#magerold [muse]

[lockawayknight]

9. why were you drawn to each one of your characters? / 19. for each muse, is there a character you wish had a blog so you could interact with them?

from asks for multimuses [accepting!!]

9. answered here!!

19. oh god lemme see…

creighton: maybe a kirk?? but that’s it. got pate, heysel, leo, the Important ones hehe

magerold: none!

ornifex: more active gwyn knights, and a giant blacksmith, and pardoner cromwell!

navlaan: shanalotte :0!!

rat king: an active yhorm!!

gren: none,,

chloe: noneee

mohg: HMMM i don’t think so. maybe nerijus?? and an active varre ofc hehe

alberich: none!

laurence: MICOLASH!!! forever shaking my fist at ruck for stealing him from me fjfjdjd. and an active ludwig uwu

lots of the muses i wanna write with are Around just not very active fjfjsksk. shakes my friends around. but yeah!! lots of the muses i wanna write with exist in the rpc but i am too shy to approach the people with those muses and ask for threads even if we’re bros LMAO but :,) someday,,,

ty for ask!!💕

[lockawayknight]

“Jus’ for now, love, an’ don’t forget it!” Magerold calls back, singsong in his now-spiteful teasing. “It’ll come back whether y’want it to or not. An’ you’ll become the very monster you hunt!”

With that, he gets to gathering up the stuff that Pate had thrown across the ground. At least one of them can be decent. Huff. He grumbles to himself about how he won’t be there to help Pate when his heritage inevitably comes back to bite him in the ass.

Creighton, meanwhile, waits pacing at the edge of town.

lockawayknight​:

The comment about Magerold’s lacking a soul gets the faerie to pause, frowning genuinely for once as the truth sinks in painfully. Huff. Rude. He places his cap back upon his head and adjusts its position properly before arms fold once more, shoulders a bit hunched this time. “Well… so will you, bastard,” he grumbles, watching the half-fae toss the stuff aside. “Gone from the world completely; jus’ ‘ere to bugger stuff up for the rest of us ‘fore leavin’ without a damned trace. Jus’ like the buggerin’ Unseelie you are. You’re more like ‘em than you think, arsehole.”

Pate turned his head to narrow his eyes back at the faerie. “You nearly destroyed my soul with that trick you pulled but you failed. I’m merely returning all the evil you people sent my way. It’s called justice. I’m more human than you’ll ever be.”  He only kept the fishing pole as he headed back towards Creighton. Whether the beast heard the conversation or not was of no concern to him. 

[lordshornet]

@talkawayknight  //👀👀👀👀!!!!! UR BOUTTA MEET CREIGHTON!!!!!!!!!!! and on ur way to magerold!!!!!!! aaaaa yells!!!!!!!!!!!!!

i would love to hear abt ur adventures as u go along!! this ungly game means so much to meeeeee ;0; and if u ever want any spoiler-less tips or pointers lmk!!💕

// ahhh im so excited!! honestly the best part of playing the game has been getting to meet so many ds2 muses like, in the actual game. I’d love to chat about the game!! But i should warn you that my thoughts are typically incoherent sgkjskgj

And pointers are def always appreciated!

[of-forossa]

MUSE PLAYLIST.

post 3-5 songs that remind you of your muse.

repost, don’t reblog.

001. → Breath of Rangor - Nick Phoenix, Two Steps from Hell

002. → For Her Soul (From “Shadow of the Colossus”) [Swift Horse] - Alex Roe

003. → Dark March - James Dooley

004. → Furious Gods - Christopher Larkin

005.  → Death Is the Road to Awe (feat. Kronos Quartet) - Clint Mansell, Kronos Quartet

tagged by: @derjaegermond ( thank you kindly my friend ^^ )

tagging: @vulpesse, @lockawayknight (for magerold), @godforsakcn (for jaime), @hithernthither, @strikedcwn, and anyone else who’d like to take a shot at it!

[calethecartographer]

magerold/shanlotte firelight chill close

With the newly established day and night cycle of Drangleic after the Bearer of the Curse became King came a whole lot of change. Weather, for example. And temperatures.Cold ones.

Magerold had joined the Herald outside for the night. She still refused to sleep, or even enter any of the houses in Majula. Said something about having to leave at some point, being a danger to some of them. With them she meant the residents of the slowly re build town. But Magerold had the dreading feeling that the poor girl just didn’t know what to do with herself, now that her purpose was fulfilled.

So, he vowed to help her with that. Even if it meant to sit next to a bonfire that no longer could warm him, since he was no longer undead. Huh. Should have thought this through.

