#i would say this little bit of poetry relates to hunter hunted most

[nowandthane]

I'm taking poetry requests <3 ty @memoryallaloneinthemoonlight

I went with the first one. I've written three Solavellan poems before and I never utilised mirrors in any of them 😅 this is only a short one though

what do you see in your reflection– the guide or the follower? the lover or the liar? the hunter or the hunted? i’ll turn all these mirrors into shards and paint them with your blood.

my other solavellan poems are Spellbound, Howling for the Moon and Hunter, Hunted

[christinaroseandrews]

A Yuletide Kiss is a linked anthology which means that each of the stories in this anthology are connected. The connecting device? A group of holiday travelers are trapped at an inn which has been closed down for the Christmas holiday because of inclement weather. While at the inn, acquaintances are rekindled, the holidays are celebrated, and romance is most definitely in the air.

As with all anthologies, I'll be reviewing and rating each story individually and then averaging the scores together for my final rating. I also need to give some blanket trigger warnings that you need to be aware of... period appropriate sexism, period appropriate misogyny, prostitution, sexual auction, parental death, alcoholism, depression, and PTSD and possibly others that I missed. Let's go, shall we?

When We Finally Kiss Goodnight by Sabrina Jeffries Konrad Juncker has a secret. For the last several years he's been the public face of the Duke of Thornstock's plays. It's been quite a successful endeavor. He's been able to focus on things like his poetry and staging the elaborate comedic plays. But due to a change of circumstances that life is about to come to an end. And while he's been able to save up a bit of a nest egg, it's not enough to support a wife and family on. Flora Younger has been serving as a companion to an older widow for years. Too poor to have a full season, she had a mini-season in Bath years ago, and there she met the young playwright and poet, Konrad Juncker. She fell in love with him, and she thought he loved her.... but he abandoned her.  And now that they're stuck in an abandoned inn due to the weather, can they rekindle the flame that burned between them so long ago.

This is a fun second chance romance. The story was hinted at in a few books of Sabrina Jeffries 'Duke Dynasty" series, and there's a lot of Easter eggs related to that series in this book. I will say, the experience of reading  this story would be improved by reading that series and I'm not sure how people who haven't read the series will take this story. I think they'll be okay, but I can't state this with certainty. That said, I really liked Konrad's and Flora's second chance romance. I loved that they had the chance to get to know each other and find connections. I believed the romance. There is a lovely open door sex scene in this that I really liked. I liked Konrad. I liked Flora. This was a fun novella.

Five Stars

The Unexpected Gift by Madeline Hunter Innkeeper Jenna Waverly was looking forward to a quiet Christmas holiday. Unfortunately the weather has other plans. First, one of her employees finds an nearly frozen and ill man while out hunting for game, and then her empty inn is suddenly filled with travelers seeking shelter from a horrendous ice storm. But Jenna's got even greater concerns. First, someone must care for a traveler who is sick and may even be contagious.  Second, her brother, who co-owns the inn with her, has taken out a mortgage without her permission, leaving her scrambling to find funds to pay the loan. But as she cares for the ill Lucas Avonwood, she discovers that there is something greater than money... love.

This is a nice little novella with a hint of a mystery in it. In a weird way, there were almost too many conflicts in this novella. There's a lot going on here and the pace is a weird combo of too fast and too slow. I did like Jenna and Lucas as characters and I found their internal narration well done. I loved hat Jenna was both capable and compassionate and fully cognizant of the disparity that's present in society at the time. Lucas's plot seemed almost overly complex but they were resolved satisfactorily. I did believe the romance, but I was less impressed with the sex scenes. They straddled the line between open door and closed door and were almost too literary to my taste.  In all, I did like this novella, but I felt it was the weakest of the selections.

Four stars.

When Strangers Meet by Mary Jo Putney Years ago Kate Macleod met Daniel Faringdon. Well, that's not quite accurate. When Kate was a teen in India, her uncle auctioned her off to the highest bidder after the deaths of her parents. But to give the auction the veneer of civility, Kate's uncle insisted that the winner marry her, even going so far as to provide the vicar. Deep in his cups but determined to save this young woman, Daniel wins the auction but immediate sends her to someone to send her back home to her family in England. They definitely never consummated the marriage. Heck, they barely even had time to exchange names before they exchanged vows. Now, years later, they reconnect at a snowed in inn. Kate's been trying to declare Daniel dead so she's free to marry another. While Daniel, has returned from India to claim his inheritance. He needs a wife and he finds that he already has one. Can Daniel convince Kate to give him a second chance?

This was my favorite story in this collection. I really loved the plot -- previously married protagonists discover that they're still married and decide to give it a go. I found Kate delightfully competent and awesome, and I really loved Daniel who seemed to celebrate his wife's ability. Daniel was such a good doobie.  I wanted to cuddle him to my chest and give him all the hugs. I loved that he acknowledged his failures and made strides to improve. I also loved that the book acknowledged that red hair was not considered fashionable or attractive at this time. There's also an adorable cat in this book. So that's a plus. My one complaint is that there isn't any sex in this novella, but it fit with the theme that this story was trying to make... that passion isn't a basis for a marriage. Ultimately I really loved this entry so it gets..

Five stars.

This was a really solid linked anthology series where it was very clear that the authors were communicating with each other about their plots. It was really well done.

So averaging everything together this anthology gets 4.67 stars. which I'll round up to...

Five stars

If this is your jam, you can get it here.

If you like these kind of honest reviews, please consider supporting us here!

I received an ARC of this book via NetGalley

[moononmyfloor]

Review: The Tyrant's Tomb by Rick Riordan

Thoughts on The Cover

Well, if you've seen my previous posts by now you'd know that I'm not a big fan of loud and action-packed covers. I prefer classy, if not always subtle. But you might like it! See, Reyna is owning the bigger portion of it, which is a nice change. :-)

Ok to Low Points

Halfway through the book, I was STILL unable to "get" into the story

Literally, not much was going on for 2/3 of the whole book, which is very surprising considering:

The time between the release dates of The Tyrant's Tomb and The Burning Maze is the longest as of yet. Whereas other books within a series have come out within twelve months of each other, these two books will be released within eighteen months of each other.

.....and that even the most boring books by Uncle Rick had some silver linings here and there to keep you engaged. Even The Dark Prophecy had the gang arrive and settle in Indianapolis, visit the zoo and free Griffins and REVISIT the emperor. Here? Apollo and Co. escorted Jason's hearse into Camp Jupiter in a frankly insulting manner(more about that later), Apollo got sick, we see that the noble prophecies are being tattooed on Tyson's back, Apollo and Co. went on a lil' trial quest and returned, Apollo got more sick.🤷‍♀️ I was so confused I opened the previous books to see how far those stories had progressed by midpoint.

