crossroadsglade

[crossroadsglade]

“Then that means you are not free from the boops either!” She reaches out and gently boops Lumine with her clawed finger

“It must be to so openly boop me, Traveler.” The Tsarista says

[crossroadsglade]

“It must be to so openly boop me, Traveler.” The Tsarista says

Lumine boops your character's nose.

How do they react?

[crossroadsglade]

Pandemos laughs loudly “My my, how bold!”

Lumine boops your character's nose.

How do they react?

[crossroadsglade]

“They’re gone.” She repeats. It seems like she’s in shock. Just what happened to her to be like this? Almost like she was caught in the tornadoes path

Mondstadt had just seen one of the worst storms in its history. Trees and debris were everywhere and roads where blocked cause of said trees. In some of the trees, there was a small flash of red as a red haired girl walked on the uncovered parts of the roads with a limb, her eyeyes blank and an ameno vision clutched so tightly in her hand that she was bleeding along the points digging into her hand

@crossroadsglade

Loki was initially flying over the wreckage as a hawk to get to Monsdadt city and avoid the debris when he spotted a person from above, he swooped down to get a closer look.

He felt a mix of curiosity and a hint of concern as he flew ahead of her, landing and then turning back into his usual form. He called out to her as she approached "Hello? Miss?"

[crossroadsglade]

Ilma slowly cane to a stop, blue green eyes glancing at him. She was a mess, her green shirt and brown shorts caked in mud and blood from the large gash on her less and some near her head. She takes a shaky breath, tears welling in her eyes. “They’re gone. They’re all gone.”

Mondstadt had just seen one of the worst storms in its history. Trees and debris were everywhere and roads where blocked cause of said trees. In some of the trees, there was a small flash of red as a red haired girl walked on the uncovered parts of the roads with a limb, her eyeyes blank and an ameno vision clutched so tightly in her hand that she was bleeding along the points digging into her hand

@crossroadsglade

Loki was initially flying over the wreckage as a hawk to get to Monsdadt city and avoid the debris when he spotted a person from above, he swooped down to get a closer look.

He felt a mix of curiosity and a hint of concern as he flew ahead of her, landing and then turning back into his usual form. He called out to her as she approached "Hello? Miss?"

[crossroadsglade]

Ilma jumps in surprise, turning to face Belladonna quickly. “…Um, yes?” The redhead was tense, still feeling like she was caught in the storm instead of being on solid ground

Ilma was sitting on a bench near Bella’s greenhouse, wrapped up in a really thick coat. Lyney had told her to wait there while he went and got a friend of his. The Mondstadt girl was staring at the ameno vision in her hand, rage slowly bubbling up in her chest. She clenches it tightly before drawing her arm back and throwing it with a yell

@crossroadsglade

"Oh my. Is everything alright?"

A voice asked. Standing behind the girl was Belladonna, a kind smile on her lips as she stared curiously.

[crossroadsglade]

She who rode the storm

Name: Ilma Vilulf

Age: 26

Height: 5’6”

Vision: Ameno

Nation: Fontaine/Snezhnaya

Birth Nation: Mondstadt

Looks:

Likes: Cherries, swallows, apples, ale, dandelions, the night sky, storms

Dislikes: Pistachios, the deep sea, tight spaces, storms, her vision

Story: Born and raised in Mondstadt, Ilma had the uncanny ability to predict which storms would just be rain and thunder and storms that would produce tornadoes. This ability, which she was born with, caused those who knew her to jokingly say she must be a daughter of Barbatos. When she was 21, tragedy struck her. During an experiment to try and distrubte a tornado to disburse it with her friends: John, Ada, Kirsten, and Levert, things went horribly wrong. Instead of a plain EF1 like the experiment perimeters called for, the storm instead produced an EF5. Only Ilma and Levert would make it, with Levert having been miles from the storm doing wind readings and Ilma surviving underneath a bridge buy sheer miracle after watching the tornado snatch away John, Ada, and Kirsten. The storm left a large scar on Ilma’s right thigh from flying debris and her ameno vision, what she believes to be a mockery to her suffering from Barbatos himself.

[crossroadsglade]

Send a Ö and I’ll reveal a character I’d consider rping.

