#adrian 01

[freydis-freydat]

who: @adrianvoll where: the ship's keep when: early in captivity notes: let me know if you need any changes!

There had been an intentional effort to compile a list of familiar faces within the hold on Freydis’ part. Each time someone entered or exited, each time she was pushed from one chamber to another, or each time another shackled by an a’dam passed before her. It was as important to know who was a prisoner of this shared circumstance as it was to understand what they were all up against. Each face she recognized left her awash with regret and trepidation. The same could be said of Adrian when she pressed her back to the rough wall before him and slowly sank to the floor to sit beside him. He had been a companion to her on the half-year-long endeavor in the Astral Library and the past. Each had spent much of their time in their own way, on separate paths, but he had proven himself a favorable ally to have, she simply wished there wasn’t such a deep need for such alliances. “We really have to stop meeting like this,” she said of their second round of shared captivity, but her voice was grim and devoid of any humor. 

[shadowchild]

with: adrian. [ @trackandcapture ] where: the forest.  notes: if you need me to change anything, let me know! first encounters, woo. 

the woods were different at night. quieter, but not silent. a kind of hush that had a breath and pulse beneath it—like something was sleeping just beneath the roots. it reminds him of the woods back home. just like there, he moved through the underbrush without hurry, each step deliberate. where once he would need lantern light, the soft glow of amber, his eyes seem to adjust to the darkness. the shadows cast by the trees seem like friends in the darkness, familiar to him in a way that makes this feel like home. 

he saw the figure in the distance, crouched down, half-shadowed and all focus. from here, he can't tell if the figure is observing in reverence or something else. he takes his time approaching, not wanting to interrupt the moment, not wanting to intrude. he didn't announce himself with words, but in the way quiet people often do: by being impossible to ignore. 

he stops against a silver birch tree, his palm raising to rest against it, like an old friend. he lifts his eyes toward adrian—dark, curious, catching in moonlight that falls between the branches like spilled milk. “i won't stay long if you send me away.” a pause, as soft as moss. “but some thing's are quieter when shared.” 

[vuldak-juneau]

@adrianvoll Location: Hrimthur’s Outpost  Time: The day preceding the full moon Notes: Crunchin’ bones might not be all it’s cracked up to be

The worst of her fears had been assuaged for now; she had successfully survived her first shift and found some unfortunate to consume in whole from outside the haven of the outpost. However, new fears surfaced as she continued cultivating her understanding of exactly what she was now and what was required to sustain her. A few weeks ago, she had almost embraced her new form of being, and she would continue to pretend outwardly that this infernal shape that would hold her for the rest of her unnatural life was something she welcomed. The more she learned, the less this was so, but she did what she could to keep this to herself, internalizing it and allowing it to swirl in her private whirlpool of resentment and anger and regret--but not to allow it to make her vulnerable. 

But that was how she felt right now–vulnerable. And raw. And untethered. The first time she had shifted into her werewolf form was deeply frightening and unpleasant. Compared to the sensory overload and vice-grip the first shift into her vuldak form had over here even after it as said and done, all prior shifts into a werewolf were mere child’s play. The moon had sunk below the horizon line and the sun had risen to take its place hours ago, but still, Juneau felt deeply misplaced from her human form. Her hands still shook from the sheer stimulation of it all and the short bursts of memories of what had occurred in her vuldak form the night before playing out like macabre stagecraft before her in a way she couldn’t make any narrative sense of. She felt outside of her body–beside, above, watching–but not back in it and she agonized over the fear that this was what she would feel like for the rest of her days. 

Kettle would come to look for her soon, she thought to herself. He wasn’t a fool, even if he demonstrated he was willing to suffer one when he made an alliance with her. He would know what she was–perhaps not a vuldak exactly, but he hadn’t needed to ask questions when she told him not to expect her at the decrepit little home he allowed her and Adrian to sleep within. He’d only given her a slight sidelong glance and let the matter go without any fanfare or prying into her business. Then she remembered it was light out, early in the day, and there would be little to no chance he’d risk the discomfort of the sun to come to collect her when he had little to no reason to suspect she’d be out cowering at the edge of the woods licking the wounds of her misfortune. 

