#.゜–– ic . * thread .

[penddraig]

@agecurse. the  proffered  arm  provokes  a  smile .        “    are  you  to  be  my  escort  this  evening ?    ”        each  stride  clicks  upon  the  floorboards  as  the  young  maiden  takes  her  place  beside  the  wizard,    her  hand  tucking  neatly  into  the  crease  of  his  elbow,    the  other  resting  upon  his  upper  arm .          dark,    warm  eyes  peer  through  strands  of  silver  hair,    up  into  his  beautiful,    sparkling  green  gaze .        “    and  may  i,    at  long  last,    know  to where  we're  headed ?          or  are  you  determined  to  torment  me  with  suspense ?    ”

❝    although you flatter me,   i know your ways.   so i will continue to torment you.   i do so love to listen to your guesses.   they are the best part of these evenings.    ❞    he laughs softly,   and rather dreamily,   and leads her towards the door.   a quick twitch of his finger ensures the dial is pointed yellow-down,   toward market chipping.   another,   and the door opens for them both,   and he guides her the rest of the way outside and into the early evening sun.   as they walk,   he makes certain to stay nearly glued to her side,   his face slightly turned toward her,   gaze on the ground ahead.    ❝    you won't hate it.    ❞

[penddraig]

he finds himself in her gardens most of the time,   taking account of the flowers and what shapes they're in.   though he's been here for months now   ( if he's calculated correctly ;   he has,   admittedly,   lost track of time by now,   nor attempted to keep the track going ),   many of her men distrust him still,   and they often follow him through the halls and out to the gardens,   the kitchens,   and wherever else he decides to roam.   their eyes are on him now even as he squats by one of the flowers.   they're open to suggestion,   he's learned,   and easy to persuade to bloom.   he's done about half of her garden since arriving,   and has plans to finish with all of it in the coming month.  

@draconisa. She hadn’t been visiting Calcifer in the hopes that Howl might be there.   She hadn’t — so she isn’t at all disappointed to find the room empty,   save for the flickering flame in the hearth.   The queen obliges his enthusiastic request to be taken for a walk through the castle,   and if the little demon catches the way her gaze seems to search every room they move through,   he wisely doesn’t say.

eventually,   it's time to return to his chambers.   he knows daenerys has taken calcifer out of his hearth and taken him for a stroll ;   he always feels the demon's happier shift,   the satisfaction that slips through his body like adrenaline.   the lower levels of castle are where the men stop following him,   likely for some aversion they have to roaming the colder hallways.   it is a bit chilly,   with the seasons changing and the castle balanced to precariously at the top of a seaside cliff.   it doesn't bother him.

Only once Calcifer is safely back on his log does her mouth tick downward in a frown,   shutting the door and stepping into the narrow hallway of the castle’s lowest levels — before nearly walking straight into Howl himself.   She startles,   moving to step back only to find the wall at her heels.   “Oh.  ” Caught off guard,   she’s strangely hesitant.   “I was — just leaving.  ”

though he is quite taken off guard when he notices calcifer has been returned to their chambers not half a minute before he's bound to return.   in that way,   he's very ready to meet the queen on her way out the door,   already wearing a pleasant   ( and only somewhat immodest )   smile.   it's a smile that has become tamer over the time he's spent here ;   over the time the woman has spent with calcifer.   howl hasn't noticed a thing,   though.

he takes a step forward,   his gaze moving over her face,   observing the curve of her jaw as she speaks.   she has no room to back away any more,   and howl looks not the least bit bothered to know it.    ❝    did you have a nice walk with calcifer ?    ❞    the halls are small,   so their voices don't echo very far.   he keeps the volume down anyways,   a slight sultriness to his voice wrought by his heart's repose.    ❝    he can be very talkative if he likes you.   i daresay if he lets you take him sightseeing this often,   there's no chance he doesn't,   so i apologise if he's gone and talked your ear off.   now    why are you leaving so soon ?    you could stay.   just because i'm here doesn't mean you need to leave.    ❞