It got slightly better later on, but it doesn't change the fact throughout the 1st half of the book I just kept on turning pages SIMPLY because I wanted it to get it on with and finish the story. Sad.

2. The so-called Tyrant

I didn't see much tyranny, like...only 3 pages were spent in the Tyrant's Tomb and his company, bad old Commodus and Caligula had more appearances than Tarquin who re-appeared in the very last chapters only to get immediately vanquished courtesy of Diana.....yeah. That's that.

3. How Jason's final voyage was depicted

Uncle Rick doesn't write emotional crying scenes well.

People talk about peeing and pop chewing gum bubbles while delivering the hearses of valued, honored characters.

And I seriously wonder in what position and condition poor Jason's body was after all the drama his coffin underwent.

And based on the spoilery lines(which sadly turned out to be not spoilers at all) we saw in the Magnus Chase series I thought we'd at least get a Percy-Annabeth cameo in this, that Jason will have more of his closest comrades mourning and sending him off. Nah. Nada. Not even a mention of Annabeth. Then why did Uncle Rick mention things like Annabeth and Percy being at California and even Magnus joining them at their time of crisis? Utter puzzlement. And we were also robbed of Nico's reaction to Jason's demise, considering how much Nico valued Jason as a brother-in-arms and a friend. Let's not even talk about Thalia. Why, Uncle Rick? :-(

Which brings us to...

4. Plot Inconsistencies

Why do I have to talk about this in each and every book? :-( Seriously, why would you write about Percy and Annabeth going to New Rome to attend college and being broken hearted over Jason DURING the period of Demigod communication malfunction, only to have us know they have YET to travel across the country and when we meet them again it would still be at New York? And now the communication is working, proving that Uncle Rick conveniently forgot about the clues he conveniently dropped.

AT LEAST I'm glad one thing is consistent in the Trials of Apollo series, that when Zeus decided they'll stop meddling too much in demigod affairs at the end of Heroes of Olympus, he meant it and now it's super duper hard to seek a god even for dire needs, no matter how wonderfully (ill)timed that decision was, costing lives of valued heroes.

5. The Haiku-titles weren't amusing at all this time.

I found one fun haiku .

O, blood moon rising

Take a rain check on doomsday

I’m stuck in traffic

6. The whole Apollo-Reyna debacle.

I would say Uncle Rick pulled a clever twist by turning fan theories on their heads here, but it too way more plot space than needed and when he got to the "Gotcha!" part, I was not feeling it. For YEARS now, we heard abut this no-mortal-no-demigod thing over and over, and fans predicted it might mean Apollo's the one for Reyna. And when it initially seemed like it was the route that Uncle Rick was indeed taking, the only thought that circulated inside my head was; "Reyna doesn't need this completely random and unwanted baggage! Give the girl a dam break!!" But then he was like; "Lol nooo. You kids are wrong", but STILL I was not happy...well, for obvious reasons.

What's the point of this whole plotline? So unnecessary. I mean, the fans always wondered WHY exactly would Reyna think she needs a partner in her life, but now I see Reyna might not have had time to contemplate her personal life logically like WE had what's with her dramatic life. Of course the shallow gods would think her heart was something to be "cured" and Reyna never stopped to think that it's quite the opposite till Apollo provided her with a breather and reason. And to answer why din't she choose to join Amazons instead of Hunters is probably that she wanted to be her own person and not be under her sis the Queen once again. She'd indeed have the freedom, calm and few friends so she wouldn't feel lonely and bored with the Hunt. She might even choose to leave Hunters after she found herself in her own time. I get it. But the way it was dragged and executed was meh.

If Uncle Rick intended this plotline of Reyna to be empowering for female readers, in my opinion it was not. Yes, even a badass girl could have weaknesses, not enough self-confidence and wobbly life choices, but Reyna took too much time with her "Eureka!" moment.

It was funny while it lasted, at least.

“Lester.” Reyna sighed. “What in Tartarus are you saying? I’m not in the mood for riddles.”

“That maybe I’m the answer,” I blurted. “To healing your heart. I could…you know, be your boyfriend. As Lester. If you wanted. You and me. You know, like…yeah.”

HAHAHAHA. That Totally came from the left field Lester, even for you.

“Your girlfriend was pregnant when you had her killed?” Reyna launched another kick at my face. I managed to dodge it, since I’d had a lot of practice cowering, but it hurt to know that this time she hadn’t been aiming at an incoming raven. Oh, no. She wanted to knock my teeth in.

“You suck,” Meg agreed.

I mean, if THIS is not the ultimate deal breaker then what is? Apollo might have changed for better by now, but it doesn't mean we can overlook what he did. I for one certainly don't need a loveline for him in this series. I'm glad Uncle Rick drew(or at least seemed to have) a clear line here.

High Points

It took half the page count even for Uncle Rick's special brand of snark to return. Nonetheless I managed to find some good ones. Which is what matters, right?

1.

“So,” I said, making a second attempt at nonchalance, “are you and Thalia, er…?”

Reyna raised an eyebrow. “Involved romantically?”

“Well, I just…I mean…Um…”

Oh, very smooth, Apollo. Have I mentioned I was once the god of poetry?

Reyna rolled her eyes. “If I had a denarius for every time I got that question…Aside from the fact that Thalia is in the Hunters, and thus sworn to celibacy…Why does a strong friendship always have to progress to romance?"

Preach, sister. But then again I would have to ask did YOU have to swear to celibacy to prove your independence....which is sort of the point🙄..

2.

Even when I was a god and could speak any language I wanted, I’d never sung well in Italian. I kept mixing it up with Latin, so I came off sounding like Julius Caesar with a head cold.

LOL

3.

It was time to be helpful. I needed to be repulsive for my friends!

Which you're most of the time...the latter sentence I mean.

4. Don't we all relate? 😂

“O protector of Rome!” I read aloud. “O insert name here!”

5. And one more.

I bet Gregorix was wishing he’d pursued that business degree his mom always wanted him to get. Being a barbarian bodyguard was mentally exhausting.

.

Heartrending quotes.

1.

This was the source of all our communications troubles—one sad, angry, forgotten little god.

2. This was the wisest quote I saw in the book. The simple indescribable deepness of letting go.

“Good-bye, Apollo,” said the Sibyl’s voice, clearer now. “I forgive you. Not because you deserve it. Not for your sake at all. But because I will not go into oblivion carrying hate when I can carry love.”

