#amatistafey

[accultant]

blood, sender cleans blood off of receiver.

actions speak louder than words

Iago stares at forward, at some point above Amatista's shoulder, unblinking, not daring to so much as glance anywhere else for fear of seeing just how horrific they look. They never get dirty in a fight. They make a point not to. They can't handle it. This time was different - they were caught off-guard, pinned to the floor, and thankfully saved by their brother promptly cleaving their attacker in half.

All well now, after the fight. They were hardly injured, they were safe, the job was very efficient all in all. But they were drenched in gore.

They sat still other than the tremor in their fingers while Amatista takes their hands. Normally, they could manage this on their own. It's not the first time they've ended up in more viscera than desired ( the Bhaalists used to delight in a game of locking them in the oubliette or dunking them in the bloodpools and seeing who could escape without being burned alive in the aftermath ). But it was a lot.

"Just- if you could just help me clean my hands, that's all, I can deal with the rest." They devolve into a ramble, too quiet for anyone but Amatista to hear it, "The hands, first, so I can actually clean the rest of it off without simply spreading it around, I always make sure to clean the hands first. I can feel it on my face but if I touch it now, I'll only make it worse. And I need my hands to wash my hair, it's in my hair, too, and my clothes, but I can take care of that if you just get it off my hands, please-"

[amatistafey-archive]

&&. PSA!

&&. Archiving this blog and moving it to a sideblog! @amatistafey ! It'll follow back from @silvertiefling !

[demonwebs]

i may be old, but i still know how to negotiate. ( From @amatistafey bcuz I'm too lazy to switch blogs on mobile :3 )

EVERYTHING EVERYWHERE ALL AT ONCE (2022) PROMPTS

❝ ... what ? no way ... you're like - a fetus , ❞ alright , so - he's not entirely sure why he'd assumed she was even younger than him . perhaps it was because he was happy to no longer be the 'baby' everywhere he went . perhaps it was just the lack of cynicism and desire to live that mislead him .

either way , color him shocked . ❝ but look at you ... you're pocked-sized , ❞ vhaal'krin lifts her off the ground unceremoniously by her under arms , letting her feet dangle off the ground . ❝ you're so cute i don't even wanna cut you open ... i just wanna take you back home and put you in a cute little collar . ❞

[lovepvnch]

“It’s so strange. I’ve never felt so peaceful, before.”

Howl's Moving Castle Sentence Starters

Tempest has to stay her hand when she giggles so the liner brush doesn't leave a stray streak if purple across Amatista's nose, "I had a feeling you'd like this, but I didn't expect such praise! I'm glad!"

She continues her work, one hand gentle holding her chin, ever so lightly tilting her face this way and that. The other holds the brush with a delicate and practiced hand, tracing careful lines over her cheek bones, across her forehead, swirling over her temples. "My father taught me everything about the practice of it. The meaning, I guess. He's much more eloquent than I, but essentially-" She paints a small flower in between a patch of freckles on Amatista's cheek. "It's a kind of meditation. You set aside the time to focus on yourself and the pretty colors decorating your face - paying attention to the deep breaths to stay steady, the shape of your own face, the colors that speak to you that day. And then again at night when you wash it off, sorting through all that happened in the day, letting it go with the paint. It's like a little check-in with your soul, yanno?"

She puts a matching flower on the other cheek. "My older sister, Indra, was the one that taught me all the technical technique. She let me practice on her as a kid, long before I was any good. She looked so silly with my messy scribbles on her face but wore them so proudly," a fond, homesick smile blooms on Tempest's face. "The designs are my own, though. I like to match them to how I'm feeling. Or to my outfits. You seem very purple-y."

Beaming, she trades out the brush for a small handheld mirror, holding it up for her companion. The lines she had painted swirl across her face like vines with small lilac blooms decorating her cheeks, crossing over her nose, accented by the outlines of small leaves and branches. Her sister taught her well, the lines are smooth with a downright artistic line weight to them, not too heavy nor covering up any of Amatista's natural features, but perfectly tracing and accenting the beauty already there. "What do you think, Tia?"

[bloodtwin]

@amatistafey ❝ Decapitation. ❞

[faebhaal]

❛ close your eyes and hold out your hands. ❜

@amatistafey

Ithaca raises a brow as she looks up at Amatista. Nevertheless the stick she was using to stoke the campfire is tossed aside. "Okay but...if it's a fish, I'm gonna throw it at you." The faerie says with a semi-teasing chuckle.

Vivid eyes are closed and petite hands are held out. It would be a lie to say she isn't a bit curious, if not excited, to see what the other fey could possibly have, especially since scrounging and scavenging for anything in the Shadowcursed Lands so far had proven fruitless.

"Ahhh, you're making me antsy!"

[nymfey]

@amatistafey ✵ closed starter.

The camp is still, draped in the early hush of evening.    Shadows stretch long and deep, but the light of the dying sun catches on something that draws Arwen’s eye—a glimmer of color where the earth should be bare.    Purple flowers, delicate and luminous, seem to bloom from the very ground itself, leaving a trail that weaves through the grass like a whisper of magic.    Arwen follows it without hesitation.    Her own footsteps are light, her bare toes brushing against leaves and twigs without a sound, as if the earth itself welcomes her.   

