#* v. Ⅱ ) ― recruit.

[grisshound]

@pathofemblems said: ( from pandreo ) ❛ the last time we talked, didn’t you say you wanted to kill me? ❜

dark & angsty / accepting

“I dunno.  Probably.  Did I ?”  He did—recalls the sweet,  salty taste of the words on his tongue,  even.  Doesn’t recall the precise context,  though.  Now, was it accusatory ?  Inflammatory ?  Affectionate ?  Could be any,  given the lips it slipped from.  At the moment,  he’s feeling affectionate.

Griss coils his arms around Pandreo’s waist,  rests his chin on his shoulder. “You’re not all  put out  about it,  are you ?  Want me to beg your forgiveness ?  —‘cause I will,  if that’s what you want.”

[grisshound]

His sanguine smirk drops to something more like a  pout  and a  snarl  mixed together.  Not because the priest is still going on about revering the Divine Dragon—no,  Griss doesn’t care a scrap about that,  nor about the  chastising  tone he takes when he says  yet you follow her around like she’s one.  Like she’s one.  LIKE ?  To him—to him  she is one.

But those are the sort of sacrilegious profanities this brat has no business knowing.  He wouldn’t  get it.  No one does.  Not even Zephia herself.  It’s the sort of skeleton a guy takes all the way to his lonely grave,  if a heretic like him is lucky enough to get one.

“You can think all the happy thoughts you want,  if that’s what gets you off.  Guy like me,  I don’t judge.”  He waves one arm loose and wild,  like directing a directionless symphony—dismissive.  Then he stops his pacing to move closer to the fountain.  He kicks one ankle over the other and leans against the starlit gazebo,  stark and jagged beside its soft,  glowing serenity.

“Don’t know why the hell you’re so interested in me and my thoughts,  though.”  He jerks a nod,  gaze tracking Pandreo from top to bottom,  then back up.  Oh,  he’d  noticed  the way the guy was gawking.  “Maybe you think I’m  good-lookin’—that it ?  Aww,  how cute. I’m flattered !”

❝ And again, is putting your all into one person—a dragon, no less—any different? ❞ The question poured from Pandreo before he could put the mental dam up. Wincing, he quickly realized how rude it could have come across, but he isn't one to stray from saying it how he sees it. ❝ She might not be a god, yet you follow her around like she's one. Almost more than the people here revere the Divine One. ❞ There was something in the way Griss moved, in the way he barked his words, that somehow clashed. It made everything the elder say seem so base, so simplified, so believable, and yet like he was guarding something close. But perhaps Griss was right. Maybe he was thinking too hard. What he said could be taken at face value, and the clergyman didn't have to base his opinion on his own past experiences. ❝ But aside from that, I mean, I can't say you don't make a lick of sense… 'Cause you do. You know what you want and you go for it. More power to you, I guess. ❞ Gaze trailed up the red designs over the elder's chest, painful jagged marks over muscle, all the way up to the matching streak painted down his cheek. A tinge of sadness and respect merged, but Pandreo quickly glanced downward to watch Griss pace, not wanting the other to think he was being pitied. ❝ The only part I don't get is why you think the gods wanna see us suffer. I'd ask who told you that or where you got the idea from, but I think… Yeah, I think that doesn't matter. Just that you're wrong. ❞

[grisshound]

@pathofemblems said: ( from pandreo ) “Did you just bite me?!”

physical contact / accepting

“Left a mark,  too.  Whoops,”  he deadpans in a way that betrays no real guilt.  Said bite had been committed on the flat of Pandreo’s neck,  left perfectly exposed by his more relaxed daily attire.  Griss certainly would have gone for his throat sooner were it not for that stuffy red collar the priest usually wears.

He rests his chin on Pandreo’s shoulder,  angled in a way that threatens another bite—if he’s the mind for it.  A second one would surely break skin, pressed into the same pale white indents already courtesy of his fangs...

