#Kuni Muinvel

[liminal-storage]

On the edge of sleep, on the edge of tears.

[hiraethwyl]

FFwritexiv2023 #22 Fulsome

Mentions of Kuni @liminal-storage

The hotpot between them sat, still bubbling, the spicy aroma filling Kuni’s cozy apartment. Both miqo’te held their own little bowls as they ate and talked, sitting cross cross side by side. She was still teaching him to use the long sticks for eating properly and not just stabbing at whatever he was trying to gather up, but he was learning. It was a process.

Right now the Keeper was staring at his chosen sister, mouth hanging slightly agape before he remembered he was eating something. He stuffed the rest of his spring roll in and chewed while she finished her sentence. Then he swallowed.

“You never told me that. I knew you were an investigator but you didn’t say it was so dangerous. Kuni,” he half admonished. Then leaned in. “I want to hear every little detail. What did they say when you told them what you found?”

[reddevil-xiv]

T. Redwing

—𝒃𝒂𝒔𝒊𝒄𝒔

Name: Talia / Talan Redwing Nicknames: Devil Age: ??? Appears late-twenties. Nameday: 26th Sun of the 6th Astral Moon Race: Ishgardian Half-Elezen (Fae) Gender: Genderqueer Orientation: Pansexual Profession: Magitek Engineer, Sniper, Marksman & Security Lead with Priarch Enterprises

—𝒑𝒉𝒚𝒔𝒊𝒄𝒂𝒍 𝒂𝒔𝒑𝒆𝒄𝒕𝒔

Hair: Fire red, mid back. Eyes: Right eye violet, left eye green. / Right eye green, left eye violet. Skin: Porcelain pale / warmly bronzed with greyish undertones. Tattoos/scars: They are devoid of scarring, though she possesses several tattoos in celestial themed patterns. These never seem to stay quite the same, with the starry constellations shifting and moving from time to time.

—𝒇𝒂𝒎𝒊𝒍𝒚

Parents: Jeulerant Sergenaux (Father), Meallaire Sergenaux (Step-Mother), Tiamara Shadoweaver (Birth Mother; deceased) Siblings: Darien Sergenaux (Fraternal Twin), several other half-siblings or siblings through adoption. Grandparents: Maternal: Lady Blanchefleur Sanguemont & Ser Oliver Redwing (both deceased). Great-Great Grandfather: Arafel de Courcelle. Paternal: ??? In-laws and Other: Plenty of extended family thanks to connections to House Courcelle and House Sanguemont. Spouses: Caedrian Sombrenuit (as Talia), Idristan Agache (as Talan). Children: Tisiphon Sombrenuit (son), Alecto Sombrenuit (son) & Megaera Sombrenuit (daughter). Pets: 'Bitsy', a magitek bit hand crafted when she was a child. 'Posie', a living mossball created by Kuni Muinvel who has very sharp teeth.

—𝒔𝒌𝒊𝒍𝒍𝒔

Abilities: Talia is exceptionally skilled with guns at all ranges, though they excel best with a marksman or sniper rifle and has made her living for a long time with those skills. She is a passable combatant with a fencing rapier, and knows quite a bit of magic from the extensive and often brutal training she had to undergo during her early life. She has all of the abilities of a celestial fae of the Court of Midnight, primarily specializing in illusion magic.

—𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒊𝒕𝒔

Most Positive Trait: Fiercely loyal and as trustworthy as anyone could imagine a faerie to be. Most Negative Trait: Exceptional self-depreciation and low self-esteem.

—𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆𝒔

Colors: Red, Black, Silver, Green, Violet Smells: Amber, leather, metal, roses, ozone Textures: Leather, polished metal, gunpowder, feathers Drinks: Scotch, Coffee, Ishgardian tea

—𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒅𝒆𝒕𝒂𝒊𝒍𝒔

Smokes: Frequently; usually some type of blended cigarette flavored with clove. Drinks: Less excessively than she used to, but still more than should be healthy. Drugs: Frequently; mostly either the edible or smokable kind. Sometimes somnus, often more rare drugs made by friends. Mount Issuance: Aline, a light grey war chocobo that was bred from the Rosaire stables, purchased a few short years ago from Silvaineaux. Don't mind the slight fae influence there. Otherwise; Reaper, a magitek reaper broken down and repurposed into a motorcycle capable of flight and outfitted with an intelligence core to give it semi autonomy. Been Arrested: More than once, but usually for drunken or disorderly conduct after some barfight or another.

