#its always the terms and conditions that get you: mizora||in character
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Mizora: I think I lost my warlock. Raphael: Hang on, I got this one. *takes a deep breath, then screams from the top of his lungs* "OH NO! KARLACH IS WITH ANOTHER MAN!" Wyll: *pops up from behind a rock* WHO?! Mizora: O.O Raphael: You're welcome.
#meow meow with razor blades on its feet: crack#its always the terms and conditions that get you: mizora||in character#or does he throw away his remorse and save more lives with guile: wyll ravenguard||in character
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Thank you.
Huevember day 6 with Mizora! Would you take her deal? 😈
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8 for Naafiri + Mizora
Spotify Wrapped||Accepting.
We'll Be Fine from EPIC: The Musical
"We think you are being a bit harsh on him."
Naafiri stepped out of the blood and gore, with which they had teleported themselves to Mizora's side. As per usual, the Darkin was followed by a few of their packmates - smaller and leaner dogs, their scarlet pelt so dense it made them seem more made of muscles than fur. Whereas Naafiri's neck was adorned by long, shivering, vicious blades, these hounds had a single sharp dagger protruding from their foreheads.
Several pairs of yellow, pupilless glowing eyes locked onto the sleeping boy, curled up in unrest on his cot. Brown skin, a badly scarred face, which clashed wildly with how young he was, just as his modest clothing seemed a willful contradiction with his upbringing as the child of an archduke. Beads of sweat gathered on his forehead and fear, stress and strain made the air thick around him.
They turned their attention towards Mizora. "He is young", Naafiri's main body spoke, "All of this is incredibly new to him. We are not saying to not push him, but we do believe you are pushing the lad too fast and too quickly." The main body stepped over to Wyll and sniffed at his neck. They walked back over to Mizora. "What happened to Wyll must feel like a travesty to him. It is a lot to take in. You have to give him time to process that. We had to take a while to process what happened to us after all. Even this new body was something, we had to attune to."
The hound dropped on their haunches and looked back at Wyll. "Give it time", Naafiri reiterated, "He will do much better later. Underneath all that heroic morale, he seems like quite the clever lad. You just have to find a way to get that to the forefront then you should have quite a nice warlock."
#dev1lsadvocate#rp: talk of wyll#prey is near...approach with tact: naafiri interaction#its always the terms and conditions that get you: mizora||in character#BG3 Verse[Naafiri]#things changed since you left: queue
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Wyll. Of course, it had to be him. That wretched, insufferable goody-two-shoes with his princely optimism and nauseating moral high ground. Predictable as sunrise, spouting the same saccharine drivel she could recite in her sleep. And yet, somehow, his predictability didn’t make him any less grating. No, it only added to the irritation, like a broken lyre string plucked endlessly out of tune. Mizora clicked her tongue sharply against her teeth, her glare slicing toward Wyll with the kind of venom that would wither even the most stalwart soul — if only it could. Frustration boiled in her chest, threatening to spill over. She had been outmatched, captured, subjected to the humiliation of a mindflayer forcing a worm through her eye. Her powers, once formidable, were now a shadow of themselves, her connection to the infernal plane cruelly severed. She was a devil, a prized jewel of Zariel’s inner circle, reduced to this pathetic, mortal-like state. And this self-righteous fool had the audacity to tell her to "make the best of it"? By all the Nine Hells, she could hardly decide if she wanted to scream, incinerate him, or both. Oh she could make the best out of it. She could make the best out of RIPPING THE SKIN OUT OF HIS BONES. Mizora closed her eyes, fighting the overwhelming urge to lunge at him and claw that one good eye right out of its socket. Her nails twitched at her sides as she inhaled deeply, pulling the simmering rage back down her throat. She needed him, after all. She needed all of them-this pathetic, bumbling gaggle of fools who could barely function without tripping over their ownincompetence. It was infuriating. It was humiliating. But it was necessary. With painstaking effort, she pieced her carefully crafted mask of civility back together. When she opened her eyes again, there was a sharp, steely smile on her face, as warm and reassuring as a blade poised for a killing strike. "Yes, we absolutely should make the best of it," Mizora purred, in mocking agreement. But as she turned her head, the smile crumbled in an instant, her voice dropping into a cold, clipped tone. "And whatever happens next, don't let that noble little head of yours get any funny ideas. Your contract? Still ironclad. Don't forget it."
Past experience compelled Wyll to take at least a half-step backwards as he saw Mizora's claws twitch. Somewhere in his mind, he half prepared for a sudden strike to the face. Always a dance of danger with her. Just because his patron's powers had been greatly diminished, did not mean that she could be treated as a harmless house cat. After all, a Cambion had more than just powers, making them so dangerous. Their shrewdness was another strength.
