#ain't the lady to mess with. ( visage )

[cxnscience]

"Don't wanna make you worry. That's somethin' worth fixing," he points out. The last thing Jiminy wants to be is a problem, a cause for concern - more so than he already is, at least. But that sort of philosophy it does take its toll. Spending so much time fretting about how you can improve yourself. It leaves you feeling - well, inadequate. That's nothing new for Jiminy, but this sort of thing, all of this... it's never been a matter of real consideration before. When it's a tangible possibility, he can't help but to worry about how he could be better. How he could become at least a passable option. He hums thoughtfully after a moment and continues.

"Biggest thing, actually. I mean, know the other fella," the human him, wherever that visage was pulled from - he still doesn't really get how the magic works and no amount of the Lady explaining is likely to change that, "know he's... well, sure, he's handsomer. I don't think anybody can argue about that one. But that don't bother me so much as addin' stress into somethin' that ain't supposed to be stressful in the first place. Ain't no point to it if you're not gonna be happy."

And maybe that's just something that will always follow him, no matter what he does. The notion that things would be easier if he was anybody else. But for someone to seemingly think the hassle is worth it anyways, perhaps even enough to not want to bother fixing it, supersedes the worry even for just a moment.

Forget 'em. He makes it sound so easy and when he's that convinced about it, Jiminy believes it, too. It's very different, feeling like you're worth it without having to change. He imagines this is what being somebody's first choice feels like. He's not sure he's even been a second choice before.

"But, uh... nobody's ever really - guess I never had much reason to think of it any other kinda way before." He coughs. It's hard to articulate his thoughts on the matter when they've previously been so straightforward for all of his life. Having to take a different perspective into account leaves him with a tangled mess. "Know I'm real good at bein' a problem but I... wouldn't wanna, not for this. Nice not feelin' like an issue, I mean. Least not a dealbreaking kinda one," he offers a teasing smile that grows marginally wider as he waves a hand with a faux sort of dismissiveness.

"Course it's all only theoretical! What with privacy bein' a factor, it ain't ever gonna happen!"

Oh... Oh. "There ain't nothin' to fix!" Well, not yet. He's not exactly ruling that out, given the nature of the conversation. "Magic's been henty fine- uh, plenty kind to yer looks, but it..." He stops himself and taps his fingers together as he's trying to slowly gather his thoughts. They're trying to run away and he'll get them all together eventually, but he can at least try to sputter out what he does have. "Ain't 'bout how good yer lookin'. Kinda more worry 'bout takin' yer arm off, be, uh, frank 'bout it. S'bout the only thin' I scurry, uh, worry 'bout. Otherwise..." Otherwise you would have convinced yourself you're as equally undesirable at this age, wouldn't you? What a pair.

He visibly swats at the air in front of his face, trying to disperse the thoughts. He's not winning any beauty contests but he could be a little more proud of himself. Four hundred years with a little loose change and he doesn't look a day past two hundred and fifty. He could be kinder to himself. "Jim... Ain't need tetter- uh, fetter- Ain't need any improvement. Anybody ain't able to accept you like this... Fergit 'em. What's gonna happen when yer tall, anyway? Am I gotta be too short? When's it end?" His voice lifted upwards playfully as an eyebrow raised. "Think we're jus' fine. Sure, it'll take some figurin' out, but uh... I'd, uh...erm. I'd love to." He winces. Whatever he's heard, it's probably something familiar. "...Where we can have privacy."

[babywlson]

KIT’S INFINITE EDITS!

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[wlsonsaraharchive]

we don’t have to be related to relate. we don’t need to share genes or a surname. you are, you are. my chosen, chosen family. so what if we don’t look the same? we been going through the same thing.

mutuals may reblog. personals, do not interact.

[babywlson]

KIT’S INFINITE E*ITS!

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[wanderingwolfwitcher]

"Probably don't have much normal contact with folks, if you ain't heard of us. Witchers are humans mutated by sorcery and science at various schools. Trained professional monster hunters, occult detectives, guildsmen, swordsmen and exorcists, all in one. As our medallions denote, I am of the School of the Wolf. That's roughly the short version about us. Would probably be here all evening explaining the longer version, and how we come to be. Sooner not turn this evening into a dour one."