Even if I could’ve spoken, I wouldn’t have known what to say. I was in shock. Her tone asked for no reply, no apology. She didn’t need or want anything from me. It was almost as if I were the one being erased.

3. I was saddened to learn about Julia's untimely loss, but I'm sure everybody had a meltdown moment at the following scene.

The old god’s face hardened a bit more, which shouldn’t have been possible for stone. “I see. Well. I’ve concentrated the last bits of my power here, around Julia. They may destroy New Rome, but they will not harm this girl!”

“Or this statue!” said Julia.

4. Honestly? I too forgot until Apollo pointed it out and then I had *shivers*! They're one immediate family, grieving over one loss that affects all of them in various ways, and having mixed reactions about each others the members who survived!

I shivered. How easy it was to forget that this young woman was also my sister. And Jason was my brother. At one time, I would have discounted that connection. They’re just demigods, I would have said. Not really family.

Overall Conclusion

This is the most bored-outta-my-mind I felt after reading a PJO universe book. Am I finally growing out of the Percy Jackson and the Heroes of Olympus fandom? Oh dear, I hope not. I can't imagine living without it and I'm SO not happy with this new development. Just as I feared, Uncle Rick couldn't keep it up after the excellent Burning Maze and now.....please, for your fans' sake who had been loyal for years, I hope at least the final book delivers. Just so we could at least part ways/go dormant with pleasant sentiments and a content heart.🙆‍♀️

[thepatchworkcrow]

Friday’s @2019grimoirecchallenge prompt deals with connecting with Otherworldly energies and working with them in spiritual practice. By now, I’ve made it sort of clear which spirits and the like I work closely with, so this post is dedicated to the Wylde Hunt and my experiences working with them.

So, briefly: The Wylde Hunt is a phenomena that occurs across northern and western Europe, and in some parts of North America. It’s characterized by spectral figures, horses, or hounds which ride through the night and generally create some chaos and terror. What it is they’re hunting or changing depends upon the myth you’re reading- in fact a lot of the elements of the hunt vary depends upon the version of the story you’re dealing with. It can include fae, fallen heroes, gods, spirits of the dead, etc. etc. I go a bit more into detail on this in this post here.

My particular Wylde Hunt seems mostly to be human spirits and fae. Goblins are sometimes included in that, and they’re all led by a horned deity that up until very recently I was referring to as Herne, but who has come to be known by a different name, which is mine alone to know.

My work with them started back in October of 2011. I was working on homework the one night and got this sudden and urgent nudging to go outside. I ignored it for probably a good twenty minutes, like “No. I need to finish my homework...” But it persisted, so I grab some tarot cards and a pendulum and head outside. And standing at the firepit in our yard is this beautiful white tail doe. And she stares at me, and we kinda stand there for a bit... and then I gently creep closer... and she bounds off away to stand over on this hill near the tree I usually leave offerings at. So we stare at each other again... and then I gently creep closer once more, until off she bounds into the northwest and disappears into the trees.

Now, this hill was where I was intending to go in the first place; I was really fixated on dragons and leylines and thought there was going to be a connection there or something, but now I was fixated on this deer and the forest- like I could feel her still watching me from the tree line. And the name Wild Hunt kinda... came to me. I’m sure I’d read it in passing a few times; I’d recently started my journey with Celtic paganism, so it was likely it’d come up. But I didn’t have any real prior knowledge or interest in it- until this point. So, I break out the cards and the pendulum, and that becomes the answer I get for the question: “Who’s trying to contact me? / Who has a message for me?”

So I start to do research, and most sources recommend not contacting the Hunt at all, because, well, they’re sort of notorious for being dangerous. But I decide that I’m going to reach out and figure out what they want: so I go back to the hill a couple days later and I say “If you wish for me to work with you, if this is a partnership you’re seeking, let me see crows or ravens within a week’s time.” Crows and ravens are my sort of sign that something is afoot magically speaking, and they’re relatively common in our area. So, when suddenly there’s no sign of them for 6 days... I’m getting worried.

Halfway through the 7th day: I’m waiting for my mom to pick me up from retaking the ACT, and there’s suddenly a whole murder of crows behind me making a whole bunch of noise. And I’m like “Woah. Okay. I hear you.” And I look back towards the parking lot, and beyond it, there’s a hawk or falcon or something that comes up from the forest there, does maybe three circles, and then dips back down into the trees. 

It took some time for me to really figure out how they were going to become a part of my practice. Their leader was my patron deity, so that wasn’t so hard to figure, but The Hunt itself is another thing altogether. Like anyone with any real knowledge of fae, I’m reasonably skeptical when it comes to just swearing allegiance to things, making deals, etc. They seemed to enter my life at the most inconvenient times: right when things were tumultuous and changing dramatically. At some point I realized that was probably the point.

In the video post linked above, I discuss my beliefs as to what they are and what purpose they sort of serve in the grander scheme of things: essentially they are psychopomps and agents of necessary destruction and change. They shake things up and carry you from one state of being to the next. When I realized this, they quit being quite as scary.

It was October of 2014, I believe, that I really properly dedicated myself to The Hunt in a formal sense. I had made a poppet to represent myself and taken it under the Hunter’s Moon out into the grove where we did much of our spellwork and gathering. I left it there in the crook of an oak at the center of the grove, I made offerings of alcohol and incense to them, and I swore myself to their service, which included:

Maintaining my altar and sacred space as a place for them to rest and visit. Essentially, I entered into a mutual bond of hospitality: when I did journeying work, I often visited their camp. They also were welcome at my hearth.

Creating poetry and artwork which focused on their myths and legends as well as my own new experiences with them. I took up the mantle of their bard, and you’ll notice I still write quite a bit of poetry inspired by them.

Working with them through periods of change. When I need help to clear the way; when I find myself getting stuck in a rut. I call on them. It’s amazing how much more controlled change can be when you willingly yield to it rather than fighting it. I also became interested in taking a similar role myself: in helping others through periods of transitions. I intend to undertake celebrant training with the OBOD following the completion of the Bardic Grade to work rituals for funerals, weddings, etc. I want to be help in those periods of transition for other people.

Developing skills related to hunting, outdoorsmanship, etc. I’ve casually taken up archery as a skill I want to learn. I’ve tried to educate myself whenever possible about things in my local environments: trees, wildlife, stars and the cycles of the seasons. The more I understand, the closer I feel to them. This has also included trying to be more conscious about what things I leave as offerings, recycling, using less energy, etc. to help mitigate at least a little harm done to the environment, and to vote in favor of policies that will benefit and help the natural world. That last part feels more important than ever these days.

