#kesil

[crimsontroupe]

@kesil cont from here [x] because you know how it is when you throw spaghetti everywhere and then the bowl shatters on the floor and you have spaghetti and glass shards and

There are things people should not mess with: the dead, the future and the past. The dead and the past walk hand-in-hand, and so they shape the future. By their presence or absence. Adonia is aware of this, as it is really not a difficult concept to comprehend. 

If he is aware, then why would he tempt fate and walk backwards in such a way? Magic weaves easy from his hands and body: it flows through his veins, reversing and halting the flow of time. Not something he should be able to do, but reality has a way to bend itself around him. To achieve the impossible, a will so strong and unshakable that not even Fate can go against it.

So he returns to a place that crushes his heart like no other, a place full of ghosts and full of joy and full of sadness and full of rage. 

Adonia knows of something else: this is not his. "Returning" never meant returning to the same spot. He turns to a familiar scene, but there are details wrong. It makes it more obvious that it is simply one of the many branches in a tree, one different that Adonia usually perches on. 

Faces of the dead, smiling cheerfully. He keeps himself hidden, knowing that it would only cause confusion. Adonia cannot imagine talking to them. The cowardly part of him finds it easier to hide than to accept he would run away before acknowledging their presence. 

He should not meddle. He should not, his feet betraying that very same thought: before long, he finds himself in front of a familiar room. 

Adonia could do anything else, but he is doing this. He could warn his siblings, himself, fix things. Fix this.

Fix this.

How fragile they all seem, now. Adonia thought the bond that kept his family together was stronger than this. 

He also considered his acting skills better than what they actually were.

Adonia could slice Olysseus' throat open and leave. Ignore the warnings, stain the water with blood. That ugly part of him knows how easy it would be, but when his sibling is so sharp —

"What are you talking about, Lyse? I am myself."

That old smile surfaces on his lips again. He is torn between logic and nostalgia, torn between what he should do and what he knows he should not. Is it right to follow fundamental rules, but know one is still responsible for tragedy?

He acknowledges that in that singular moment, he cannot bring himself to get rid of his brother. Because he has not done anything else. How can Adonia possibly pass judgment on a soul that is yet to be stained with the blood of their own people? 

How can he – how did he – he would rather avoid all of this. That same annoying behavior resurfaces, so old now. 

What is so different that he cannot bear to repeat the act of murder once more? He did it once. He killed him once. He should be able to--

Adonia smiles, his eyes closing a bit.

"Who would I be if not myself?"

[laplacemail]

❝ sorry we got off on the wrong foot there. ❞ ez to adonia - @kesil

Snow piles lazily around them, as it has been for a while now. Adonia watches the ravens lazily, taking advantage of the fact that he is almost always the first one to rise. The way he gazes upon her is different from the way he looks at others: it is wary, knowing. Guarded. But it does not keep her out. Not yet.

There are many steps to be taken to reach that turning point. He busies himself with the myriad colorful flowers he plucked from his hair the night before, deft fingers intertwining their stems together. A way to pass the time, a way to make himself more approachable. A way to take his mind off things that weigh heavily on him. Adonia wants nothing more to blink and fix all of these problems, but that small part of him wants to run. Instead of stifling that voice, he soothes it. There is nothing he can do now but to fix things.

For a moment, that friendly expression he always carries hardens. His burden to bear, and his mistakes to fix. The bodies and all. Yet one cannot live - truly live - while clinging on to the past. Where he walks, revolution. Where he walks, spring. Where he walks, life. Old stones uprooted. New ones in its stead. Vallaki had that aura of forced joy, that engineered smile.

Krezk brings stillness. The horrors of change, closed gates and a challenge that seems beyond his abilities. Lady Wachter was easy. Political plots are easy, stringing people together in a most convoluted net is easy. It is for the sake of progress, it is for the sake of people. For that, Adonia will shoulder as many deaths as he can hold in his hands.

