innerbeast

[innerbeast]

if some people weren't so blindly stuck to some shite ways of thinking, we might still be -- kind of? -- friends. ( 'twas a good, silly nickname... lost to time... )

[innerbeast]

no i do not need more colors in my wardrobe :/

"wrong! ya absolutely need more to livin' things up, ya drab bastard!"

he makes a point to drag at the paladin's sleeve, fingers curling within the fabric, stretching it with a firm tug. as if proving a point by bringing that typical, dreary palette into view would do anything to change the other man's mind. it wouldn't, though, never has. but dar'khol never ceased to try and drive the point home; to try gaining that change he was convinced the other needed.

nothing but black, black and more blacks! depressing greys and muted blues -- auren dressed himself like a bloody shadow half the time! aside from a few lighter grey furs and that one pale blue jacket ( which may as well be considered white with how bright it looked ), there truly was no excitement to be found.

" 'tis a damn crime ya go dressin' as dry as ya speak, 'specially when you're gifted a damn near perfect visage to show!" releasing the sleeve, hand moves to grip at the others bicep, squeezing as if to emphasize ( as his scowl grows ). dar eventually clicks his tongue, eyes sweeping over his friend, taking him by the shoulders. mental measurements taken that he already knows well, an idea in mind that he can't quite pull the trigger on.

"some green wouldn't kill ya... perhaps even a sprinklin' o' gold -- hells! splash o' pink could even do th' trick." actually, "i just might even have somethin' to lend ya!"

tail gives an affirming flick, nodding to himself once settling on a shirt in mind. finally, dar's hands fall away from auren's shoulders, yet they hover for a mere moment. head tilts soon after. another flick of the tail, an almost mischievous bounce to it as palms push against the others chest; one pec for each palm. "could help ya show off these infuriatin' assets o' yours, since ya won't bloody well do it yourself!"

[innerbeast]

like a herded pack, he takes note of the veering paths of the glitched. a dissolving hoard that leaves room for something else in their wake, for a predator they've no chance against. he hears it, then, too. that horrid roar, scraping at eardrums as if claws upon glass -- there's a beat, too. stern, prominent. it sends this body on edge, unaware of the scowl that pinches newly adorned features.

a feeling dar'khol was no stranger to, one that would even ignite that infamous excitement of his. yet no such joy came to be. embraced, instead, with a need for caution; to remain vigilant at the sight of rushing beast. no barricade remained between it and them, the glitched no more than background noise as they shambled and wailed in a sickening retreat.

he'd not taken notice of his own lacking response to auren's observation, only that an abrupt rumble stole his attention.

when turning his attention eyes are met with split ground, axe-head left to kiss the earth below. its hefty thud from impact one he's heard time and time again, a sound he's used to, a sound he prefers. yet, like this, it sounds wrong. feels wrong to look upon it from an alternate angle.

"auren," he starts, borrowed blade moving swiftly to make quick work of a staggering few glitched that remained. there's a silence to the now-warrior's stare that he finds familiar. concerningly so. he's granted no reprieve from the pinch brows above narrowed eyes.

"auren!" again, louder. even he was startled by the volume of the voice he now carried, an easy means to knock him out of his own wandering thoughts. "focus. 'tis no time to go losing yourself, i need you here--!"

another roar, sending dar'khol's ears ringing once more. it cared not what they had going on, its mind had long since been made up. as evident by rushing claws that propelled the beast forward, maw flapped open; agape, expectant. "damn it all...!"

body is set into motion without a moments hesitation. actions draw upon a settled impulse, what he deems a necessity within this very moment. what glitched bared his path were cut down where they stood, legs hammering against the ground and body twisting. seconds sparing the warrior just enough time to collide with his stunned friend, knocking them aside as their crocodilian-esque guest charges passed.

as dar'khol eventually slides to a halt, so to does the beast. auren is spared a glance -- as quick as his own taken breath -- before the monstrosity meets his sights once more. it seems to return the gesture in kind.