Riding with the Hunt. I’ve mentioned already that I do journeying and visualization work. Some of it includes riding with the Hunt. This bullet point also includes my beliefs about my afterlife- that I will join them following the end of my life, and ride with them forever more.

These are the terms of my working with them, and are by no means the terms everyone should or would want to seek out.

I contact them in a number of ways but some off the top of my head are:

Taking hikes in the forest.

Leaving offerings of whiskey, dried meats, or bread.

Drumming.

Reading my poetry aloud somewhere like my backyard or the forest.

Calling to them in ritual work.

Visiting their camp in my journeying work.

Lighting a candle for them on my altar.

My advice when approaching any entities be they gods, fae, angels, whatever is this: DO YOUR RESEARCH. Know what exactly it is you’re working with, how people have historically interacted with these beings, what sort of tales exist about them, what offerings are common, etc. BE RESPECTFUL! Just like you’d probably be pretty polite and considerate when meeting a new friend or potential employer, you want to be polite and respectful of the powers that be. BE YOURSELF. Don’t go posturing or doing anything unnatural though. They have a sense of humor, and there’s a difference between being polite and serious about what you’re doing and taking yourself too seriously.

Best of luck, and forest blessings, Rachel

[irelise]

the yew tree - 1.1/?

Erik has worked with Sebastian Shaw, mutant revolutionary, ever since Shaw rescued him from human experimentation when he was a boy. He is reluctantly enlisted to assist in Shaw’s newest scheme: seducing the wealthy and enigmatic Lord Xavier and claiming his vast fortune. With Shaw posing as Xavier’s doctor, Erik goes undercover as Xavier’s personal manservant to convince him to fall in love with Shaw.

But Xavier has secrets of his own, and it isn’t long before Erik starts having second thoughts about the whole thing...

(the handmaiden inspired au - no canon knowledge required)

Warnings for this part: referenced past suicide, past child abuse, canon-typical references to human experimentation Rating: M Word count: 4311

“No. Absolutely not. I’m impressed; this is the worst idea you’ve come up with yet.”

They’re in Shaw’s office, facing each other across Shaw’s rich mahogany desk, surrounded by shelves upon shelves of expensive trinkets and rare books that have never once been opened. Behind Shaw stands Emma Frost, bodyguard and enforcer and confidant all in one.

Not a year ago, Erik would have been the one in her position.

Now, Shaw smiles at him indulgently, and Erik’s scowl deepens. “Absolutely not,” Erik repeats. “Are you even listening to yourself? You want to seduce some rich naïve human boy, and you want

me

to pose as his servant and help you. If it’s money you’re after, there are cleaner ways to go about it.”

Shaw hums. “One point three billion dollars, and more than twice that in assets. You would leave it in the hands of the humans?”

“That’s not the point and you know it.” A familiar anger is bubbling up in Erik. This is only the most recent in a series of arguments between himself and Shaw – yes, Shaw aims for the good of mutantkind, but his methods. He works far too closely with humans for Erik’s tastes. “You’re wasting our time. Our brothers and sisters are out there, and-”

“Do calm down.” Emma cuts in, looking bored. “Your capacity for long-term planning is astonishingly low.”

Smiling, Shaw shakes his head and tuts fondly. “Emma, be kind. Erik only has our best interests at heart. We all have our strengths, and Erik’s does not lie in diplomacy.”

Erik refuses to rise to the barb. “Then you should know there are better people you can use for your inane plan.”

And now Shaw is just watching him, and Erik doesn’t like the shrewd look in his eyes one bit. “I thought you’d have had enough of your current job,” Shaw remarks. “But if that’s not the case…”

Nine months ago, he had been Shaw’s right hand. He had been right in the thick of things, the head of his own elite strike team. He had been a hunter, a spy, as comfortable working alone as he is with others.

It had all changed with the Trask incident. Bolivar Trask was one of the few humans aware of the existence of mutants, and Shaw and Frost had been carefully worming their way into his confidence, ferreting out his secrets: what he knows, who he’s been in contact with, the plans he’s set into motion.

Then Erik had hunted Trask down to one of his facilities. Facilities where he had kept mutant children. His own memories howling in his ears, he had killed Trask in front of his own men, ripping him apart with the metal of his own facility, making an example of him.

You’ve cost us months of work, Shaw had raged. Do you have any idea how much Trask was involved with? Do you know how impossible it’s going to be to track down all his contacts now that he’s dead?

He had children in his labs, you of all people can’t expect me to sit and do nothing!

Erik doesn’t even know where those children are now. Shaw had cut him off right after that, re-assigning him to the middle of nowhere. Erik had been relegated to being little more than a glorified repairman, taking care of their safehouses and maintaining their equipment, kept far away from the action.

But he hasn’t been idle. He had developed a reputation for doing what needs to be done, and even in exile, plenty of Shaw’s mutants have been bringing him news. Erik spends most of his days puzzling over reports. It’s intellectually stimulating work, satisfying in a different way from what he’s used to.

Even so, he’s looking forward to getting back into the field.

“I want you to listen to me carefully, Erik.” Shaw waits for him to nod brusquely before he continues. “You’re one of the most valuable assets I have, but right now, I can’t trust you. You understand that, don’t you? Emma and I are playing the long game. And, yes, right now that means engaging with the humans. Until you prove that you can play nice, you’re nothing but a liability. Understand?”

“Don’t tell me you came up with this whole ridiculous plan just to test me.” Right now, the only thing being tested is Erik’s patience.

Shaw smiles lazily, self-satisfied. “No, that’s just a bonus. The young Lord Xavier’s fortune will put us in a good place, and I can’t imagine someone as sheltered as he is will be hard to charm.”

By now Erik’s frown is a permanent fixture on his face, but he’s grudgingly resigning himself to this mad scheme. “Fine. Seeing as you’re going to waste your time on this with or without me, you might as well tell me the rest of your plan.”

“Wonderful! I knew you would see things my way eventually.” Shaw shuffles some papers around. “I’ve already made arrangements. Lord Xavier is in poor health, and his uncle has hired me to be his personal physician. As for your part – like any man of his station, Lord Xavier has a personal manservant, but his has recently been dismissed due to some scandal. I’ve recommended you as a replacement for the role. Your duties will be to bring him meals, help him dress and bathe, flatter him and make him feel good about himself – nothing you can’t handle. And, of course, you’ll help him fall in love with me.”

Erik snorts. Behind Shaw, Emma’s cold eyes are bright with amusement.

Shaw chuckles. “Yes, yes, I know it’s beneath your dignity, but what’s that you always said? Anything for the cause?”

“This is barely related to the cause,” Erik says caustically.