Juneau pulled her knees close to her chest and rested her chin on her knee. It was fully within her power to simply get up and walk back into the populated area of the crumbling village, but for some reason her anxiety and overwhelm from what had happened just the night before weighted her down to the small rock outcrop she sat on like an anchor. So wrapped within her own ruminations and feelings so outside of herself she left her situational awareness by the wayside. Normally, she might have heard Adrian’s approach.

[dirtyxpawx]

hughie’s brow rose in a half-huh, half-appreciative gesture as he followed the other’s finger to the walls. “damn, guess our love for animals is, uh, a blood thing. well, less love and more respect for me. worked as a hunter all over australia.” he laughed and held up the underside of his left arm to showcase an expanse of knotted flesh, old scars - battle wounds. or rather, bite marks. 

“ya miss it? being a normal bloke? working a somewhat normal fuckin’ job?”

adrian grunted low at the title. baby brother. he wasn't sure which part of that had rubbed his figurative fur in the wrong direction, and was even less sure if he wanted to examine it in detail. not that he ever did want to look too deeply at anything. "a wildlife photographer." he answered while pointing at a few of the new additions to the walls. it was his own work, some of his favorites. "being around them has always been a part of me, I guess."

[billie-brogan]

"Pushpushpushpushpush-- yes! Nice, Adrian. Smashed another PB." That's gym lingo for personal best! Handing Adrian his water bottle, she scratches a note in his record to mark his progress. "Take five before the next circuit. How you feelin'? Hammies burning yet?" She likes Adrian. A lot of those in sector 1 have a lot of bravado but they're sloppy. Adrian knows when to shut up and listen. He takes his training seriously, and that makes him a pleasure to have in class, as it were. Billie's measure of any man is how much of a dick they are about leg day, and Adrian is never a dick about it.

@buriedwithit (for Adrian, I specify in case the use of his name in the dialogue was not already a good hint.)

[kayames]

Person: @adrianvoll Location: Yeah it's a bonfire "So there I stood, one hand still cuffed to the bedpost and maid service knocking...." He continues, it's an older story about an encounter he'd had with another witch a couple of years ago. It's something he can tell on autopilot, keep his eyes peeled on those around him, glance to the large fire now and then, his fingers itching to do something with it. "The worst part is that he's started crying while looking for the keys." Drink in one hand, cigarette in the other, he's not entirely satisfied with the small group of people he's chatting with. Kay could tell a story to anyone and talk his way out of just about anything that he couldn't just light on fire, but finding good company while Araceli was out of town was a challenge. "I got the cuff off myself but now the maid was standing there in the doorway, he's crying, there's a half jar of peanut butter still open on the nightstand....If you'd all excuse me for a second." They're not all that far from the Tower, witches flocked to these kinds of things, which meant he got to keep an eye out for fresh meat. Fresh meat that happened to look like the biggest lost puppy he'd ever seen standing at the edge of things. "Are you lost or taking a break from beating away potential suitors with a stick?" He asks as he approaches because this guy might be pretty, his eyebrows were ridiculously intimidating.

[commanderofthegrey]

She unstoppered the bottle, careful not to let any of the blue liquid spill on her. Raw lyrium was dangerous to a mage. Even to an ordinary person it could cause madness. Lyrium smugglers from the dwarven lands sometimes grew sick and died, screaming at invisible torments. The shock of absorbing so much mana, however, could instantly kill a mage.

He watched anxiously as she poured the lyrium into a small brass bowl. As soon as it touched the metal it began to bubble, sending out a small burst of energy that sent a shiver through his skin. The demon watched with clinical fascination, almost trilling with delight as a cloud of blue vapor rose from the bowl.

