#Fallesto

[tsukuharuko]

This was a violation against his rights!

He who has served without failure, who has gone above and beyond, who has done everything that one could do, who has worked for so long to make the world as it was, he who shines the brightest, the strongest of the strong, a frog! This was a violation, that witch, she had no right to take one look at him, dismiss him, mock him, think that he was not good enough at all, and he had lashed out, killed her, he was sure he had shredded her to pieces, but she came back, mocked him more and then cursed him.

A frog in the mud then it was.

This would not be the end of him, this would not be how it ends, he will live, always, he always comes back, he always finds a way to overcome everything that is thrown at him and this will be no different than all the times before, as he sat there for a moment and sighed, this pond, he hated it, he hated this lilypad, he hated everything that there was here, he had no powers, none he was trapped and so he was going to have to try and escape, get out of this pond, this garden and try and find, someone, anyone at all that can help him!

"Oh. A frog."

Haruko blinked as she stared down at the grass by the sidewalk; the little animal could easily be overlooked, and anyone could have stepped on it. She bent to pick it in a hand -- frogs weren't scary to her, she had hunted many after rainy days along with her childhood friends, back in the countryside -- and lifted it to her eye level.

"You should be careful, you know?" She said, almost with a scolding note. "What if you got squashed?"

She stood up and glanced around. It was odd to find a frog in the middle of the city. Maybe there was a park nearby? Then this little thing had to get back to his house pond.

"Let's find your home," she decided, crossing the road and following the alley nearby with hesitant steps. "You shouldn't be so far from the water. It's dangerous if you get too dry!"

[frozcnlight]

@fallesto asked: "I've heard good things about you." (Regulus)

The slightest, nervoush laughter escaped Miran, truly unsure what she should say to this. It wasn’t unusual for people to know her. She was a heiress after all - and her family well known especially within the high society. Though, it was mostly rather her father who was known, rather than her - for whenever there was a gathering, she would just silently follow him and behave just the way her family wanted her to. Silent and only speaking up whenever she was asked or spoken to.

“I’m really glad to hear that it were only good things. It would be truly troublesome, if somebody would spread bad rumors about my family or me.”, she finally spoke with the corner of her lips, painted in a soft shade of peach, curled upward into a smile. She rested her hands in front of her, back straightened - just as she had learned by many lessons during her childhood.

“However, sir. I must admit that I never heard about you, I guess. At least I do not recognize it from your looks. Can I have your name perhaps?”, running a hotel meant to meet many faces - and some would might slip her mind.

[swordduels]

He is sitting there, minding his own business as well, wanting to get away, but knowing by the time he reaches the gate, he will be a donkey once more, so he is trapped here, with them, around himself nothing other than idiots as well on every single possible level. “Tsh.” As he rolls his eyes and would eat the apples that had been chopped up, he did not wish to see her, or anyone else, he wanted to be left alone, to work, which was to do nothing at all, he had his human body back, he was content, but escape, was impossible for him, as he would feel the itch for the moment and his ears would twitch. “Ugh!” Why, what had he done right now, what had he done this time, what had he done to deserve this as his ears had stretched and sat upon the top of his head, again, once again the proud set of jackass ears, why! Because he stole the apples, or because he killed the visitors that came here, which was it this time around, can he be left alone and not become a mule, could she leave him alone for that!

Circe had been bored out of her mind ever since Clarimonde decided to turn back to her precious farm. There was so much potential for chaos and mayhem since the gates were wide open for everything to pass through. It was somewhat amusing to witness the accidental moments when magic was performed but other than that she was dissapointed.

She had offered to be a teacher but Clarimonde had been so busy. Building things. Visiting families. Act as a teacher. Holding rituals. Giving orders. Having children, yuck. That snotty baby and the adopted twins took away even more time that could be spent to learn magic.

She did admire the effort of building a cult but they could be so much more.

