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To be honest, Vayu also wasn't sure if he heard that right. The enthusiasm of the crowd curdled, turning against Dismas just as quickly as it turned against him just moments ago.

"Wh..." he sputtered, in a dazed state. He lifted his head up, beholding Dismas -- more in confusion than anything.

"...but you won," he protested, though weak.

He wanted to ask, don't you want your prize? To be Champion... but clearly not, if this was how he responded when he had it in his sights.

What Vayu would have really been asking, anyways, was won't you spare me the humiliation of this? He was prepared to die right then, but to live on as a champion defeated? It was like asking him to live with a bullet through his heart, to live again in a world that surely hated him.

But then again, a tiny part of him wondered if that was the point.

Down he goes. Down it stays.

Dismas' heart beat faster and faster, the noise of the organ slamming against his chest loud enough to make the chants of their bloodthirsty audience little more than a murmur, an echo of words spat out just because they could.

He could put an end to this. He should. Save Vayu from that fucked up circus, and save himself from dealing with the dungeons outside. A part of him would argue that being her puppet again wasn't as bad as dealing with undead creatures and eldritch gods.

...

...who are we kidding. No it wasn't.

"I give up."

The audience falls into silence for a second, unsure if they heard that right -- and then erupt in angry screams, insults, what have you. Nothing he didn't hear already, over and over. If some of those idiots wanted to put their money where their mouth were and personally deal with him outside, they were free to try. And if Vayu wanted to live like this so bad, then who was he to give him the mercy of a quick death?

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Send my muse an icon, and they will…

🎨 tell you a skill or talent few know of that they have

👻 tell a fear they have

🔆 say one of their dreams/aspirations

🎁 show off something they have

🚿 mention one of their shower thoughts.

🎭 say how they are really feeling

📅 speak of a past experience

🐱 talk about their favorite animal/pet

🌙 tell about one of their recent dreams/nightmares

🍀 regale a time when luck was on their side

👪 speak about their thoughts and feelings about someone they know

🔪 talk about a time when they were hurt physically, mentally, or emotionally

👄 whisper a secret no one else knows

🎓 say one thing they are proud of

😳 say one thing they are ashamed of

👀+ a question of your own!

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He squeezes Iago's hand in turn, as he starts walking.

What they said was true enough: the nice thing about mobs of villagers is that they're only mortal and need to sleep eventually. One could only keep up the momentum of communal wrath for so long.

However, something about the way they spoke made Vayu uneasy. More uneasy than he already was, that is. It was the... blankness of it. He'd heard it a couple of times before, and he couldn't see through that kind of stoicism. For all he knew, Iago could be truly unbothered or they could be falling apart inside, and he couldn't tell the difference between the two if his -- if their -- life depended on it.

But that was an issue to work through when things were less hectic.

"'s deeper in these woods," he answers, low and hushed as if he still fears someone listening in. "Away from the trails. But there's a dry place to sleep."

One of a handful of good hiding places he knew in these woods, all established by unfortunate necessity -- including, but not limited to, past incidents like this.

At this point, the two would have to veer into the foliage. Vayu kept a hold on Iago's hand, as he stepped over roots and into shrubbery, pausing to look back and see how his partner was handling the wilder terrain.

Iago stumbles to a halt and takes the few precious moments to catch their breath and reorient themselves. They're no less cautious than Vayu, glancing around for watchful eyes and straining their ears for shouting voices. Their head on a swivel, they tried and failed to get their bearings - they're simply not familiar with this kind of place.

They know how to easily disappear in busy city streets, and they could take on a handful of bloodthirsty pursuers in their sleep thanks to their time in the Temple. But this, they're unfamiliar with and proves to be a bit more than just a few people to face. Vayu's presence serves as both a comfort, being better equipped, and a stressor, considering Iago doesn't ever run away with someone. That's usually a solitary activity.

His obvious stress does little to help their mounting paranoia ( is it still paranoia when you know you're being chased? justified paranoia ). The two of them risked becoming an echo chamber of anxiety, so Iago quickly tries to swallow back their own panic, keep a level head.

He takes their hand again, and they give it a subtle squeezing, praying they don't shock him like this. Their fingers are getting that dreadful tingly feeling again.. They don't complain about having to move again, but they still feel although they haven't caught their breath.