His heavy arm drapes lazily over Pandreo’s other shoulder and hangs there.  From here,  Griss gazes down at the object of Pandreo’s attention: a spellbook.  Probably trying to memorize a new spell.  Requires a lot of focus,  that.  No wonder he’d been so rudely  ignored.

“You weren’t listening.”  Or the echo of an unsaid grumble:  pay attention to me.

[grisshound]

@pathofemblems sent: Teeth found themselves embedded in Pandreo’s skin for the nth time, and only an hour had passed since they awoke, if that. Mottled pink and purple, pinpricks of red, and a nerve-shattered priest; a colorful morning, accentuated by jolts and yelps, until it was too much.

❝ Put your fangs away already, ❞ Pandreo growled and tried to squirm away, desperately gripping the elder’s jaw tightly in his hand to keep another bite at bay. Maybe it was the early hour, the lack of sleep, or the overwhelming dark comedy of actually enjoying the painful affection, but the priest laughed, strained and tight as he stood on the receiving end of a glare. And hesitantly, without the aid of some Emblem, he leaned in—just for the quickest of pecks, so his mouth wouldn’t get chomped next. ❝ There. That’s what you wanted, right? Because you were still mad? Even though I said sorry, and it wasn’t me who hit you, really— ❞

“Hahaha… You think I’m mad about that ?” The laugh tumbles out gruff, catching on pointy teeth that hang cold without Pandreo’s neck between them. But the peck fends him off for a few moments, at least, and his glare slims to something more amused. Griss lifts an index to trace over the lingering purple welt on his own cheek. As if fond. “Actually, I liked you better that way. Though I guess it wasn’t really you, huh ?”

His musing, first teasing, turns thoughtful. The finger drags down to his chin, then presses into his lower lip—where Pandreo left his kiss. Lingers there. “See, that kinda thing didn’t happen with me and Celly. When Lord Sombron summoned ‘em, they didn’t talk. Just did what they’re told. I’d never let one of those things crawl around in my head.”

[grisshound]

@pathofemblems said: ( from pandreo; more joking, less angsty ) ❛ i hate the way that i don’t hate you. ❜

where it hurts / accepting

Griss gazes, mesmerized, into the dancing firelight of the campfire—sideways,  because his head rests atop Pandreo’s lap.  His arms curl under Pandreo’s knees too,  intertwined at strange,  somehow comfortable angles.  His eyes shade half-tired,  half-alert,   like a grouchy cat who’s discovered a comfortable spot and refuses to move.

He must have said something fucked up again for Pandreo to laugh and say something like  that.  Griss doesn’t really think about what he says;  never has.  In a way,  he truly does wear his heart splattered on his sleeve:  whatever people think or say of him,  he doesn’t care.  But…  he does like Pandreo’s laugh.  The fond and playful lilt of it.  The way it curls up at the end,  like the goofy howls the priest is known for…

“Dumb way of saying  you like me.” Griss exhales long and slow, and his eyes drift shut.  His grumbles come out even more muffled like this,  cheek nuzzled against a bundle of soft fabric that stinks like resin and currants.  “Say it right.”

[grisshound]

@alealueur said: ❛ you shouldn’t be out here by yourself. ❜

for the damaged / not accepting

“Why not? Worried I might  slip and fall?” He says it from his precarious perch on the very edge of this floating rock of an island, Som-whatever. One leg hangs off the edge completely, with the other knee tucked against his chest at an angle that makes a perfect rest for his arm.

He’s always been one to skulk in the shadows, and that includes nighttime well beyond the witching hour. The Divine One (honestly, Griss doesn't remember his actual name) ought to know that well after their  last battle.  He tilts his head to glance up, but doesn’t bother to stand. Divine this guy may be, he’s certainly not  Griss’s god, so he shows him the appropriate respect—which is none.  

“Or maybe you think I should be kept on a leash. Can’t trust me, that it?  —hey, I get it.”  And, if only to sow some playful paranoia: “I wouldn’t trust me, either. Could be up to all sorts of  naughty plots.”  