Wynne closed her eyes, concentrating. She began to move her hands around the vapor, coaxing and teasing without ever touching it. It branched out like a growing vine, sending out tendrils toward Adrian. She held out her hands to welcome it, and the vapor slowly swirled around her.

Rhys held his hands out as well, focusing his mind on the music. It was getting louder now, a chorus of power that thrilled his soul. The vapor reacted as if alive, undulating toward him, curling around his body. Wherever it drew close to his skin, he felt a strange charge, like electricity. It set his hairs on edge.

Everything was drowned out by the music, that insistent sound that seemed to pull him out of his body. The blue vapor slowly wandered back toward Adrian, and when it connected with the tendrils of vapor in front of her, the circuit was complete. A ring of power now surrounded the demon and began to grow in intensity, to grow in urgency until it was all Rhys could bear.

It was too much. Too much. He shut his eyes, the music so overwhelming it felt as if he were about to vibrate out of existence. He violently shook his head, but it only grew worse.

I . . . can't . . . this is . . .

And then the Veil ripped open.

— Asunder, Chapter 10

say what i will about the writing of the first three da books, this description of the ritual to go into the fade rocks.

[ars-gratia-auden]

“Is that meant to shock me?” Auden asked, the corner of their nose curling slightly as they assessed his manner of dress. It smacked of lack of funds or lack of taste; Iskarans were wanting in both areas it seemed. Last Auden had heard, the queendom was saddled with bankrolling the refugees' pitiful existence. “What was your mother’s name? I’ll tell you if I’ve ever heard of her,” Auden responded tersely. Surely this man came from nothing and was looking for a handout. He must have thought Auden was some sort of rube coming into their shop and bold-face lying about some enviable pedigree. 

They barked out a laugh when Adrian explained his mother was nowhere to be found. “Well, isn’t it convenient that she isn’t here to support your claims. Your skills will have to speak for themselves.” Auden’s apprentice was away for the time being. They grabbed their leatherbound toolkit and tossed it in front of the table in front of Adrian. Auden wasn’t worried about the rough treatment of the tools, if any apprentice survived the proving ground of their tutelage, they were rewarded with the finest tools money could buy before being sent on their way. “You’ll have to convince me yourself. Make something. Any base material in my shop is available to you, Adrian.”

Auden waited for Adrian to begin his work before they spoke any further. “I am aware you are from Iskaldrik, a malady you’ll have to work twice as hard for me to overlook, witch or not,” Auden commented in a flip, unapologetic tone. They were running a business and building a legacy, not running a charity or vying for sainthood.   

His people skills were wretched simply because Adrian had never quite been given the chance of true socialization growing up; how often he chatted for hours upon hours with a red elk who couldn't technically talk back. Auden had been terse from the get but it seemed the more Adrian attempted to connect with them, the more any connection splintered; he may as well have been talking with his mother, go figure. Adrian had made all this chatter that he was to start fresh, abandon all the talents which hindered more than they helped, but here he was with the weight of Iskaldrik off his back, standing within a blacksmith's shop. The flame of the forge had been everything to him, a comfort, the embodiment of loss, sadness, and rage. Talents sharpened, much like the blades crafted, grueling hours situated before a forge that smelted metal and scorched flesh. What was once a hobby of great contention for Adrian, something he vied to leave behind, was now something he felt he could not live without; the last remnant of a life he no longer belonged to.

"At present, I barely have twenty-five gold pieces to my name," mainly a joke, though one Adrian already knew wouldn't deliver. "My mother was considered the greatest smith of her generation, which would explain a lot," about her attitude as a whole and when it came to the forge, "Everyone has their own opinion, but she's also no longer here to instate such title." He tried to breeze past it, but it was clear the witch stumbled over the reality of his own words, especially as Auden crossed their arms and seemed to measure Adrian up. Alfedene had taught him well, likely too well, but Adrian was a humble enough creature and was, regrettably, down selling himself in front of a master of the forge.