“Aren’t you cold out here?”, he finally asked the young woman sitting across from him on a large boulder, idly kicking her feet.Shanalotte looked up to him with a surprised expression, clearly he had ripped her out of her silent musings.“No... I am quite warm..”“Ah.”

They fell back into silence. Comfortable silence.Suddenly, the Herald stood up and came around the fire, loosening her cloak and pulling it off her shoulders before sitting down next to him, pressing up to his side. The cloak then was placed around the two of them tightly.

[wxthin-wxthout]

Mun

NAME: Lauren GENDER: Cis female EYE COLOR: Blue HAIR COLOR: Brown RELATIONSHIP: Single ZODIAC: Capricorn FAVORITE COLOR: Brown, green, grey FAVORITE SEASON: Spring FAVORITE PLACE: Peggy’s Cove FAVORITE HOLIDAY: Halloween FAVORITE VIDEO GAME: Pokemon: Heart Gold, Dark Souls, Yu-Gi-Oh! Duel Links (best phone game ever) LAST SHOW/MOVIE YOU WATCHED: Frasier

WHAT’S YOUR HONEST OPINION ABOUT YOUR MUSE?

WOULD YOU DATE YOUR MUSE? If I was a bit older, maybe. We don’t really see much of his relationship with Jordan, so I’m not sure how he would act (my interpretations aside).

WHAT ARE YOUR FAVORITE KINDS OF THREADS? ANGST. Hurt/comfort. Long threads that build a narrative.

ARE YOU A SELECTIVE ROLE-PLAYER? Semi, I guess. Roleplaying with every person that comes my way would be overwhelming, which I’ve learned through experience.

DO YOU HAVE A FAVORITE MUSE (IF YOU HAVE MORE THAN ONE)? I do enjoy my Dark Souls II muses (Vengarl, Pate, and Magerold), but I never go on them anymore. It would be a tie with Nick.

WHAT MADE YOU DECIDE TO JOIN THE FANDOM?

Love for the book and its ships, fanfiction, exposure to roleplayers on here.

DO YOU SEE YOURSELF STAYING WITH THE FANDOM FOR A LONG TIME? I have been here for like three years now lol But you can never tell the future.

TAGGED BY: BABBLES @aceinthehcle

TAGGING: @cld-sport @daisyxbuchanan @goodliest

[lockawayknight]

why were you drawn to each one of your characters?

from asks for multimuses [accepting!!]

oh this is a fun one,,,,, let’s see,,

creighton: i immediately identified with this idiot when i first played ds2, just his dedication and obsession and loving devotion that borders on psychosis and the fact he is a huge fucking extrovert despite it all… his design, his voice, his mannerisms, his disposition, his heart, his mind, his EVERYTHING,,, i was so drawn to him immediately and never looked back. adores my mans

magerold: another char i identified with pretty quickly, he’s such a dork but so insular despite it. his humour and positivity and goofiness and just all that fun stuff. my partner always jokes that i’m kinning my muses and maggie tends to be the one i do most. he is just fun and silly and i adoreee him. goofball

ornifex: orn started out as a muse i wrote as a side-char who i then got super fucking attached to and wrote more and more often until she stuck. she is just such a great girl with such a great, honest personality, and her dialogue is SO fun to write. best girl

navlaan: THIS motherfucker… he started off bc i can certainly identify with the metaphor in his narrative of having a sort of separate entity within yourself you know and can acknowledge and want gone bc of what it does and knowing it’s a part of you yet also not anD I MEAN U GET THE IDEA. i’m schizy as hell so i saw him and was just kermit nodding gif. poor vessel,,, i need to write him more i mostly write the entity lmao

rat king, titchy gren, and chloanne: putting all the tertiary muses together cus the story is the same: i wrote them as side-chars in threads long enough they kinda took over and became muses themselves. they’re a wacky bunch with different reasons i was drawn to them but it all boils down to: their strong personalities. the king’s pride and intelligence, gren’s snarky sassiness, and chloe’s passive nonchalance… adore them all

mohg: WHERE DO I EVEN BEGIN WITH THIS MENACE,,,, his design is what immediately drew me towards him, but it got out of hand when i learned about his lore. his childhood, his upbringing, the fact he turned outer-hate into self-love, his LOVE and devotion that crosses the border into insanity, his everything is just so GOOD and i can’t help but feel for him a lot more than i probably should lmao. he is a very special muse and i am so glad i picked him up despite the ickiness surrounding his lore by some of the community. i may have him kinda-sorta on hiatus but he is,, very special

alberich: deadass i only found out about this guy like two weeks ago DJFJDJKS but i was drawn to him IMMEDIATELY bc of his lore and the personality that i instantly gathered of him from his encounter in the roundtable. MANIAC!!! but a fancy one!! i love clown coded assholes he is so good and has been a blast to write. no regrets.

