protect it. Onyx-gloved hands reach out to cradle her face as delicate as he can get, —for he is just a warrior, after all— and, before confusion has an opportunity to cast its shadow, he allows himself to cave in that which his heart wished to fill in, to dispel the longing that has made home within him for many years. Thus he emboldens himself to lean his face closer still, dares to close his eyes until even more audaciously still, he kisses her. It is just a simple press of lips, lacking in ulterior intentions that aren't that of allowing himself to feel once more, to act upon his own desires as she had always encouraged him to do despite his fruitless denial that he has none.

His forehead presses against hers when the gentle kiss concludes, thumb tracing gently her cheekbone with newfound tenderness he had forgotten that existed in him. And ultimately does a confession slip past his lips, from a man who would sooner bite and swallow it before admitting it aloud not out of sense of pride, but of self-sabotaging thoughts of how worthy he is of her (were she know about this, he would get a scolding, he knows).

◜…I’ve wanted to do that since forever.◞

munday asks!!!

at what age did you start RPing?

do you RP anywhere else, other than tumblr?

on what platform did you start RPing?

what made you choose this muse?

is there any other muse in this fandom you RP?

is there any other muse in this fandom you’d like to RP?

is there a muse you played on more platforms or in different moments of your life? 

did you have a muse you tried to play, but didn’t feel connected to?

did you have muse you tried to play, but ended up dropping for various reasons? (the rpc wasn’t active, you lost interest, etc)

would you be interested into playing a crossover? if yes, do you have any limits?

would you be interested into playing with doubles? 

what do you think about AUs?

what do you think about OCs?

what do you think about roleplaying with personals?

what do you think about roleplaying with anons?

what’s the best way to approach you to start playing together?

what was your first muse?

did you ever play a muse for more than a year?

do you have ship bias?

what’s a ship you don’t want to roleplay at all with this muse? (except Bad Illegal And Gross Stuff, of course)

what do you think of your muse’s popular fandom ship?

what do you think of your muse’s canon ship, if they have one?

would you play a OC x canon ship?

would you play a crossover ship?

do you play smut? do you play it only with characters you’re shipping with, or are you open for “one night stands”?

are you multiship?

are you interested into poly relationships for your muse?

is your muse canon divergent in any way?

what are your honest thought about your muse’s canon?

what are your favorite RP tropes to play? (angst, hurt-comfort, etc…)

do you regularly play crack?

do you regularly do dash commentaries?

what are your thoughts on dash commentary?

what are your thoughts on reblog karma?

if you aren’t a native english speaker, do you play in your first language too?

do you feel similar to your muse in any way?

do you feel different to your muse in any way?

what’s the best inspiration for your muse?

what’s a song that reminds you of your muse?

[ OBLIGATORY FREE SPACE!!! Ask anything you’d like! ]

𝐃𝐈𝐀𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐔𝐄 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐓𝐒 .    //    ACCEPTING .

‘  the handsome fellow that’s trying to rescue you from a hideous fate is never wrong.  ’   //    @asterites​​​

𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐘 𝐀 𝐑𝐄𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐊 𝐋𝐄𝐅𝐓 𝐄𝐍𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐇 𝐑𝐎𝐎𝐌 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐀𝐑𝐆𝐔𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍.    that said, while the wit with which it was conveyed, and the context thereof, robbed her embarrassingly of all her excuses, it contradicted with each principle an oracle absorbed and internalized.  hence, her first impulse was to dismiss  —   but what exactly provoked it ?  that her fate threatened a hideous undertone ?  that he, the silly hero, had all intentions to rescue her ?    (  or that he was ... handsome … ?  )    none of these points were untruths and, still, she argued.  still, she made a case for dispute  :    “ he is wrong.  i needn’t be rescued from a particular destiny that i have not chosen  — ”    but with the lakes of fire in their home of darkness, with the heads of conquered children at a gunpoint, and their betrayed roots, had it been a free decision, or unsought necessity ?   ‘ i chose this ‘    on repeat and with effort, the line transformed to conviction, did it not ?  a conviction as real as one to serve an empire which, more than once, manufactured tools out of the flesh of loved ones.  a conviction of devoting to a life of conserved rite.  a conviction that, rather than following survival instincts, there was a choice, at all.