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that just yet.” There’s something very pleased about the way Shaw is smiling, something that goes beyond his usual levels of smugness. “How much do you know about Charles Xavier?”

“What is there to know?” Rich, spoiled nobles, they’re all the same.

Shaw is still shuffling through his papers. “Well, you’re not wrong. He’s pretty enough, but unremarkable. From what Emma has gathered, he was orphaned young and his health has been frail ever since, so his uncle had him shuffled back from school in England to the family estate in Westchester and Xavier hasn’t left since. Xavier came of age around two years back, but his uncle is still looking after him. The uncle is some businessman, not nobility, but he sure enjoys pretending to be one. Holds all these fancy poetry sessions in the Xavier estate and has our Charles read for him and his friends. He’s a widower; Emma tells me he’s planning to marry Charles for his fortune.”

Humans. Erik’s lip curls. “Anything else?”

The rustle of paper stops as Shaw picks out a document, sliding it over to Erik. “That’s the uncle, by the way. Kurt Marko.”

Erik stills. Shaw smiles.

“Associate of the late Bolivar Trask.”

***

The Xavier estate is less a mansion and more a ridiculous castle, suffocating in its wealth and taste. Erik’s skin itches when he looks at the subdued décor. With Shaw, he had learnt to move among the rich and the noble as an equal – even found himself enjoying it, the spiteful satisfaction of fooling these aristocrats into welcoming their own enemy into their midst.

So it seems rather a step backwards to be in a place like this as a servant. Erik smiles wryly to himself as he looks at his new sleeping arrangements. He’s expected to be ready to attend to Xavier at all hours of the day and night, which meant the most logical place for him to sleep is directly across from Xavier’s room. A bell links their rooms together, ready to summon him like a dog at Xavier’s leisure.

Hah. Room. As if a servant is deserving of his own private room even though the estate has more bedrooms than any family could ever use. Erik almost has to admire their dedication to keeping servants as invisible as possible: the door to his room is hidden, indistinguishable from the surrounding wallpaper. The room itself is less a room and more an alcove, just large enough to fit a narrow cot. There is no light.

It’s long past midnight, and the major-domo had just finished showing him the mansion and outlining his duties. He’ll officially begin work tomorrow. Right now, his only duty is to stay in the suffocating claustrophobia of his cot and sleep so he’ll be fresh and ready to serve tomorrow.

It’s harder than it sounds. Erik has slept in any number of uncomfortable places, but something about the low ceiling of the alcove, the flat discomfort of the cot… When he closes his eyes, he can almost feel leather straps tighten around his chest and wrists, strangling. Erik forces the memories from his mind, locking them back in the tight iron box where they belong, and guides himself through breathing in. Out. In.

A cry shatters the silence, jolting him out of an uneasy sleep. Erik curses as he bolts upright and bangs his head against the ceiling. Fumbling in the pitch black, he shoves his door open, already fully awake. That cry had came from Xavier’s room.

Erik doesn’t stop to think about propriety. He slams into Xavier’s room, eyes peeled for danger.

What he finds instead is pale young man sitting in his extravagant bed, staring quietly out the window. The moonlight washes all the colour out of the room, limning Xavier’s curls in silver and casting gentle shadows across his face. When Erik steps closer, he’s caught by the glimmer of blue in Xavier’s eyes.

Even when dishevelled with sleep, wearing nothing but a loose nightrobe, Xavier looks like the masterwork of some melancholy painter.

The moment breaks when Xavier turns to face him. “I’m sorry, did I disturb you?” His voice is soft and accented, obviously upper-class.

Erik is suddenly, awkwardly aware of just how improper it is for a servant to burst into their master’s room without an invitation. Nothing for it now. If he gets tossed out on his ass on the first night here, then Shaw will just have to find himself a new lackey.

“Sorry, sir. I thought I heard a disturbance.”

“Ah, so I did wake you.” Xavier’s head tilts. In the shadow of the moonlight, it’s impossible to read his expression. “I apologize again.”

A spoiled noble apologizing to the help – that catches Erik off-guard. “Better safe than sorry,” he says gruffly. “What happened?”

Xavier’s gaze returns to the window. “An old nightmare,” he says, matter-of-fact, and Erik wonders how someone can be so open about his own weakness. “Look out the window. Do you see that tree?”

The estate is lined with trees, but it’s impossible to miss the one Xavier is talking about: an ancient, massive yew, black in the moonlight, dwarfing the surrounding trees.

“I was nine when my aunt hung herself there. Sometimes I still see her.”

***

Xavier sends him back to bed soon after that, and Erik rises early the next day with only a fitful few hours of sleep. When he reports for duty, Xavier is sitting in his bed again. The collar of his nightgown is open, and Erik catches a glimpse of pale skin and defined collarbones. In daylight, Xavier is handsome in a boyish sort of way, his clear blue eyes serene as he smiles politely at Erik.

“You’re Erik, aren’t you?”

“Yes.” Erik bows, movements perfect and precise. “At your service.”

“Good morning, Erik. Help me get ready for the day, and then we’ll talk.”

Getting ready for the day means helping Xavier shave and then dress. Someone had already picked out Xavier’s clothes for him – crisp white shirt and blue waistcoat, followed by a dark coat on top. Xavier is clearly well-used to this, sitting docile as a painted doll while Erik knots his cravat and straightens his clothes.

Afterwards, Erik brings breakfast on a silver tray. He had expected a decadent meal, but Xavier must prefer to eat light in the mornings; there’s barely enough for one person, and in flagrant breach of protocol Xavier even invites him to share. It’s probably a test. Erik has no patience for it; he takes up the offer without comment, portioning out the food between the two of them.

Surprisingly, Xavier offers him the bigger portion.

“Are you not hungry, sir?”

Xavier’s mouth quirks into a half-smile, drawing Erik’s attention to the indecent red of his lips. “My appetite has always been low. You should help yourself. I imagine you had a long trip yesterday?”

“Yes.” Is Xavier trying to make small talk?

Xavier doesn’t seem to find his clipped responses discouraging. “Now, you seem like someone who appreciates efficiency, so why don’t we get straight to business? How much have you been told about your duties?”

Erik rattles off the list given to him yesterday, and Xavier nods. “Yes. My days are quite regimented, so you’ll have free run of the house for most of the day. Mornings I always spend with my uncle – he expects me to practice my poetry reading every day. Afternoons I have a fitness regimen my uncle expects me to adhere to. However, I’ve recently been given a new personal physician, and I imagine my afternoons will be taken up by that from now on. The evenings are my own; that is the only time I expect you to be at hand. Why don’t you come with me after breakfast? I’ll show you where Dr. Schmidt will be attending to me. Would you fetch me this evening at 5 o’clock, sharp?”