Next time he drops by to visit his brother, he should probably figure out what became of that. His thumb stops, running over delicate petals. Instead of agreeing or disagreeing, he looks at the young woman once again.

"Would you strike me down like a common beast?" She should know he is testing her. Gauging her response, both her actual response and the way the body reacts to information. The way a body is trained to react to such things. "Ignore the fact that we are working towards a common goal for a moment. If I were not, would my existence be a threat to you and what you desire to protect?" She is smart enough to understand what he means. Adonia is not human. Not anymore. Not after all the change he went through. He simply hides it well. "We did not start on the best of terms, and that I can agree with. Of all the people to provoke - and I know you did not want to provoke them - were the people we are on good terms with."

Though it is still quite hilarious to realize Adonia is in 'good terms' with a man like Arrigal. For the first time, he smiles. Best to finish what he wants to say before listening to her answer. Ez has much to think about, he is certain of it. "And I will not apologize for what I did." And a horrible realization if she realizes the extent of curses and promises placed upon a certain someone. "You may think it is disrespectful, and it might be." He blinks, and realizes something. Raises his left index finger to bring attention to himself for a moment.

"Oh, not the defacing of the board. That was simply artistic freedom. I meant the journal entry. It was the most well-mannered any of us could behave after perusing it." His fate will be much worse, he hints. He makes it clear. "Knowing this, I return to my original inquiry: would you strike me down like a common beast? Would you strike my companions, being what they are?

I once feared that they would turn their backs on me, once they figured out what I was. But nothing happened." A small, orange butterfly takes advantage of his still extended finger towards her. The small ring of flowers he made must seem intriguing to it. It does not mind the cold. His expression turns into cold, rigid steel once more. A declaration of war and the hoisting of a white flag both. "Would you?"

[crimsontroupe]

"Whatever gave you the impression that I was?" The smirk that is painted on his lips is answer enough. Aliah takes some amusement from this situation, of course. Not the death, not the destruction. But to see Faust so eager to please, that clear glimpse of the adventuring heart his companion possesses... it is charming. Aliah wishes to devour it whole.

"Be careful when approaching others. Even a dead man can pose a problem. I would rather not see you blown to smithereens. Too difficult to piece you back together, see." It is still part of his wicked sense of humor, but the Spell Lord actually means it this time. The cost of the spell is not the matter here, but it would inconvenience him. Aliah rotates his wrists for a moment, making sure he still is in full control of himself.

"Unlikely. The journey from Nex to Absalom is long, and what exactly could they possibly offer for my head that they would not sell their mercenary allies in order to get something in return out of me instead? A fee for 'warning about a potential attack against a prominent political figure' would give them better leverage. Killing me only gets them bragging rights. And that can only carry them so far.

And I believe any spellcaster worth their coin is currently busy in Quantium. This is clearly the product of desperate men with enough coin to afford a decent caster, but not the best." Aliah does not mention his suspicion that if they were really from Nex, the approach towards another wizard would be different. They would be more cautious, and they would at least make sure Aliah cannot speak. "I would not call this job amateurish, there is certainly some polish here."

He takes Faust's theory into account, of course. "While not unheard of, to try and kill me still in Absalom is risky. And of course. Take care to not miss; I will not have nearly enough time to cover for you."

Not that he will need to. Aliah's gaze goes from the man falling to the ground to the one further away from him. As the man rises from his seat, Aliah is already moving his hands and preparing a spell. His leg is perforated by a massive spike, pinning him to the ground. Aliah makes sure to not kill, not yet.

It is easier to extract information from living beings than reanimating corpses momentarily to achieve results that would be cryptic and more trouble than they are worth. "Faust," he calls out. "I know you still have ammunition. Shoot his hand. I would rather take one of them alive and figure out what is going on here."

He levels his gaze to the panting mercenary, who could barely restrain himself from screaming in pain while making futile attempts to break free. His eyes narrow, and Aliah raises his voice enough that it can be heard through the rush of adrenaline the man certainly is feeling right now.