notice, a frown pinching into pallor and a crooked line that ought to resemble a smile, but did it terribly so, marred her pretty visage as her spoken point dilated to the nonsensical.  the denial so outstretched, it portrayed no longer her own instilled thought.    “ it is not that i want him to do this for me, or that he should continue it.  moreover, he is quite hypocritical ... ”    you see, every day, solheim’s high priestess lied through her teeth.  about a good, giving godhead and redeeming salvation under the throne of his mercy ;  about worship and a cause greater than the worshipers.  every day, she lied about picking up the skeletal remains of a dormant faith, and promised to her subjects a myth cased in crystal.  in turn, she lowered her secrets into the coffin of her past, in hopes the valkyric goddess would find and care for them behind valhalla’s fog and the rotting dreams of sorrowful mwynn.  then she smothered that memory, until her woes emptied and interchanged with robes and a scepter invoking divination, forgot what other purpose her hands served than to reach for the voided universe.  for this reason, she lied again, and again, and again ;  until she believed she wanted the barren holiness, and found herself utterly bemused by the absolute ease it required to welcome festering love to creep through the spaces between her gilded ribs.

“ …  he is so …  stubborn, and foolish.  he does not listen, and i  —  ”    oh, look at her.  poor, wretched woman.  suddenly, her hands were meant to touch the heart of another, and the lies were mouthed with naught more than displeasure ;  for there was this man who learned to know her beyond them, as well as she acknowledged his reckless, careless, endearing whimsicality.  his clumsy struggles and lovable qualities.  and, truthfully, resistance could only be considered an impossible effort.  the thought of such alone torturous enough that she preferred to be snapped out of it by the curious impressions within the glance of her starry sibling  —  the sheer tease radiating off of the silent expression suggested full awareness of the remaining contents within the muffled sentence.    “ don’t you look at me like that now.  besides, something tells me a similar experience plagues and blesses you. ”

  *  𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐄 𝐀𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐓𝐈𝐂    :    feelings.

𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐒.    being unable to stop smiling. laughter. bear hugs. happy tears. waving arms around. dancing. contently sighing. eyes twinkling. laughter lines. childlike playfulness. skipping. talking more. affection. cracking more jokes than usual. gesturing more when talking. higher pitched voice. squealing. jumping around. clapping.

𝐒𝐀𝐃𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐒.    tearing up. self-hugging. one-arm cross. an aching chest. scratchy throat. a runny nose. turning away. deep breaths. quivery smiles. crying. infantile sobbing. hands gripping each other or an object. covering mouth. puffy eyes. eyes appear red. voice breaking. a distant or empty stare. monotone voice. asking for comfort. faking a smile. crumbling. shaking. whimpering. depression. abusing an unhealthy habit. withdrawing from others. big teary eyes. doing something even if it could hurt them.

𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑.    furrowed brows. baring teeth. passive-aggressive comments. avoiding eye contact. sarcasm. headache. sore muscles. hiding clenched fists. irritability. jumping to conclusions. raising voice. going silent. demanding immediate action. keeping it all in until exploding. body tensing. making risky decisions. middle finger.

𝐅𝐄𝐀𝐑.    wanting to flee or hide. what-ifs. images of what-could-be flashing in mind. uncontrollable trembling. rapid breathing. screaming. a skewed sense of time. irritability. keeping silent. denying fear. turning away from the cause. pretending to be brave. nail-biting. lip-biting. scratching skin. a joking tone but a voice that cracks. fainting. insomnia. panic attacks. exhaustion. substance abuse. tics. rushing adrenaline. face draining of color. hair lifting on the back of the neck. feeling rooted to the spot. making body as small as possible. staring but not seeing. crying. a shrill voice. whispering. gripping something or someone. stuttering. flinching at noises. pleading.

𝐄𝐗𝐇𝐀𝐔𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍.    constantly yawning. blurring words together. dark circles or lines under eyes. mood swings. hallucinations. calling people by the wrong name. dizziness. denying they’re tired. slow blinking. trouble concentrating. stumbling. leaning on a doorframe for support. sluggish movements. falling asleep someplace that isn’t a bed. becoming irritated by the smallest things. “I’m awake, I’m fine.”. shaking so bad they spill their drink. fall asleep in their clothes. lay their head on the table because they’re so tired. passing out.

Tagged by :    @reginrokkr​ Tagging :  @asterites  /  @asteriskheart  ( aera uwu )  /  @entropyes​ /  @battleshot​  + anyone who wants to and has the time

The past beats inside me like a second heart.

John Banville (via quotemadness)

@battleshot​  :   He will *try* to flatter akjsfceimjga

ah, he is struggling a little.  it is quite adorable, indeed, how he resembles a shy chocobo chick ;  and upon noticing so she hardly can suppress the urge to pet his hair.  in fact, she does it anyways.  there, there.

The Awakening Of The Poet, Gabriel Ferrier (1899)