"Adrian Völl," he bowed his head somewhat apologetically, "The reason my reputation doesn't precede me is because I'm a witch from Iskaldrik." He doesn't need to put the heavy emphasis on his words, but Adrian does; resentment had long built up within him and it was hard to erase even as months stretched on since his mother was presumed good as dead; taken by the Aetherons.

[adrian-stamos]

I always believed I would have this but it’s another thing to dream it, another to live it. I just turned forty and I’m staring into the eyes of my child while her mother sleeps near me. Serafina is laying against my propped legs as we sit together in bed, Jean’s back resting against my thigh to make sure I stay close while she rests. I don’t mind. I’m perfectly content staying still.

Serafina is quiet, her small hand squeezing my finger for dear life as she tries to bring it to her mouth. I can’t help but chuckle quietly. I grab her pacifier which she immediately takes, closing her eyes as she suckles.

The white noise machine is playing. The house is peaceful as is my heart. Jean will have moments of anxiety. It amplifies if Serafina is out of sight. I know this is because of the trauma of losing a child. I help ease her worries without coddling her fears. Doing so will only make her anxiety worse. I wonder when it will lessen and I wonder when professional help will be needed, if at all.

I want her to enjoy motherhood with Serafina without fear, to be able to truly let go and live in the beautiful moments we’re creating. I hope we can accomplish this soon.

I’ll be traveling for work again in a month. I haven’t left either of them since Serafina was born and I worry if Jean will be truly okay alone without my help. I pray that everything will be okay because it will be. Right?

[saltcrowns]

closed for @trackandcapture location the stables

Adrian was still a stranger to Lochlan, the two had barely interacted but he seemed to be the other quiet guy from that initial group of demigods. It wasn't until they went on a quest together that the two of them finally started up a conversation and well, now Lochlan was curious if someone else could speak to the pegasi besides him and Skylar.

The two walked down the hill to the meadow where the Pegasi stables were found, easily the location Lochlan spent most of his free time at when he wasn't in his cabin. "I hope you can talk to them, they were excited when they discovered Skylar could understand them." he told Adrian who followed behind him as they entered.

"Mornin'," he told the Pegasi who all neighed in excitement to see Lochlan show up. "Before we do our morning flights, you guys have a guest." he said as he approached his Pegasi, Andromeda, and offered her an apple slice he had brought.

"Who did you bring, sugar?' Sirius, the rowdy one, asked farther down.

[jamieprice]

Person: @adrianvoll Location: Lil abandoned haus The village feels like it's hardly that. It is a grouping of sad little buildings that feel almost eerie to be moving in and out of. Felt a wee bit like they were desecrating a tomb, but it had to be done. So he'd cleared out a place, made a point to claim the cellar for himself, it's not much but it's something. He creeps out at night, tries to get some kind of news, ventures out into the wastes just a little as he tries to think of what's next. They're with the other refugees for now, he still thinks with Juneau, himself, and Adrian, they've got a better chance of surviving. "Ye know, the point of down here is that it's cold an' dark." He calls out as he hears the cellar door crack. It's evening, he's lounging in a sheet he's fashioned into a hammock and there seems to be a pause. "Unless yer trying tae offer breakfast in bed." It's cheeky because the smell of magic, coal, lingering metals, waft from the cracked door and he knows it's Adrian and not Juneau. That and he knew she wouldn't hesitate. Juneau didn't give much a damn about his privacy, the feral little thing.

[vuldak-juneau]

It was quieter on the docks now that the throngs of people had filed onto the many vessels that now dotted the expanse of azure waters stretching out so far the horizon line blended with the darkening sky. Earlier in the day, Juneau had watched as a handful of new ships were christened in Neptune’s name and it struck her as odd and wasteful when fizzing bottles of champagne were shattered against the sides of the ships. Something about good luck, she had overheard, They were partying in Neptune’s home, which seemed hospital enough for an uncaring god. Did they really need to trash his lawn, too? 