[penddraig]

@notodin.

the half - destroyed industrial building is the only place in this wide, cursed valley to hide ( the war, she knows, destroyed it. hazards are everywhere. the structure is unstable, but it will provide them shelter as they are hunted ). shadows are infamously difficult to fight. how they slink in and out of focus, and sight cannot track them. they battle in the way cowards do, attacking from behind and cutting her ankles. she had gone down, bent to one knee as the back of her leg had been bitten into ( swiftly, a swarm descent upon her, tearing into her flesh as though they were the strongest metal, and she the softest skin —— but shadow is no match for the light ). lost to the darkness, the godling erupts. once, when she was young, this lightning terrified her. now it is a weapon wielded as powerfully as any gifted touch of magic. the electricity belongs to a god, and she is angry. a scream ( be it an origin of pain, or rage, even she does not know ) joins the static crackle of unbridled power as it tears through the air. a great storm, eivor is, and the arch of blue, blinding light pierces through the darkest shadows and shreds them to bits until they fall like pieces of ash, drifting weightlessly. the shadows are gone, and eivor remains on her hands and knees, raggedly breathing ( catching what she lost ). after a moment, from wherever he is hiding, howl will see her stagger upwards with one arm bracing against a crumbling, brick wall. a momentary rest is all the raven god needs to push herself off and trek over the dusty, creaky, rotting floorboards to find him. her sight locates the wizard easier than any skulking shadow.

🙶 howl. 🙷      his name is expressed as a sigh of relief. eivor's broad figure bows forward. both, blood - stained hands rise to grip either side of the wizard's face. gods, she is tired. such an expense of energy, all for him. 🙶 are you okay? 🙷      not a care in the world for herself, yet it is she who bleeds. she who has nearly lost an arm, dark claws torn right through the loose, white shirt she wears that stains the whole sleeve crimson. but the wizard refuses her concern.

hey, look at me. i don't care. are you okay? he says.

turning so sweetly. his voice has always been a melody, while hers is as coarse and gnarled as the scar on her neck that ruined it hundreds of years ago at the jaws of a wolf. she does look. his brilliant, green eyes are worried, and her icy, white - blue ones hold no space for the pain she must be in. they only look deeply into his. only look. the hand of her injured arm slips wetly off his cheek. 🙶 we must keep moving. there will be many more. i cannot fight them in legions, and they will swarm if we stay. they are following my magic, howl. i am sorry you are mixed in this trouble. forgive my recklessness. i am fine. come. 🙷    

though howl isn't as wounded as eivor,   he still topples over one of the low walls of rubble when he feels her lightning raise the hairs at the back of his neck,   and swears he might have twisted something in his leg on landing.   in spite of it,   he manages sundry spells before her lightning fills the air,   all with the intention of keeping him out of the line of crossfire.   then the heat surrounds him,   seemingly bouncing off the very walls themselves,   and he smells charred stone and wood.   then,   silence.

he lays for a moment longer before finally getting to his feet,   hopping toward where she had screamed.   he's relieved,   more than she is,   he'd dare say,   to see that she hasn't somehow lost herself in the process.   she is covered in blood and looks a sight straight out of a nightmare.   it stains her face and her ripped,   charred clothing :   what had once been so neat and white now exists as a carcass of itself in splotches of crimson and blackened fabric.   by all means,   she must be terribly torn up underneath it all.   for but a moment,   howl wants nothing more than to check her over and make sure she's not harbouring some fatal wound that will have her dying in his arms later.   that,   he's afraid,   would be worse than being caught by the entities that pursue her.   he's sure he could find a few minor fixes until they make it somewhere safe once more.