"You lead the way," Iago nods, a practiced voice devoid of any strong emotion. Better that than more evidently worried about this. "They're riled up. Once they lose us, the frenzy should die down and boredom will set in. What is this spot you know?"

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Forugh Farrokhzad, from Let Us Believe In the Beginning of the Cold Season; "It Is Only the Voice that Remains,"

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[rip vayu you would have loved those videos of people socializing feral kittens]

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[things that make vayu op: his dad is alive and the two don't hate each other]

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FUN ASK!!! If you were forced to play as your least favorite character in any fandom you play in, who would they be? How would you play them?

That's a tough question, because there aren't that many characters I truly hate. But after thinking about it more I think it would be local mafia boss and bitchboy J.acopo from the house in fata mor/gana. Spoilers for that game below, since it's one of those visual novels that really benefits from you going in as blind as possible. cw for discussions of domestic abuse, slavery, and pedophilia below. Also, fata.moru involves reincarnation between different eras, so this is discussing Jacop boy in both his 19th century american mafioso incarnation and his earlier medieval incarnation.

Out of the three main storylines in the game, I like his the least. Like dude, you are textbook abusing your wife because of your own insecurities and macho social pressures, I don't want to read about you feeling sorry for yourself about the whole thing. And that's not even getting into the medieval plotline where he has a crush on a 12 year old while he's in his 20s and that's just... played off I guess?

At the very least in the main game, said girl doesn't forgive him for the other shit he did.

But that's not to say his story isn't interesting. Basically, the three main guys of the three story routes in fatamoru are the result of Morgana cursing them to be reincarnated and experience tragedy based on the stuff they did to her during her life.

Jacop(o)'s curse is that he loved money and power too much, so money and power would be all he ever had. So when he was reincarnated as a mob boss, he was doomed to lose his wife and his childhood best friend to games of criminal politics and business, losing his wife because his paranoia and insecurity over his masculinity lead to him suspecting her of infidelity and abusing her, and losing his best friend Maria because she betrays him, deliberately framing his wife for infidelity to destroy his marriage and generally running him to ruin for humiliating her (by making her a servant in his house in a weird attempt to "save" her -- she's the child of a rival family, but couldn't lead said family because she was a girl).

(We stan Maria Campan.ella in this house btw. I support women's wrongs, and if I was there I would have given her better gun training so she doesn't miss the space between his eyes.)

But in the medieval era, the life he lived is more kinda complicated, because the person Morgana actually wanted to curse isn't him, it's the corrupt lord he was impersonating. See, he lead a successful slave revolt against a noble, and ended up taking on his identity with the intent to change things, but just kinda... didn't, because running a kingdom was more complicated than he expected. And that's really interesting narrative territory! He stole the master's tools and realized they couldn't destroy the master's house.

So how would I play him?

Well, first thing's first the crush on the 12 year old thing has to go, because I'm not touching that with a ten foot pole in a roleplay context. Second thing, I would de-age him a little in the medieval era. He described himself as "only a boy" when he lead that slave revolt but he was probably over the age of 20 so. Knocking a few years off him so that he was 17-16 when it happened, which would make him... 20 ish when the shit goes down in the medieval era? Weirder things have happened.

Finally, I would have really played into the tragedy of like... trying to escape systems of power with your own power and falling into the exact same traps, losing everyone you cared for along the way and it all being his own fault. He'd still be terrible, don't get me wrong, and he is still the kind of bastard who'd abuse his wife on suspicions of infidelity, that seems important to his character to me. He's someone who mistreats the people closest to him and justifies it as something he "had to do" because of the social pressures around him, only for it to inevitably blow up in his face and leave him alone in the world. That is his tragedy, in the classical sense.

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nothing, null, hollow, hole

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"Wait, really?"

Vayu's eyes lightened, though more with confusion than anything, as he turned his head more towards Anya.

"I thought they were testing me for like... sanity, stability, trustworthiness, psionic damage, anomalous thoughts or..." he shrugged. "I dunno. Something like that."

Maybe they still were, but Vayu figured in order to test someone you needed, well. A test to administer. Or maybe they told Anya what to look out for?