Circe believed this day would have the same old pattern of everyone waking up, having a meal and doing chores. But she soon found out something had changed. After swirling around Clarimonde she returned to see Regulus back in human form. Feasting on apples while piles of bodies had colored the floor.

Oh dear. This was unexpected and troubling...

The witch swirled towards him. "Hmm. I see you havent quite turned back." She stated whole looking at his donkey ears before sitting down beside him. "So, what is your plan now?" Clarimonde had done something right when making a barrier to keep him from leaving by turning back into a donkey. They also managed to put protective spells on themself and the children.

The question was, was it enough?

He was still a dangerous force and people had already been sacrificed to his whims. She didn't mind violence or blood but a man child such as Regulus truly didn't deserve such incredible powers.

No. She wanted a fierce witch to rise above petty men to make them bleed and beg for forgiveness. Circe wanted someone like Clarimonde to give into rage, become a master and take away their dignity.

Clarimonde had to survive...

"You did make quite a mess in here and since you killed these ones, their loved ones will wonder where they went. Then there will be more people arriving to search for them. Not to mention people who are trying to prepare the very food you are eating or those who come to pray in your honor." For once she wasn't spitting out insults or spoke in a condecending tone. Instead she was calm and collected.

"What do think will happen if you keep killing people like this?"

@fallesto

[toussainttwins]

“You are implying that all beautiful things may shatter.” Eyes of hazel gilded in flecked crimson sharpen, the previous glimmer of welcoming mirth ripped away with the slight lower of a brow. Feigned or not. And yet, a smile remained curled within gentle features, and it is so that it broadens ever so slightly. A witch made to show her teeth, unafraid to bloody them with the red of the flayed man if she so pleased. She was a witch, the next thing to a God, and she was not fragile, and she would never break. And so she gives her a smile, with the fold of hands at her torso. “And yet- I have heard that beauty often hide claws.” And mine are as long and sharp as yours.

As she would chuckle for the moment. “Yet I am glad you are here.” As she leaned forward and would look right at her for the moment, hand raising to her face and cupping her cheek for the time being, before one hand moved to her skirt and would pull upon it, pulling up the crimson silks, to show her, the hazel fur, the softest brown fur there ever was, along with the hooves that where on the ground. “How do you walk like this.” As her tail flickered back and forth, as she was beautiful in every single way. But her curse, of all those years ago, with turning lovers into horses, had bitten her back, and this was the result, she was like the little lamb, hiding right in plain sight.

Who could blame a maiden that sought the help of a witch? It was as common in fairy-tales, as it was in daily life, only in the latter girls had a much more meagre desires and the payment was, as a result, less demanding. But for Natanis her cause seemed as dire as all the woes of princesses of earth and parchment combined. The petite succubus would trade anything for the happy ending of her tale, and thusly one day she put all the wisdom aside, donned a fancy travelling cape in a shade of a dryad's embrace for a good luck, locked the doors of the shop as tightly as she locked the fear out of her own heart and went to seek the Daughter of Kaedwenian Wilderness. Luckily, the infamous sorceress resided not as far as her moniker suggested, and it took the horned beauty but a short trip to the border. Yet her pretty hoofs burned with hurry, as if she was dancing thought a garden of knives, like that unhappy little siren... "Oh, I am glad too, sangbonbon!" Sabrina's smile left a hollow taste down her throat. It yearned and it burned, but not for her kisses, not for her flesh. It seemed like a tainted mirror of the crimson flower that burned inside her own chest. But was such a terrible miracle even possible? Regardless, a sorceress you know was better than a sorceress who would like to gobble you up alive... Natanis gulped, but did not let her own relieved smile flicker.