laurence: the last but not least… i always had a bunch of Thoughts about laurence but never really thought i would put them on paper tbh,,, until a friend made a bloodborne server and needed someone to write him. i got attached to the idea really fast and then my love for him i’d been holding back just Exploded out of me and now he is a full-blown primary muse. i have projected a lot onto him ngl but it is Good it’s okay dw djfndj he is a bastard… no laurence apologists allowed in my house but i’m so glad i picked him up cus his backhanded and secretive, sly politeness and manipulativeness is SO fun to muse. adore him.

so yeah i think that’s everyone i muse on tumblr!! gosh that’s a lot djfjdks but ty ty for q!!💕

[lockawayknight]

Oh, dear. He wasn’t expecting the assassin to actually play along. But, then again, it isn’t necessarily a bad thing… he hopes. It’s always hard to tell with Maldron what sort of intentions lie behind that helm of his. Impossible to tell, even. So much so, it makes the merchant mirror his step forward with a step back.

But then two forward, once he gathers his thoughts.

Might as well see where this goes, eh? What is he if not a rabbit sniffing at the rim of a strange new burrow? He laces his fingers behind his back, weight shifting between toes and heels innocently. “Well, then I’d say I got somethin’ fun in me arsenal for repayin’ ya, what with all the trinkets y’always bring me.” Wink.

❛ i won’t bite. unless you’re into that sort of thing. ❜ —maggie lowkey flirting with maldron henfncnmc

Subtle Smut Sentence Starters | accepting

@lockawayknight

Maldron chuckles, the sound muffled by his helmet.

From behind his visor came his amusement, tilting his head to the side as he regards Magerold. The merchant always had something in his sleeve that would surprise him, whenever he came to visit him in Iron Keep. This was no exception, and pleasantly so even, if he had to be completely honest -

He takes a step closer. Maybe he should even take his helmet off, show what his poor little victims never would be allowed to see unless it was a part of his plan. "And what if I am, Mags?"

[lockawayknight]

“TOLD YA I WAS A GOOD FUCKIN’ PERSON, never done nothin’ wrong in my life — an’ takin’ tongues is a sign a’ virtue, I tell ya… YEAH, I’M TALKIN’ TO YOU, BLADES…”

—

“Hah! I dunno wha’ a CareBear is, but I’ll take it!”

—

“Skwaa, but how! Have I been cruel to the kind travellers that visit my abode without knowing? Perhaps I oughtn’t charge so many souls for my weaponry, prr… :(”

[lockawayknight]

@hithernthither:

Pate had to roll his eyes, quite loudly in fact, to emphasize just how little he actually cared about this conversation. “A hunch, was it? I specifically recall him discussing his plan to you, actually. I’m so sorry that I protected myself and foiled his plans. So evil of me, truly,” he says, placing a hand against his chest in mock regret. “He betrayed me first. The both of you can fester in your hate all you want. I won’t feel a thing. Deal with your own consequences before you start pointing fingers, love.”

“You’re bendin’ his bloody words, an’ you know it,” the merchant snaps back, far too deep into his own anger to bother keeping his tone to its typical chipperness — no, right now, his voice is pure acid. “He never meant to ‘arm ya — y’said it yourself, he came t’me to talk about it, an’ you jus’ took what you wanted outta whatever whispers you heard. You think yourself real high ‘n mighty, Patey, but you can’t read a whole story from scraps a’ parchment.”

Fingers flex again as he tilts his head with a cold sort of laugh. “Ah, an’ there’s another vile thing about ya,” he says. “You feel nothing. Like a bloody guts-rotted hollow — nothing.” Another laugh. “Tch, now if only you were a hollow. It’d do the world a damn favour.”

[lockawayknight]

“It’s finally time, folks! Nito’s celebrations are upon us, which means it’s time for some good ol’ tricks an’ treats! The best part a’ the holiday, if I do say so m’self, though maybe m’a bit biased, ahah!

“Now, who wants some goodies, eh? Trust me, I got plenny a’ jun— er, treats, t’give away. Sweets an’ costumes alike! Come one an’ all!”

[lockawayknight]

yellowfingcr​:

“Me, sir? Nothing! I know nothing,” Heysel answers, one hand leaving the wooden handle to raise a palm defensively before curling back down. Her tone is kept politely level, lest she sounds too amused by a situation that has terribly little of entertaining, but under the many layers of yellow cloth covered in invading red she’s smiling, sharp as a hunting knife. “Of course. I’m a scholar, besides being an invader and a nuisance. I like reading, and magic, and history, but of what Mirrah was I know terribly little, though I’d love to learn more. I know just enough to recognize the stag on your chest, I promise.”