He took another breath in, then out. Anything he liked, huh.

"Right... right. I was trying to figure out how to phrase the hospital stuff. A lot happened."

Specifically, how to leave out what he wasn't supposed to know, but the crux of it was something he wasn't supposed to have been caught up in. And long stretches of nothing in between... maybe that, then.

"...but at the same time, a lot of nothing also happened," he settled. "It wasn't like I had any visitors. I mean, it wasn't the worst part, not by far."

But it was more than just nothing, he wanted to elaborate. The nothing of a dreamless sleep. Like an empty, lucid dream.

"That'd probably be the staff," he mutters as a throwaway, hoping to swiftly move along. "But it gets pretty repetitive, you know? And... pretty empty."

The woman frowned ever so slightly as she leaned forward, her hand resting under her chin, quietly letting the other speak. Be vague, as vague as he could be.

An hospital he wasn't treated well. It could mean everything and nothing at all at the same time. Anya's own eyes lowered as her mind started processing those words, what they could be about.

A hospital... might be one exactly like the one they were in? Much less a hospital, and more of a science base. An underground prison. And of course, being treated badly might've meant they were actively experimenting on him, or keeping him in one of those small cells she, too, spent a few nights in after being brought back from the Tulpar.

For safety, they said. Hers of theirs, she didn't know.

Maybe there was something more, too. She did hear some screams echo in the halls every now and then, comments on how workers were treated, about immortal lizards and mind controlling swords and toasters people referred as in the first person. Hands went to rub one another for a second before she writes down his words and her thoughts on the notebook, her eyes not leaving the paper even as he asked what, then, they should talk about.

"It's... your psych evaluation, and they didn't... give me a proper list of things to ask, either."

A failed attempt at a joke.

"Anything you like, really."

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@fiendishfinesse | Continued from x

Vayu shuffled uncomfortably in his seat, eyes averted from the cambion across from him. If he were a little braver and more reckless, he'd get up and just run out of here without another word.

Answering the question honestly would do nothing but give the devil a lure and a hook to catch him with. Alas, he wore his heart on his sleeve and was never all that good at lying.

Perhaps he could square the difference -- and take a page from the habits of the fey. What he went through in the Feywild taught him some things, and one might even be useful in this situation. He could phrase it as a riddle.

"...I want to bring someone who's not dead back to life."

Well, nobody said Vayu was particularly good at writing riddles.

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[probably won't be writing anything today]

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[vayu's the kind of dude who'd apologize for bleeding out on your carpet fr]

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Though the vivisection cuts were the roughest parts, there was no part of Vayu's torso that was truly unmarked. The skin over his heart lay in the path of three great slash marks, which could only have been made by exceptionally large and vicious claws.

His head was turned to the side, gaze pointed away from Curumë, staring through the wall. Though, he didn't need to see him -- hearing his soft words, and feeling his presence, and his hand as he slowly breathed in and out, it was enough to convey the feeling, he thought.

Besides, just hearing those words from Curumë was enough of a shock. Not the sentiment, necessarily; on some level, Vayu knew (most of the time) that this is what lay underneath his partner's caustic exterior. The surprise was seeing that outer layer stripped away, and hearing -- and feeling -- the aching core beneath.

Curumë offered to carry this burden with him, but Vayu wasn't sure if it was even possible to take this weight off his own shoulders, let alone share it with someone else. Curumë begged not to lose him, but Vayu knew far too well that he could never guarantee that. It pained him to be so inadequate, unable to promise his partner victory in his own innermost struggles.

For a while, Vayu let the words, let them both lay there in silence, feeling the thrum of his heart against Curumë's palm. The only way it would be more bare would be if he dug his fingers into the old wounds and opened his ribcage.

The least he could do, he supposed, was to accept Curumë's sentiments with an open heart and hope that at some point, they'd settle into his bloodstream. Maybe then he'd figure out what to love about himself.

He turned his head towards the other man, and brought one hand to rest over his, overlaying the crossing paths of his scars.

"...believe me," he finally said, "I don't want to disappoint you."