"get it together, will you? i've no plans to keep saving your arse if you go spacing out on me." no good at lies, even now, yet he hopes the message is clear. "... you've much to adjust to. allow it to come naturally."

For some reason or another, Auren is swept up in a visceral urge to throw a fist in the face of the man before him — his own face, nonetheless. The hells is that face looking so grumpy and fed up for, and why is it so utterly infuriating to look at in this instant? Punching it now surely won't affect their situation too much, right?

Just as a hand twitched, itching to slam sun-kissed knuckles square in that irritable face's nose, a ghastly roar rips through the air. So loud and menacing is it that mobs upon mobs of the lesser Glitched scatter in mere seconds, as if aware that they are nothing more than bottom feeders in a food chain. Whipping around, he looks for whatever may be at the top — the source of the roar.

❝That—❞

Shite, what in the Twelve's names is that? Even in the distance, as the throngs of Glitched are parted, trampled, or consumed, a monstrous and mangy haired wolf-like beast is visible. Or at least, that's the first impression, before its legs, jaw, and reptilian posture register.

❝...'tis a colossal, pilous crocodile hound o' some sort, seems like.❞ And its movements are quick, the distance between them closing rapidly. How a creature of that size can charge towards them at such speeds is baffling, but questioning the hows and whys is not for either of them.

Instead, something begins to thrum under the skin, coursing throughout this body with every beat of the heart. It is a burning not entirely foreign to Auren, but it is something he hasn't felt the full extent of in many moons — nay, many summers. Restlessly, fists tighten and loosen around the handle of the axe, in tune with the rhythmic pounding within the ribcage.

❝We better come up with a plan swiftly before that's the only one dancin'!❞

A plan, he says. Yet, his thoughts veer towards an overwhelming urge to move, sooner rather than later; to strike first before they're struck first. The hands that have been fidgeting with the axe clench tightly, and the weapon is abruptly slammed into the ground in a mighty swing. Vibrations rumble from the point of impact, sending a handful of Glitched flying like snipped kites and the ones outside of the affected area hesitant to approach further.

But the Glitched aren't the only ones stunned — Auren himself is staring blankly at the cracks in ground, creating a web-like pattern with the axe as the focal point. Truthfully, he does not recall lifting the weapon up at all, and realizing this...

Discomfort immediate, Miqo'te ears flatten; his grip slackens around the ruby-wrapped haft, and the axe slips from his grasp.

[innerbeast]

with a quick, "tsk." dar'khol's hand is given a generous shake. anything to rid him of the gnawing ache left behind from clamped teeth. only shoved them down through his glove further with that shove, he's lucky the bastard wasn't as sturdy as it was quick. another wound added to his plethora of scrapes and bruises, it would heal in time. pass like all the others. wouldn't be much of a favored scar, though, if it was deep enough.

but that wasn't much of a priority, now, no. dual-toned eyes shift from the limp body at his feet ( got him real good, huh? ... suppose he did. ), ignoring the clawing unease in his gut as he shifts to give willem a once over. aside from some bloodied knuckles and stained shirt, he seemed physically well. well enough to put some of the warrior's worries at ease. "there's not much use takin' the friendlier route with these lot. force is all that seems to work."

"as for specifics -- no, wouldn't say i am. witnessin' ya beat the livin' hells outta one'a them is what drew me over to begin with!" shame i've not seen you swingin' before, he'd like to say, but now wasn't the best of times for such intrigue.

"not to go discreditin' ya or anythin', but do tell me ya haven't been hoofin' is through all o' this on your own? 'specially not with these things gainin' speed! their bloody numbers are enough."

forgive him if he doesn't recognise his own name over the myriad of agonised cries and the thud of bodies falling to the floor. in fact, when dar'khol spots him, will's halfway through punching a glitched into unconsciousness, stopping only to wail out a singular ow! before going back at it. when the glitched one finally collapses, will's gaze turns to the flurry of action at the corner of his eye, catching the brutal hit dar'khol sends to one of the infected as if on cue.