❝    don't be sorry.   don't be sorry    i said i don't care.   and i don't.    ❞    he cares enough that his fingers tremble as he reaches for her hand that drops,   to gently,   firmly hold it beneath his chin.   he's frightened.   not of eivor and the ghastly,   tired sight before his eyes,   but of all of this fighting.   that,   he cannot hide.   once a coward,   always a coward,   and though he hates to be caught up in something this sinister,   he also wants only to be certain eivor is fine,   and that she won't be taken from him.   not now.

❝ can they trace my magic ? ❞ he's itching.   his magic is bursting beneath the surface of his forearms and fingers,   yearning terribly to be released.   ❝ i can fend them off. you can lay low on your magic. i'll do it. ❞ at times like these,   when he holds himself back,   merely existing is much more difficult.   he also knows if he expends all of his capacities now,   he surely won't be able to afford even a bit more to run with her.   that,   and the harpy will inevitably burst from him in a horrific demonstration of defiance against the jurisdiction of his own magic.   he'll risk much more than his energy to keep her safe.

yet he hates to do nothing about it.   soon,   he tugs at her hand,   already staggering with her in tow toward an opening in the wall.   ❝ this way.   i've set a few redirection spells her so they can't sneak up on us.   let me carry you.    ❞    he shakes his shoulders as if ruffling invisible wings,   raising a hand to clear away the rubble with the wind itself.    ❝    it will be faster that way.    ❞ 

[penddraig]

for what it’s worth,   howl pendragon has settled into his role in daenerys’ court quite well.   he enjoys the appeal of advising and planning well,   if only because @draconisa is oftentimes so open to his suggestions.   having such a position also means he finds it incredibly easy to slither in and out of predicaments as he pleases,   which,   for what it's worth,   is exactly what the wizard feels most comfortable with.   in any gathering,   he finds it far better to present himself as his own person,   rather than as a someone particularly close to the queen   ( not that everyone doesn’t already know of their particular  …  relationship ).

today’s ceremony is to celebrate once the ceremony has ended,   howl slips his arm through hers,   pressing his side to hers as he leans over,   murmuring just loud enough so that only she can hear.    ❝    i don’t suppose the visiting diplomats are very fond of staying here.   luckily,   i have them sitting as far away from you as possible.   i have a feeling they won’t offer very enlightening conversation.    ❞

.゜––   starter call.  /  𝚊𝚌𝚌𝚎𝚙𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐. ✨ ceremony.

[penddraig]

nothing about any of it gives howl the impression any should be shown mercy.   either way,   he would much rather just not deal with them at all.   but he is here now,   and that means he must deal with it if it comes to him   ( though inside,   he hopes nothing else will come after him    it's been difficult enough running from the last wretched creature ).   with someone around who is much better acquainted with the goings on of this place,   perhaps he may even have a fighting chance.

❝    all right.   sounds like a good bit of work for you.   i should let you to it,   then.    ❞    no.   there is no notion in his mind of staying here longer than he needs.   he might feel a twinge of sorrow for the work this stranger has to do,   but he would never know of it if he were never here in the first place !

waving a hand,   the wizard turns away.    ❝    if you'd be so good as to show me the way out,   i'll follow it and be out of your hair,   thank you.    ❞

That was the only good thing... Her efforts seemed to be working. As far as she knew, no yokai had escaped from the Lost Woods barrier and into the real world. Humans were safe, as long as they didn't stumble through the thin line between realms on accident.

But despite the brief relief of knowing this, Robin also knew that... There was something else afoot. The yokai never stopped coming, crawling like spiders through the darkness, seemingly birthed from the very depths of the forest itself.

You couldn't prevent bleeding without stemming off the source. Any militant knew this.

"They are creatures of mischief, of malevolent desires. Many of them consume human flesh, or eat the bones of wildlife. Some exist only to sow despair, to take children and women away. They are creatures that don't deserve to be given mercy."

And despite, despite... Such black and white views could not be healthy. The story of a dragon and princess was not present here.