"I would advise against that. Move, and I will make sure I pick an even worse area to target. As you are, at least you are not bleeding everywhere on the floor." It is clear that he wizard has no issues in picking another spell, or simply repeating it in a more deadly fashion. "You owe both of us answers. But more importantly, you owe Absalom answers to the actions committed on this night."

“You’re trying to make me feel better, aren’t you.” Faust draws his war razor and slices through Aliah’s bonds, careful not to nick his skin or clothing. He doesn’t realize that he’s smiling faintly. For a moment, he feels so abruptly and powerfully fond of this perfectly strange man that his chest aches.

Faust rubs Aliah’s wrists firmly but gently for a few moments, massaging the blood back into them. “I’m not entirely sure that it’s working,” he says, letting go of Aliah’s hands to cut his legs free. “But I appreciate the thought. I’ll do my best to live up to the spirit of the moment.”

He rifles through the dead men’s belongings, but there’s little of value, and nothing that could point to the identities of their captors. Faust shakes his head, draws two elixirs from the depths of his coat, and hands them to his partner. 

“Nothing of note. I doubt any of this rabble will put a scratch on you, but I know you’re kind enough to hold these for me. Do you really think they wouldn’t hire a Nexian? This may be my ingrained bias as someone from Alkenstar, but I’ve always been struck by the sense that Nexian wizards have little grasp of politics outside of Nex. Largely because they don’t care for anything occurring outside of Nex.”

The hallway is a dead end to the right, so Faust turns to the left as he speaks, murmuring quietly enough that he hopes Aliah alone can hear. 

“It’s entirely possible that one of them would expect to get away with aiding in an attack on a Spell Lord, if they were able to leave the area in time to avoid-- movement around the next corner, twenty feet away,” he says, cutting himself off. “Perhaps our mage friend could be someone willing to work pro bono against a powerful wizard they personally oppose?” Thankfully, Aliah is more than used to the way Faust leaps between subjects. “I can bludgeon whichever one of them is closest; take the farthest." 

Faust spins his gun to grip it by the barrel, then strides forward and turns the corner, already swinging in absolute certainty that a human-sized creature is standing in that space. The man that slumps to the ground will need treatment for a concussion; unfortunately for him, Faust is at the moment in the business of applying violence, not treating its results.

[thewolfisawake]

"Alright, Maks, you find your siblings," Kesil said to the toddler. He said this lackadaisically but his sight hadn't left the babe as he toddled towards the escaping children. Magnus made his way to a makeshift barrier and stopped at it. He then started calling, "Bear! Row-z!"

The man chuckled, he swears it never gets old. He might actually miss when Magnus wouldn't be able to pronounce names. The toddler kept calling as children flooded out to either reach their busses or to come to their pickup. Of course, he picked them out rather easily but said nothing, letting the kids have their fun.

Blair likely picked up on Magnus' anticipation first. Much like his mother's ability, it worked easier with those he knew. As soon as he looked, Roza picked up on the direction and was off. Magnus bobbled up and down as he noticed the blurs that were his brother and sister. He called faster until Roza managed to scoop the toddler into her arms. Laughter pealed from them as Blair came up to help haul the toddler...to him like they were hauling him off the field.

"Papa!" Blair called as he zoned in on where he was. Kesil gave a casual wave and paid no mind to the looks. If not his looks, it was the rambunctiousness of his kids. To which, better now than later. He ruffled the boy's hair, "Pup, see you and your sister have brought quite the haul."

As if knowing that he meant him, Magnus cheered as he reached up towards his father. Kesil chuckled, "And you found them. Alright, now that the gang's here, let's go. Your mom's probably gonna be waiting."