[crossroadsglade]

🌧️{if anyone wants to rp, send some asks my way}

[crossroadsglade]

🌧️{Gimmie the energy to type of a info thing for my newest oc./j}

[crossroadsglade]

“You stick around because I draw you in and don’t let go once I got you.” She says with a cheshire grin

*hands Sunday a glass of Pomegranate Juice*

he stares down into the glass. the liquid looks like blood — the pink tint he remembered is much fainter than it used to be.

...remembered? where did that come from? he's never had pomegranate juice before. usually, the only thing he drank was water. what an odd sense of déjà vu. because what else can it be, other than just déjà vu?

sunday takes a sip. it is bitter, and much less sweet than he reme– thought it would have. there is still a hint of the taste of honey there, though.

the glass drops to the ground, shattering. he feels like throwing up.

[crossroadsglade]

“And so can I. I even determine if he lives or dies if he kills a brilliant mind like yours.”

(nat’s 15 when she got her face scar so let’s go with that)

Her Majesty can tell Dottore’s conditioning of @thetruescholar is setting in, but the girl is only 15. There’s still time to undo his work, right?

But when she goes to visit Natalia, half her face is bandaged over and she’s cleaning up bloodstained glass in her lab.

The Tsarista gasps and quickly moves over to Nat. “Little raven, what happened? Let me see that wound.” She says, ears wiggling with worry

[crossroadsglade]

“Answer me this. Who is the Cyro Archon, me or Dottore?”

(nat’s 15 when she got her face scar so let’s go with that)

Her Majesty can tell Dottore’s conditioning of @thetruescholar is setting in, but the girl is only 15. There’s still time to undo his work, right?

But when she goes to visit Natalia, half her face is bandaged over and she’s cleaning up bloodstained glass in her lab.

The Tsarista gasps and quickly moves over to Nat. “Little raven, what happened? Let me see that wound.” She says, ears wiggling with worry

[crossroadsglade]

“I wouldn’t be nice if I was punishing you, Natalia.”

(nat’s 15 when she got her face scar so let’s go with that)

Her Majesty can tell Dottore’s conditioning of @thetruescholar is setting in, but the girl is only 15. There’s still time to undo his work, right?

But when she goes to visit Natalia, half her face is bandaged over and she’s cleaning up bloodstained glass in her lab.

The Tsarista gasps and quickly moves over to Nat. “Little raven, what happened? Let me see that wound.” She says, ears wiggling with worry

[crossroadsglade]

“Oh my.” She says softly

(nat’s 15 when she got her face scar so let’s go with that)

Her Majesty can tell Dottore’s conditioning of @thetruescholar is setting in, but the girl is only 15. There’s still time to undo his work, right?

But when she goes to visit Natalia, half her face is bandaged over and she’s cleaning up bloodstained glass in her lab.

The Tsarista gasps and quickly moves over to Nat. “Little raven, what happened? Let me see that wound.” She says, ears wiggling with worry

[crossroadsglade]

“Maybe.” She says with a wicked grin. “You look so nice when flustered after all.”

*hands Sunday a glass of Pomegranate Juice*

he stares down into the glass. the liquid looks like blood — the pink tint he remembered is much fainter than it used to be.

...remembered? where did that come from? he's never had pomegranate juice before. usually, the only thing he drank was water. what an odd sense of déjà vu. because what else can it be, other than just déjà vu?

sunday takes a sip. it is bitter, and much less sweet than he reme– thought it would have. there is still a hint of the taste of honey there, though.

the glass drops to the ground, shattering. he feels like throwing up.

[crossroadsglade]

She just laughs and kisses his cheek. The Tsarista then smirks, tapping his lower lip “Then what should I put in your mouth besides words?”

*hands Sunday a glass of Pomegranate Juice*

he stares down into the glass. the liquid looks like blood — the pink tint he remembered is much fainter than it used to be.

...remembered? where did that come from? he's never had pomegranate juice before. usually, the only thing he drank was water. what an odd sense of déjà vu. because what else can it be, other than just déjà vu?

sunday takes a sip. it is bitter, and much less sweet than he reme– thought it would have. there is still a hint of the taste of honey there, though.

the glass drops to the ground, shattering. he feels like throwing up.