Juneau saw the Lysarans as frivolous people so far, as materialistic in the city of Eterna as they were unfriendly to the Iskarans. Iskaldrik had never felt like much of a home to her–she felt as if it housed her and she was housed within it against their collective wills and her hopes that the queen’s lands would be any better had been dashed in the matter of a few days. Its people seemed so trained in the art of recognizing outsiders and Juneau never slipped past their litmus tests. Under any other circumstance, she wouldn’t be caught dead in an area like Juno’s rest in the high holy days of Neptunalia, but something had compelled her to sign up for a “Mystery Sport” event. There was no indication she’d be any good at whatever this enigma of an event would be, but it was likely she’d take to whatever it was better than a gladiator match, diving, or chariot racing. Loose acquaintances and those she had formed unlikely bonds during the flight from the Aetherians had been consistent in asking her what she was going to do now that they were across the border–maybe this would help her figure it out. 

The thoughts of her forward trajectory consumed her as she walked along the boarded path that splintered off into docks every few yards. She was grateful for the sudden silence, save the lapping of the water against the coastline, and tried to ignore the careless discards at her feet. If she’d had something to collect all of the refuse in, that’s likely what she would have been doing. Instead, she trod along with only the competing priorities and pathways she saw laid out before her. The thieves guild was an attractive offer, but didn’t Alder find those who lived by a thieves' code worthy of finding death between the jaws of a vuldak? Jamie was a mercenary, and he’d likely teach her everything he knew if she only asked, and she could simply eat her marks–but she didn’t have the stomach for that sort of thing. There was also the Legion, but she felt her life had only been her own to do with what she would for the last several weeks. If she had centuries to burn, she would want to learn something just for the sake of enjoying it, but she couldn’t read or write. It all felt so utterly impossible, and no matter what she chose, she knew she’d likely let someone foolish enough to believe in her down. 

A voice pulled her from the thought, and in truth, she hadn’t even noticed the man at the edge of the port. A pile of rocks was arranged behind him, and it reminded her of the cairns she had made as she traveled the unforgiving peaks along the borderlands between the two nations, vital tools in navigating. Lifelines, really. After a moment, her eyes shifted to his face and she was surprised to be met with a grin as wide and warm as his invitation to join him. Truth be told, Juneau had chosen to dress for the occasion in a manner she had expected, and which had up until this point been proven, to make her appear offputting and unapproachable. It seemed he was immune to the intended effect. 

Juneau yielded to his request, perhaps only because she desired to pilfer through the rocks at his side and because she knew it would take little luck to best someone in such a contest. As she pushed the rocks that he had collected around to examine each of them, set one aside as her chosen skipping stone, and dropped two of the rounder, smoother black stones into the drawstring bag she carried around (she was certain these held nautiloid fossils inside of them), she matter-of-factly informed him, “No god of this world cares enough about the affairs of little people like us to spare the time it would take to grant anything but their wrath.” She sat a few feet to his left after she said this, although she preferred to skip her stone while standing for her best opportunity to send it hopping along the water's surface for the furthest distance possible. “But if you think you hold Neptune’s favor, let alone a second of his attention,” she continued, gesturing a thin, pale hand toward the expanse of water that spread out before them urging him to skip his rock first, “by all means.” 

starter for @vuldak-juneau.

where: the ports on juno's reach

when: during neptunalia, before she was emotionally bludgeoned in the event

note: we're meet cuteing

The docks on the port were still littered with the remnants of former festivities; the sailing competition had set off the day before, but it seemed now that everyone had ran to witness a show of strength for the evening. A few parties stationed on extravagant boats were seen farther off in the bay, but they were far enough on the coast that they could be barely heard where he sat calmly on the port.

A pile of rocks sat next to him, some found on the nearby shore and some dusted in glitters and paint; Lysaran's were certainly known for their attention to details, everything one could witness on the Isle was intentional. Footsteps resounded behind him, once sharp and quick easily fettered to something more agile and purposeful. Julian skipped a rock on the water, shades of turquoise and blue leapt from the glinting coast as he held a second rock up in the air before his head finally turned to view who'd stumbled to the port.