[universal-consistant]

you think burning plant magic would be the perfect immediate solution

that is until youre still getting wrapped by the unburned plants, the thorned vines climbing up and tying around your body as the flames crawl twards you, despite becoming delicate theres still a pull to the vines even as they burn, and theres so many its still overwhelming

the vines digging into the walls, slowly breaking them down as the fire envelops the floor and creeps up the walls

even with your fire resistance dear hunter, the smoke still burns your lungs and stings your eyes doesn’t it? im sure your armor can protect you from the inevitable crash right?

[hazard-and-friends]

hi! how do you say k'seil? she’s adorable!

well i did the best to make the spelling phonetic: kuh-SEAL, with the first syllable as short as possible

[arcxnumvitae]

✏️ (Veritas & Kesil)

@lunarxdaydream // mentioning @thewolfisawake || Incorrect Quotes || Not Accepting

Kesil: How do I tell Veritas that I want them to yell at me like they're Gordon Ramsay and I'm a poor little chef who just ruined a crème brûlée?

----

Kesil: Veritas, you love me, right? Veritas: Normally I’d say yes without hesitation, but I feel like this is going somewhere I won’t like.

----

Veritas, talking about Kesil: WHAT THE FUCK I WAS ARGUING WITH THEM AND I SAID “OOH YOU WANNA KISS ME SO BAD” AND GUESS WHAT? THEY DID. THEY KISSED ME. WHAT THE FUCK WHAT DO I DO.

----

Kesil: Hey, I’m getting in the shower. Wanna help me out? Veritas: ...Have you never taken a shower before?

----

Kesil: Okay, but what if we went to dinner not as friends this time? Veritas: AS ENEMIES?! Kesil:

[lunarxdaydream]

Smash or Pass (Aurelia to Kesil)

( smash or pass )

"I suppose I'm willing to consider smash if he manages to beat me at our next meeting."

|| @arcxnumvitae | @thewolfisawake ||

[gozlerimdekiparilti]

sınav haftasında büründüğüm kişiden korkuyorum.

[girifit]

tüm karaladıklarımı, buruşmuş bir kağıda yazdığım her şeyi veda say. çünkü ben bu durumdan artık nasıl kurtulacağımı bilmiyorum. bir batalıkta çırpındıkça daha da dibe batmak gibi bir şey bu. ağzımı açtığım an silahın namlusu bana doğrultuluyor. başımı kaldırdığım an şiddetli bir tokatla yana düşüyor başım, geriye savruluyor bedenim. bak, bu yüzden veda say dediklerimi ve yazdıklarımı. kaçıncı sigaramı yaktığımı bilmediğim dakikalardayım. başımdaki ağrı dinmiyor, ilaçlar etki etmiyor. adımlarım eskisi kadar sağlam basmıyor artık yere, takılıyorum bazen. düşmek istiyorum, düşemiyorum. çok güçlü olduğumu söylüyorlar bana, benim yerimde olsalarmış kaldıramazlarmış öyle dediler. ufak bir tebessüm sunup geçtim. ama hayır o an tek yapmak istediğim bağırmaktı. ben kaldıramadım zaten, öldüm bin defa demek istedim. cesetten bir farkım kalmadı demek istedim. olur olmadık krizlerimi anlatmak, gerekirse bana acısınlar istedim. ama olmadı. güldüm ve geçtim. oysa o an ve o anlardan herhangi birinde gülüp geçtiğim hep bendim. ezip geçtiğim bendim. hâline acıdığım da bendim.