[penddraig]

it's not every day he manages to crash land beside a stranger in the midst of ( as far as he can tell,   for he hadn't been part of it until a stray arrow had shot him down ) an intense feud.   one moment,   he'd been surveying the fight from above :   the next,   he'd felt an arrow pierce the meat of his wing.   it hurt so badly,   he'd had no choice but to plummet.   he'd almost nearly clipped @wcrstarter on his way down,   but he''d managed to pull his wing in before it knocked her to the ground.

now,   he pulls his good wing in completely.   the wounded one remains loose and trailing on the ground as he stands and brushes himself off with talon-lined fingers,   his clawed hands.    ❝    sorry,    ❞    by some miracle,   are the first words out of his mouth.   he shakes his head slightly.   a few loose downy feathers flutter from his hair toward the dirt.    ❝    i assume you're part of this fight ?   because if you are,   i'd like if you tell whoever it is that shot this arrow that they either have terrible aim,   or terrible judgement.   i am not part of this.    ❞

.゜––   starter call.  /  𝚊𝚌𝚌𝚎𝚙𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐. ✨

[penddraig]

howl has been following @dragonfangs for the past hour straight.   he's really not certain where either of them are going    only that he's curious.   right now,   he's taken the form of a small cat,   stalking along the walls after a brief glimpse into town.   there are celebrations happening now,   loud fireworks,   and raucous music and energy.   he's terribly uncertain whether or not natsu would enjoy such a thing.   he himself certainly would. but there are the dangers.

❝    personally,   if i were you,   i wouldn't be going out there.    ❞    he's back to his own self now,   perched upon the small wall with his legs dangling over the edge and his elbow rested upon his thigh.   his unnaturally fair hair dangles in front of his face,   making it difficult for him to watch natsu,   but infinitely harder for anyone to watch him back   ( or so he loves to entertain ! ).    ❝    there's quite the commotion going on.   it always happens this time of year.   and you  …    ❞    he clicks his tongue.    ❝    …  you wouldn't enjoy it.    ❞

.゜––   starter call.  /  𝚊𝚌𝚌𝚎𝚙𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐. ✨ summer / nature.

[penddraig]

he’s not entirely sure how he’s gotten to the point where he’s stood here in front of @goldenfists, a good bit curious and a good bit unsettled.   he hadn’t intended on being spotted by anyone,   let alone trying to strike up some conversation that could possibly take the brunt of the suspicion off himself.   ‘ why are you here ? ’   he imagines the question goes.   and his response,   he’s certain,   might be something like,   ‘ oh,   because i heard the stench of complete and utter brutality and followed that. ’   which  …  probably isn't a very good thing to say to someone who is larger than he is.

feeling a bit ruffled,   the wizard straightens his spine,   stepping back and looking the stranger over.   he is,   in few words,   a tower of amber hair and discoloured scarring and tanned skin over curves of muscle that howl is no fool to try and test.   the wizard is reminded much of a wolf,   some canine who might happen to decide some curious onlooker could be a meal at any time.   he thinks,   just for a moment    then,   naturally he blurts out the first question he can think of.   unfortunately,   that question just so happens to be :    ❝    are you like that on purpose or on accident ?    ❞

.゜––   starter call.  /  𝚊𝚌𝚌𝚎𝚙𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐. ✨ wolf.

[penddraig]

@hetiwr. 𝐒𝐎𝐏𝐇𝐈𝐄 𝐍𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐔𝐒𝐄𝐃 𝐓𝐎 𝐁𝐄 𝐒𝐔𝐂𝐇 𝐀 𝐍𝐀𝐆, but Howl seemed to have the uncanny ability of bringing out the worst in her. His flippancy towards the mess that was the moving castle only seemed to exacerbate her ire. Not even a day had gone by that she'd cleaned the bathroom from top to bottom — careful not to rearrange his various perfumes and potions this time — that Howl had sequestered himself in there only to re-emerge hours later, leaving a disaster in his wake. Halfway through washing dishes, she'd said something ill-tempered about it when his perfume permeated the room before he did. Her weathered face was stern and calculating. One of these days, someone will catch your eye and then you’ll have to watch your tongue, he quipped. She didn't realise when her shock manifested into something more than just her brows rising into her hairline, but for just a fraction of a second, her wrinkled face blurred into something young and pretty. Gone as quickly as it had come, Sophie angrily turned back to the dishes. Her scrubbing was noticeably more violent.