" me mingling with others?! the others came to mingle with ME! " he says in a near whine, sending a kick to one of the nearby corpses to emphasise his point. directly after, he clears his throat, shoots an apologetic look to dar'khol - he'd still like to have a job after this whole thing passes, if it passes. " it's great to see you, boss. weird, um, weather we're having, isn't it? "

a wince escapes through gritted teeth, the sight of the wall being painted in blood through such forceful impact bringing an odd feeling to his stomach. " oh, wow. you got him real good. "

suddenly, his whole body startles, the reminder that there is a hunt for both of them happening right now and he can't just stand here and complement his attractive and strong boss all day striking him both at once. he cleans his stained knuckles on his shirt with a notable grimace, then is back on his feet. " you headed anywhere specific? "

[innerbeast]

breath hitches before realization can settle, eyes blown wide with every muscle tensing at once. clasping around constantine's wrist, dar'khol squeezes in instant realization; working off pure fight or flight. so ready, was he, to break that which took hold of him, desperate to continue his chosen course of action... but the motion to shush is what stills him.

near-blazing eyes calm to their normal hues, his hold growing lax as realization finally crept its way in. he makes to speak, parting lips to deliver nothing but confused silence. following the command by pure, stunned coincidence.

that is, until constantine redirects the glitched's attention. from their spot behind the wall, dar'khol steals a peek towards the approaching hoard, watching as their heads snapped and their course altered. he breathes a sigh.

"thanks," he utters, at last. hushed, of course. "woulda kept myself runnin' 'til i stumbled onto somethin' else. ya gifted me some time to think it through." ( as if he ever did much of that ).

"dealt with your fair share, already, i take it? haven't seen an end to 'em, yet, eh?"

"Still nothing," Constantine mutters to himself as he looks at his phone. It's dead. Dead in the way where he can't seem to get a hold of anyone. Not Hiyori, not his sister, no one. The bar on the top left corner was blocked. No service, it indicated, and it leaves Constantine feeling frustrated.

The bioweapon's own ear picks up sound. Lowering his frame to the ground and hiding, he's readying his weapon. The sound of running comes in closer, and the closer they get, the more familiar the scent of the person is. Without thinking twice and without hesitation, Constantine's arm reaches from behind the wall he's hiding from and YOINKS Dar'khol into the same hiding spot. He quickly placed his finger over his own mouth, "Shh." Lowering silver blues, he then kicks a pebble in the opposite direction. Sending the handful of Glitched in that opposite direction.

For now.

For now they were safe.

[innerbeast]

hey, hi -- work kicked my ass this week but i'll be getting to event replies and such later tonight/tomorrow!

[innerbeast]

instinctive, is how he'd put it. the way in which his head wished to tilt away from a rising voice, face scrunching into a displeased scowl. 'twas his own voice, one with nary a problem to it. yet, this body deigned to respond to it far differently than dar'khol had desired. scowl deepened, the warrior's own frustrations with the automatic response piling upon growing irritation. was this truly how he was heard?

he'd have almost found his friends reaction quite humorous if not for the growing want to shut auren's -- his -- mouth. twelve grant him strength to not silence that blasted rumbling managed in a throat not of the paladin's own. 'twas all dar could do to manage a low-effort, "eugh..." in response whilst biting back more.

so, this was to be their fate for an hours time, was it? delightful. as if he hadn't had his fill of this swapping nonsense months ago.

"i fear i've a bleeding headache rounding the corner, already." whatever. all that was needed of them was to hold out within the allotted time, and they already carried with them a long history of holding their own within circumstance far dire than this. he saw now issue... other than the lack of weight within his swings.

arm tightened, arching to cleave through a rushing glitched that shambled its way forward. aether-soaked blade sliced through flesh with ease ( perhaps too much ), its target falling passed and opening the line for the one behind it. an upward slash left to greet it and fell it all the same. for dar, too, muscle memory seemed to save him some time , despite a harshness lingering in his movements that need not be there. a few chips make themselves known along the swords edge.