Shaw is right; this Xavier boy seems to live firmly under his uncle’s thumb. “Yes, sir.”

“Excellent.” Xavier smiles again, utterly serene. “I look forward to working with you, Erik.”

***

He is not allowed into Kurt Marko’s wing of the mansion – “My uncle is very particular, I’m afraid,” Xavier had said – so after he sees Xavier to the entrance, Erik leaves to make a start on his assigned duties.

As Xavier’s personal manservant, it is his duty to keep everything in Xavier’s rooms absolutely spotless. There is the bedroom, of course, but Xavier also has a personal study and a bathroom of his own. A quick inspection reveals everything has already been cleaned to a shine; he doubts anyone would notice if he missed a day of cleaning.

Which leaves him plenty of time to sort through Xavier’s personal effects. He starts with the study first: for someone who spends so much time on poetry, Xavier’s collection is surprisingly devoid of poetry books. There are a few works of literature, but for the most part, the books are all scientific in nature. Evolution, to be precise. Mutation. Most of the books are well-thumbed, showing signs of wear and tear – clearly, they aren’t just there for show.

Erik’s breath catches. Had Xavier also worked with Bolivar Trask?

With renewed urgency, Erik scans the study, rifling through drawers and rapidly flicking through sheafs upon sheafs of paper, searching for anything written in Xavier’s own hand. He doesn’t find much – Xavier’s writing only deals with theory, no signs of experimental work present.

Perhaps this is something Marko put him up to. It would fit with the pattern so far. Really, the only surprise here is that Marko hadn’t talked his nephew into marriage yet…

Erik puts everything back into order, heading for the bedroom next. It’s surprisingly devoid of personality. Going from what Shaw had said, Xavier should have spent most of his life in this mansion – so where are all the childhood trinkets? Old toys, photographs, posters, anything?

He’s a little reassured when he hunts down an inconspicuous box inside the closet filled with interestingly shaped rocks, the sort of collection a little boy would have put together. So, Xavier does have a personality buried somewhere in there. The closet doesn’t yield anything else of interest, just rows and rows of neatly-pressed clothing.

Or maybe he spoke too soon. There’s another closet, smaller in size, and when he throws the doors open he finds costumes, of all things, yards of draping white fabric in the Greco-Roman style, intricately-patterned silken robes with a suspiciously feminine cut to them, pelts and furs, and that’s only the top layer. The closet is narrow, but deep. When Erik reaches out with his metal-sense, he can feel delicate jewellery and ornaments tucked away.

What does it all mean? Something to do with those poetry readings, perhaps? Or maybe Xavier has some sort of fetish – locked up in a mansion like this all his life, Xavier must be at least a little mad.

Erik shakes his head, amused, then puts the matter out of his mind and continues his investigation.

Hours later, he has little to show for his efforts, but time is ticking and he’s morbidly curious as to how Shaw’s plan is proceeding. Erik strides rapidly through the servant corridors – he’ll have to spend a few days familiarizing himself with every nook and cranny of the house – emerging by the room Xavier had shown him earlier.

The door is open just a crack. Stealthily, Erik peers in. It appears to be a guestroom hastily converted into a medical facility: it has the same décor as every other room, all understated opulence, but a number of machines have been set up, and Erik can spy newly-installed cabinets that must contain even more tools. Pills, too, and serums and sedatives and who knows what else. The whole thing makes his skin crawl.

Shaw and Xavier are seated at the lone table in the room, a touch closer than strictly appropriate. Their heads are bent together, and Erik can see their mouths moving, although the hushed murmur of their conversation is too quiet for him to make out. It’s difficult to see anything more from this angle; the most Erik can say is that they both look engrossed in the conversation.

Curiosity satisfied, Erik knocks on the door, watching quietly through the crack as the two of them pull apart.

“Is that you, Erik?” Xavier’s accent curls elegantly around his syllables. “Do come in, we were just finishing up.”

Erik opens the door and gives a perfunctory bow, not sparing a glance at Shaw. “Whenever you’re ready, sir.”

“Of course.” Xavier glances at Shaw. “I’ll see you again tomorrow then, Dr. Schmidt? Same time?”

“Yes. Have a good evening, Charles, and do try to relax a bit.”

Erik holds the door open for Xavier. They leave together, Erik walking a respectful step behind Xavier, wracking his brain for something to say. Why Shaw would enlist him to play matchmaker, Erik has no idea; he hasn’t had a single successful relationship in his life.

“You and the doctor seem quite familiar with each other already,” he ends up saying.

If Xavier is offended by a servant speaking out of turn, it doesn’t show. He only hums thoughtfully. “Really? It’s only been our third session together. Still, I quite admire him. Being a doctor takes skill and dedication both.”

Does Shaw even have a valid medical license, or are his papers all forged? Erik pushes the thought to the side. “So you’re enjoying your sessions together?”

“I don’t mind them, which is more than I can say for some of my other doctors. Having to see a doctor daily is never a pleasant thing, I’m afraid, although I do count myself lucky that I have the option to do so.”

Surprisingly self-aware of Xavier. Erik feels a twinge – something, something unidentifiable, knowing the fate that awaits Xavier at the end of all this.

“He seems quite interested in you,” He says instead.

Xavier turns those vivid blue eyes of his on him, open and curious. “You know Dr. Schmidt, don’t you? As I recall, you were hired at his recommendation.”

“Yes. He was responsible for much of my training.” That was the cover story they had agreed on; it isn’t far from the truth.

“Would you say you know him well?”

Erik blinks. “Reasonably so. Why?”

“I do appreciate having someone so informed in my corner, as it were. You really think he’s interested in me?”

Damn. Why did Shaw pick him for this? “Of course. He…” Think, Erik. “He thinks about your case often. He thinks about you often.”

He’s spared having to come up with something more to say by their arrival back in Xavier’s rooms. “Would you like me to draw you a bath before dinner, sir?”

“Yes, thank you, Erik.”

Glad of an escape from the torturous conversation, Erik starts filling up the bathtub with hot water, channelling his frustration at the whole thing into heating up the metal pipes to speed up the process. Slowly, the room fills with steam, lazy silver curls mixing with the scented oils he had poured into the bathwater.

“Bath’s ready,” he calls.

Xavier steps into the room and Erik rises carefully to his feet. This is one of his duties too, he remembers. Helping the young master bath.

He had helped Xavier dress earlier today, but helping him undress now – it’s strangely intimate. Erik has eyes, he’s not blind to Xavier’s boyish handsomeness, and as he peels off all those formal layers he makes note of Xavier’s trim stature. He’s well-formed, lightly-muscled, and he’s been taught to hold himself well, graceful and noble.