❝ Bah! Don't be ridiculous, ❞ she said. ❝ I'm far too old for that nonsense now. ❞

if ever there were a word howl could be called for absolute certain,   it would be observant.   there are things the wizard could never miss,   even if it flickered for the span of an eye blink.   this isn't the first time he's seen sophie's curse waver before in the face of some shocking revelation,   and never is it enough time for him to formulate some guess as to who she is beneath it.

what a shame,   thinks howl,   almost sadly,   that she keeps this curse on herself of her own doing.   and perhaps it's a shame,   too,   that he will never mention that he knows    by a generous slip of the tongue   ( then a descent into actual,   contrite-faced explanation )   by calcifer    for to admit that he knows such a thing is to admit that he has gone to some lengths to dispel the curse from her.   mostly when her back was turned,   but sometimes,   too,   when she was away dreaming of some thing or another.   he would rather die than admit that aloud.

but she must really enjoy herself now.    ❝    there is no such thing as 'far too old',   ❞    he points out,   his finger pointing to some corner of the ceiling.    ❝    nobody is far too old for anything.   for instance,   you should be far too old to threaten my dishes to the point where they're on the brink of shattering into a thousand pieces.   that would give you so much more to have to clean up.    ❞    he stomps his heel on the wooden floor.   her anger really is contagious.    ❝    and you should be far too old to willingly endure slaving away as a cleaning lady.   but here you are,   toiling away of your own free will !   i'm certain if you stick your long nose into that dishwater,   my perfume won't bother you anymore !    ❞

[penddraig]

@ofsoul. loud and deafening silence

bird - like claws,    crimson  and dark once lie gently trailing against the wizard’s chin.    a soft gesture,    not meant to harm his body but threaten his mind.    the once - dual,    now succumbed entity is not a chimera,    but a creature of velvet misery.    pain is beautiful to her,    so she treats with with great care,    like a gardener to fruit ready to devour.    but howl is not a being made for her consumption,    that much was clear since she had the first taste of his magic.    the demon is not greedy,    but at home in magical abundance,    bitter return to childhood,    his energy envelops the space as her teacher once did,    which speaks highly of his potential,    untarnished by god - hood but very much en route to true,    unadulterated power.    she’s too close,    pushing him against the bookcase behind him,    books fall as she pushes forward only to be gracefully levitated by her,    tetrad gaze remains severely locked against his bright eyes.    pursed lips breathe out as sharp pain oozes through her wrists,    pushing her away from him.    sly man,    his tendrils,    armed with fire as culprit.    eyes squint at him,    and she resumes her posture fixing the mane of darkness behind her bare shoulders.    expertly,    her flesh heals (    i am not bound to physical existence,    bold wizard,    you dare threaten me   ?    ) faintly echoes through the space,    but instead of recognizing his mischief she gives him a subtle smile,   the heir doesn’t enjoy chases,    but he makes it extremely enjoyable in his quick wit and charm.    “ see ?    dear howl,    ” she steps forward slowly,    shifting her sharp fingers into soft human ones as she cups his chin. 