Her gaze had not lost any of the viciousness, Wyll had learned to fear. Yet even he could tell that it did not carry the same dread he was used to. No doubt that had been a magical quality of her gaze. He still found himself taking another half-step back. He waited with bated breath as he could practically feel Mizora wrestle her infernal instincts back under control. He would not mind facing that wrath if it meant the others in the camp had some peace. Mizora was his responsibility. She was his patron and he had, in a way, brought her into the life of his new friends.
"I was trying to be nice."
Wyll put the bowl with warm rabbit stew in front of her. He couldn't even believe that he was trying to soothe Mizora's agitated mindset. However, wasn't that what a good dog did for its owner? Ugh. He really hated having to think in these terms.
"Look, I get you're mad and that this change is a lot to digest", Wyll said, "I know how that feels. I was in a similar position when I was exiled. I understand you are not too fond of changes. We all know what the outcome of our predicament could be. Believe me, none of us want it. You are not alone in this case. And hey, that tadpole may have weakened both of us, but it has not destroyed our personality yet. You are shrewd. Use that."
His healthy, reddish devil eye narrowed back at Mizora as he listened to her clipped and cold tone. His lips formed a thin line as Wyll replied: "I am many things but stupid is not one of them. I am not gonna try breaking the pact. I know you. Any loopholes, you long covered up, before you ever spoke to me. Now, if you'll excuse me, I am gonna get my own dinner."
@dev1lsadvocate cont. from here.
#dev1lsadvocate#rp: noble but no fool#suffice to say i hunt monsters devils included: wyll ravenguard interaction#its always the terms and conditions that get you: mizora||in character#Default Verse[Wyll]#things changed since you left: queue
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Mizora paced in sharp, heavy strides, the click of her claws echoing through the room as she struggled to find the right words. Hours had passed with her seated before the blank parchment, yet no clever sentence, no silver-tongued excuse, would come to her. If it were any other creature in the Hells or above, she would have already delivered a string of flattering words and comforting half-truths with ease. But when it comes to Zariel… The thought of writing it down — of actually informing Zariel that she now had an illithid tadpole squirming in her skull — made her swallow dry. It was tempting to abandon the idea altogether, but she knew better. Zariel would find out. She always did. And when she did, what would it make of her, then? A fool at best, a traitor at worst. Neither had a place in Zariel’s circles, and Mizora had learned long ago, through pain and fire, that withholding the truth from Zariel was tantamount to treason — and the punishments for treason were merciless.
The cambion sank back into the chair, the quill trembling in her unsteady grip. Her hands were damp. Sweat slicked her palms, and a prickle of unease crawled up her spine. By Grazzt's cock, was she sweating? Her breath hitched. Could it have already begun?
Ceremorphosis.
The word alone made her stomach twist. Her fingers flew to her face, tracing her sharp cheekbones, sliding up through her hair, desperate for reassurance. No sign of tentacles. Not yet. It shouldn’t even be possible! Yet the mysteries of Netherese magic seemed beyond comprehension — for mortals and immortals alike.
“For your Ladyship Zariel, Lord of the First, Ruler of Avernus…”
No.
She scorches the parchment, reducing it to ashes in her hands. Another sheet is placed on the table, and Mizora dips her quill into the ink pot.
“To Her Most Radiant and Infernal Majesty, Zariel, Supreme Archduchess of Avernus, Scourge of the Nine Hells, Vanquisher of the Unholy, and Keeper of the Eternal Flame…”
No, no, no. Too grand. Zariel hates empty flatteries.
Mizora scorches another parchment, taking a deep breath before dipping her quill into the ink pot once more.
“Mother, I have a problem.”
...Ugh.
Mizora cringed inwardly. Her time surrounded by whimpering mortals must have been affecting her, for her to even consider putting those pathetic words on a paper. Avernus would freeze over before she dared address Zariel so casually — not without facing terrible consequences, of course.
Another scorched parchment, another dip of the quill into the ink pot.
“Your Glorious Eminence Zariel…”
There. A good start. Simple and direct, as the Archdevil herself. Now it was only a matter of keeping it simple and direct. No flourishes. A sudden lump formed in her throat, and her hand instinctively reached for it, as if checking to ensure her necklace wasn’t too tight. It wasn’t.
“It is with utmost humility and boundless reverence that I pen this letter to bring an urgent matter to your attention. I beg your forgiveness in advance for the inadequacy of my words to convey the gravity of the situation…”
No. Not begging. Begging Zariel for anything was as pointless as begging the sun not to rise. Absolutely not.
“It is with utmost humility and boundless reverence that I pen this letter to bring an urgent matter to your attention. During an interaction that I believed to be within my calculated control, I fell victim to an illithid tadpole, now lodged within my mind.”