"Beautiful things may shutter...if they are left alone in this world, if there is no one to cradle their heart in their arms. For what would beauty mean, if it shone only for itself? Claws can't fight solitude." the petite succubus hurried the words out of her mouth, terrible and ugly, for all the fear they were laced with underneath. Natanis was afraid, but not of Sabrina Glevissig - not that she didn't recognize teeth and claws even if they were but lovely names for grisly weapons - of her own thoughts. Of her...loss she was afraid to put into speech. "Oh..." a plump hand flew towards the horned beauty's mouth. She looked up and down the flame-haired sorceress figure, up and down again and..broke into a genuine, sugar-sweet smile and a squeal of delight. "What a beauty you are, mistress Sabrina! Why, a fur of such a shade, like golden-chestnut-of-3-wishes... the softness of a dream, and to the eyes alone! Hoofs strong and shiny! almost as pretty as mine! And a tail..." Natanis, the weight of her iron-heavy woe lifted from the dainty shoulders for a moment, circled the newly-cursed - blessed! - sorceress-succubus, like a clockwork toy - rapid and loud with many gasping praises, sharp to the details with the eyes of a seamstress.

"Ah, do your new, charming hoofs give you any pain? It must be the cobblestones! They are a torture once you change the soft earth of the forest for the joys of the cities!" the vivacious twin shook her golden curls in sympathy, gasped again as if remembrance of something vital shoot her through the very heart and snatched a tiny, silver-clasped notebook, seemingly out of thin-air. The movement was so nimble, one could call it magic, whence it was a sleight of hand and a silver chain of a chatelain, hidden amidst the fold of the dress to blame. "I shall make a special skirt for you, with a long train, as long as a cloud on an autumn day, so it would hide your hoofsteps from the prying eyes when you walk in all your beauty!" @fallesto

[whirling-fangs]

It’s a simple enough question and yet

Who was the chef

She hesitates. The nerves are already showing through hard swallow and the wetting of lower lip, eyes shifting left then right as if searching for somebody else to take - over. Conversation has never been the strongest talent. Not even when he has time to prepare and while this approach might be seemingly innocent to anyone else, chef’s own paranoia as well as anxiety already has her expecting the worst rather than considering another option. Can’t stay silent forever though. She seems to accept that a beat later too because head suddenly nods. “I am. " Hands are quick to reach for a kitchen towel, wiping them of any excess food. She’d been preparing onions moments before and that’s the last thing anyone wants pressed against their palm. Once confident, or at least some semblance of it, she steps forward to introduce herself. "I am the chef and owner. Is, is everything alright? Was there a problem with your food? " It comes of so perfectly with how she walks, how she talks, how the trickle of sweet can be seen, but that was a well-crafted lie, nothing more than an image, of a chew struggling to constantly bring more people into the kitchen to work for her, and to keep the doors open to bring in more customers.

Kiba let none of his rampant rage show. His hair was tied up behind his head in an elegant ponytail, his pale skin empty of any blemish, his waiter's uniform fitting him like a glove. He weaved around the tables with a dancer's precision, carrying impressive piles of empty plates.

Fill up, fill up, filthy pigs, he grinned to himself, I'm only gonna have a bigger feast tonight!

It was all going a little too well, perhaps. He shouldn't have underestimated the humans' ability to be massive pains in the arse. His smile didn't fade as the angered customer, a plump little woman, pretended to have found a hair in her plate. A hair that she had most certainly plucked from her ugly wig, and planted in her dish. After Kiba waltzed into the kitchen and returned with the much demanded chef, he kept his hands wrapped around his empty platter, fingers drumming along its surface.

A little slip in his perfect composure.

"Look at this! There was a HAIR in my food!" The woman brandished her planted poison between two slimey finger. "This is UNACCEPTABLE! I demand a new plate, and I expect a gesture from you! Or I will have the entire world know how disgusting your little establishment is!"

Tap, tap, tap. Kiba pictured the woman's strangled corpsed skewered above a fire like a rotisserie pig. Yes... she'd make for a perfect appetizer once the doors closed, and the restaurant's real activity truly began.

This kitchen truly was a gate right into hell.