“    you cannot hurt me.    do you imagine what you would be able to do if i blessed you with a lick of my power    ?    your pathetic little spells,  ”  a self - serving lie,   “   exalted as if you have trained them for a millennium.   only a small price to pay.   ” 

she is a quick-witted entity,   more versed in the chase than he is,   her existence lain in an existence far better,   and far less constraining,   than the one he inhabits.   this is precisely what make it his domain,   and not her own.   but she is quick,   and he trips by accident,   gaining only enough time to sear her flesh until it sizzles like a slab of steak on a grill,   palms and fingers bleeding white-hot heat.

he cannot hurt her   [ … ]   in any way that counts.   echoes of words long-passed sound from the depths of his mind once more,   even as he looks into shards of blue that flicker in the dark pools of her gaze :   large,   round things that nearly cause him to shudder as he looks into them.   he can only hold her gaze for a moment before he finally casts his own away,   so as not to lose the composure he already finds difficult to maintain.   she stands so close to him that he loses his train of thought at every breath he takes.   he swears,   even with her skin so red,   that her touch could burn him if he didn't lift his chin away from the fingers that hold his chin.   he might have called them caring if he didn't know any better.   he knows better than anyone now.

but he is nothing without his ability to compose himself neatly on the outside,   as though she hardly gets to him at all.   she may threaten,   she may slither her notions through his mind,   but only he is the one who can affect his expressions.   and he does,   cooling his palms in a moment from their once scalding temperature.   his sleeves are not yet drained of his tricks.    ❝    ah,   but you think you know me far better than you truly do.   do you really believe i would pay a price for the power you possess ?    ❞    he smiles in his self-satisfied,   pleasantly smug way,   if only to draw a bit of irritation from the demon.

❝    dear raven.    ❞    against the shelf of books,   howl moves his arms behind his back,   resting his elbows quite comfortably on a shelf at perfect height,   fingers brushing over the hard spines of these books what books are still propped upright,   that is.    ❝    who said my aim was to harm you physically ?    ❞

[penddraig]

don't tell . tags 1 .

.゜––   ooc .  *  what a pretty fire blog . .゜––   save .  *  this is mine now ! get your own ! .゜––   ic .  *  starter . .゜––   ic .  *  thread . .゜––   ooc .  *  answered . .゜––   ic .  *  answered . .゜––   ooc .  *  dash commentary .

.゜––   study .  *  a heart's a heavy burden . .゜––   musing .  *  some people say he ate their hearts . .゜––   mannerism .  *  i'm going to bed where i may die . .゜––   headcanon .  *  with a glib tongue & a clever mind . .゜––   skills .  *  if at first you don't succeed try try try again . .゜––   aesthetic .  *  nobody's safe in a wizard's house . .゜––   art .  *  out of a steam of verbena scented spells . .゜––   music .  *  in my head i hear a symphony . .゜––   self promo .  *  i'm dying from neglect up here ! .゜––   promo .  *  don't you want your heart eaten ? .゜––   meme .  *  i look like a pan of bacon & eggs ! .゜––   wishlist .  *  i see no point in living if i can't be beautiful . .゜––   edits .  *  seems everyone in this family's got problems . .゜––   crack .  *  i assure you i am cone sold stober . .゜––   queue .  *  i hope your queue burns .

[penddraig]

@lobiita. A rumble of discontent vibrates the beast's chest as she glares down the other creature in question. Normally she does not have to exist around another living being while in this form. Something often for the better given how territorial she gets when the moon forces her to shift. "WhY... arE... yoU hErE...?" Guttural voice booms as the monster stalks forward on hind legs. She is no fool. It's easy to see the coiled tension within his feathered frame. That is something she shewolf knows all too well herself; that deep seeded urge to lash out at the unknown. It was something that shook her to her core as she tried (and often failed) to refrain from using violence as the answer to all her problems. "MiNe... this Is... MInE..." Although she drops down to squat her muscles ripple beneath her fur. Thankfully the night is still young- she has enough of her human mind still lingering about. That tiny bit of intellect needed to think rather than immediately act. FIGHT. ATTACK. EAT. BLOOD! I NEED BLOOD! Body shakes as red seeps into her gaze. How she would love to dash forward, to dig her claws into those beautiful ebony feathers- black and crimson always complimented one another. Maw snaps as she fists the ground, un-earthing a few roots from a nearby oak sapling. "NoT... weLCoMe..." UNPROMPTED / @penddraig