Tagged by: @houserosaire Thank you so very much friend! Tagging: Everyone I would have tagged has been tagged already. But just for some peer pressure: @blisteringstar, @roses-and-grimoires, @liminal-storage, @thedarknesssings. Tag me if you do this so I can see it!

[liminal-storage]

Interlude: Silence

Prompt: Zip

Characters: Kuni Muinvel, mentions of/allusions to various others

Warnings: Vague references to physical and emotional abuse.

Silence.

It used to be her go-to response when her mother got aggressive. It's difficult to find offense when no words are spoken at all. But even that silence was offensive in its own way, taken as a sign of disrespect and worthy of further punishment.

Silence. A moment brought on by shock.

Like a slap in the face, her mouth would shut immediately if someone said something cutting. The red-faced shame that came with it only served as further evidence that she'd given up the fight. Allow others room for their fury, but never give back your own.

Silence. A defense mechanism.

Holding back her words, her thoughts, her feelings...it became a regular habit. Just smile through it all, she'd tell herself. Smile and the unpleasantness would go away. Only it never did. With nothing spoken, it was reasonable for others to assume nothing was wrong.

Silence. It started to lose its meaning, really.

Cold, resigned acceptance. That was what her silence became. Even when the words slung her way were undeserved, she'd give no defense. Better than getting herself worked up and lashing out in anger. Better than pushing people away. Yet, that still happened anyway.

Silence. Smothering.

She'd almost withered away in it. Who was she, anyway? It had all gotten washed away somewhere out of reach while she stewed and suffered and made to destroy herself in her silence. If it ached this badly she'd surely deserved it, and deserved even more still. If she'd just kept her mouth shut, none of it would have gone so badly.

Silence was an automatic response for so many years.

After clawing her way out of the mire she'd put herself in, she found her voice.

Rare is the conversation that passes without a sarcastic retort. She had her years of silence for the sake of keeping the peace, but she's found herself once more. Kuni Muinvel was never good at keeping her mouth shut for long. Every smirk, every taunt, every goading remark, every idle comment...All are hers. Silence has its time and place, but it should not be her default.

[liminal-storage]

XIV-Temperance

Prompt: Shade

Characters: Kuni Muinvel

Warnings: None

Walking into the Threshold always feels like the moment just after waking.

That strange haze when her eyes are open but she sees nothing but fleeting shadows, the remnants of a dream. She will swear she can remember every detail, fingers reaching out as if to grasp them just before the memory of it all vanishes into nothingness. The smoke of her usual self dissipating in a dark room.

The Threshold is hungry in nature, consuming without thought or control. If she grows careless, she will lose everything to a sweet oblivion. Who she was merely moments ago does not matter. There is only the swirling ouzo of the present, footprints in the sands of time.

Sometimes it's hard to remember herself.

This world is her wonderland, a landscape crafted of her own perception. To enter it is to leave all burdens behind and become one with the breath of the land. It is to synch one's heartbeat to the thrumming on the air, the liquid oozing movement of every creature that calls it home.

If she had to describe it, she might liken it to attending a once-in-a-lifetime performance or festival or concert. She's seen the way people lose themselves, absorbing every note until there's nothing left of who they arrived as. So too has she seen the rude awakening people receive when it comes time to leave and step back into the flow of normalcy. It's hard to let go. It feels surreal. Like walking through a pleasant mirage within a daydream, only to plunge face-first into icy water. It's a sensation that cannot be recreated quite the same way.

Tempting as it is to live in these moments forever, she knows that they too must be left behind. Inevitably, she too must return to the mundane of everyday life.

She could take it all with her, she supposes. These days, it's become harder to maintain her grasp upon what matters to other people. But she refuses to permanently lose her other self, for she has always walked between two worlds.

They're one and the same, Kuni and Naithura. The very cliche two faces of the same coin. She can stay in her lovely dream, but then she'll only be Naithura. She can stay among others and pretend it's all an illusion, but then she'll only be Kuni.

The smoke must always be collected in a bottle once more.

[liminal-storage]

Interlude: Imbertain's Miraculous Elixir

Prompt: Third-Rate

Characters: Abel Imbertain, Kuni Muinvel

Content Warnings: Minor mentions of blood, minor descriptions of injuries.