No. A servant of Zariel was never a victim. To even hint at weakness would be a greater failure than this situation already was. Definitely not.
“It is with utmost humility and boundless reverence that I pen this letter to bring an urgent matter to your attention. While on assignment furthering your will in the mortal realm, I encountered myself in the unforeseen and extraordinary circumstance of having an illithid tadpole lodged within my mind.”
Huh. Not bad.
“I assure you, Your Radiance, that my loyalty remains unwavering, my will unbroken. I have taken every precaution to mitigate the influence of this vile aberration, and thus far, I remain untainted by its transformative process. However, I am acutely aware of the dangers this poses — to both myself and the work I undertake in your name. I would not presume to hide this from you, knowing the consequences of such deceit.”
Wait. Her loyalty being unwavering should go without saying. Stating it too emphatically might suggest it wasn’t as steadfast as it should be. No, that wouldn’t do either.
“I seek not absolution but your divine guidance in navigating this blasphemous affliction. Should you see fit to deliver punishment for my failure to avoid this fate, I will accept it without protest. Yet I humbly request the opportunity to prove that even in this wretched state, I remain a vessel for your will and an instrument of your glory.”
Hm... This feels too timid. Zariel despised cowardice. But being overly assertive might come across as arrogant — a prideful boast, something Zariel saw as a dangerous flaw in her soldiers. Still, Mizora wasn’t a soldier, and that was already enough of a point of frustration for Zariel. Better not push her luck.
Mizora leaned back in the chair, rocking it slightly as her gaze drifted to the ceiling. She should finish the letter, but the truth was, she was on the verge of giving up again. Her hands were still damp with a sweat that refused to stop, now trickling cold and unrelenting across her brow. Was this a fever? Oh, by Mephistopheles' hairy arsehole — what if that wretched illithid in the prism decided she wasn’t worth protecting anymore? A low hiss escaped her as she bit down on her knuckles, stifling the scream of rage bubbling in her throat. Her life, her very existence, now rested in the hands of a cursed squid. The thought made her blood boil, the fury rising so hot she wanted to burn the world around her to ashes — The Emperor included.
Mizora turned back to the letter, her hand shaking as she scribbled the final words. She read it over one last time, her eyes blurred with frustration and dread, before finally sending it — cursing herself for being unable to control the trembling of her hands.
Your Glorious Eminence Zariel
It is with utmost humility and boundless reverence that I pen this letter to bring an urgent matter to your attention. While on assignment furthering your will in the mortal realm, I encountered myself in the unforeseen and extraordinary circumstance of having an illithid tadpole lodged within my mind.
I seek not absolution but your divine guidance in navigating this blasphemous affliction. Should you see fit to deliver punishment for my failure to avoid this fate, I will accept it without protest. Yet I humbly request the opportunity to prove that even in this wretched state, I remain a vessel for your will and an instrument of your glory.
Your devoted servant, eternally bound by the fires of your mercy,
Mizora
Faithful Cambion of the First Circle
The letter could not have been gone for more than a moment or two. Outside of the window, a murder of crows took to the air in a hectic swarm of black wings, flashing claws and loud cawing. They fled the tree they had perched on. People shouted as they tried to keep a hold of their horses' reigns as their mounts shied and bolted, throwing their riders almost off their saddles. Someone's pot over an open fire was thrown off its hinges, splashing half-cooked soup all across the flames and the clothes of the cook. He shouted something and shook his fist in the air.
In Mizora's room, the fireplace, which had previously only had a small fire nourished in its wood, sprang to vivid life. The flames roared louder and louder as they climbed out of their stone confinement. They looped around each other, forming a massive flaming tornado in the middle of the room. Winds dragged at the papers and books. A few of the papers, which had not been secured well enough, got sucked into the flame tornado, where they burned to cinders immediately. Mizora's wings, dress, tail and hair fluttered back and forth in the storm.
In the heart of the fire tornado, a pair of glowing white eyes opened up. They narrowed as they locked onto Mizora. A commanding, clear voice boomed through the room, shattering the glass of the windows: "MIIIIZZZZOOOORRRRRRAAAAAAA!"
The flame tornado combusted in on itself and cloaked the entire room in thick, white smoke. When the air finally cleared, a sleek drow with lean muscles stepped out of the fireplace. Her skin was as white as her hair and her red eyes seemed to constantly shimmer and simmer. She was dressed in simple, practical leather armour with protective gear around her legs and underarms. The only noteworthy aspect of her attire was a long, black cape with red tips, which had been cut down the middle, making it mimic a pair of wings as she moved. One of her crossed arms was holding onto a spear.