The trail leads her to Amatista’s tent, half-concealed by the low-hanging branches of a tree.    Soft violet petals scatter around the entrance like an invitation—or perhaps a warning.    She can’t help the way her lips curve into a gentle smile as she kneels down to touch one of the flowers, running her fingertips over its fragile petals.    They’re warm, alive, like they’re humming with the faint remnants of fey magic.    It’s a magic she knows well.    A magic she aches for.

Her gaze lifts, settling on the silhouette within the tent.    Arwen feels a pang of longing, an ache for the wild beauty of her homeland, for the language of flowers and moonlit groves.    The woman who leaves these blossoms in her wake is like a piece of that world, half-familiar and yet entirely mysterious.    She wants—no, needs—to know.

Arwen draws in a breath, holding it for a moment as she gathers the words that have been pressing at her all day.    When she speaks, her voice is low and warm, a murmur that feels as natural as the rustle of leaves.    The syllables of her native tongue roll off her lips, rich and lilting, carrying the resonance of her homeland.

❛ Bhfuil leat shi’feer? ❜

The question hangs in the air, a gentle invocation.    It’s a simple question—“Are you fey?”—but in those words, she pours her longing, her hope, her loneliness, and her wonder.    She doesn’t bother to soften the edges, doesn’t couch it in mortal politeness.    Among the fey, there is no need for pretense.    Only truth, raw and bright.

[amatistafey]

THIS IS A SIDEBLOG, FOLLOWS BACK FROM @silvertiefling

| HOME | BIO | RULES | VERSES | HEADCANONS. |

Penned by Ivy.

Purple Hyacinths: Purple hyacinths carry a message of deep regret and sorrow, asking for forgiveness. They're often given as a sign of longing or to express a sense of sorry. 

INDIE. MUTUALS ONLY 21+. PRIV. & SELECTIVE. BG3 OC / TAV RP FOR AMATISTA HYACINTH, ARCH FEY & RUNAWAY.

[accultant]

uwu

ARE YOU IAGO'S TYPE?

Does no one appreciate a bit of well-deserved revenge these days?

"...couldyoubraidmyhairagainsometime?"

[amatistafey-archive]

| HOME | BIO | RULES | VERSES | HEADCANONS. | Penned by Ivy.

Purple Hyacinths: Purple hyacinths carry a message of deep regret and sorrow, asking for forgiveness. They're often given as a sign of longing or to express a sense of sorry. 

INDIE. MUTUALS ONLY 21+. PRIVATE & SEMI-SELECTIVE. BG3 OC / TAV RP FOR AMATISTA HYACINTH, ARCH FEY & RUNAWAY.

[hellfirelord]

Gives him a shiny new fey thing to tinker with AND distract him so she can place a bunch of purple flowers in his hair/clothes!

Give my muse an item, see how they react.

Mephistopheles toyed with the trinket, unaware as she slipped purple flowers into his hair and robes.

"Clever" he purred, amused, when he noticed.

[demonwebs]

"what's behind your back?"

PROMPTS FOR LIES, DECEIT, AND SOME VILLAINY

there is red dripping from his hands , pooling into he soil below with a sickening slow drip . his hands remain tucked away , out of sight , the slit pupils swimming in the burgundy depths of his eyes suddenly dilate , overcast by shadows under the delicate , sluggish sweep of his dark lashes .

slithering out of the darkness with calculation , the pale drow flashes a row of sharp teeth at her , canines peeking from under the softness of his smile as he arches forward , leaning into the small fae with palpable disregard for personal space . ❝ ... nothing . ❞ / @amatistafey

[lovepvnch]

you look really pretty right now!"

Tempest gasps a little and twirls around to beam at Amatista even though she could already see her in the mirror. Finally making it to Baldur's Gate, Tempest and Amatista weasled one afternoon away from world-saving to do a little shopping. Tempest couldn't be happier to have an evening of near-normalcy. And a pretty new dress. Her cheeks are pink as she grins and does another little twirl, "Shucks, you think so? Thank you, doll. Now, you next, you next! Go pick out something lovely, and we'll be the most fetching duo of heroes in the whole city!"

[bloodtwin]

&&.┆THE BAG OF BONES ☠️ INBOX.

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@amatistafey sent:

:)

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❝ I'll make a silly billy out of you yet. ❞

[faebhaal]

❛ You don’t want me to have anything in my life that’s not you. ❜

@amatistafey

"That's not true!" Ithaca says with a gasp coupled with a look of hurt. "I just don't think you could find someone else like me. Someone who understands, you know?"

A pout has started to form on her features and petite fingers start to fidget. "Or maybe it's the other way around actually."

A bold thing to say considering how opposite they were. There were things they shared, yet even the fact that the two of them were fey held differences. Their experiences had varied, their lives shaped differently despite coming from the same plane. However, the Feywild is vast, the realms within as unique as the inhabitants.

"You feel like home. I can't bear to lose you. Everyone always leaves me."

[silvertiefling]

&&. I've got like no drafts because my fingers be too quick ( and also I yeeted some or lost some because tumblr hates giving notifications ) So just a lil reminder I have opens & a wishlist & am always open to plotting, even if sometimes I'm forgetful! u can also find me on my other blogs!! BG3 SIDEBLOG: @amatistafey Other BG3 blogs: @mvstra, @vellicth