"nerves to spare? pray tell you've not forgotten who you're speaking to -- and i'm aware of their numbers. 'twould seem we've a bout of our usual luck, i'd say. never allowed the easy route..." trailing off momentarily, dar raises an arm. a motion this body follows naturally before a glitched is met with glamoured shield. oh, how often he's forgotten about it, himself.

as another glitched meets the ground below, a tremor follows... and another. they play out rhythmically, one after another. steps, the warrior recognizes, fingers tightening around wielded blade.

again, and again, the ground below them rumbles a chorus of approach. eventually, ears are met with a duet of sounds: an increase in the tremors pacing and an inhuman roar that leaves the warrior of lights ears ringing well after its last note ends.

"we have something bigger come to dance with us."

He isn't keen on speaking, not at all — not after hearing the nickname that he never wanted being spoken in his own voice while looking at his own face. But he has to know. He has to verify if the two of them have, without a doubt, been put in an utterly unfathomable situation. ❝Dar—? Oh, swivin' hells!❞ Long since had he experienced the figurative sensation of his heart dropping, and in this dreadful moment of hearing his words come out in the wrong voice, he feels it once more.

Remembering the cellphone that had shown some type of 'modifier' before, Auren pats around his friend's pockets for any sign of it, paying no mind to whatever parts he may have touched. What he sees when he finally sees the screen only makes his heart drop further — all the way to the floor, in fact.

❝And we're to stay this way for a bloody hour?!❞

Much to his immediate chagrin afterwards, the simultaneously familiar and unfamiliar voice comes out louder and nearly an octave higher at the end before fading out into a rolling purr of discontentment. Wincing, Auren clenches his jaw (Dar's jaw) and stiffens in hopes that the noise will cease. What he isn't aware of, however, is that the Miqo'te ears and tail are dead giveaways of his embarrassment with the former perking and the latter curling upward.

Equally as inopportune as the 'body swap,' a straggling handful of Glitched decides to make their way over then, as if drawn to the pair's faltered movements. On instinct, the weapon in his hand is raised and swung around one hundred eighty degrees, slamming heavily into a foe's side — but also bringing him forward in a slight stumble from the unexpected momentum. (At least the purring stopped.)

His saving grace? Surely, whatever muscle memory is ingrained in Dar's body.

Yet, the dissonance between the physical sensations of being an axe-wielder and the mental knowledge of swordsmanship is vast; and no amount of Dar's muscle memory can wipe away the part of Auren's mind that's protesting against the unfamiliarity. This wall has to be overcome somehow, regardless of method, or small stumbles will be the least of their worries. Though their foes up to this point have been easy to handle, an ill sense of foreboding weighs heavy.

Coughing lightly to clear his throat, he speaks a bit slower and makes it a point to enunciate more clearly (or try to, at least!). ❝Hope ya've got more nerves to be spared — patience withal. The number of enemies is increasin', and they seem to be runnin'. As quickly as they can, albeit.❞

From what? 'Twould be anyone's guess.

[innerbeast]

describe your muse using shitty ebay negative feedback reviews. blog here.

[innerbeast]

" if we do this, we do it my way. now, c'mon, dance with me !

[innerbeast]

humorous. morbidly so, in fact. only a few moons had passed since being reunited with a cherished friend, and now here they were. taking up arms in the same manner they always had; side by side, back to back. a nations revered champions, a worlds saviors. here, mere citizens of an island met with its own final days, and yet even so they placed themselves as one of many lines of defense.

how could they not? regardless of title, or expectation. neither could stomach sitting idly by, new world or otherwise.

even should the warrior's strength wane from previous encounters, he held plenty at his disposal, still. the axe lifted above his head met with no more than a few chips along its edge, inner flames of a readily gnashing beast starving for further use -- he was damn near tempted to satiate its gnawing hunger already. it would have to wait, just a bit longer. ferocity would have its fill first.