the harpy stares    half-glares,   if such a thing can even be done through the eyes of a corvid    at the beast as she stalks over the ground.   it seems,   to the harpy,   as though she might lunge at any moment,   take its neck into her teeth and bite down so hard she ends its life right then and there.   that's what it thinks she wants,   anyways.   if there is any recognition of human life or otherwise,   it cannot be found in the glistening,   pure-black glass of its eyes.   not now,   when it remains an audience to such a ferocious force who could charge before it even has a chance to do anything.

it stays still for a moment longer.   to be watched is to be vulnerable.   to watch is to return the warning,   to let this other beast of nature know that it watches her as much as she watches it.   as much as her words seem familiar,   the general gist of them goes over the harpy's head.   it snaps its teeth once,   razor sharp canines along the inside of a bird's beak.

and then,   rather slowly    as though the curse is a heavy thing that makes its limbs heavy and not at all easy to move    the harpy stands from its spot.   it,   too,   wants to dart in,   dig sharpened talons and a keen beak into that fur and tear that flesh apart   ( after all,   that violence is what gave birth to it in the first place ).   it coughs once,   as if it's trying to find a voice,   shaking its dark feathers out and moving toward her on his front wings and back talons.

what is she ?   it sniffs in her direction.   what is she ?

[penddraig]

today,   it seems,   is not a particularly good day for any of them.   as it so happens,   michael's been home for an unnatural amount of hours already,   holed up in his room with only himself as company   ( which,   in turn,   has howl feeling akin to a failed elder brother ) ;   calcifer hasn't much felt up to speaking to him either,   which has left howl to his own devices.   aside from messing a few of his projects up today,   he hasn't done much of anything.   now,   he wallows on the couch in the front room,   watching his fingers and the backs of his hands blankly.

❝    sophie,    ❞    howl mutters,   in the throes of his misery,   once he hears the door open.    ❝    i was beginning to think you weren't coming back.   ❞ the basis for his generalisation has no foot to stand on,   of course.   it's hardly late in the evening,   and she's arrived later than this even on the better days.   he twists in his place on the couch,   rolling onto his stomach and resting a bent arm on the side of the couch,   resting his cheek on the bulk of his forearm as he watches @wasburning with miserable eyes.    ❝    why did you come back ? not that i don't want you to. i just wonder ... do you enjoy living here, sophie ? is this the arrangement you want ?    ❞

.゜––   starter call.  /  𝚊𝚌𝚌𝚎𝚙𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐. ✨ happy enough.

[ofdetonation]

@starshinc​​      ╱      plotted  starter      ╱      villain  au  +  mute  au.

𝗕𝗨𝗥𝗡𝗜𝗡𝗚  𝗙𝗟𝗔𝗠𝗘𝗦,   𝗥𝗜𝗦𝗜𝗡𝗚  𝗦𝗠𝗢𝗞𝗘,   𝗕𝗜𝗧𝗜𝗡𝗚  𝗛𝗘𝗔𝗗𝗔𝗖𝗛𝗘 .      the young blond stands at the edge of destruction      ╱      of his own doing,   of course,   the smell of burnt caramel simmering off gloved hands and blood blending into dark uniform,   dirtied after weeks and  weeks  of the same procedure,   ash clinging in hair and resting on shoulders.     this time did not have so many casualties.     this time,   the blond held back,   even rescued one girl from the burning confines of an apartment several levels high      ⸺      it meant he would visit the doctor soon.     outlying behaviours of heroism were against his code :     that was not what he was created for,   conditioned for.

at least,   that’s the plan when he begins his walk away from his carnage.     his mind tells him two different things      ⸺      this isn’t him,   and he needs to go back      ⸺      but it’s when crimson gaze falls onto a figure nearby that he pauses.     steps back once,   brows furrowing,   locking onto familiar green hair      ╱      familiar ?     what about it is so familiar that he is telling himself to investigate,   to inch ever closer to the offending figure that stirs the deepest recesses of his mind ?     why does that familiarity lure him in ?