Abel had seen a lot of injuries in his time. From simple cuts and scrapes to serious head injuries and on occasion things as extreme as fingers nearly severed from a hand, he'd grown desensitized since the time of his childhood. He remembered sitting next to his mother, a woman raised in the ways of the wood while she treated the people of Gelmorra and the people of the Shroud.

From an early age, she'd taught him how to identify plants and herbs at a glance; which to avoid, which ones were useful with careful preparation, and which ones were edible. He'd adored watching her pour and mix tiny vials of solutions and ground powders and stems until they came together to create healing elixirs. In time, he learned to do it himself, but he never quite had his mother's special touch with formulas. Instead he relied heavily on a book full of recipes penned in her flowing script.

They served him well when he needed to make some real gil, and they served him well in treating others he knew.

Others like Kuni, who sat before him with a bleeding gash stretching from her ribs to her hip. She'd taken a stumble down a slope, it seemed. Rather than bothering one of her other job's healers, she relied on him as she always had for small things like this.

Small dirt-filled abrasions and cuts surrounded the larger injury and he could hear his boss hissing in pain every now and again. It must sting something terrible. Fortunately, Kuni seemed to be a well-behaved patient and never actively complained during treatment even if she did side-eye some of his bottles and jars a bit.

Abel finished picking a bit of gravel out of the largest wound and dabbed at a trickle of blood running down to soak into the already ruined fabric of Kuni's top. She winced a little but otherwise stayed still, teeth clenched in discomfort.

"Alright, bosslady. Almost done here. Just gonna have to apply a bit of this ointment. Got a real nice elixir mixed in so it should speed up the healing process. Hang in there!"

Kuni just nodded and sat as still as possible while he gently dabbed the strong, lavender-scented ointment over the wound. She twisted a little in order to see, blinking in surprise as the flesh worked to mend itself right before her eyes. Usually that sort of thing only happened with strong magic involved.

"Well, I'll be. I didn't think you had it in you. Why don't you try selling some of this stuff instead of your usual colored water nonsense?" She picked up the jar of ointment and sniffed it.

"Well...it's good shite, no denying that. It does tend to have a bit of an uh...unusual side effect though. Makes it harder to market that way."

"What kind of side effect?" She squinted at him.

"Well, I'll just say not to be alarmed if your skin turns bright pink and gets insanely itchy in the next couple of days."

"Abel!! What the hells did you do?"

"It'll fade! I promise!"

[liminal-storage]

Interlude-Betrayal

Prompt: Butte

Characters: Kuni, Mochi the cat.

Content Warnings: None.

I have known betrayal on many occasions in my lifetime. I have seen comrades turn against me, attacking me with sharp blades for the sake of a bite to eat or the touch of a gentle hand. There have been incidents where I have incurred bites from particularly unhinged acquaintances. I have been insulted, spit at, and forcibly removed from the safety and warmth of my resting places.

I have endured every offense and grown to become a powerhouse within my field, a skilled agent with a most delightful servant.

But this betrayal, ohhh it hurts the worst.

Never in all my years would I imagine that someone I considered my best friend, someone I have given all of my trust and even, dare I say it...love, would backstab me in such a heinous manner. I have survived the barbs and insults and the assaults on my person, but I have never in my life been tortured at the hands of a loved one.

The water is cold as it runs down my face, drips between my ears, soaks the space between my shoulder blades. Again and again does it trickle over me. Is this the torment they call waterboarding? When will it end? I withstood one round only for my former servant to turn around and cover my body with some strange sudsy compound which must surely be corrosive acid. And now I brace myself for another round. I will never forget this betrayal. The indignity. The death of my trust...Though this hill--nay,--this butte, this mountain may seem insurmountable, I must endure. I will have my revenge when she least suspects it.

"Oh, stop hissing at me like that. Do you have to yowl so loud? The neighbors are going to think I'm murdering you in here. I'm sorry, but a bath is the only option. You're the one who got all sticky. Do I even want to know what all this crap is? Naughty cat."

[liminal-storage]

Without taking new screenshots, post photos of your OCs as...

Romanceable NPC

Quest Giver NPC

Final Boss

Stole this from @hiraethwyl.

