#;;answers: ayla: themercsadventures

[nomadicnovelist]

Anonymous said:

How did you and Tishy meet?

@themercsadventures​ said:

How did you and Tishy become friends?

"Well, you see..." Orion trailed off. He covered Tishy's ears as if she could understand what he was about to say. "My dad killed her mother."

He let go of Tishy's ears and ruffled her fur on the neck. "My dad is the captain of the guards. Sometimes the wildlife starts attacking our cattle so they are tasked with hunting those down. Years back, it was a white wolf. They found her and only after they killed her they realised she had pups. They brought them over and I asked if I could have one. My family had pets before but Tishy was the first one that was my responsibility."

"She was a gluttonous but very good pup. Still is."

[ask-emil-utter]

@themercsadventures said:  Send me a 😍 and I’ll give you a n. s. f. w. headcanon I have for your muse! //given the fact that they already know each other in that way, I'm very curious xD

Send me a 😍 and I’ll give you a n. s. f. w. headcanon I have for your muse!

[my-muses-in-op]

“♥” for Thatch or Yami Thatch (whoever feels more like to answer xD)

Send me "♥" to see how my muse reacts when your muse suddenly kisses them.

- Always accepting

@themercsadventures

As per usual, Yami Thatch was in the kitchen just finishing up the cleaning after dinner. He was working mechanical, not really putting in any energy into it. Cleaning wasn’t always fun, but he had always been chirper, even when cleaning, but today he just couldn’t find the energy for it.

Suddenly he felt someone behind him and as he turned, he saw Ayla there. She grabbed his foulard, tugged on it, so he leaned forward a little and within seconds, her lips were pressed against his. It took another seccond or two, before he reacted, kissing her back. A soft smile started to tug on his lips. A kiss sure helped on the mood.

[godlivesonthemoon-archived]

@themercsadventures​

Her gaze is on him, eyes blinking a couple of times, the question pressing the inside of her lips, yet she keeps them closed. They have again crossed paths in their own journeys, a thing that both seem to rather enjoy. Her eyes trail up to look at the four little drums on the metal ring that is fixed on his back, urgency to ask growing stronger. Will she cross the line? Ayla is aware that it would probably be a personal question and that doing so, it would uncover something...different from just an acquaintanceship. She is...afraid. But, with her surprise, not that much. The mercenary had grown fond of God, their encounters something she dearly and deeply enjoyed, so...maybe...maybe it wasn't that bad, right? "Enel - she finally speaks - not to be intrusive, but...how did you end up with that item on your back?"

She has something to ask, he can tell. There’s a different aura and smell in her wake, something which seems to burn from the inside, revealing a quite curious nature, but he doesn’t find it unsuitable nor rude. He appreciates people who are eager to discover more about their lands, or to simply ask him questions, as he believes he has so many things to teach and talk about in the first place. He’s a rarity, unique among the sky islanders, and unique in his perception of his own power. So patiently, he waits, fingers scanning the bowl of grapes to pick the perfect one. He always wants to laugh at her fear, quite surprised for such a fierce woman to experience it in the first place. Would he hate what she’d dare to request? Arctic eyes back on her tanned features, he’s waiting, gulping his fruit until she eventually opens her mouth. 

Ah. The drums. She grew curious about them and she wishes to have an answer, of course. Enel somehow could predict it, as her eyes have been sometimes gazing at the structure hammered in his back. He smiles, while he feels in the mood to oblige with her curiosity. After all, he’s the one who created this instrument in the first place. 

“You’re curious to know why I don't have wings myself?” Enel hums, before he eventually wipes his hand and pushes his back further against the couch. “We grew close enough for you to know I don’t like this topic, but if you insist, I don’t mind answering either, because I made the choice to wear this item rather than keeping my Birkan attributes.” He explains with a tranquil voice, pressing his cheek against his closed fist. 

“When I ate my devil fruit, I soon discovered that electricity is a fickle and dangerous power. It runs through your body with an intensity rarely seen, and while your organs do their best to handle the endless flow of power, they can’t keep up with the full potential of the fruit.” He begins, raising his fingers to let strands of electricity run around them. “It’s delicate to master that form of electricity. Usually it bursts too hard and you need to remain utterly careful if you wish to stay alive, and I couldn’t bear the idea to use my power only for futilities, while I could expand it if I’d be able to think about a way to channel it.” He pauses before he lazily smiles. “My wings were only a burden to my Birkan conditions, and I couldn’t suffer anymore from being a part of those people. I ripped them off, and I designed this particular item to properly use the fruit I ate to become God.”