"i've been givin' 'em a grand tour of the hells since it started!" ground beneath ferocity's head quakes with the force of his swing, the glitched not yet chopped down stumbling; tripping over the fallen as their march presses on. "try 'nd keep up, will ya?" it's all he can do to lighten the burden, his typical quips and banter. had done so earlier on with yuri to keep his wits about him, continued to do so now.

when next dar moves, his body twists. prying his axe from the earth and letting momentum carry him in a heavy swing, delivering a sweeping crescent that aids the ever-growing pile of fallen glitched. man and beast alike, one after another... dar almost wishes their forms twisted, disfigured. there was a sense of ease in felling a feral creature over a tempered man, loathe as he is to admit.

"if not for the wanin' o' strength, we'd be done with this already. it's startin' to grate at my nerves." he's becoming impatient, in other words. before his temper has a moment to spark, however, he finds himself jolting up at the sound of a phone going off. a ring, a telling chime he's heard a few times over now -- but why did hearing it have his stomach dropping?

no, it was churning. a tug set upon it that had the miqo'te wanting to retch. yet, strangely, it was familiar; as though he's experienced this once before. hells' if he could recall from where amongst spontaneous dizziness. all he could do was bring a hand to his head to steady himself, other left to tighten around his -- ... his... ?

where ferocity's crimson wrapping sat within his hold sat something colder. a handle of steel unfamiliar, its blade illuminated with aether. a blade he should not be wielding. "hey, aury--" that wasn't his voice, either. the beat in his chest was, also, not of his own. nor its descent with rushing realization.

Horrid. How utterly and absolutely horrid everything has become in just a short span of time. The undead can be found at every corner, never ceasing to propagate in numbers, and even monstrous plants have begun to encroach upon areas that were once safe.

For what it's worth, the one person he trusts the most to stand with him during a crisis is doing just that. The image of the two of them — one with blade held at his side and the other with axe slung casually over a shoulder — has struck both fear and awe for many years at home. At times it is a blessing, while other times it feels more a curse. Here, their statuses mean nothing, and their foes lack the sentience to feel anything at all.

The Glitched simply continue to thirst for living flesh, undeterred by naught else than their own demise — so that is the fate they shall receive to prevent more unnecessary deaths. The nauseating stench of rotting meat mixed with fresh blood is hard to ignore, and he isn't sure where to begin questioning who and how many the blood originally belonged to.

❝Ready to show them all seven hells?❞ For Auren, there is but one course of action to see blood splattered on the streets and the walls, as red as the southern skies. And with the only point of certainty, he calls to his dearest friend while swinging his sword in a brilliant arc that cuts through a few of the Glitched — his swiftness and precision a testament to the years spent honing his technique and knowledge for where to strike to kill.

What he is unaware of right away, however, is that the enemies that just fell have set off a wheel to spin around and around...

@innerbeast // modifier: if you're me, then...

[innerbeast]

             beneath  all  my  𝒔𝒎𝒊𝒍𝒆𝒔  and  laughter

         there  is  a  𝐑𝐀𝐆𝐄  you  cannot  comprehend

[innerbeast]

“mornin’, sunshine,” yuri greets the bleary-eyed warrior beside him, his voice still gravely from sleep. been awake for a while, though, head propped on an arm. he hums in thought, “busy day ahead, i heard?” a softness still outlines his features after having lingered on the man long before he’d stirred (no, not that long). he’s not one to be pensive, but he’d seized the moment with a touch more significance this time.