"I read your letter", Zariel cut to the point immediately, "Tell me, how can you consider yourself a vessel of my will and glory after you have proven such incompetence? I told you to scout out the cult and figure out what is happening. I told you to stay hidden during this. Yet you could not do that. Right now, you are a danger to yourself and others due to the parasite lodged in your skull. So tell me why I shouldn't end your existence as a precaution? After all, you clearly seem to be of the belief that you still hold a crumb of value to your existence. So enlighten me, Mizora. What is that value?"
#dev1lsadvocate#letter: ask#i rose to shoulder a cosmic burden: zariel||in character#its always the terms and conditions that get you: mizora||in character#Default Verse[Zariel]#things changed since you left: queue
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I agree with all of this, but I also would like to add something probably a bit controversial. If we look at this from Mizora's angle, the fact that Wyll is a heroic person who is forced by very bad circumstances into becoming a warlock, also explains why Mizora for example hangs out in our camp after we freed Wyll from the pact. I know a lot of people hate and complain about this fact, but consider the following:
Mizora likely has made many deals in the past. And like OP and many of the reblogs said, warlocks are usually power-hungry or well, more clearly connotated as something evil. Wyll, as we saw, is none of that stuff. For Mizora, that would make him immediately memorable and explain why she loves toying with him and pushing him this much.
Wyll is not your typical warlock. Him, being suited for another class, is not just affecting him in my opinion, but it also affects Mizora and why she is as creepily invested in him as she is. After all, if Wyll was just like any other warlock, then her "losing" him so to speak, would not matter. Mizora could have just gotten herself a new warlock. No biggie.
Wyll, on the other hand, yeah that type of personality and those circumstances would not return that quickly. Of course, she becomes spiteful enough to attempt to hurt Wyll by seducing Tav. Of course, she plans on killing Ulder if we somehow manage to save him and break Mizora's contract. She just lost a very unique type of investment and a pretty damn effective bloodhound (something she specifically calls Wyll in his origin run) for herself.
Naturally, she is gonna be an arsehole about this!
In short, both Mizora and Wyll are shaped by the fact that Wyll is not a traditional warlock. The fact that people cannot notice that nuance will never not drive me up a wall.
"wyll shouldve been *insert class here* instead!" i mean, im glad you picked up on that, but thats kinda... the whole thing? he wouldve taken any hand before he resorted to mizora, but mizora was the only one who offered one. his line "the only thing a gods ever given me is a cold shoulder" is dropped casually, but crucial to his character. he shouldve been anything other than a fiend warlock. when he reunited with his father all those years ago, he shouldve been imbued with the power of fuckin, like, tyr or something. he shouldve been made a paladin or a cleric or even just a normal lvl 1 guy who got some greater power to do all that shit for him. the devs expected a target audience of d&d players, so him being a warlock at all was supposed to surprise players
#cat wrangler: out of character#analysis and interpretation: meta#its always the terms and conditions that get you: mizora||in character#straight to your handler and i didnt even have to whistle: wyll ravenguard
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batting his lashes coquettishly at mizora, scooting closer. "so……. hypotetically speaking… if you could just snatch the soul of anybody at camp… who would it be? who do you think has the tastiest soul?"
She could not help but peer down at Vhaal as he scooted closer to her, batting his lashes as if he wanted to let her in on a big secret. How adorable! One might almost assume that he wanted to come across as just as charming and seductive as her, showing he could be just as manipulative. It was sickeningly sweet and the temptation to rip the bandage from his eyes and break his assumptions of her boiled underneath her skin. Maybe she could indulge in it, just a little, particularly as she heard his question.
Mizora smirked darkly for as far as she was concerned, Vhaal had not just asked which soul was the tastiest. He had asked whom of Wyll's playmates, she would kill and devour last. Staring at the drow with blood-red eyes, her shadow grew behind her until it towered over them both. Several somethings were moving and slithering about at the outskirts of the shadow, long, serpentine necks and sharply cut snouts full of razor-sharp teeth. Once more, growls and pants filled the air, along with the sensation of being watched by more than just one pair of eyes.
"I can hardly say Wyll's soul", Mizora said, "Given that I have been working on shaping himself. His taste is familiar, though, of course, familiarity does not make it any less delicious. As for the others: Well, it seems you all are so trapped in your own little problems and vices. Every one of you could make for a satisfying meal. Whether that be because deep down you are still a terrified little boy, a girl without any orientation, or you have something to prove or a broken heart. Though, if we have to go with personal preferences, I would have to say Karlach."
"I still believe that one day, she will return to Avernus and into her mistress, Zariel's embrace. But I won't pretend that I had never entertained the thought of getting a taste of her soul. Someone, having been in Avernus, yet without being a lemure, experiences a special kind of trauma. They are never the same after. And though Karlach might try to hide behind an upbeat and lively attitude, her darkness, past traumas and that fear of death lace her soul like a stream of spicy oil. It is positively delectable, just thinking about it."