[fereldensheroes]

@fallesto asked:

A comprehension of change struck him like lightning. Focused vision slid sidewards, giving him views of his flanks which usual peripheral vision only teased at. The varying pongs of woodland life rose to prominence in nostrils which now pulled heavy breaths as if even walking pace demanded air usually afforded for continued exertion. The gentle sound of wind blowing upon the branches and the endless titter of birdsong filled ears which alarmingly moved toward the source of sound. His abruptly hunched disposition now seemed like the only position he ever could have been arranged, the idea of standing straight relegated to a passing novelty. He looked upon himself and saw a chalky barrel chest draped in previously crimson clothing now turned a sickly yellow, blue robes below strewn upon the muddy ground near his alarmingly hoofed feet. A flick of something beyond locked his focus rearward, alarm surging into his altered self. Watching carefully he he could just about catch a glimpse of a thick haired tail sweeping past his plump posterior; his entire body keeping its amble girth despite the alarming and wondrous changes on display. A breeze was felt by his underside and helped reinforce his new found indigent nakedness. The obvious conclusion laid itself bare in his mind but acceptance denied it, his mind spinning endlessly for some sort of mundane conclusion like a mill wheel endlessly churning water. He threw his head around and snorted, attempting to cast off this feverish dream or drunken hallucination; its persistence burning away comforting possibilities. He looked back at himself, mouth parted in shock -- he was no longer man but a beast. The tales of this woodland were true, and by some sort of enchantment or curse, he walked not as a man of nobility, but what would be considered a fine steed for nobility instead!

She had felt something... a stirring in the Green. Someone it did not seem to trust had entered the forest, a forest she was a more... welcome intruder to. Dryads, they did not like outsiders. They disliked men even more.

Gwen was allowed passage as a respectful sort. A witch who looked out for things like the old growth, the old ways. Not like those pretentious sorceresses, no. A druid, one of few that still wandered the Continent--- outside of Skellige, perhaps, but Skellige had kept many old traditions and beliefs alive. She respected that.

Flowers, herbs, were tucked gently into the basket she carried. A little luna moth that shone like a sun-dappled autumn forest settled at her shoulder. The witch stood, wandering towards the source of the growing magics---

There, just past the brush, she spotted him. Red hair like her own--- that was the most she noticed before the change took place. It was akin to stories she'd heard as a child. Gods turning those who wandered where they should not into animals--- typically to the death of the mortal who had done so.

Fearlessly, she stepped into sight once the transformation completed. "Quite th' curse... you're lucky it wasn't arrows. That tends t'be th' usual for dryads." She could be a curse breaker, certainly, it was within her ability. Not here, though. Not within the still angry boughs.

[bvd11975]

@fallesto from x.

"But don't flaws teach you how to utilize better ways to create your characters? Wouldn't that make flaws worth embracing?" White gloved fingers laced with one another before herself as she eyed the threat she had been dispatched to investigate. "You could use your cheat codes to give your creations all that they need, but they'll never possess the experience of obtaining it for themselves. I'd think, someone with an imagination like yours would know the importance of experience and the information it provides."

Her amber gaze lowered a moment, the faintest of smiles upon her lips. "I ask you then, sir, what makes life worth living in your opinion?"

[estarion]

tfw his ‘biggest fan’ is his worst enemy…

[cursedfortune]

@fallesto from x.

He was an obedient thing when he got what he wanted. She knew well his interests by now, the growing hunger that gnawed at his insides. He was a beast beneath that face, even his mother knew though she did her best to control him. Mortem knew better. There truly was no controlling Joffrey long term, one could only hope to advise his cruel desires to lead to a lesser extreme end.

Though, with how mortals have progressed, she was quite content to see them all warring and bloodied. Joffrey was a good means to an end for such. She'd ensure he was ready when the time would come. While Cersei knew not what the witch wanted with her son, all she was certain of was Mortem's interest did nothing but benefit the young king. That seemed to be enough, for now.

Content, the witch enjoyed how the quiver matched the rest of his attire. He seemed pleased enough since he was immediately seeking to make use of it, fetching an apple to place atop her head. His order was one she humored with a smile. Others would no doubt fear being aimed at, yet the witch merely stared down the bolt and held his gaze. He needed no invitation but he got one all the same, regardless of how good or poor his aim was.