[sxlverswan]

♒ what sort of things make you go all "nope"?

♡ ♡ ♡  ayla  —  @themercsadventures

❝ I would not know how to answer. ❞ Truthfully, for sincerity was being demanded of her and Morgan was not keen on lying anyway.  ❝ I have not experienced enough of, say, the indulgences of the flesh to know. ❞

Morgan’s affairs had always been kept inside the box, if not mild. There were practices reserved for the boudoir she did not even begin to dream about and others she could not deny without being confronted with.

But there was one thing she was sure she would not participate in and one single item might suffice to satisfy interest in the lady’s sensual likes and dislikes.

❝ Foodplay. The thought alone repulses me. I will not have edible products put onto, smeared against or licked off of me. ❞

send ♒ and a sinday question

[clione-of-heart]

themercsadventures​:

His responsiveness and way of talking seemed to indicate that his life wasn’t in immediate danger, nor that he suffered any serious trauma. Good. Basic first aid was all her medical skills were composed of, and if something severe was truly happening inside the pirate’s body, she could not have been of any help.

“Nice to meet you Clione.” she replied, widening her smile, glad to see the boy starting to be less wary of her. Waking up in an unknown place, beaten up, and with a stranger at your side was surely not a situation that could be exactly described as “relaxing”, so she was trying to come out as less of a menace as possible.

His next questions were expected and Ayla took some moments to clearly recollect what had happened from the instant she had decided to help, since everything that had occurred from that moment was so frantic and pacey that the images in her mind were, at a certain degree, blurry and disarranged.

“The explosion sent you flying and you accidentally landed near where I was standing…” she started to tell, remembering the pungent odour of gunpowder, Clione’s body rolling for a few meters before coming to a halt, bruises and blood covering his features and clothes in a chaotic pattern. A single groan left his mouth, but other signs of consciousness didn’t follow, declaring the pirate passed out cold. She didn’t bother to climb down from the dry-wall, eyeing the boy with mild curiosity, until two figures emerged from the smoke cloud surrounding the battle and headed towards him, eyes full of not exactly nice intents. Two against one. Two against an unconscious one.

Fuck it

Jumping down from her spot, the mercenary had quickly reached Clione’s body, hoisting him on her back and running for the hills, the two men shouting and running behind them. Dashing through the various streets and roads, she had to go to the other end of the town, before being sure she had deposited their pursuers. “… and The Inn seemed the best choice for letting you rest until you regained consciousness, so I booked the room for a few hours and… - one hand raised and gestured at the said chamber - here we are.”

“Unfortunately – she then added, in order to answer Clione’s second question – I wasn’t able to witness how the fight ended, nor I know where your crew might be. Speaking of which…what crew do you belong to?”

“I see… thanks for taking care of me,” Clione told her. It was rare for someone to care for a stranger like this, especially in the Grand Line, and Clione was aware of that. Grateful was the least he could be. 

He’d have to pay her back the money she spent on the room, though, once he got back to the Tang and had his savings with him once again.

Somewhat taken aback by her question, he finally realized the state his uniform was in. Oh, man. The Hearts’ tailor was going to be furious when they saw him.  

“The Heart Pirates,” he answered. “I sail under my Captain, Trafalgar Law.” Saying this might end up being a dumb decision, if she was an enemy of their Captain, or from a rival crew, but Clione was proud of his crew, and would never lie about his affiliation to them, for better or for worse.

“Our ship should be near the East Coast of the island.” Especifically, Clione remembered they’d disembarked to the north of a cliff in the East part of the island, but there was a limit to how much information he should volunteer about his (probably injured, considering the recent fight) crew, “I’d like to— I’m going to go over there to check on them. I can probably make it there on my own. Thanks again for your trouble, I really owe you one. I’ll pay you back for the room and first aid next time I see you,” he told her.

As he talked, Clione hurriedly got up from the bed and headed towards the door, only to end up tripping and almost hitting the floor face-first. Probably the concussion’s fault.

Okay, so he might not be able to make it to the East Coast on his own after all. He still wasn’t about to ask for more help, though. As nice as Ayla had been so far, he shouldn’t impose on her that much. Injured or not, he still had his pride as a pirate.