#demonwebs#letter: ask#its always the terms and conditions that get you: mizora||in character#Default Verse[Mizora]#things changed since you left: queue
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TEMPTING – VERY TEMPTING. Such an offer, but this one has slipped through her claws once before, and how others had been punished for such bold and daring actions to try and read between the lines. That was her job, her contracts were ironclad and always tilted the scales into her favor, always. She cannot be cheated, she cannot be tricked, she cannot be robbed of what she is owed and this one, well let’s just say that her interest was there and that was free for the time being, everything else afterwards .. well that was going to become costly and this little mortal was already within serious debt, no point in adding to the collector and having countless fight all over the pieces once it comes time to carve her up. “Is this a bad time darling, do you need another forty winks to get some beauty sleep.” A hand on her chest and a coy smile upon her lips, false flattery and mocking words aplenty, but it is the nature of such dealings. She already had her claws in many little pets within the land, why on earth would she want for anymore than what she had, but then again. A deal was a deal and a contract was almost mouth watering to cut out her useless debtors and merely go right to the person causing her so much trouble and offer them, well what everyone wants, the deal of a lifetime. No tricks, no little back doors, just a simple deal, what she wants, in exchange for what she wants, it was truly so simple. She had the blade, a hero, a legend within the land, but how he fights and denies, time and time again, how this ought to work. “I am here, to see if you wish for more from me, your sample, is it not to your liking, and that is nothing compared to what you can have, if you only ask for it.”
"Ha ha ha", Jinx called out, feigning amusement at the joke, "I cannot contain my laughter. Ha ha ha."
Her mismatched eyes drifted over towards Mizora's large, bat-like wings. Bats had hollow bones. It allowed them to fly. They also were particularly fragile and the leathery skin, too, was something, which ought not be damaged. Jinx idly wondered whether or not Mizora would be robbed of the power of flight if she yanked just hard enough, twisted her bones by a joint and caused it to snap. Or perhaps she should take out her dagger and cut into the leathery skin that way.
The thoughts felt good like dipping your bare feet into the warm waters of a boiling spring. They coaxed a sly smile out of Jinx's lips and her tail flicked from one side to the next. Still, she forced the contemplation down. As much as she wanted to do it - and that desire burned to the point her muscles cramped -, she knew it would jeopardise Wyll's safety and hers. The tiefling could not let that happen.
Hearing Mizora ask her what she wanted, if she wanted more power, the warlock began to pace back and forth like a displacer beast in a cage, large tentacles flicking back and forth. Powder peered after her, the familiar's tail matching her tail's slow curls and flicks. Jinx closed her fingers around her chin as she thought long and hard. Finally, she stopped and looked at Mizora.
"Here is the kicker", Jinx admitted, "I am not really after more power, so I really do not know how to ask for what I want. I am more invested in what's going on in here." She tapped a clawed finger against her temple. "Not the tadpole, mind yah! I am more interested in the whole other stuff. All these images and intrusive thoughts... I do not wanna get rid of them. But I do wanna understand them better. I think in the past, I specifically chose to become a ranger to understand what goes on in my head, but it didn't lead to the result, I wanted. Hunting game in the woods and even hunting people is different than the way people are, well, diabolical. Soooo, do you think you can help me on that front? Or is that out of a devil's skill book?"
@fallesto cont. from here.
#fallesto#rp: bargaining for a durge soul#im gonna show him youll see: jinx interaction#its always the terms and conditions that get you: mizora||in character#BG3 Verse[Jinx]#things changed since you left: queue
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IT IS OFFICIAL! Warlocks are kittens now and they will get adopted by the fiendish horrors whether they want it or not.
Wyll, Zevlor, fucking run!
#cat wrangler: out of character#meow meow with razor blades on its feet: crack#its always the terms and conditions that get you: mizora||in character#i rose to shoulder a cosmic burden: zariel||in character
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Jaheira and Karlach on their way to tag team boop Mizora
@iron-hearts-ablaze
With a powerful slap of her wings, the Cambion took into the air. Climbing higher and higher until she was safely out of reach, she peered down at her assailants. Mizora called down: "Cannot boop me if you cannot reach me."
#harpershigh#letter: ask#meow meow with razor blades on its feet: crack#its always the terms and conditions that get you: mizora||in character#the high harper: jaheira#the demons bane: karlach cliffgate
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Jaheira felt a sudden weight on her shoulders, and before she could react, she was enveloped in shadow — the leathery expanse of wings unfurling behind her. She blinked, frozen in place, her eyes slowly lifting to look back and up at the fiend looming over her. She opened her mouth, but no words came out just yet — just pure, wide-eyed disbelief. Hells... even a cambion stepped up against the would-be nibblers. My situation must be dire... She laughs, but it was more of a tired sound than anything else. Rubbing her eyes, she sighed deeply. "I must really look like a snack if even shefeels the need to defend me!"