they weren’t together for the occasion last year, were they? it’s hard to believe, almost. despite how mundane it is now – like they’ve been waking up in this exact position for as long as he can remember – it hasn’t even made up a full year of their lives yet, less so with dar’s refusal to stay in bed half the time. it’s… a funny thought to be stuck on, coming from someone who’s never had a routine quite like this, or ever even dreamed of anything like it until, y'know… recently, he supposes. they haven’t even reached their big one-year and he’s already at a point where he can’t picture not waking up beside dar'khol on something as silly as his goddamn birthday. the hell’s up with that? …ha. it’s almost like they’re bonded or something. for the unforeseeable, presumably? he can practically feel his bracelet tightening in mockery. (get a grip, lowell.) rather than wasting any more of his precious attention, a hand (chilled after its absence from yuri’s glorified heater of a boyfriend) reaches toward an adorned wrist and brings it to his lips, lashes fluttering shut with a gentle kiss before reopening to downturned slits. “something about a nameday… whatever that means,” the swordsman continues his charade as he slots his fingers between dar’s. it would be funny if his nonsense were to be believed in the miqo'te’s current state. it’s a shame dar’s sleep schedule is hot garbage, because he’s cute when he’s like this, all mussed and fresh-faced. objectively speaking. or not-so-objectively. yuri’ll admit he’s a bit biased. or a lot biased. whatever. “probably nothing important from the sound of it,” he half-shrugs, blase, “you’ve got time to spare before you head out and find yourself bombarded by all your adoring fans, right?” a lean to press a kiss to dar’s temple, “won’t keep you long unless you want me to.” hey, he’s a popular guy; yuri won’t hog him (much as he finds himself wanting to). a sleepy, blissful morning’s sure to be enough until he comes stumbling back home, tripping over his own gifts… nothing too grand planned for later, either. a nostalgic, home-cooked meal after he whoops him in a sparring match, he figures. a bit of stargazing to follow it, maybe, wearing that red hair tie dar’s obsessed with just to make him all giddy… there’s a family household photo he’s been meaning to have printed and framed for him, too. he could get that done in the meantime…

it might not be the most exciting of ‘namedays’, but some normalcy won’t kill the birthday boy. if all goes right, it’s only the first of many they’ll be celebrating, anyway.

slow blinks respond in place of a voice not yet found, working away sleep from his vision to clear up the sight of his partner. eventually, he works a smile onto his face, lips parting just enough to rasp out a low "g'mornin'." a few light flicks of his tail rustle against the sheets behind him, pleased at the nickname provided.

it doesn't take dar'khol long to tense up with a stretch, tail extended along with his legs until the muscles are pulled taut enough to shake. everything eases again with an expelled sigh, head nuzzling further into his pillow. he's usually so eager to peel away from his bed, start his day and ride it out to its fullest. but, every now and then he finds a reason to linger. just a few moments longer, if only to further drink in the reality of a space shared; of a smile that greets up when he finally stirs.

he couldn't imagine himself ever tiring from it, couldn't understand how this was, still, somehow his.

... oh, right. yuri had said something else, hadn't he? about the day being busy.

another set of blinks and dar'khol's expression shifts; brows knitting together as he searches the other man's face for an answer. the reason being having slipped his mind entirely. fogged thoughts struggle to piece his day together, jumping from one possibility to the next. all it's managed to do is scrunch the warrior's face up further, a hand soon coming to meet his face and massage away what sleep remained -- except it never quite reaches his face, but another's.

yuri's hold is met with a flinch, subtle as it were, from his colder touch. pursed lips hold back a whine ghosting the depths of his throat, waiting for the complaint to melt away as lips make up for the chill. the warm flutter in his chest makes up for the lacking warmth of before, lips upturned once more as fingers curled around a lacing set.

well, for a moment, at least.

it doesn't take long for dar'khol's features to shift again with growing curiosity at the mention of 'nameday'. had that not been something he's mentioned to yuri once before? when celebrating the swordsman's own, had he not -- .... hold on.

a blink. another.

once more, but his lids are held shut for a few extra seconds.

"what d'ya mean my adorin' -- .... oh." nameday -- his. it was his bloody nameday and he'd forgotten. again! probably nothing important, he says. dar'khol almost has a mind to agree with him, but a soft groan lingers too long to form a word. the kiss to his temple the deciding factor in, ultimately, keeping his mouth shut.