[liminal-storage]

—𝒃𝒂𝒔𝒊𝒄𝒔 Name: Kuni Muinvel Nicknames: Wildcat, Bosslady, Shadowborn Age: 33 Nameday: 19th Sun of the 6th Umbral Moon Race: Keeper of the Moon Miqo'te Gender: Cis female Orientation: Pansexual Profession: Investigator, Folklorist, serves as a frontliner, stick-it-with-the-pointy-end type for Priarch Enterprises. —𝒑𝒉𝒚𝒔𝒊𝒄𝒂𝒍 𝒂𝒔𝒑𝒆𝒄𝒕𝒔 Hair: Variable, usually white. Eyes: Variable, either blue or red (utilizes glamouring magics depending on her whim) Skin: Pale. Pinkish undertones, overall warm complexion. Tattoos/scars: Clan marks on her cheeks, forehead, arms, legs, and hips, along with asymmetrical blue-ink tattoos on her right arm and left leg. Small scars on her fingers, and a larger scar on her left palm. —𝒇𝒂𝒎𝒊𝒍𝒚 Parents: Tolidir and Edelia Siblings: Lyrin'a Muinvel (brother), Shayl (brother) Grandparents: Unknown In-laws and Other: N/A Pets: Mochi, a white cat with a sooty tail tip. —𝒔𝒌𝒊𝒍𝒍𝒔 Abilities: A dirty fighter when it comes to melee; uses her environment and weapons to her advantage and doesn't play fair. Utilizes blood-based magic to conjure various plants such as vines, thorns, and mossy creatures. This magic has given life and sentience to a number of small creatures that take the form of mossballs. Her magic is ever changing as she discovers more about it and herself, and how it works. She's also very observant and sharp-eyed, able to pick out and piece together important details related to her work. Kuni has quite a creative mind as well, her ability to spin tales feeding into her lifelong love of the study of folklore, as well as serving her well when it comes to writing up articles for her kitschy supernatural tabloid. —𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒊𝒕𝒔 Most Positive Trait: Adaptable, self-reliant. Most Negative Trait: Lacks confidence. Underestimates own worth. —𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆𝒔 Colors: Black, green, purple, most jewel-toned colors, silver Smells: Petrichor, coffee, resinous incense, the ocean, ink on paper Textures: Leather, lace, clean cotton Drinks: Coffee, umeshu, fun mixed drinks —𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒅𝒆𝒕𝒂𝒊𝒍𝒔 Smokes: Rarely Drinks: Occasionally, rarely to excess anymore. Drugs: Sometimes, uncommonly. Mount Issuance: Wallflower, a former racing chocobo. Been Arrested: They'd have to catch her first.

Tagged by: @houserosaire Tagging: I think the usual suspects have already been tagged. This has been sitting in my drafts for ages and I'm so sorry it took me forever to get to it.

[liminal-storage]

Light on the feet, and loose in the mouth

[liminal-storage]

Folktale

Prompt: Two Heads Are Better Than One

Characters: Kuni Muinvel

Warnings: Mentions of gore

It starts with an offhanded remark, a scrap of a folktale broken down over time. Of course it captures the folklorist's attention within the span of a breath.

The tale comes from the mouth of a drunkard, but she listens all the same. He tells of a mutilated, skinless creature which fell from the cleft of a tree. As the story goes, the creature devoured a traveler and then, still ravenous, made its way to a settlement where half the populace fled before it could find itself another meal. From then on, it stole the skin of some poor victim to better hide itself, and went on to terrorize camps in the Fringes. As far as tales of cryptids go, it's very standard faire.

Of course, like all folktales, it has its variations.

The next time she hears about it is in the Bobbing Cork, in the form of a spooky story to herald the arrival of All Saint's Wake season. In this version, the creature opened up some sort of tear in the tree's cleft. Things keep coming through, they say. Year after year, creatures bleed into this realm from some other unseen place only to leave again once they've had their fill of terrifying revelry. A curious detail, that. It doesn't sound quite like a voidsent, or else she suspects the story wouldn't be used as a novelty.

The tale's third variation convinces her the story is real.

Her path takes her back to The Fringes, where a sleepy guard tells her about a series of strange happenings on his patrol route. She learns of an old house deep in the woods, its planks overgrown and rotten. It's not far from the old tree with its cleft, where years ago some others on patrol found something strange half-buried in the mud. The way it was described made it sound like the trappings of a cocoon, torn asunder and left behind.

Things only become stranger when, within the span of two sennights, numerous reports of missing persons reach her desk. Courtesy of the guard she'd spoken to, those reports appear to be a mix of new and old.