The Witcher's deep, calm voice returned to the tiefling with a grim chuckle under his breath, viper eyes continuing to study her carefully and closely from where he sat by the fire. He half expected the red being to bolt, take off or attack him instead of accepting his invitation, as it was with most folk encountering his kind, but the statuesque, horned and tailed woman surprised him instead by taking the seat he had indicated, and lowering her weapon. It seemed that the Path still had some welcome surprises in store for him after all. It was just as well, he wasn't particularly in the mood for a fight so soon after his meditating, and during a good meal and drink. After finishing with dishing up his own bowl, he reached nearby for a spare empty bowl, silently passing it and a spoon over to her, for the cooking stewing pot dangling over the fire. Before eating a spoonful of his own meal to demonstrate it had not been not poisoned. Wanting to reassure her. Doubtless from the weapon and caution she had her fair share of enemies.

In the process of passing the bowl and spoon, he sensed that she was warm, radiating heat in the frigid air, not entirely unlike a furnace. Interesting. Helpful too likely, in these cold, raining evenings of the approaching winter. And then there were the unnatural, artificial sounds his enhanced senses picked up within her chest, instead of a normal heart. An intriguing mystery woman... solving mysteries was part of his business, though he was in no particular hurry. The company alone that evening was already welcome. Where the food was concerned, she didn't strike him as a picky sort, few were, when hunger arrived... and from her build she likely had an appetite to rival his own. He glanced at her impressive axe, the blades greater than his dwarven one's, and then back to her own pair of glowing yellow eyes. At Karlach's introduction, Eskel lowered his cloak's hood, revealing his mutilated features entirely, and returned one in kind with a polite smile her way on his visage, low tone explaining his presence a bit further languidly.

"Can call me Eskel, or Witcher. Either one is as much me as the other. Pleasure to meet you. By all means, have some supper. Always make too much, with my appetite, and leftovers are handy. Don't worry, coat my weapons with poison, not my meals. I'm here on a contract, a hunt, for a giant insectoid monster called an Idr, created and set loose by a mad mage and scientist named Idarran of Ulivo. Rake in no shortage of gold, cleaning up his messes. And what brings a lovely lady like yourself all the way out here, Karlach?

@ruinedbycatastrophe

Eskel silently emerged from his meditation at last, enhanced senses having heard the being from far off, mutilated visage looked to the tall, horned, muscled red figure that emerged through the woods and burst in on his camp that rainy evening. Scorpion wasn't spooked by her sudden arrival, the Kaedweni war horse merely snorting and continuing to graze about the perimeter camp. Viper eyes sized the unusual yet attractive being up along with her sword, though he did not reach for either his steel of silver swords across his back, nor arose from his place by the camp fire. Instead, at her threat aloud and risen weapon, the mutant merely took the time to lean forward and dish up one of his bowls from the stewing pot over the fire. Gesturing a gloved hand her way, and to the spot across from him by the fire. The Witcher's deep, calm voice returning to her without missing a beat, scarred features smiling faintly with a nod.

"Ain't a soldier, Tiefling. I'm a Witcher. Not carrying a contract for you either, so got nothing to worry about from me. Don't run into your sort every day on the Path, but then I've seen stranger folk. Sheath your sword. Come take a seat, having dinner, plenty of Blue Mountain Stew to share. Look like you've been running awhile. Who might you be?"

@ruinedbycatastrophe

[wlsonsaraharchive]

life was a willow and it bent right to your wind. head on the pillow, i could feel you sneaking in. as if you were a mythical thing. like you were a trophy or a champion ring. and there was one prize i’d cheat to win. the more that you say the less i know. wherever you stray, i follow. i’m begging for you to take my hand. wreck my plans, that’s my man. you know that my train could take you home. anywhere else is hollow. i’m begging for you to take my hand. wreck my plans, that’s my man.

mutuals may reblog. personals, do not interact.

[babywlson]

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[babywlson]

tags drop!