[grisshound]

@pathofemblems / plotted starter for pandreo

With the afterglow of a rough and pleasing battle well behind him,  Griss sits bored on a pile of rubble that once comprised a well.  The sun hangs low,  casting long shadows that follow the Divine One’s army as they fuss about the village.

Tending to wounded,  helping villagers,  gathering supplies…  things they  never  did as hounds,  so Griss doesn’t do them now,  and instead picks around the rubble at his feet for trinkets and his own amusement,  like a fussy vulture plucking over remains.  But these wayside villages have little in terms of  amusing—that is,  until he spots his favorite little cleric wandering toward him.  No doubt to chide him into helping like he did the last battle,  but before he can get to it,  Griss hops up.   

“Hey.”  He lifts a closed, definitely-not-dubious fist to be in line with Pandreo’s chest.  Bumps it forward—an offering of some obscure treasure.  “Found somethin’ good.  Hold out your hand.”

[grisshound]

@shonde said: “apply your fiendish mind to the matter. or even think, if you know how.” / from diamant

moving castle / not accepting

“You wanna figure out the damn spell ?”  The spellbook lies open in his lap,  splayed to a page inked with complex sigils and glyphs.  He doesn’t like to be rushed like this—cracking another mage’s spell is a bit like cracking a lockbox,  and he  savors  every moment desecrating someone else’s efforts.  

Plus,  this guy’s arrogant tone makes him want to apply his fiendish mind  in other ways.

“Better idea—how ‘bout I just cast it as is ?  That what you want ?”  His ring-adorned hand rises to hover over the text,  just so.  “Take it from me,  tough guy:  nothing hits quite like magic without the  proper spellwork.  Wanna see ?”

[grisshound]

supports wishlist goooo

panette. it would be about tattoos probably but also he LOVES the non-prim n proper panette and would intentionally try to annoy/bring it out in her he’s a terrible influence, his presence alone would make her relapse pandreo. oh YEAHHH griss has that religious trauma babey!!!! alternatively he’s definitely a party crasher diamant. griss would absolutely bully him about being scared of magic haha wittle scawdy cat BOO! man they just let anyone rule countries these days huh mauvier. goes without saying griss would antagonize him but at the end of the day actually appreciates having a normie with a braincell in the group cuz he sure as hell doesn’t want that responsibility. unironically thinks mauvier is hilarious hortensia. yeah they don’t get along but in a really funny way, like when she annoys him he just throws her over his shoulder and acts like he's going to throw her in the dumpster like the world's worst babysitter ivy. asks her out in every support bc who doesn’t want a big tiddy goth gf. unreciprocated timerra. she likes to sing and griss’s voice actor does the death metal singing in aggretsuko so you can pick up what I’m setting down here. "when's the next practice" but like no one wants to him there rosado. he would make rosado design a tattoo and when rosado brings him a cute bunny tat he would be like “not bad not bad, can you draw it on fire and also i want it on my face” [cut to ink master-style talking head “this canvas is NOT working with me”]

[grisshound]

@pathofemblems said: ( from pandreo ) “tantrums  are  seldom  about  the  thing  they  appear  to  be  about.”

moving castle / accepting

Yeesh,  all this fuss just because altar boy’s favorite little embly won’t come out to play.  Griss cards a hand through his dark bangs,  pushing them back in a motion of  annoyance.  Yeah,   so maybe he shouldn’t have called Byleth’s silent treatment a  baby tantrum,   because now calm and collected Pandreo’s world is ending,  apparently.  Griss could think the ring  broke his heart  with this level of freak out.

“Relax.  Prof is probably just taking a  nice,  long  nap.”  What could have been reassuring immediately undermines itself when he follows with the drawl,  “Un-less… the two of you got into some kind of tiff,  huh ?  Maybe he’s pissed.”

Eh,  what can he say ?  —he likes seeing Pandreo squirm.

“Look,  you wanna see your  boyfriend  so badly,  give it here.”  He holds out his already ring-adorned hand for the dark purple band that Pandreo coddles like it’s a precious baby flower.  “I’ll make him talk.”