Jaheira instinctively froze up. Not that this would have done her much good. If Mizora genuinely played with the thought of biting her, she could divorce her head from her body right then and there. It was made even easier by the woman frozen in shock. However, instead, she looked down at that druid with her half-agape mouth and smiled.
"If someone genuinely wanted to eat you, they would probably deem you too gamey, Jaheira," Mizora said as one of her claws gingerly trailed over her collarbone and up her neck as if she were feeling out the elasticity of the flesh. "Of course, maybe the flesh underneath your skin is softer and juicier."
She laughed low and darkly as she leaned over Jaheira, her wings shifting slightly. "Don't worry", the Cambion teased in mild mockery, "I am not gonna bite you to find out."
@harpershigh cont. from here.
#harpershigh#meow meow with razor blades on its feet: crack#its always the terms and conditions that get you: mizora||in character#the high harper: jaheira#things changed since you left: queue
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Pet Name / Nickname for Mizora From Nyssala @unhingedbutpretty Interplanar mommy :D
Nicknames/Pet Names||Accepting.
A hearty, rumbling laughter filled Mizora's belly. The Cambion buckled over in front of the drow, her wings opening just a touch and her tail swaying from side to side. Oh, that was such a droll, little thing! Drow culture had an obsession with two things: Self-preservation and the worship of the female. So, of course, Nyssala would pick a nickname based on something female.
Gasping for breath, the Cambion rose and properly looked at Nyssala. Mizora wiped away a tear from her eye, even as her stomach quivered from some left-over giggles. Her wing opened and angled itself sideways. Taking hold of the drow with the help of her claws, she urged her so close that the poor thing practically bodyslammed against her, forced to peer up at her from between her breast, stomach touching stomach.
Languid arms loosely wrapped around Nyssala's shoulders and corpse-blue, chilly hands caressed her spine. The wing, previously nicking into her shoulder with the thorn on its top, folded neatly behind her back. Mizora's voice somehow became a comforting whisper and a seductive hum, all at once, an alluring lullaby, which lowered your guard and made you want to snuggle even closer to her.
"Begs the question: Nyssala, what kind of Mummy are you looking for? Because I could easily be a mother figure if that is what you need." Her head inched closer, hot breath whispering against the drow's ear as Mizora practically purred. "Or I could be much more if that is what you desire."
#unhingedbutpretty#playground: meme#letter: ask#its always the terms and conditions that get you: mizora||in character#Default Verse[Mizora]
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The "Yes, I am stuck in a pot, of course, I am pissed off, you genius!" energy!
OMG, I love it. I may not be a big fan of the damsel in distress stuff, but all these lines have so much personality. XD
Here's the old datamined voice lines for Mizora back in EA before the rewrite. (source)
Forever mourning the fact that Mizora was supposed to be a damsel in distress. She had so much more personality.
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Stories To Tell
It was easy to disappear in the hustle and bustle of a tavern. Mizora sat in the shadowy corner of a corner table; her silvery eyes surveying the comings and goings of the patrons. The Cambion was masquerading as a beautiful lady with cream-coloured skin. Her fiery orange hair, tinging into an auburn tone, was adorned with several golden rings, glittering crescents and minuscule daggers to give her an air of nobility and elegance. Her silken, blue dress concealed itself in the dark, though some light fell upon a low-cut front and a warm, long, finely laced fur collar, which seemed to have been divided into a few braids, decorated with golden bracelets.
Mizora's make-up was pronouncing her beauty just right, barely highlighting the silver of her eyes, the fine bridge of her nose and the curve of her purple lips. Finely cut and trimmed nails tapped against the rim of a glass. In it swam a lonely puddle of red wine - a pitiful excuse to the liquid fire, you could down in the Nine Hells. Everything about her hide currently was a pitiful excuse. Mizora missed the weight of her wings and the sway of her tail. Without them, it felt like she was missing a vital part of her communication. But alas sometimes you had to lower yourself if you wanted to attract the right sort of people.
Like the soul, Mizora just spotted walking into the tavern. The Cambion raised a hand and waved, tantalisingly wagging her fingers back and forth. Waiting for the other person to meet her gaze, Mizora smiled and called with a soft cadenza: "Would you mind keeping a lone noblewoman company? You look like you might have some stories to tell. How about I buy you a drink? Make it worth your while."