One is an incident. Two a coincidence. Three shows a pattern. And four? Well, four can no longer be ignored.

Perhaps, in this venture, she'll discover the origin of this little folktale.

[liminal-storage]

Interlude: Soul and Sinew

Prompt: Reticent

Characters: Kuni Muinvel, with mentions of Spider and Haze.

Content Warnings: None.

Water trickles off of stone, dribbling onto lush pads of moss below. The rich scent of earth wafts up from the floor, mingling with the pleasant, fresh perfume of thriving green. Somewhere through gently winding corridors held up by living woodwork, the Shadow-Born rests.

Fingers stretch over velvety covers and trace light little furrows into the rich material, flexing lazily like a cat's twitching paw. A pair of sharp, vibrant blue eyes trace over the dappled rays of light falling in through a vine-choked skylight.

She marvels in these wild little things, in the tiny moss patches growing up the parts of the walls where stone meets water, pumped in and out of the house through means even she does not understand. She sits in wonder at how living trees have grown up into the space to form sturdy pillars and beams resplendent in emerald leaves. She preens with pride for the harmony of wood and stone and green that has woven itself into a haven fed by the magic thrumming through her veins.

All she had done was thread a little of her magic in. She had not expected it to run rampant the way it did, but upon her return from Priarch's latest venture to Doma, she found everything about the carefully well-kempt home she knew to be different. It felt like ruin at first. But like so many other situations, she had learned to adapt, coaxing the soul and sinew of the place to bend and twist to suit her needs.

It's a bit dark and messy and wild, but she made this. She, Kuni, Naithura, Shadow-Born, spun this into being. She can feel the very essence of her magic, of her blood and her birthright flowing through this little piece of paradise. She'll lose hours, days, weeks here if she lets herself get lost in the languid tranquility it offers. Such is the danger of a space fed so thoroughly by the Threshold's magic.

She wonders what Haze and Spider will think of it, should they return from their necessary hideaway.

When they return, she reminds herself.

Much like how the twisting branches and solid stone hide her deepest secrets in a protective sanctuary, her own thoughts and silence hide her truest feelings from being spoken aloud.

She can change the way she looks all she wants. She can weave a cozy hovel teeming with all the magic she desires. But she has never been good at accepting certain truths about herself.

The truth in this case being that she misses them both. The house doesn't feel complete without having them there. Even if her lips won't form the shapes to say it, her magic already did. It's hard to ignore how comfortable the place might be for a Duskwight raised in the depths of Gelmorra. How the dim light and the smell of damp earth might seem appealing to a denizen of darker places. Their presence carved itself into the very shape of her home without her explicit thought, even if she isn't ready to admit it.

It isn't supposed to be like this. She told herself she would stop caring a long time ago, tells herself it's better not to grow attached. It's too late now. They've been firmly burrowed into her thoughts for moons now.

With a sigh, she slowly rises from the bed and gives a long, satisfying stretch.

It's about time she calls them home.

[liminal-storage]

A collection of recent screenshots.

[liminal-storage]

#3: Quiver (Free Choice)

Prompt: Free Write 

Characters: Kuni Content Warning: None Notes: Kuni, a late night, and a strange little cavern room in Priarch's basement. Vague mentions of characters belonging to @thedarknesssings.

-----------------

It never failed.

Every encounter with Helios or Urien set her blood to boiling, her limbs to restless wandering. Pent up anger and violent urges, and all the words she'd had to bite back put a sense of tension into every one of her movements.

Even hours after they'd gone, and with the buzz of alcohol skipping through her veins, she found herself clenching her teeth in anger and she knew she needed to go for a walk. It was the only real outlet she had for such energy at the moment, and getting away from the bar seemed like a good idea.

Why her steps then carried her deeper into the halls of Priarch, rather than out, she would never truly know. Maybe her words to Lyrin'a about hidden nooks and crannies had instilled some vague curious hunger, and curiosity was certainly better than anger at the moment. Regardless, it seemed that some exploration was in order, if only to cool her head.

There were certain doors she would not open, hallways where venturing was completely out of the question. The oubliette, Spider's sanctum, and Celestin's wing of the infirmary were places you didn't simply go without an invitation (or at least without a hell of an excuse to back you up). And so she had to venture even deeper, into lower levels and darker halls.

Dark enough that she vaguely wondered whether those paths had always been there or not, or if her half-drunk mind was playing tricks on her. Dark enough that only her keen night vision allowed her to see a way forward at all.