[grisshound]

@pathofemblems said: (animal crossing starters ; from pandreo ) ❛ if i may be so bold, you’re looking as cool as a fair number of cucumbers. ❜

ac starters / accepting

“Oh yeah,   noticed,  did you ?”  Probably the only one on this dump of an island who would notice a new piercing amidst his mangled collection.  Another stud in the long line punched down his ear—a little something to commemorate,  well,  nothing really.  He just wanted it.

“Got the other ear done.  Didn’t sting nearly as much as the first,  though.   Mmm…  nothing ever beats the first time.”  He jabs a ring-adorned thumb at Pandreo’s own earrings,  simple and boring and  dangly  as they are.  “You know what I’m talking about,  don’t you ?  Why not go back for more ?  Don’t tell me you tapped out after  just one.”

[grisshound]

@pathofemblems said: ( from pandreo ) ❛ you wanted to be left alone, right? ❜

for the damaged / not accepting

“That’s right,”  he says for,  what,  the third time since the fighting ended ?  Fresh out of battle frenzy,  poked,  cut,  and opened by all manner of weapon edge is  precisely  the way he likes to be.  And if this whimpering wolfie insists  one more time  on healing him,  he might just have to make another mess.   

Most of his open wounds have clotted by now,  stained onto his skin as bright and intentional-looking as his tats.  But a few—the especially agitated ones,  hooked in the cervices and sculps of where his body bends—are still fresh enough to be wet.  Even cleaning them  a moment too soon  would spoil the fun.

He drops a heavy arm around Pandreo’s shoulders—no doubt soiling those pure white robes of his with some new reds.

“Don’t you worry 'bout little ol' Griss,  altar boy.  In fact,  why don’t you take that healing staff of yours and  gag on it.”

[grisshound]

@starsdeath / cont'd from here

“Don’t strike you as the type !  Why,  ‘cause of how I look ?  I’ll have you know I’m  devoted as they come,”  he hisses it slim and serious,  no laugh or good-nature behind the bite.  Yet his mouth hooks up with a pointy, amused grin. 

“Maybe you just don’t remember what a disciple of the Fell Dragon actually looks like.  Just ‘cause I switched sides,  doesn’t mean I worship you now.”  He doesn’t say that the Fell Dragon clergy he grew up around didn’t care much for  ( or look like )  him,  either.  Or that the Fell Dragon is hardly the most important god in his life—no,  that title belongs to someone else,  which also isn’t their business.

“All these inks and studs are  for  the Fell Dragon,  that’s my little gift to him.”  He spreads his arms in a sweeping gesture;  there were plenty more etched and pinned under the tattered cloak,  too.  “Way I see it,   you gods love to watch us poor little humans suffer—otherwise the world wouldn’t be such a fucked up place.  I bet you enjoy it too,  deep down.   All these humans fighting and dying for you—oh Divine Dragon,  save us !—makes you giddy,  huh ?”

[grisshound]

@pathofemblems said: ( from pandreo ) ❛ you know my door is always open to you. ❜

for the damaged / accepting

“Gugh,  you can’t stop for one minute,  can you ?  Drop the bullshit,  buddy,  it’s so…”  Lame.  Pathetic.  Fake.  Griss has scraped his mind,  hard,  front to back for a single logical reason this half-baked cleric would act so good-natured around someone like him—and come up empty and a half.  First he thought the dragon put the poor guy up to it,  surely,  to keep a close eye on the dangerous one.  He warrants it,  doesn’t he ?

… not that he’s ever been an expert on  logical.    

He can’t suppress the growl gurgling out of his throat like a gag.  Some days Pandreo is fun to yank around,  play all friends and cutesy with—and other days Griss wants to yank him apart.  Violently.  With his teeth.  Turns out,  today’s the latter.  

“My door’s always open to you,”  he spits in as soft and pitiful a Pandreo voice as he can muster.  “Seriously ?  Who says shit like that and  means it ?  You want something from me so badly,  I dunno what,  how 'bout you  say so  and quit with all this—whatever the hell you’ve been doing.  It’s so stale !”