[my-muses-in-op]

Date? (for Zari!)

Send me “Date?” and I'll answer...

- Still accpeting

@themercsadventures

Zarina and Ayla

Who asks for it:

   [x] Your muse asks mine    [ ] My muse asks yours

Type of date:

   [x] Platonic Date    [x] Romantic Date    [x] First Date    [ ] Double date with: ____ & ____

Location for the date:

   [x] Movies      • [x] Romantic Comedy      • [ ] Adventure Movie      • [x] Animation (Pixar/Disney)      • [ ] Horror      • [ ] Drama      • [x] Buddy Movie      • [ ] ___ (other options)    [x] Restaurant      • [ ] Expensive/High Class      • [x] Small and familiar      • [ ] Fast Food    [x] Nature     • [x] Beach     • [ ] Park     • [x] Forest         • [x] …and having a picnic    [ ] Visiting a Museum    [ ] Visiting an amusement park    [ ] Visiting a haunted location    [x] Staying at home     • [x] Watching movies     • [ ] Playing Video Games     • [x] Reading    [ ] ___ (other options)  

The date might hopefully end with…

   [x] …holding hands    [x] …a kiss    [x] …in bed    [x] …knowing each other better    [ ] …sleepover between friends    [ ] …a marriage proposal    [ ] ___ (other options)  

Should you reblog this?:

   [ ] Yes. I want to send you one.    [ ] Yes.    [ ] No.

[clione-of-heart]

themercsadventures​:

She calmly looked as consciousness came back to the boy’s eyes, patiently waiting for him to take in his surroundings, to assess the situation, to get accustomed to it.

He checked his body for injuries, finding it still in one piece. Ayla was kinda surprised to see how resilient he was, given the flight and the landing he had gone through. She sighed, remembering how she was just walking and minding her own business, when she had spotted the fight. Sitting on a far enough dry-wall, she had watched as the conflict unravelled in front of her eyes, two pirate crews clashing against each other without mercy. What a sight.

It was when things got desperate that one of the fighters had decided to throw the grenade in the middle of the mob, causing a rather strong explosion. Things had been sent in every direction, the boy now in front of her unfortunately being one of it, and he had landed already senseless in front of her.

Ayla had looked at him curiously, before the sight of two menacing men running just behind made her curse under her breath and jump for the rescue.

When he suddenly sat up, she stretched out her hand, yet not touching him “Woah, there!”

He wasn’t on the brink of death luckily, but sudden moves as that one weren’t exactly the best. She waited a few more moments, giving him all the time he needed to calm down.

“My name is Ayla - she answered, a small smile on her lips to reassure him she wasn’t a threat – and we are at the tavern at the other side of town.”

A pause. The mercenary was unsure if to continue the story, but she didn’t want to flood him with words all at once, so she opted for the most pressing matter at hand.

“How are you feeling?”

She then briefly eyed his boiler suit, white and quite battered, the remnants of some kind of symbol on the left side, where a little tear in the fabric had ruined it. If it was some kind of jolly roger, it was impossible to recognise.

“Well, I’ve certainly been better,” Clione told her, “but I guess I’ve been through worse, too.” He knew he’d always be alright so long as he found his Captain on time, however, so he wasn’t particularly worried about his health. There was nothing that Trafalgar Law couldn’t heal— Clione knew that better than he knew his own name. 

“I’m Clione, by the way,” he said, looking at the girl, Ayla. She certainly didn’t seem like a threat, and if she’d truly wanted to hurt him, then she’d had plenty of opportunities to do so while he’d been knocked out. He didn’t want to say he trusted a stranger he’d only just met, but Ayla had most likely been the one who put him out of danger. The least Clione could do in return was to lay off the suspicion. 

“Uhm… Would you mind explaining to me what happened before I lost consciousness? And, if by any chance you saw what happened to my crew, or know where they might be...” If the fight had turned for the worse, there was a chance that Captain might have ordered to sail away on the Tang, but Clione wanted to think his crew wouldn’t have left for the next island without him. He’d never liked being away from them for long, and not really knowing if they were alright or when he’d see them again just… put him on edge. A little bit. 

Captain was strong, after all, and so were the rest of his nakama. There was no way they’d lost the fight.