#our timeline has moved up: open starter#its always the terms and conditions that get you: mizora||in character
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You know what? Fuck it
🎲 for Mizora and Jaheira
I want the K||Accepting.
7. A romantic kiss.
What could be considered romantic tended to vastly differ between a fiend and other species of Faerun. In fact, what might be read as romantic from an uncritical angle, was usually more akin to a sudden rush of endorphins and heightened arousal for the fiend in question. Usually triggered by a massive absorption of negative emotions like fear, panic, fright or anger, coupled with the sight of carnage.
Mizora was currently in the thrall of that emotional high after Jaheira and she had beaten down a surprise ambush of a group of Absolute Cultists on the route to Baldur's Gate. While the tadpole gang had been able to take out Ketheric Thorm, it seemed that for many of the survivors of the Moonrise massacre, they were now the enemy number one and many of them hungered for retribution.
The air was thick with a haze of smells. Ironrich blood, so loaded you might throw up if you took too deep a breath. Frosty chills from several bodies covered in rhyme and contorted from the thralls of the Hunger of Hadar, Mizora had trapped a large chunk of the Cultists in. The bodies, which had not been eviscerated by her devouring, cold and toxic darkness and Jaheira's thick, unruly thorns, had been ripped to pieces by the claws of a panther and reduced to ash by the single gesture of a corpse-blue hand.
Mizora was remarkably untouched by the blood as, for once, she had not thrown herself into the fray and instead kept her distance while Jaheira had leapt straight into the thicket of the ambush. As the Cambion looked at the panther, her red eyes glowed with fiery appreciation and a hunger, which differed from the ways, she inspected the corpses. The panther's paws and muzzle were dripping with blood.
Soon enough though, the animal's body was enveloped by golden light before with a sharp tearing sound and a puddle of viscera and blood, the panther shed its animalistic shape and in its place stood Jaheira herself. The half-elf was dripping with blood, her hands and arms drenched in red and even her mouth coated in viscera. The flush, making Mizora's cheeks purple, returned, darkening them even more. She gazed at the half-elf with a sense of sick pleasure and appreciation as if Jaheira had just shown her a colour she really liked.
"You have got a little something there, my dear." Mizora stepped closer and reached for Jaheira's face with her hand. "Let me help you with that." The Cambion traced her fingers over the half-elf's bloodied feature, collecting the red, which had not yet completely dried and crusted up around her mouth. Popping her fingers into her mouth, Mizora suckled off the blood with a satisfied hum as if she had just shared in a kill.
"Has anyone ever told you how beautiful you look like this, Jaheira?"
Mizora's voice was barely above a whisper. Her hand cupped the harper's chin, her thumb tracing across her lips, now mostly clean of the blood. The Cambion stepped closer. Her wings opened wide before they gingerly and carefully wrapped themselves around Jaheira's body, encasing her in a warm, leathery cocoon.
"Don't be afraid", Mizora cooed, "I promise, I will be gentle."
Her hand tightened around the harper's jawline and Mizora guided their heads closer to one another, even bending down a touch to make the following kiss easier. As their lips touched, Jaheira would hear a brief whooshing sound. It was Mizora's wings, trembling ever so slightly. Her kiss was soft and almost a bit succulent as the Cambion nibbled at Jaheira's lips, though wisely kept her tongue with its sharp hooks on the surface to itself. A low purr originated from Mizora's throat as she gave the harper a firm, yet gentle and carefully controlled kiss, which might be compared to a cat softly sniffing your nose.
@harpershigh
#harpershigh#playground: meme#letter: ask#its always the terms and conditions that get you: mizora||in character#Default Verse[Mizora]#things changed since you left: queue
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💧 How often do you annoy the mun? And with what?
🔥 How would you spend one day with the mun if you could?
☀ Does the mun have other muses beside you? What is your opinion on them?
(all for Mizora because I can't help myself lol)
Muse Speaks Of The Mun||Accepting.
"Well, I know one thing, which tends to annoy Miss T, though I am not the only one who does this", Mizora mused, "Almost all of the characters she writes, have moments when they don't cooperate. It annoys her, especially when she has the drive to write, but we are not in the mood to do anything. I think it annoys her with me especially because much like Silco, in her own words, I require brain power. Don't get me wrong: The sweet kitten loves writing the manipulator, but an unfortunate part of the craft is the whole three-dimensional chess playing when you write a manipulator. As easy as I tend to come to her, Miss T is very critical of how I use dialogue and body language when I manipulate people. The sweet kitten is obsessed with how this all is perceived. And it makes perfect sense. After all, if I am to manipulate someone, I need to create a certain effect in, if not the reader, at least the character I am manipulating. So, this is an annoyance of hers. Sometimes, I require a bit of work. Even if we know, she gladly does that work."