Consider her pleasantly surprised by his success. The crunch of the apple being punctured as it was launched from atop her head hat the witch blinking. A moment of silence before her lips curved into a delighted grin, awarding Joffrey with a small applause. She didn't shy away at being impressed by his progress in the short time she was away.

"Absolutely brilliant, m'lord." Mortem praised as she turned, fetching the bolt. With a hard yank she freed it from the wall, the apple splitting neatly as it fell to the floor. It punctured it nearly perfectly through the core itself. The witch hummed, her finger swiping along the bolt before she popped it into her mouth. The fluid of the apply pleasant upon her tongue as she turned towards Joffrey. "Tell me, my King, are you pleased to have hit the target... or does some part of you wish you had missed and shed blood?" She inquired with a slight canting of her head.

[dionidai]

❛  what has happened in your life that made you like this?  ❜

   the mage occupied both his hands and eyes with the… concoction he was stirring together.   a remedy of the isles, it was, not overly pleasant to the nose but soothing for the body, sweetened with wild honey.   do not ask how he managed to get his hands on it, the bees loathe him.   which is to be expected, considering he stole their food.   “i don’t think i understand.”

he reached for thyme next, crumbling the petals into the metal net.   “everyone on this plane has suffered.   and everyone beyond it as well, i’d assume.” asyrn hovered two fingers above the cup after taking out the net with the lumped together leaves of various different plants.   the water followed the motion of his fingers circling in the air, dimly glowing with a pale blue as they were.   he muttered something under his breath, the words foreign and distinct from the common speech.

  “what makes you think there’s something peculiar about my pain?” he gripped the cup from above the tea line before approaching the table, setting it down after taking a seat himself.   “what has happened in your life to have made you like this?” 

forty random questions.

[chosesun]

"You've been around a lot of corpses. Is that one normal?" (Kylo)

no, he supposes it isn't. then again, Luke's seen many wars in his lifetime so perhaps it isn't all that surprising. he looks at Kylo- no, Ben, and quickly pinches his face downwards and his eyes drift closed. if he could block out all the horrors he'd seen, he would, but part of that is what makes him who he is. in war, you can't control who lives and who dies, you just have to hope you're fighting for the right side, for something to believe in. he'd like to think that maybe he's made the right call- made all the right choices, but he knows he hasn't always done that. he's only human, after all. everyone makes mistakes, even if they try their best. it's part of what makes them human.

"so has your mom and dad," he says, opening his eyes to regard Ben carefully. he's refusing to acknowledge the name the other has chosen- he'll always be Ben to him, no matter what happens. "that's what war is, unfortunately, whether any of us like it or not." he takes a step back and clears his throat, running his good hand through his hair, sobering up the dark thoughts that have entered his mind. "we have work to do, kid, come on."

@fallesto

[xxj0kerxx]

"I cannot imagine you will be able to win." (Gremmy to Kenpachi)

"big words coming out of you. only little shits have big mouths. prove it. all i'm hearing is words coming out of you. should i let you get a free hit in too?"

[lured-into-wonderland]

This was a violation against his rights!

He who has served without failure, who has gone above and beyond, who has done everything that one could do, who has worked for so long to make the world as it was, he who shines the brightest, the strongest of the strong, a frog! This was a violation, that witch, she had no right to take one look at him, dismiss him, mock him, think that he was not good enough at all, and he had lashed out, killed her, he was sure he had shredded her to pieces, but she came back, mocked him more and then cursed him.

A frog in the mud then it was.

This would not be the end of him, this would not be how it ends, he will live, always, he always comes back, he always finds a way to overcome everything that is thrown at him and this will be no different than all the times before, as he sat there for a moment and sighed, this pond, he hated it, he hated this lilypad, he hated everything that there was here, he had no powers, none he was trapped and so he was going to have to try and escape, get out of this pond, this garden and try and find, someone, anyone at all that can help him!