"Skip a rock?" The golden retriever smile is at its brightest, obviously, before Julian follows with a pestering chide of persuasion, "Let's see who's been granted Neptune's favor."

[jean-stamos]

Jean stirred in the comforts of their king-sized bed, eyes still closed and heavy with sleep.

It was the morning after her picnic date with her husband and daughter, and Jean had not slept soundly all night. But, just like every morning, she needn't open her eyes to know that another perfect day in paradise awaited her.

The warmth of the morning sun was streaming through their window, its rays pleasantly light on her skin. Their plush duvet, wrapped around her bare body, kept her snug and cosy. And if she were to keep really quiet, she could hear the distant waves crashing against the pebbly beach in the docks below. It was like waking up in a dream...

But even all that was nothing, nothing compared to waking up to her husband's perfect touch.

A smile graced her lips at the very thought.

In need of the warmth only Adrian could deliver, Jean reached for his hand, only to be struck by something odd: her waist was free of his usual strong embrace.

"Baby?" she murmured, half asleep.

Pushing herself up to sit against their headboard, Jean rubbed the sleep off her eyes in an attempt to clear this morning's confusion. But one look at the empty spot beside her was confirmation enough: Adrian was not there.

He must be with their daughter, she assured herself in an effort to stay calm. But even so, she had to check, just to see.

Throwing the duvet over, Jean got out of bed and reached for her silk robe. Wrapping it securely around her, she padded her way down the hall from the master bedroom, towards the nursery where she was sure she'd find her family.

But she didn't even need to step inside to know it was empty.

They must be having breakfast, she thought, as she made her way down the grand staircase. However, with each step downward, she grew more and more uneasy.

Jean's heart sank like iron when she found their kitchen as desolate as it was pristine. There was no sign of her husband or their daughter, or even the most minute indication that either of them had been there at all that morning.

Like a spark, every bit of calm she'd been trying to harbour was gone and she found herself frozen in panic. Despite not being able to move, her head raced with an onslaught of ideas, places, people and situations they could be in. With her heartbeat challenging to beat her mind's panicked pace, her eyes darted for her phone.

Shit! It was upstairs.

Tightening her robe, Jean ran as fast as she could back to their master bedroom, taking two steps at a time to get there. Once she had her phone in hand, she immediately dialled Adrian's number before once again scouring every room on the second floor.

No answer.

Jean tried again as she made her way down the stairs. Mid-step, she stopped. The familiar tone was ringing from his study.

"Adrian???" Jean called out as she rushed in that direction. "Baby, are you there??? Do you have Serafina???"

Again, there was no answer. Instead, she was met by the lone device ringing continuously atop his mahogany desk. But no sign of him or their daughter.

Standing in the middle of his study, Jean tried everything, and everyone. She could barely remember how many people she'd called by the time the room had started spinning.

"I don't want to lose you..." Her husband had said the night before when he finally expressed how he'd been feeling as of late. "I don't want to lose you... to you... But if you keep going like this, you're going to lose yourself to your anxiety, your paranoia, your fears to the point where I won't matter, and you won't hear me..."

The pain in his voice echoed louder now than it had the previous night when he'd spoken those words, the kind of pain that threatened to knock her off balance as the room spun faster and faster and faster...

"You wouldn't even notice if I was gone. That's how far gone you'd be..."

"I'm sorry!" Jean cried out to a ghost of a memory. "Baby, please... I'm so sorry!!! I'm here now, I'll do better! I promise! I promise, I'll do better..."

But her pleas were of no use. Her surroundings whizzed by her like an unending storm, blurring her vision, catching her breath until finally, all four walls had dissolved into one dizzying tornado plunging Jean right into unconsciousness.

"Jean???" Dazed and confused, Jean felt someone pick her up. "Jean. Jean!" A familiar warmth immediately encircled her frail frame, pulling her close. "Baby, wake up...."

"Adrian...?"