@halfdeadsacrifice cont. from (x)

Curumë lay on his side, next to his lover. His gaze was thoughtful as he reached out his hand to trail the closest of the many scars marring the other’s body. Like a breath of wind, his fingertip followed the jagged wound along Vayu’s collarbone, before coming to a gentle halt right over the man’s sternum when he felt the shudder running through his body.

A bittersweet smile crossed the Half-Elf’s moonlit face. “For what it’s worth, I think you’re beautiful, Vayu,” he said, placing his hand over his partner’s heart instead, leaving the gnarled skin once again unattended, abandoned.

Resting his head on Vayu’s shoulder, Curumë looked out of the window. The moon shone brightly, like the night they had first explored each other. But the night was hot now, summer having replaced spring, having replaced winter. And in all of this time, he thought bitterly, he had not managed to help Vayu. If only he could love himself as much as Curumë loved him.

The warlock’s gaze flicked to the troubled man, amber melancholy in midnight blue. “These scars haunt you, don’t they?” he finally said, and even though his voice was laced with concern and care, it resonated with something steely as well. “You don’t have to carry that burden alone, do you know?”

Although Curumë’s skin was drenched in sweat from the heat, his touch ran cold as he spoke. “I worry about you, Vayu.” Pausing — perhaps in an attempt to calm himself — he focused on the heartbeat that thrummed inside his lover’s chest, its rhythm steady and sothing. “I don’t want you to lose against yourself. I don’t want to lose you.”

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Vayu huffed. Tell him something he doesn't know.

"Well, maybe those other rangers suck at their jobs," he muttered, before taking another sip of water.

That was mostly a joke, though Vayu was genuinely surprised no other rangers seemed to be concerned enough about this kid to either stop her from going on these dangerous quests or at least check in and make sure she was okay. Or maybe they did, but they weren't particularly thorough about it. He wasn't there.

"...but, I guess I can say this isn't the first time I've been dragged into dealing with the undead." He shrugged. None of his truly damning secrets were related to this (he hoped). But even beyond that, there was a lot he wasn't eager to unload to a child. Not even an evidently rather worldly one.

Her eyes narrowed. Vayus' secrets were his own, and she wouldn't force them out of the poor man, but she was curious "You're not as good a liar as you think." Spending long enough around Devils had given her decent insight into people.

It didn't bother her too much if he lied, everyone had skeletons in the closet, some had entire graveyards. As long as Vayu didn't plan on adding her to the closet all was well.. more or less.

"Everyone is somewhere for a reason. I'm here because I have a list to complete, and no ranger has ever tailed me as much as you have" No ranger had bothered to tail the strange child beyond getting her out of their territory.

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DARKER THRILLING PROMPTS

content warning for themes of violence, gore, death,  horror and general dark themes as stated in title. obviously these can be used for any context but i figured i’d provide some content for spooky season. ♡

ANTAGONIST 

“  did you really think you could hide from me?  ”

“  no one is coming to save you.  ”

“  now,  i’m gonna have to kill you.  but i won’t let it hurt.  i promise you that much.  ”

“  what?  crying already?  ”

“  keep your goddamn mouth shut!  ”

“  oh,  don’t look at me like that.  surely you’re used to being hurt by now.  i always pick the damaged ones.  ”

“  damn—  you’re a really fucking fast runner you know that?  ”

“  it’s so cute that you think you’re going to survive.  ”

“  you can scream all you want.  no one will hear you.  ”

“  i’ve been planning this for so long.  ”

“  oh yes,  i remember now.  i had so much fun killing that one.  ”

“  i really wish you hadn’t said that...  ” 

“  well shit.  i didn’t want you to see this—  blood really isn’t my color.  ”

“  i’m warning you to walk away now.  forget you saw this.  ”

“  if i see you again,  i’ll take your eyes.  ”

“  don’t give up now,  i’m just getting started.  ”

“  i was hoping you’d put up a fight.  ”

“  stop squirming— it will hurt less.  ”

“  you’re not getting out of this.  ”

“  i’m afraid it has to be this way.  ”

“  it was always going to end like this.  just accept your fate.  ”

“  i really don’t like having to do this.  please don’t make it harder.  ”

“  just let go,  feel the life draining away. it’ll be peaceful.  ”

“  shh it’ll all be over soon.  ”

“  oh,  you’re going to be a fun one to take apart.  ”

[ INTIMIDATE ]  for one muse to use gentleness in a threatening manner  (  stroking their face or hair etc  ). 