[grisshound]

“Freaky-deaky stuff. Cute.” Cute like his hasn’t heard it a thousand different ways, seen it in a thousand lurid-eyed looks and glares. Sticks and stones, that. A hurt that’s never compared to the real deal, like the red ink dashed across his ribs that a certain someone’s elbow currently finds itself.

“You talk a big game, but this looks pretty lame compared to the scenes I used to let loose at. Don't even see anyone with a broken bone yet. —sorry, did I say lame ? I meant tame, yeah,” he says dry enough to convince a rock, maybe. His gaze slews to the broiling bonfire central to this 'partying.' Its nigh damning glow perks a half-mouthed smile at his lip’s edge—fire, at least, he can have some fun with. “Oh, now I get it—that’s why you were on your knees begging me to come along. You need little ol’ Griss to liven this place up !”

✶ · ⊰ @grisshound ⊱ · ✶

❝ ARR-ARR-ARRROOO! Alllright, buddy! Ahaha, you actually made it! ❞ Golden eyes glistened mischievously by light of the bonfire as Pandreo pumped a fist victoriously in the air at Griss's appearance. The clergyman quickly shouldered past partygoers to properly greet his guest of honor. Truthfully, he hadn't expected the elder to show, not with the dynamic on the Somniel still being a bit strained. It wasn't too long ago they were tossing spells at one another on the battlefield, and while he himself was penitent, well… Pandreo had no clue as to how the former Hound felt, how his mind worked. Yet. ❝ Eat. Drink. Be merry, ❞ he playfully commanded in a faux noble accent as he sidled up beside Griss, elbowing him in the ribs. With a chuckle, the charade casually dropped. ❝ But most importantly, blow off some steam. By dancing, I mean. None of that freaky-deaky stuff you get into. ❞

[grisshound]

“Man,  you think too hard.  I’m here ‘cause Zephia’s here.  Where she goes,  I follow.  There’s nothing more to it,  so stop asking.”  This guy is addictive—annoying as he is,  he’s stellar at giving Griss headaches.  The good kind too,  those somber aches that pool beneath his pinched piercings in all the right ways…

“What you do with your Divine Dragon is your business.  All I think is that if we’re stuck being a bunch of dragon gods’ playthings,  we might as well have a little fun doing it,  yeah ?” Where Pandreo sits all lithe and serene on his marble fountain,  Griss stalks back and forth before him,  ready to pounce on whatever asinine philosophy he purrs out next—or flee.

“People come to your church ‘cause they’re hurting,  right ?  Full of all that pain,  got nowhere for it to go…  well what’s so wrong about me taking mine for myself ?  The gods wanna see suffering,  here I am !  You want it, come and get it ! That's what you'll never understand—I don't want anything from some god... divine, fell, whatever. My suffering's mine.  Now that—haha !—that’s real euphoria.”

MIDNIGHT MASS STARTERS // ✶ · ⊰ @grisshound ⊱ · sent (for pandreo)... ❝ You’re a smart guy, Pandreo, but in this case, you don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about. So let’s just leave it there. ❞

❝ Then make me understand. ❞ It wasn't a demand, nor a plea. It was simple and open, and another way to say he was absolutely more than willing to learn about the other without judgment, as long as Griss was willing to share. And if he wasn't? Pandreo wouldn't keep pushing the subject. The door would always be open a crack, however, to let the Hound come in as he pleased. ❝ What you wanted from the Fell Dragon, how is that any different from everyone here when it comes to their own reverence for the Divine Dragon? ❞ The clergyman genuinely asked, wondering why and where the initial divide came from, at least in terms of followers. As he mulled over that thought a moment, he sat himself down on the edge of the fountain by the gazebo, indicating he was serious about continuing their discussion. ❝ I mean, hey, you switched sides. So obviously there's more to it, right? You had to have realized that instead of, y'know, just being unwilling to die. No one forced you to come along. And look, I may not know you well, but if I may be so bold, you don't seem like the kinda' guy who'd flop sides because you're afraid to die. Seems totally out of character to me. ❞