"If I could spend a day with Miss T, I would keep her company and try to help her do things she normally cannot. I would have to be so gentle with the sweet kitten, mostly because her condition means physically she cannot do a lot of the typical outdoor activities. But who is to say I could not help with that? I admit, I would be very tempted to try roping Miss T into a deal. Her disability just creates a wonderful opening for this. It would probably even work as Miss T has thought about what it would be to not be physically disabled. While she agrees that you should not cure a disabled character in fiction, especially if it is done by an able-bodied author, she is not against the idea of exploring what a cure would mean from a disabled stance. She has the belief that at least mentally imagining what it is like to be cured is a vital step to accepting being different. Or at least learning to come to terms with it. And she has had thought experiments concerning disability and the Cybermen from Doctor Who. I think she would be surprised if I did not try to offer her a pact, which helps alleviate the burdens of her disability."
"Miss T has quite a few muses outside of me, but that is nothing new. From the day, she started writing on Tumblr, she always wrote more than one character. She even has problems with adding too many muses. I am sure, people who have followed this blog for a long time, will have noticed how messy things get. Outside of me, she currently has four other characters on this blog and her two OCs on a side blog.
"Of course, I have nothing but praises for my mistress, her ladyship Zariel. She is as frightening as she is commanding and beautiful. My mother has shaped me a lot, even before Miss T eventually decided to let her hang out on the blog. I cannot express the joy I felt when I learned Zariel would become a permanent member of the blog. The Lord of the First has powers unrivalled and her singular focus in the Blood War is admirable. Where I am scary, she is a terror to behold. Mighty, commanding, direct, focussed, yet charismatic and sly - it is an honour to be in her service.
"Then there is my pet, Wyll Ravenguard. Such a loyal, little puppy. He still has his moments of disobedience and while he always tries to do the right thing, at least he has somewhat gotten the message of doing things morally sometimes. Still, compared to Zariel or me, he is not nearly as dark as he could be. Though I would not call the pupster a completely good-natured hero either. He has shades of grey and can be most cunning and clever. Furthermore, unlike the Wyll in the game, my pup here has no intention of leaving his contract with me. We may not always see eye-to-eye, but at the end of the day, Wyll is a very loyal pet and quite the skilled hunter. He just happens to be an outlier for Miss T's usual writing style, which is why she sometimes takes a bit to trust him to play around with other people.
"The other two characters on the blog are not familiar to me. Usually, I would not even meet them, but given that I am breaking the fourth wall for these asks anyway, I suppose I can also give you my opinion on the two girls, who let's be honest, were on this blog long before I ever showed up. In a way, Jinx and Vi are the original inhabitants of this blog, with Jinx even being the primary muse. They just currently are less active, partly because of bad experiences the Mun made in the fandom, but also because Miss T is waiting for season two to come out, which should be soon. Let's hope that tickles the girls' fancy.
"Jinx is the muse, Miss T is the closest too. Like I already implied, prior to me, Jinx was our Mun's primary muse. A wild, chaotic thing, from what I heard. Poor girl is plagued by a strong psychosis. And while you should pity her, make no mistake: Miss T made this girl a menace. A feral, vicious menace, that loves to maim and slaughter and has quite the love for explosives. She also seems to have an obsessive streak, being very possessive over her older sister Vi and wanting some silly Sherrif named Caitlyn dead. Honestly, Jinx is the reason, the Mun is surprised she cannot write Orin. Though to be fair, Jinx seems more terrifying than a demented, uncoordinated Bhaalspawn.
"Vi, Jinx's sister, reminds me a lot of Karlach. She too is more of a brute force fighter, rambunctious, wild and unruly. Much like Wyll, she is not Miss T's preferred type of muse. Not just due to the physical nature of her attacks, but also that despite being a brawler, Vi is a heroic character. At least, she has her heart in the right spot, though she has a potty mouth to match it, cursing and rebelling every chance she gets. To be honest, I am surprised that Miss T is not writing Karlach, given that she writes. Though, well Vi is not nearly as happy-go-lucky on the outside as Karlach is. So I can see why that may not be her cup of tea.
"Then, of course, there are her two newcomers who get a whole blog for themselves," Mizora smirked idly. "Felicitas and Ammit. Miss T's first attempts at creating original characters. Might explain why she feels the desire to hide them a bit. Felicitas is the more youthful of the two: Sassy, mistrustful of authority, and weary of her powers to some extent. It must be frightening to be pacted to something and have no idea about it. Ammit, meanwhile, is cold, calculating and more like a mentor figure. She may only be a rogue, but she is vicious."
#mformusings#playground: meme#letter: ask#its always the terms and conditions that get you: mizora||in character#cat wrangler: out of character
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