"Yes, baby, it's me... " Four words. Four simple words that breathed life back into her lungs. "Are you okay?" he asked, his deep-set voice laced with worry. "I was making us breakfast when I heard you scream. So, I took Sera and ran up here."

Sure enough, in his other arm, snug as ever, was their darling daughter. Reaching for her mother, the little babe wrapped her tiny fingers around Jean's thumb, cooing happily.

"I think you were having a nightmare," Adrian chimed in quietly, looking at his wife with great concern.

A nightmare. Was that all that was? It felt so incredibly real.

Silent, Jean conceded with a nod. Unable to meet his gaze quite yet, shame cursed through her body, rendering her too embarrassed to speak — of what it was she'd been dreaming about, screaming about, much less have the courage to divulge what it was that had been haunting her all night.

"It's going to be all right," Adrian reassured his wife like he'd always do, right to the gentlest kiss on her forehead. Pulling his girls closer to his sturdy chest, Adrian promised, "We're right here, baby, okay?"

It was those words that encouraged Jean to finally meet her husband's gaze.

Blinking back her tears, she pondered how could she be so lucky that this was her actual reality. From the day she met Adrian, up until now, she never truly believed she deserved him, and yet he shows up every single time she needed him. It was high time she returned the favour; to show him how much he means to her, how grateful she was for everything he does, and that she wouldn't just notice if he was gone, she'd die.

Determined to never let her nightmare come to light, Jean spoke at long last.

"I am, too," she murmured, her voice soft and sincere. Reaching out to delicately glide her fingertips across his cheek, she placed a tender kiss on his lips. "I'm right here, too, my darling..." she vowed with all her heart. "For whatever you need, whatever you both need, I'll be here, too."

[afshinxeldar]

closed starter for @adrianvoll location: eterna note: :fuckboi:

It had been quite some time since Eldar had seen the other man. Honestly, he never really had any intention of seeing people he had laid with once upon a time ever again. It was pretty easy for him to do such a thing. Afshin could take over and they would be none the wiser that he was around. It certainly helped with not having to think about how he had basically dined and dashed several times over. For lack of better phrasing of course. The only person that had ever really been worth his time was Thora and she barely liked to give him even a second of thought in that regard. As far as he was aware of course. But he had needs like everyone else. Was he supposed to just suffer in silence? Absolutely not. Adrian was just a means to an end really. Probably always would be, but he could still talk to the man. That was easy for Eldar to do even if he couldn't tell a lie. He knew his way around words though. "And here I thought you'd never be seen again. Found someone else to sell your shit to?"

[geekpopnews]

Senna | Minissérie de ficção inspirada na história de Ayrton Senna ganha teaser

O piloto mais rápido de todos os tempos! Confira o teaser da minissérie "Senna", que contará a história de vida do maior piloto brasileiro, Ayrton Senna. #Senna #AyrtonSenna #Netflix

A minissérie de ficção da Netflix, intitulada “Senna”, inspirada na história do piloto Ayrton Senna, acaba de ganhar teaser nesta terça-feira (30). O longa conta com Gabriel Leone dando vida ao maior piloto brasileiro, ao lado de Alice Wegmann e Kaya Scodelario. Ayrton Senna foi um piloto de Fórmula 1, considerado o piloto mais rápido de todos os tempos. Sendo assim, Ayrton é destaque quando se…

[dejatheeinnkeeper]

Person: @adrianvoll Location: Outside Dragon's Draught She was giving herself days off now, going into the city not just for supply runs but to just....Go. And that meant she made a list of things she wanted to do and people she needed to check up. It was easy to get into any of the other bars in Eterna, Dragon's Draught wasn't just a bar though, it was classy and so she looks to Adrian beside her as they step through the door, the crowd inside full of all of those that'd flocked to the city for Progress Day. "Adrian Elizabeth," He is pretty, but he's rugged in a way that feels really Iskaran to her, but it's endearing. Like he's a lost puppy with those big brown eyes. "we are going to celebrate a different type of progress. Self progression and sheer resilience in the face of danger." Amen.