[  CRUEL ]  for one muse to threaten the other by putting a hand around their throat without fully choking them. 

[ TRAPPED ]  for one muse to wake up bound to chair. 

[ GROUP ] for both our muses to wake up,  bound and about to be tortured. 

[ KNIFE ] for one muse to stab the other.

[ BULLET ] for one muse to shoot the other. 

[ CRACK ] for one muse to break the other’s bone  (  feel free to specify location  ). 

[ BRUISE ] for one muse to punch the other.  

[ CAUGHT ] for one muse to discover the other in the act of killing someone. 

[ LATE ] for one muse to discover the other after they just killed someone. 

[ QUIET ] for one muse to menacingly put a finger over their mouth to indicate the other to hush. 

[ WHISPER ] for one muse to put their finger over the others mouth while intimidating them.

TARGET/WITNESS

“  why are you doing this to me?  ”

“  what the fuck do you want from me?!  ”

“  i swear to god i’ll shoot!  ”

“  what the fuck is wrong with you?  ”

“  i’ll do whatever you want,  it doesn’t have to be like this.  ”

“  why are you like this?  what happened to you?  ”

“  please—  help me—  ”

“  i think i’m dying—  fuck i’m gonna die…  ”

“  i can’t keep running.  ”

“  please, stop—  ”  

“  go to hell you fucking bastard!  ”

“  i won’t cry for you.  ”

“  hurt me all you want,  i won’t let you break me.  ”

“  go fuck yourself.  ”

“  oh,  i don’t think you’re misunderstood.  i just think you’re a little bitch who only gets off when they’re hurting people.  ”

“  newsflash asshole,  we’re all fucked up.  you don’t see me going around killing anyone over it.  ”

“  what did you do? what the hell did you just do?  ”

“  you said you wouldn’t do this anymore.  ”

“  enough! just.  stop.  ”

“  okay,  you’re really starting to freak me out this isn’t funny anymore.  ”

“  just leave me alone! ” 

“  we have to keep running—  ”

“  get the fuck outta here,  it’s not safe!  ”

“  we can’t hide here forever.  ”

“  who’s after you?  ”

“  don’t leave me here!  ”

[ DEFEND ] for one muse to fight back against the other. 

[ LOGIC ] for one muse to try and reason with an antagonist. 

[ FLEE ] for one muse to witness the other do something violent and immediately run away. 

[ LIVE ] for one muse to be injured by an antagonist and barely survive. 

[ HELP ] for one muse to stumble upon the other after getting attacked. 

[ SURVIVE ] for one muse to have to leave the other behind to run from an antagonist. 

[ GRIEF ] for one muse to watch the other get hurt/killed. 

[ PURSUIT ] for one muse to chase the other. 

[ SURPRISE ] for one muse to grab the other from behind,  hand over their mouth but with the intent to help them hide. 

[ COLLIDE ] for one muse to run into the other’s arms after fleeing from an attacker. 

[ AID ] for one muse to find the other in shock,  hiding from something or someone. 

[ RESCUE ] for one muse to just narrowly get saved by the other. 

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💪

It was such a balmy summer night that Vayu actually chose to open the window in his room, hoping to invite in a nice, cooling night breeze while he and Curumë tried to sleep.

No luck on that. Vayu found himself hopelessly awake, staring at the ceiling, too distracted by the buzzing heat to sleep.

He felt Curumë's finger tracing a path under his collarbone, following the line of old, jagged cuts and haphazard stitches.

He breathed in, shakily, feeling all of a sudden too exposed -- sure, it felt okay enough to simply lie here without a shirt and accept Curumë would see these ugly old wounds, but the reminder that he was able to reach over and touch them whenever gave him pause. Enough to consider raising his hand from the pillow and swatting his lover's away. Maybe with an excuse about how you're too warm and I'm trying to sleep.

...at the same time, there was another temptation that fought that impulse. Call it a yearning to be handled carefully, tenderly.

With a slow, steady breath out, his hands stayed where they were. There was nothing to be nervous about.

Trace my Muse's Scars | Accepting

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Anaïs Nin // John Steinbeck