“Oh, there you are!” – a pale hand with long, elegant digits grabbed his green body gently; lifting him up from the green leave of the water lily; he was almost invisible there - “I have almost not noticed you on that leave. You’re so green now.” – still holding him in a way that prevented him from jumping, or running away from her, she moved him closer to her face. Two bright blue eyes were looking at him with curiosity and some amusement. And some sympathy. Nunnally was not sure what she thought about this whole affair. Certainly, she wouldn't let him get hurt. But a part of her remembered all he did, all he did to her, and that part was rather glad about the current development. In a way, he was getting what he deserved. Not that she wanted him to always remain the frog. Oh no, she would miss him too much. His golden eyes, his silver hair, his gentle (but clumsy) hands.

Right, his hands were not always gentle, she reminded herself again taking some odd pleasure in how hopeless he looked on her palm.

“Naughty frog.” – she cooed – “Were you trying to escape from me?” – she wondered what was now going on in that cute green head of his.

“Hmmm…” – she hummed – “Don’t try to kick with that tiny legs of yours, it will not help you.” – she stood up carrying him gently towards the palace. She was truly enjoying herself.

“Oh, what a cute frog you are. I wish you could talk.” – she laughed – “Although probably I should not be wishing for that. Seeing you but not hearing you it’s not such a bad thing.”

As she was walking through the beautiful gardens, both of them were wandering across not so long ago, she hoped his punishment would not last too long. Though when he is back in his human form (and she never doubted he would) he’s be so difficult for some. She could almost hear his complaints about his rights being violated. She hummed again and restrained herself from mocking him. The most powerful man in the world being turned into a frog. Although Nunnally said nothing, she could not help herself but to let out a small laugh: --

“Are you hungry? I am sure we’ll find something you like. What do frogs eat?” – she was teasing him – “Flies? Or slugs? I am sure we’ll be able to find you something to your liking.” – she patted his little head – “But perhaps you’ll still prefer some human food?” – she asked not expecting any reply – “I would put to into my pocket so that you could enjoy this little trip more.” – she continued sighing – “But I know you. So, I won’t.”

She was sure he was furious. Fuming inside that green body of his. Good that frogs could not bite. When she finally reached her chambers, she sat down at the desk and put him gently in front of her.

“There’s no need to be so annoyed, Regulus. But I understand. It is hard to be green.”  

@fallesto

[swordduels]

A WONDERFUL DAY, TRULY.

The sun was shining, the birds were singing and all was perfect within such a place. A new world, fresh from the shackles of the old, the witch had brought those who wished for a fresh start, away from the chaos and madness of a world that was cracked, breaking like a dropped glass, it was only a mere matter of time until it shattered into endless shards that could not be repaired no matter how much one tried, the only issues with such a movement, to a better world that had not been touched.

A witches duty to nature and the people.

To protect, not destroying, aiding and not harming. An odd thing truly that one sinful being of greed did not understand. Confiding him into a small dwelling within the forest, a new life was not an easy feat, hardly. The urges and needs, wants and wishes, a new cult was calling, a world not graced with sin, so many hearts, so many, all within need for being harmed and then turned into loyal and devoted followers.

Yet that was not the witches intentions.

An argument, a fight, with insults thrown, from sin to witch, about the needs and wants, of promises made true, of his power and dangers of such a thing that can befall any who crosses him, and a witches concern of a partner who will undo balance and bring endless death, the need to protect and not harm him, to say he acted like a ass, a jackass was an understatement, and she could not have him harming anyone or going to the villages nearby, so she only did a curse, to limit him, into a form that cannot harm any.

Come the morning, she could hear it, the routine as perfect as ever, he would be within the gardens, of this endless forest, trying to figure out a way through to people, always the same, he goes through and comes back defeated and this time, when the wife would step out, it would not be the white haired partner she was linked towards, rather something else in full turn, a white furred, jackass, a donkey standing there, fully unaware of what has happened to it and how much.