slowly,   quietly,   the young bakugou follows the figure,   moving like a shadow in the cloak of night as he tries to understand his sudden interest,   his need to know      ╱     tugging familiarity keeps pulling on the repressed parts of his mind and,   eventually,   he winces under the sudden pressure of trying to know,   to understand.     it’s the small giveaway he is there.     and when crimson finally meets forest green,   katsuki squints through his mask,   frown tightening and headache worsening with every second.     (  the dog is unfamiliar,   but those eyes,   the freckles on his face,   the unkempt-looking green hair,   they keep  shouting  in his mind that these were all things he knew,   he should know      ⸺      but the only thing he remembers,   at the moment,   is a much younger face,   beaming grins and talks of heroes ⸺  )

his hands twitch.     they urge to lunge forward,   to destroy.

❝    you ...    ❞     katsuki inches ever closer,   hands glowing ever slightly from his quirk,   even as he tries to fight the conditioning.     ❝    ...     shouldn’t  be  here.    ❞

[uizado]

the  one  thing  the  wizard  howl  knew  for  certain  about  himself  was  that  he  would  do  e̲v̲e̲r̲y̲t̲h̲i̲n̲g̲ ̲ ̲i̲n̲ ̲ ̲h̲i̲s̲ ̲ ̲p̲o̲w̲e̲r̲  to  follow  exactly  what  he  wanted  to  do,    &.    not  a  single  thing  less,    &.    not  a  single  thing  more.    should  some  misfortunate  happenstance  find  his  way  to  him  here,    in  this  very  merry  town,    in  all  its  celebrations  of  may  day,    then  let  it  not  find  him  until  he  was  finished  accosting  this  utterly  strong-minded  young  woman,    whose  stance,    t̲h̲o̲u̲g̲h̲ ̲ ̲s̲o̲m̲e̲w̲h̲a̲t̲ ̲ ̲l̲o̲s̲t̲,    seemed  to  tell  every  person  around  enough  about  her.    where  she  had  come  from,    he  hadn't  chanced  to  see  in  time,    but  where  she  was  going,    he  could  still  fathom.

&̲.̲ ̲ ̲ ̲ ̲f̲i̲n̲d̲ ̲ ̲o̲u̲t̲ ̲ ̲h̲e̲ ̲ ̲w̲o̲u̲l̲d̲,    as  he  traipsed  through  the  busy  square  of  market  chipping,    weaving  through  the  bellowing  men  &.    giggling  women.    @siaradwr​​,    he  noticed,    wasn't  giggling  at  all.    or  perhaps,    she  was  trying  to  dodge  anyone  who  a̲t̲t̲e̲m̲p̲t̲e̲d̲ ̲ ̲t̲o̲ ̲ ̲a̲p̲p̲r̲o̲a̲c̲h̲ ̲ ̲h̲e̲r̲.    unfortunately  for  her,    she  would  not  be  so  lucky  as  to  avoid  howl,    who  descended  upon  her  before  she  could  disappear  into  the  doorway.    but  he  did  notice  that  she  was  cowering  &.,    as  such  of  his  own  custom  allowed,    l̲o̲w̲e̲r̲e̲d̲ ̲ ̲h̲i̲s̲ ̲ ̲c̲h̲i̲n̲ ̲ ̲i̲n̲ ̲ ̲g̲r̲e̲e̲t̲i̲n̲g̲  &.    granted  her  a  small  step  away.    ❛  have  i  frightened  you,    little  grey  mouse  ?    i'm  very  sick  of  listened  to  those  loud  men  out  there,    just  as  you  are.  ❜

* .゜ we’re  rewriting  canon  !                𝚙𝚕𝚘𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚍.

[abilitieshq]

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