şimdi o yüzden diyorum sana, veda say dediklerimi diye. hiç dinlemediysen kulak kesilmediysen bana bu sefer ,tek sefer dâhi olsa, kulak kesil. çünkü olmuyor artık. nefes aldıkça canım acıyor, ciğerlerim yerinden çıkıyor. olur olmadık anlarda doluyor gözlerim. ben ne yapacağımı şaşırıyorum. gizlenmek istiyorum. herkesten ve her şeyden saklamak. daha da ilerisi, kaybolmak istiyorum. biraz daha dayan, diyorum kendime. biraz daha. bitecek ve geçecek. oysa ne bitecek ne de geçecek. ben de biliyorum. yalnızca inandırdıkları bir yalana ben de kendimi inandırıyorum. veya inandırmaya çalışıyorum artık hangisiyse, ben bilmiyorum. ellerim titriyor, gözlerim kararıyor, üşüyorum. annem iyi olup olmadığımı soruyor. iyiyim, diyorum. üsteliyor. biliyorum, aynı gece tekrarlansın istemiyor. gözlerimdeki çaresizliği almak istediğini ama bana bir adım dâhi yaklaşamadığını söylüyor. susuyorum. kelimelerin tükendiği noktaya sürüklüyor beni. ağzımı açamaz oluyorum. sonra bin bir çaba iyiyim annem, diyorum. gözleri ışıldıyor. beni bağrına basmak istiyor ama yapamıyor. çünkü zamanında ben bir gül misali dikenlerimle delik deşik ettim bedenini, herkese yaptığım gibi. acımasızca ve duygusuzca.

zaman geçiyor, evet kabul. ama ben de benden geçiyorum. her geçen gün biraz daha eksiliyorum kendimde. kendi canımı yakıp yaşadığımı hissetmeye çalışıyorum. olmuyor veya ben başaramıyorum. şimdi bir sigara daha yakıyorum, titrek ellerimde duran çakmakla. yine geçeceğine inandıracağım kendimi ama ben bile inanmayacağım buna. biraz ağlayacak biraz da sızlayacağım. ardından ise yüzümde kurumuş gözyaşlarım ve akmış makyajım ile kaynar suyun altına girip bekleyeceğim. geçecek ve geçecek. yalan, geçmeyecek. ağla kendim. bu sefer ağla. çünkü sahiden geçmeyecek.

[merhim71]

Yıldızlarla felek menem

Vahiy ile melek menem

Çek dilini dilsiz kesil

Ben bu lisana sığmazam

Zerre menem, güneş menem. Çarpın cüşeş sırlar menem

Her şey açık ve meydanda, ben bu meydana sığmazam

[crimsontroupe]

❝ come at once if convenient. if inconvenient, come all the same. ❞ danya to aliah / @kesil

"I assume you have interesting things to tell me, now that you have rushed my eventual visit." Aliah does not seem bothered by it, while normally he would be. His sister is one of the few individuals he would make time for, so the tone is light when he enters the shop and makes himself comfortable. A very familiar scene, something that unfurls incredibly often between the two of them.

"It does not matter much. I was planning to come here later this week, seeking specific items from you and your perfectly maintained network. And whatever it is, you would prefer to disclose it here instead of during one of our very awkward family reunions." Awkward was putting it nicely, to say the least.

Aliah returns his attention to the shelves, picking items he would like to purchase: most of them components and one or two oddities that only his half-sister would have in a quality that would satisfy the Spell Lord. The custom order comes later, of course. He leaves it in the form of a long, detailed file. It asks for things too specific and demanding of any regular merchant. Danya is not a regular merchant, so that is fine.

He has since long given up on attempts to get her to return to her magic studies, and this kind of relationship is more profitable for both parties in the end. As he places the woven basket on the counter with some of the handpicked items, Aliah raises an eyebrow.

"A clever idea, but I expect nothing less from you. And speaking of expecting things..." That same teasing tone returns again, an almost-smile surfacing on his lips. "Gossip is very valuable in Absalom, as I am pretty sure you know. However... many people would find it incredibly disrespectful to find things about one's own family through such means.

When were you planning on telling me about your current love affair, Danya? While I was the unfortunate witness to many men trying to court you in the past, you were very quick to reject them - or transform it into something that would be more profitable to you - this is the first time a suitor lasts this long. Or were you also intending on keeping that a secret from me?

Even if you refuse to participate in a lot of the admittedly petty schemes of our family - stubborn as our parents always are and will be until their very last end - that is still something of note. I will not bother them about it, of course. They probably have their own suspicious about it, and are probably tearing their hair off about something or other right now."