Unattainable.

The steam wraps around them both, the heat settling a light flush onto Xavier’s creamy skin. Erik silently helps him into the bath, the water rippling as Xavier sinks in. “Shall I do your hair first?”

“Yes, please.”

Grabbing the shampoo, Erik begins to knead at Xavier’s scalp, working up a proper lather. And, finally, he’s treated to the sight of Xavier demonstrating an emotion other than self-possessed serenity: his head lolls back, pushing into Erik’s touch. When Erik’s nails drag lightly against his scalp, Xavier’s eyelashes tremble against his cheek. A whisper of a sigh drifts through the steam.

“I’ve always had a terribly sensitive scalp,” Xavier remarks without prompting. His eyes are still closed, his body a languid sprawl in the bathtub.  “Dr. Schmidt has told you about my migraines, yes?”

“Some. He worries about you.”

“Lovely of him, to be so concerned about a patient.”

Erik stifles a snort – Shaw and lovely should never be in the same sentence together – and continues to massage Xavier’s scalp. He must be doing something right because Xavier sighs again, sinking deeper into the tub. “Lovely,” he repeats, sounding sleepy.

It’s strange. Erik had expected to hate every moment of servicing this undeserving human, but there’s something oddly soothing about taking care of another person like this. He’s gentle and careful as he helps Xavier wash the shampoo out of his hair, before grabbing a bar of soap and a soft sponge to wash the rest of his body. “Sit up a little so I can get your back.”

Obediently, Xavier shuffles up, water rippling down the expanse of his back. There’s a rosy flush to his skin – making the silvery whiteness of scar tissue stand out in sharp relief. Xavier’s back is marked in long, thin stripes. Some of the marks have a terrible artistry to them, precise and even as the lined pages of a notebook, whereas others are a mess of criss-crosses and jagged edges.

Xavier must have sensed Erik’s surprise, because he blinks his eyes open, tilting his head back to look at Erik. “Everything all right?”

Erik hastily picks up the soap again. “Yes, of course. I didn’t expect…”

“It’s all right.” Xavier saves him from his floundering. He closes his eyes again. “There’s nothing wrong with a bit of curiosity; it’s quite healthy, in fact. For your information, those were from my uncle. I don’t remember it so well now, but apparently I was quite the terror as a child, enough that he had to resort to the whip in order to discipline me. I would have hurt myself otherwise.”

How old was Xavier then? Seven? Eight? It doesn’t matter – no guardian should be taking a whip to their charge, regardless of age.

Nobles, he thinks again, derisive. Humans.

Erik smooths the sponge down Xavier’s back, studying the pale map of lines etched there. It looks innocuous now, but past experience makes it easy for Erik to imagine what it must have been like at the time, the splitting skin and the splash of blood, the pain and terror and humiliation.

Erik wonders if he’ll ever understand the way Xavier can be so frank about his weaknesses.

The silence has dragged on for too long. If Erik was in Xavier’s position, he wouldn’t appreciate pity, so he tries for levity instead. “You, a terror?”

“Hard to believe, isn’t it?” Xavier is smiling again.

They fall into a thoughtful silence again, Erik losing himself to the gentle rhythm of soaping and sponging. Xavier’s skin is wonderfully soft and water-sleek under his hands, the underlying muscle adding a pleasant firmness to his form. When Erik moves to wash Xavier’s front, he finds Xavier looking at him, biting at his lower lip. His cheeks are flushed, his hair dark and curling, tousled from the wash. A few stray drops of water trickle slowly down the pale column of his throat.

“You can join me, if you like.” Xavier says quietly. Erik can’t read the look in his eyes. “The water feels absolutely wonderful. Shall I do your back for you?”

“I…” His mouth is dry. “That doesn’t seem very appropriate. My lord.”

Xavier’s expression doesn’t change. “Of course. It was only a thought. I’m sorry, did I make you uncomfortable?”

Erik can only shake his head mutely.

(next part)

[ask-white-fatalis]

every odd number for the OC questions

HOO BOY.

1. What’s their full name? Why was that chosen? Does it mean anything?Shiro’s full name is Shironus AkumaWraths full name is Wrathanula AkumaKaze’s name is simply Kaze AkumaQuins (my hunter OC’s) name is Quintor Zenerith 

3. Did they have a good childhood? What are fond memories they have of it? What’s a bad memory?Shiros childhood was horrid. for the first 100 years, wrath made his life a living hell in order to toughen him up, only to abandon him by exiling Shiro from his ancestral homeland for Shiro’s pacifistic beliefs.Wrath didn’t start as an asshole. he was a fairly average dragon and even at one point interacted with human beings. however, a turn of betrayal with the humans turn wrath cold and unfeeling.Kaze so far has had a good childhood, then again he is only 2 years old.Quin’s childhood was one of poverty and homelessness, as his parents were killed by a rogue Gore Magala when he was still very young.

5. Do they have any siblings? What’s their names? What is their relationship with them? Has their relationship changed since they were kids to adults? Shiro Has a brother and a sister. His brother, Kuro, Is a black fatalis and is his fathers favorite, often belittling Shiro about how little their father cares about him. Kuro has grown arrogant and crass, often womanizing with many female fatalis’s. Shiros sister is a creature even wrath fears because of how far he pushed her violent nature. given she is a crimson fatalis, the most violent of the 3 species, wrath had her trapped within an abandoned castle when she started to kill her own kind for sport. Kaze, Wrath, and Quin are only Child’s. 

7. Did they have lots of friends as a child? Did they keep any of their childhood friends into adulthood? ((most of my Main OC’s do not have many childhood friends, whether being unpopular, an outcast or generally displeasing in general (wrath…). however, I’m glad to say both quin and shiro are making friends in their adult life.))

9. Do animals like them? Do they get on well with animals? Shiro, although a predator by nature, does his best to respect all living creatures, even befriending some that most fatalis’s would just see as a meal.Wrath has a stern belief that fatalis kind are gods among mortals, that every creature is below that of his species, some of which need to be eradicated from existence.Kaze is learning shiros more pacifistic ways.Quin, even as a hunter, has many monster friends, including a zinogre he raised from a lost pup.

11. Do they have any special diet requirements? Are they a vegetarian? Vegan? Have any allergies?Shiro, Wrath and Kaze are carnivores, and require meat to feed them. however, to keep up kaze’s metal coat, he must ingest ores, like iron and dragonite.