It has been cursed to learn a lesson.

(Blame Mort hijinks and stupidity threads of nonsense)

Clarimonde thought the world was a beautiful paradise with lush trees and forests. Their family and friends danced and sang together while blessing nature itself. Father sun and mother moon became their chosen deities. The elders told stories about darkness that seemed like fantasy. Each day was happiness with warmth. It was all about love, dancing and working the fields or sewing clothes. They sewed clothes for everyone in the community but also made some for trading with other communities. Though no one raised an eye whenever anyone walked naked as humans are animals as well. 

Years passed by and Clarimonde grew older. There was still peace among their people. At least it felt peaceful until Clarimonde’s mother told her it was time to chose a husband to bring offspring. A husband? For the first time she felt something other than warmth inside. It was something close to jump into cold water. On some level they knew why it was nessesary to find a husband. How else would the blood lines continue if there were no children brought to inhabit this world? Especially in this case were Clarimonde was the only child. Women were supposed to build families. It was her duty. So why did it feel so wrong? 

She had never truly felt like a woman despite everybody saying that was what she was. Trough the years Clarimonde became strong when wrestling with boys and girls for fun. Thinking back to the wrestling there had been a point when one of the boys had been angered by being defeated by a girl. Why was it so bad to be beaten by a girl? Her mother had explained that a man’s duty was to protect women from dangers like wild animals but it wasn’t wrong for a woman to be strong as it would help her give birth to strong children. He had just been a bit silly and perhaps his pride had been crushed. Clarimonde couldn’t see anyone as their future husband. Even less a future of carrying children. They lay awake the whole night while thinking about every possibility. There was this strange urge to hurt someone. It was a seed that had been slowly brewing ever since the mentions of marriage was brought up. How unfair. Clarimonde sighed and decided to get some ear before the morning sun rose. They went out of the hut and met an animal. A donkey with a rather unusual color. While staring at the donkey she walked towards it slowly. “Where did you come from?” It was said in a whisper as her parents were still sleeping inside. One hand moved towards the donkey to carefully touch the head. Was this a sign from mother moon?

“Are you here to give me a purpose?” Clarimonde sat down on her knees to get eye contact. “I was told my duty was to get married and have children. But I don’t fancy anyone. I don’t know if I’m even a woman. I have always wanted to preach. I know every verse, hymn and story by heart but only men are allowed. I’m not allowed to hunt either.” There was a long pause while they looked at the sky which was slowly lit up by the sun. “I want to hurt someone.”

@fallesto

[toussainttwins]

@fallesto || x "Oh, that very one Geralt of Rivia from The Wolven Storm by Dandelion? The beloved of the raven-haired sorceress! A witcher who can love!" the petite succubus' eyes grew wider and some colour returned to her cheeks.

Oh, to meet the white wolf from the songs. It was scary, indeed, but also very, very adventurous. Of course, she would never seek a meeting with a witcher, even if he was a main protagonist of many a charming, daring ballad that often made her sister weep sweet tears of sympathy...why, they positively trembled when Geralt of Rivia visited Beauclair for the last time, cooked up in the Dreamveil like two frightened lambs before a real wolf... Oh, Nistana would be so jealous she ran into the hero of her favourite songs! She wished her lambkin was here. Then her shiny, tired hoofs would not tremble so. Nistana would devise a plan how to slip away, smooth as a song itself... "Of course Her Grace is kind and understanding! As a matter of fact she is my customer." Natanis stopped in her tracks, heedlessly dragging a witcher to stop too as only her delicate horned sisters with a muscles of iron could. And raised her curly head very high. "I am letting you know, master Geralt, that it was my shop The Dreamveil where our beautious Royal Sangbonbon has been ordering her attire for the Festival of the Vat...for the last several years!" the proud succubus' horns almost scratched Geralt's chin.