[laplacemail]

❝ you are one of the few i would call a ‘friend’. ❞ eris to adonia - @kesil

"That is a rare compliment, coming from you." They would take Adonia's words as teasing, but he speaks the truth. Things that were so recent seem to stretch out, unbound by the passage of time and its effects. Tiredly, he lets his back rest against the darkened branches that make a most unusual chair. In their usual place. "After all, if you did not trust me... well, you would have not made this journey with us to begin with. You would not have allowed me to stay, much less have any relationship with your sister." It is not old age, but Adonia feels almost nostalgic. "But you did. You accepted my insane suggestions, a plan that had no chance of succeeding. To raise your hand against power that seems unchanging, and make it anew all over again. As much as you try to convince me it was out of self-interest, there is no person that would wholeheartedly follow a cause if they did not believe in it. When we felled the previous Queen, we knew we could not have done this without each other.

If you did not trust me, you would have taken my head upon my return from the mists." They did worse, but Adonia knows he deserves it. Every time he acts on his selfishness, the consequences are always severe. There are always people who will be hurt. But Eris was not worried only about the state of the Feywild. The worry about her sister was clear as day. Adonia would know. He knew, and that it is why he accepted his death that day. And the week that followed. All of that with a smile. "I consider you a good friend, and a good ally. But you are family, too. After all, the three of our souls are entwined. Your power flows through me, and my blood is also part of you." He interrupts himself to laugh, to drink from tea that he knows is not poisoned.

That would be an awfully old trick. And they are not as vindictive as before. "When you allow yourself to bleed, of course. Change is needed, and you allowed yourself to do so. Even your sister would be impressed with your progress, if she knew." Adonia will not tell. He enjoys living, of course. But such was their agreement: words spoken in this place rarely do leave it, unless they decide to allow so.

It is why he feels free to do something that others would consider outright bullying. "Including your newfound interest in a certain someone. I had that thought - several times, in fact - when I was still trapped. That he and you were very much alike. And before I left for the first time, when Ruthia was still whole. Yet I could not say anything about it, knowing it would be best not to provoke your ire and wrath unnecessarily. At least that unnecessarily, mhm?" 'You reached this conclusion yourself, so I can say whatever I want about it', is basically what he says. An amused expression. "It took you long enough to realize the patterns, my friend."

[crimsontroupe]

Ever since meeting Danya, it seems that Faust has been keeping himself entertained by a new project. It is certainly different when you have enough time and resources to simply apply and research things as you feel like it is suited to you. Aliah can understand that sentiment, a little bit.

More than his family name, it was his accomplishments that allowed him progress and prestige. But he is not a fool: Aliah knows many doors were open or were more easily available because he is who he is. Faust has his position going for him... although he doubts the 'good doctor' is entirely unaware of Aliah's plans and how much gossip he generates just by existing. It's interesting. It's challenging, it is stimulating.

Something that a man that Aliah Margolus enjoys extensively. There is something enticing in challenges, in people that catch his attention and prove again and again their worth and value. Faust is one of such people. Which is why his gaze shifts from the object he is perusing and goes directly to the door when he hears it open. The humming of magic that seems familiar to the person that crosses by, that does not trigger any kind of suspicious response from the myriad of spells Aliah has cast upon his lair to keep intruders and curious folk away.

But the difference between spells and the human mind is that spells follow a strict formula, rigid parameters to follow. The brain, while unreliable, can be relied to catch things that are familiar but different. Another person would see it and simply brush it aside. Not Aliah. Faust is methodical. He does the same thing every day: a man of habit and routines. This goes down to a level most mundane.

It includes item placement. Again, another person would have thought Faust to be exhausted and simply ignore it. Aliah does not let his gaze linger on the exact hook this man has used for too long; it is one that is used by Aliah himself most of the time, a cloak with the symbol of the Arcanamirium would usually rest there (said item is left unattended by the couch in the moment), and Faust places his bag directly on the middle hook, directly right from where this person did place it.