When at last she came to a stop, the smell of damp stone surrounded her. Kuni found herself having to blink and come back to herself, for she could not remember what turns she'd taken to get here, or how deeply she must've descended. Gathering a deep breath, the woman reached out to lay a palm flat against the nearest wall. Not just the scent of stone...it was stone, the natural curve of some underground cavern meeting the warmth of her skin.

Strange.

She let her fingertips trace over the cool surface, along dips and bumps and one small crack until they met the edge of some sort of seam. She blinked some more, squinted and focused on the spot where her fingers came to rest. The surface felt different. Smoother, slightly warmer. Polished, almost. Wood?

There was a door here.

Caution and apprehension rose up, clashed violently against curiosity and intrigue. She ought to turn back, forget her find. Crawl into bed at home and declare this one of those things better left alone. It'd be easier. Safer. Probably more advisable than what she was about to do. Who knew what waited behind that door?

Carefully, her fingers found the knob and gave it a tentative turn. Met with no resistance, she followed the inward swing of the door.

Red eyes squinted against a sudden burst of light. It wasn't exactly bright, but it was unexpected enough to have her vision momentarily blurring. She could tell immediately where the light came from, oddly enough. Hot wax and the whooshing whisper of countless tiny flames told her it was nothing more than candlelight.

One eye peeled open, then the other, and sure enough her sight was met by the warm glow of dozens upon dozens of candles. Their light outlined dark pews, dark stone, and the shape of what appeared to be an altar.

Thin shafts of light filtered down from above, struggling to squeeze through the gaps between lush green vines dangling through a crevice. Beyond the faintly illuminated pews, the darkness seemed to swallow all other light. Hungry. Yawning. Oppressive. It was not just a room, but a larger cavern, the air cold yet thick.

No iconography decorated the space. Aside from what seemed to be an offering bowl upon the altar, she couldn't see any other ceremonial tools. But only a fool would miss the thin stream trickling down through the crevice to pool in a stony basin of fathomless, dark water. No iconography, but she remembered well the talk of black water.

This place must be for the Secariots, then. Or for the strange shadows residing within them, along with any followers of theirs.

Aside from the gentle rush of water and the candles' soft whispers, all was quiet. Not a soul moved within the space, or at least none that she could sense. But then, who had lit the rows upon rows of candles? The thought sent a brief shiver down her spine, not at all helped by the shadows which seemed to stretch out towards her like reaching fingers. Was someone preparing for a sermon here in the burgeoning dark?

She should probably leave, didn't want to be seen as defiling the space simply due to her curious presence. But it was quiet here. So strangely peaceful in spite of the faint chill of unease. Something about the cool air flowing against the walls quieted the rage in her head. Something in the pattern of the flickering firelights calmed her heartbeat. Here, so deep below the main building, so far away from the sights of the bar and the harsh lights and the lingering sickening feeling the night had left her with, there came a soothing ease. The same sort of ease that came with lying in a cold, dark room to remedy a splitting migraine.

It was enough to coax her forward to kneel by the water's edge and lay her forehead against the cool stone. She wouldn't think too hard about what was worshipped here, or the possibility of other souls arriving. She liked the way this cavern quieted her rampant thoughts.

All she really wanted was a moment; a few more breaths of peace before something inevitably came to interrupt it. And if the stewards of the space decided that was a sin?

Well, she'd just have to pay penance, she supposed.

[liminal-storage]

#10: Root (Free Write)

Prompt: Free Write Characters: Kuni, mentions of Spider and a few others in Priarch. Note: Huge thank you to @zoetic-tome for giving me a word prompt to get me started.

--------------------

Bare hands spread out, fingers splayed, palms pressed to cold soil. She can feel each grain of the soft, loamy earth and at the moment, that's one of the only thoughts in her mind. Fingers flex and she can feel the roots of some tender young plant tear as they're plucked from the ground.

The earth smells a little damp, its perfume rich and exhilarating. Thick, dark clouds loom overhead and a few small drops scatter onto the soil around her, but she doesn't move. Those few small drops soon shift into a downpour and the more distant trees blur into smoky silhouettes. The silence around her cracks with a roar of thunder, and the wind howls as a storm dumps onto her head.