"As for my other clients and sangbonbons no one would wish me harm. My costumes are as much beloved as I am," to prove her point she dusted off her gown busily and made a little spin, showing off her smart travelling cape, embroidered with stars and constellations and her voluminous skirt, studded with tiny bells. It hid her tail and hoofs well and she was careful not to flash them before a witcher. Then she gasped and made a little bow. "Ah, I am terribly sorry! I have not introduced myself, the terror has drained all my manner from me! I am Natanis of Beauclair, the seamstress. You have certainly heard of my modest shop," Natanis said with amiable immodesty. She was hoping the cat-like eyes could see all the details of her painstakingly made travelling costume. A compliment was a compliment, wheither it came for a witcher or not. And ah, the fright made her ravenous. "Thusly, you see. There must be some mistake. The Duchess loves me well, but...there was no reason for her to place a contract for a succubus, even if it's a contract to keep me safe, which is very dear indeed! She would rather send for her seamstress."

"Are you positive you found a right damsel, sangbonbon? I am not complaining. I...oh, my very horns are risking to fall off when I think what those ruffians were after..." the silvery voice faltered and the petite succubus stopped abruptly, like an automaton doll whose cogs lost its power. She shuddered again and covered her horned head with her hood with extra care, not seeking an admiring glance that time.

"They...they took my little dryad's embrace satchel." the only reason why they didn't take her chatelain from her waist was that it got caught in her dress. It was probably a mere matter of time...thinking of it made a sour taste, cold and nauseating raise up Natanis' throat. So loathsome the feeling was that she was ready to dash into the white wolf's arms on her own accord that time. "And I am...I am frightened... to go to the cart and get it. Could you possibly bring it to me, mas...Geralt?"

[whirling-fangs]

 A sympathetic eye is set on the boy, set brow and lips in a flat line. Was it a feign to get the boy to further comply or had it been genuine care tipped on a careful tongue? Were she fifteen ages younger she might have reflected in the upturn of the boy’s brow and had done all she had to ensure that he had found comfort, and now she felt a vague indifference that would accompany to pity.

Or had she done exactly that? The demon had looked to the boy as if she had looked back all those years at her younger, hopeful, self. She had tried to educate him; tried to show him the way of the world and yet- here he is. 

Deaf to all the words the Queen has ever given him.

He was not understanding, the rules of the land and this modern world, and the fact that she was not meant to be known to be alive, her name, anything to which she had chosen this form, to remain out of sight, out of mind, let the other demons, be at the front, let them be at the dangers, let them take all the risks for no rewards, but he was starting to be, upset with how things are.

“Little one, you don’t need to worry about the other children and there worlds.” A gentle palm releases a glass of wine that had been cradled in her hand to extend and rest summoned him to come closer. And it is there that she gives her a gentle nod, it is there she allows a brow to fall over sharpened red eyes that now abandoned all tender expressions. “Can’t you see with your own little eyes? You are home now. With me, were you belong, no one and nothing else matters.”

He was a little bird in a golden cage.

No amount of riches, of comfort, of delicacies seemed to satisfy him. For every fine outfit she offered him, for every layer of blankets or extra padding in the mattresses, for all the care and safety she had offered him, his gaze would invariably go to the window. Longing for the life he used to live.

For the freedom of the wild.

He didn't belong here. She may not mean him any harm, she may have only his best interests in mind, but his heart was elsewhere. It was still out in with the beasts that had raised him.

"I want to feel the wind on my skin."

Such a simple wish, yet there was a whole world of desire hidden under it. He wanted to feel the grass under the soles of his feet, the cold water from the river biting at his skin, the chirping of birds and the distant howls of beasts. He wanted to feel the thrill of the hunt, as the hunter or the hunted, the adrenaline that made up his former life.

When the life she offered him was all too dull.

He did come a little closer, but the longing did not leave his eyes. The change in her own gaze had a shudder crawl down his spine, but he couldn't play pretend anymore. He couldn't look at her fluffy little face, and say with confidence that he was the happiest child in the world.

"Why did you bring me here? Why did you choose me?"