He blinks once, then again. Goes back to routine inspection on a most interesting trinket that landed on his lap. Always work related, of course. Allows the stranger to make himself comfortable, makes himself look busy and that was the whole reason for the lack of a more elaborated response.

A minute pass. Then two. Then five. It is only then that Aliah stares at familiar golden eyes. A simple, easy question would suffice. It would be warning enough.

"Who are you?"

Faust shifts to the other Material Plane and appears somewhere in Arcadia. Inconvenient, but he has wings for a reason. It takes a few days of leisurely flight, interrupted by the devouring of a sea serpent when he feels a bit peckish, to reach the Starstone Isles.

They look approximately the same. Faust hasn’t taken more than a brief dip into Absalom since he arose as a Demon Lord, and no other location on Aroden’s isles has happened to host anyone interesting enough for him to bother with, so he’s certain he’s missing the finer points of how things turned out in this alternate history. But there’s no cackling band of Nexian mages ruling the city, no dragon circling the skies above territorially--nothing obvious to show why things turned out so differently here.

Perhaps all that needed to change was Faustus Lohrenz being born into the same era as Aliah Margolus. They are only two years apart, here and now, rather than the hundreds of years that separate them in Faust’s proper timeline. There’s nothing else of note about this version of himself to speak to the difference in his relationship with Aliah (Faust would know; he’s been following himself for two days now).

The demon lord tucks his numerous wings, eyes, claws, and fleshy appendages away, smoothing his appearance until he looks identical to the version of himself in this world. As a divine being on the level of a god, his divination abilities are impossibly powerful; it’s easy enough to learn of other-Faust’s recent history, including his current research work, and craft a story for himself as he enters Aliah’s lair.

He's not interested in tempting Aliah onto the path of sin, at the moment. He just wants to know why. Why is this Faust so beloved by the man the demon lord has gone quite far out of his way to court, who rejects his advances at every turn?

“Aliah,” he calls out, hanging his doctor’s bag up on the hook Aliah seems to have added for precisely this purpose, “I’ve been working with the sun orchid poultice your sister was kind enough to source, and while I still doubt anyone can reverse-engineer the proper formula, I’ve worked a small quantity of the poultice into a vaporizer that can apply it mid-combat to-- ah,” Faust continues, stepping into Aliah’s open study, “apologies; I’ve run away with myself. How are you?”

[thewolfisawake]

Just a tidbit I have just passively had in writing but never like...clarified. So there actually is a thing with heterochromia with muses. This would be what is called 'True Sight.' It is being able to 'see the truth of the world' but basically a passive detection within their eyes. This aligns with the legends of those with it being able to see things like ghosts or other realms.

They cannot see other realms but they cannot be fooled with invisibility nor the usual tricks of the incorporeal. The sight does allow to see those that walk the line between the mortal plane and elsewhere. So, yes, they can see ghosts and demons and divinity that might not choose to show themselves normally. It's these reasons alone that make heterochromia so prized to the Marufuji family. It's perfect for an exorcist to never have to worry about the trickery from their targets.

And it is the perceived effectiveness of the True Sight that makes a heterochromic fae iffy to other fae. Because it is rumor that they might be able to pierce through glamors. The older they are, the better it gets. However...it hard to confirm or deny it as no one usually wants to risk it. Balmoral doesn't care for clarification either. Something about where is the fun in that. But I can say that even with eye switching, this has not changed the ability of his eyes. And also can say that illusions are trickier to pull off against one with True Sight.

[universal-consistant]

i like the idea that half the time in combat situations aster treats it like a game in a way.

kesil hunting him down is a funny game they play. they have a back and forth until it stops being funny either from boredom or becoming actually dangerous and then aster goes “oh this is no longer fun goodbye!” and either leaves or like. explodes kesil