"... y' actually remembered it," dar mutters instead, taking advantage of their connected hands to pull himself in. inching closer until his head can rest comfortably tucked beneath yuri's chin, and for a leg to hook comfortably against one of his partner's own. forgotten as it might have been, it was as good an excuse as any to milk a few extra minutes in bed. worked even better as an excuse to hide the creeping pink dusting dar'khol's cheeks. "if i can't even keep track o' it, i ain't gonna expect others."

but he won't deny anyone wanting to wish him well. merely having a place in their hearts, somewhere they were willing to remember him -- even just a little bit, like knowing his nameday -- meant more to him than any gift ever could. a morning like this already meant the world to him, and more like it would only swell his heart further.

his nameday never had to be anything special, a day of normalcy like this was enough. more than enough.

"and... i don't think i'm in any rush t' get up today. so, keep me as long as ya like, starshine." tail flicks with a quiet laugh, head tilting to direct his lips up against an awaiting jawline. "my 'adorin' fans' can wait a bit longer."

[innerbeast]

what dar'khol receives from fiyero on his nameday is a cup of bubble tea with a bracelet wrapped around it— the piece of jewelry spells out dar'khol in gold metal, attached to a leather band. ' i made this myself, ' comes as half of a warning when fiyero hands it to him, ' for the first time. if it tastes bad, i'll get you one at a shop. ' and then, of course, he also receives a peck on the cheek, leaving behind some of fiyero's lipstick. ' love you! '

she's already succeeded in earning a lively tail from the drink alone, hands eager to take hold the moment it's offered his way. for a brief second, dar'khol almost -- almost -- overlooks the bracelet, the quick glimmer of gold ( thankfully ) catching his gaze.

fiyero's words register shortly after and, at first, he understands them to be about the jewelry... until the mention of how it might taste reaches flicking ears. a hand-made keepsake and favored beverage? she's spoiling him!

that kiss a nice bonus to it all, one that sets him laughing. "and i, you, fi. thank you."

-- now, then!

he'll worry about trying on his new bracelet after he's done melting into the drink fiyero's made. he's yet to have a bad one -- you can't go wrong with these. "mm-hmm~!"

[innerbeast]

time, no more once upon a time take flight, find your wings and spread them wide

it's time for the journey of our lives !

( biggest thank you to amy for adding him into this promo art for his bday! i have been obsessed with it!! you guys should think about comming her sometime )

[innerbeast]

"A Happy Nameday to you, Dar'khol. It's not much, and I'm sure you'll receive a gratuitous amount of treats today, but I wanted to give you something." Lucia passes over a small handbasket, within which Dar will find a half dozen blueberry muffins wrapped in a soft red gingham towel. "Enjoy them on your own, or share them as you like."

"hells, you too, lucy?" can't really bring himself to complain much, it's heartwarming to know so many would keep tabs on a day he so frequently forgot. even when joking about receiving a gift, he never was one to expect them, either.

less so when they were hand-made. something put together with the miqo'te in mind... just being allowed a place in their thoughts was more a gift than he could rightfully ask for.

"can't go denyin' somethin' this generous, now, can i?" shoulders shake with a light chuckle, an arm extended to lightly take hold of lucia's shoulder. she's given a gentle pull, drawn in close enough for dar to bump his forehead against hers. a bunt, of sorts. a 'thank you'.

"if i'm allowed to share, ya wanna be the first? seems only fair!"

[innerbeast]

There's no letter or note left behind. Still it's clear to know who'd make Dar'khol a small wooden piece of Dar'khol's bird! At least Constantine sends a text that reads "happy birthday. I guess."

he's been rotating the wooden carving in his hands for some time, pleasantly fascinated with that all-too-familiar shape. tip of a finger gently traces along the curve of its beak before attention shifts to a beeping cellphone.

a quick tap and swipe has the warrior cracking a smile at it's screen.

"ya guess, huh?"

few more taps and there's a short string of emotes sent along as a reply,

[ To: Conny ] [ From: Dar'khol ] [txt:] ❤️🥰👍❤️

"you're gettin' a bigger thanks next i see ya, hope ya realize!"

[innerbeast]

this is bait, don't bite. this is bait, don't bite. this is bait--