13. What is their least favourite food?Shiro: Rhenoplos, their hide is too hard to chew and their meat is stringy and tough…Wrath: of all of earths creatures, humans by far taste the most foul. and believe me, I have experience to back that up… -growls-Kaze: STONES TASTE YUCKY, BLEEEEECH!!! >:cQuin: Grilled cheese. …. I’M NOT WEIRD, YOU ARE!

15. Are they good at cooking? Do they enjoy it? What do others think of their cooking?((Shiro,Wrath and kaze cannot cook cuz they are dragons, and even in gjinka form they eat food raw.))Quin is an average cook, and likes to surprise his wife with many dishes. his specialty is pizza.

17. Do they like to take photos? What do they like to take photos of? Selfies? What do they do with their photos?all: … what are photos?

19. What’s their least favourite genres?Shiro: I don’t care much for those horror books… they really seem unnecessarily Gorey… and i care not for what the young dragons call “Wrap music”. Wrath: Human arts are a waste of time. if i want entertainment fromthem, I’ll just burn their beloved libraries!! HAHAHA! STUPID PINK MONKEYS!Kaze: ROMANCE IS GROSS, BLEEEEECHQuin: I hate anything with adam sandler :I

21. Do they have a temper? Are they patient? What are they like when they do lose their temper?Shiro has a lot of patients, but LORD HELP YOU IF THAT FUSE GOES OUT. Wrath simply kills you if you bug him slightly so…Kaze, as a kid and thus doesn’t have an abundance of patients, and often complains if he doesn’t get his way.Quins temper is fairly level, but has none for people he thinks are rude.

23. Do they have a good memory? Short term or long term? Are they good with names? Or faces?Shiro and Wrath remember everything that has ever happened in their 100,000′s of years they’ve been alive.Kaze has very bad short term memory and has a bad attention span.Quin has a decent memory but has trouble with names.

 25. What do they find funny? Do they have a good sense of humour? Are they funny themselves?(( @monsterhunterayame asked this as well!))Shiro: what did the buffalo say to his kid when he went to school? -snorts- BISON!!! PFFFFFFHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH, OH YOU HUMANS MAKE THE FUNNIEST JOKES!!! HAHAHAHA!!!Wrath: the screams of torment of my victims the second before i rip their heads off! humans make the most pitifully funny squeaks~Kaze: POTATO! :DQuin: My friends have named me the pun deputy~

27. What makes them sad? Do they cry regularly? Do they cry openly or hide it? What are they like they are sad?If he ever gets into an bad argument with a friend, shiro will feel very depressed, and often think that he ruined the friendship he worked hard to build. he does cry, but not openly.Wrath believes showing sadness is a weakness unbefiting of a dragon, and will never show anyone the sadness in his stone cold heart.Kaze often gets sad if he squishes a bug, and will cry openly, asking shiro if he can save the poor insect.Quins sadness comes from the thought of the gore magala ripping his new life out of his grip, and the parents he lost to the beast. 

29. What do they do when they find out someone else’s fear? Do they tease them? Or get very over protective?Shiro gets very protective of his friends,doing his best never to mention their fears.Wrath brutally abuses the knowledge of ones fear, often using it to torment his victims. Kaze is generally fearless,so he doesnt quite grasp why others would be afraid.Quin, if only for a harmless park would jokingly tease about the fear, but will immediately stop if he thinks he’s gone too far.

31. Do they drink? What are they like drunk? What are they like hungover? How do they act when other people are drunk or hungover? Kind or teasing?((Shiro, Kaze and Wrath do not consume alcohol))Quin does drink, but only the drinks that taste “fruity”. and if he gets drunk, he becomes very flirtatious, to the point where he bets he could shove a wine bottle up his… ehm…y-you get the point…

33. What underwear do they wear? Boxers or briefs? Lacey? Comfy granny panties?((for this purpose,monsters will be in gjinka form))Boxers: Wrath, KazeBriefs: Shiro, Quin

35. What’s their guilty pleasure? What is their totally unguilty pleasure?Shiro’s guilty pleasure: making purring noises when happy, and getting chin scritches.Shiros unguilty pleasure: Making friends!Wraths Guilty Pleasure: expressing joy.Wraths unguilty pleasure: killing.Quins guilty pleasure: SingingQuins unguilty pleasure: Raving about his wife, Naomi.

37. Do they like to read? Are they a fast or slow reader? Do they like poetry? Fictional or non fiction?Shiro,Kaze and Quin all enjoy reading fiction books, Quins fave being kaiju novels, whereas shiro and kaze like fairy tale fantasy books. Quin and shiro are fast readers,but kaze is still learning howto read.Wrath thinks books are a waste of time and prefers to just burn them.

39. Do they like letters? Or prefer emails/messaging?-All characters live in a technologically inept age in terms of writing, so all must stick to letters,-

41. What’s their sexuality? What do they find attractive? Physically and mentally? What do they like/need in a relationship?Shiro would most likely be Heterosexual however a certain fish gets him all hot and bothered so i guess its a bit ambiguous. in a relationship,shiro likes mutual respect and lots of small signs of physical affection, like cuddling. Wrath is Unfeeling, although he would only have relations with an opposite gender.Kaze is too young to determine.Quin is Bi-Sexual, and likes a lady with confidence and curves, and a man with a cute face and muscle, but not too much! Quin also likes physical signs of affection and someone he can have a laugh with and relate to.

43. Are they religious? What do they think of religion? What do they think of religious people? What do they think of non religious people?…. uh

45. How do other people see them? Is it similar to how they see themselves?Shiro: I HAVE ZERO REDEEMING QUALITIES! ;U;Wrath: all fear me,and all SHOULD fear me…Kaze: they think i’m a cute! owoQuin: I’m not sure really…i guess just some guy??? i dunno…

47. How do they act in a formal occasion? What do they think of black tie wear? ((Monster OC’s will again be refered to in their gjinka forms))Shiro is ALWAYS the fanciest and classiest dressed mother fucker in the room.Wrath doesnt care. Kaze is often told by shiro to dress fancy but often just likes to wear hoodies and shorts cuz they’re comfy.Quin dresses his best on formal occasions, and would buy a tux if it were necessary.

49. What is their most valued object? Are they sentimental? Is there something they have to take everywhere with them?For shiro, Four obsidian spires in a long forgotten valley are very close to his heart. every year he goes to see them for hours on end on one particular day.Wrath has a scar on his chest thats important to him, however, its to remind him to NEVER show weakness.Kaze has a scale from Shiro that he carries everywhere, to make him feel like shiro will always protect him. Quin’s only thing from his parents are his fathers Critical Brachydios dual blades. he takes them on every serious hunt he’s been on.