Now she's wet and a bit muddy, as well as a little cold, but it's still not enough to haul her away from her little ritual. Her fingers curl, seeking those delicate torn roots. She inhales, thirsty for the petrichor fading into the cold scent of the storm. It takes everything in her to focus on getting the roots to elongate and grow, to coax them back into their previous position anchored in the earth. She has not fed her blood to the magic this time, curious if it can be done without.

If it can, so many things will change.

But that's reliant on a big "if." If the magic works, if this anything more than a waste of time on the mud, if she can gather her wandering thoughts to do the task in the first place.

If she can stop thinking about webs and ceilings and misplaced anger. If she can stop thinking of a resentment that has grown up into hatred and poisoned everything it ever touched, spreading like rot. If she can quell her worry about Talan and Idristan and everyone else who'd been touched by that rot. Chaos and tangled thoughts are to be expected after a night like that, she thinks. But she came here to practice and meditate in her own way. These distractions aren't helpful. Worries and concerns won't serve her workings.

Neither will thoughts of the taste of whiskey on Spider's lips, or thoughts of the delicate dance of fingers over her throat.

Had it been anywhere else, with almost any other audience, and under any other circumstances, she'd have parted her lips for a deeper taste, opened up to drink in everything; from the taste of salt and skin to the pain still so obviously rolling off of Spider Secariot. Though that kiss had taken her by surprise, it strummed over her nerves all the same. Alluring and ill-timed, sweet as a perfectly ripe apple infused with narcotic venom.

She's always been a proponent of time and place, though (much to her chagrin), and Priarch's bar right after a meeting probably isn't it. There's the morality of it to consider too. She's been right where Spider is now. Hells, a lot of them have. She knows self destructive when she sees it, can still hear echoes of its siren-call at times.

And none of this is what she came here to think about.

Thunder shakes the tree she's propped herself against and she can feel it rattle her teeth as well as rattling some sense back into her. She chalks her experiment up as a failure, frustrated with her turn of thought. She's never been good at meditation anyway.

Kuni moves to stand and finds that thin, white roots have woven themselves over her legs, tangled tight as the contents of a neglected sewing kit. A tug and she tears free from her own overgrown workings, brushes some dirt from her backside, and starts down the sodden pathway through the trees.

[liminal-storage]

#8: Glass Dust (Shed)

Prompt: Shed  Characters: Kuni Content Warning: Very minor mentions of blood.

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Thin slivers of glass glimmered like stars upon the floor. There had to be thousands of them, scattered all the way from where the flower vase had slipped out of her hands to spots underneath the bar. Kuni found herself feeling thankful for her abode's lack of carpeting, save for a few rugs in spaces here and there. Cleaning glass fragments out of carpet would be a nightmare, and she already had plenty of those.

Sweeping everything thoroughly away took a while, but even with as thorough as she was, she wouldn't be at all surprised if she found glass dust somewhere later on. That shit persisted like glitter. And like her tendency towards picking up problems.

A bare foot came down on a stealthy, missed shard and she hissed in pain. A few minutes of awkward hobbling and propping herself against the wall later, and she got an eye on her now-pierced heel. Fingers grasped the offending object and pulled, a few drops of blood shedding upon the floorboards.

If only her current problem could be shed so easily, she thought. One good poke and then it'd pour out of its own accord.

If only, if only.

It'd been easy enough to play off, keep under wraps, keep under a tentative sort of control so far. Perhaps she should be grateful to Actaeon for his own time in her head, as she couldn't imagine handling her current situation so well were it not for the previous experience. But then she scoffed.

Grateful?

No. She could never be grateful to any entity or person who only wanted to use her.

Besides, she wouldn't be able to keep this semblance of control over it forever. Already, there were nights she could feel what it felt. There was a hunger to it, something she'd known all too well a few times in her life. That gnawing, empty ache of starvation that came from long periods without regular meals when times were more slim. It was a constant with this entity, a threat to gorge itself on everything it could manage to get its hands, her hands on if she slipped up.

Beneath the hunger there dwelled a strange sense of yearning, searching, as though the entity was merely waiting to arrive somewhere. A passenger hitchhiking within an unwilling carriage. Kuni wasn't sure she wanted to see what its destination was.

As it was, she was going to have to stop putting off asking for help, even though Priarch and her friends already had a myriad of problems. Then again, when didn't they? If she waited for the table to be completely clear of issues so she could present her own, she'd be waiting a long time indeed.

If only she could bleed it all out.