Oh, she’s so going to die for that, and she wasn’t even willingly swinging the metaphorical bat to the wasp’s nest, as she so likes to do. She was merely being honest with her knowledge. The way he moves signals nothing but a promise of death he will keep if she doesn’t backstep, so she complies, one boot moving after the other, murky water splashing about her boots till, after enough steps, it is clear water that soaks the wrappings around the leather. The sheer, burning intensity he exudes makes sparks of adrenaline-thirsty bloodlust pop and crackle in the attic of her brain again; come on, look at him, you’re not getting out of this alive and it’s a fact, but hear me out you can die laughing, taking the same amount of blood from him as the amount he’ll take from you —    

— and she snuffs the itch out as candlelight before it can reach her muscles with practiced ease. There is a time to allow hungry, stupid thoughts to hunger and want stupid things, and the time isn’t now. She had her fill of battle for the moment, she tries to reason with herself, and violence can be found anywhere; a living Mirran, not so much. Even if he’s more killing intent shaped as a man, right now, than anything pleased to answer her questions. Sort of. He certainly isn’t going to share a glass of wine with her as he recounts the history of a land long fallen, but he’s not looking excessively mad at her. For now.

“More or less! It’s Heysel. Uncommon variant of Hazel, I know, but my parents were creative like that.” His stare is unwavering; so is hers. He can’t know that, however. “I’m a nobody. Of course I give my name freely! It means nothing to those I tell it. But if you don’t want to give yours, that is just fine. There is more to people than just their names, and your skill speaks for itself! Though I’ll also add-”

Don’t do it, don’t provoke him-

“-that while those are end times without many gods left, my goddess is… well, one! She does her miracles, she doesn’t care much for humans. She’s pretty in her own way. Your average deity. She likes her bloody prizes, however. Truthfully, I believe it’s all she cares about. What did you use, earlier? The little gem? Um. Oh, I remember this.” She snaps her fingers. “You don’t find those anymore, in Lothric! I wonder why. Scholars everywhere would commit heinous crimes to have the thing in a museum!”

You’re jostling him. Verbally. You’re pushing a man who is about to maul you and you’re going to be cut down as a cedar tree because of this, what rational part of her that very much would rather not be chopped like a log protests. She ignores it, jolly. Well, yes, he likely will, but also: what he doesn’t? He said he doesn’t like me yet, so maybe in the future he will! One never knows.

‘An invader and a nuisance’… Flipped his mood like a goddamn lightswitch, that did. That single, offhanded joke is enough to get Creighton smirking again, despite his best wishes to keep his intimidation levels at their max. (Thank the Gods for the few inches of steel shielding his face from her view, lest she find out he thinks she’s funny.)

Or… find out that he’s just begun having a bit of an internal crisis. As she prattles on, his gaze continues to soften until it’s more akin to admiration than anything else, though thankfully (for his ego) not visible due to the angle of his helm. He looks angry. He looks fit to kill. He looks as unforgiving and bloodthirsty as would merit the notoriety he’s been slowly building over his truly countless years in this world. But beyond the visible, well…

On and on she prattles, and on and on he listens, finding it easier and easier to actually focus — actually hold thoughts as well as his axe. Alright. A scholar, a nobody, someone who gives their name freely, a sorceress, a flatterer for sure, and...

Her voice soon fades to static background noise, if only for a moment, as he starts to realise just how... comfortable... he’s starting to feel despite everything — despite the pain, the toxin, the weapons drawn and the blood splatters on both of their once-colourful clothing. What is it about her that’s making him feel almost like... letting his guard down? It couldn’t be trust — no, absolutely not, not after how viciously they’d both just fought — but... something about her, just...

And then it hits him. Oh. It’s… because she reminds him of Magerold.

Well, now he feels a bit ill for reasons entirely unrelated to the swamp’s toxins. (If she looks carefully enough, she may notice that his free hand’s begun anxiously fidgeting with his tabard’s muddy skirt.) Honestly, he couldn’t care any less about this goddess she’s talking about. No, no, it’s her tone, her energy, her clear excitement and the joy she sends out on the winds like dandelion fluff that’s captured his entire attention. It’s a familiar, familial sort of chaotic kindness — a sort that had kept him feeling at home since his earliest memories. It’s something painfully nostalgic, painfully rare in this world, and that had left a most painfully empty hole in his heart when he and Pate had left Drangleic. It makes him feel… accepted. Appreciated. Confident in himself beyond his warrior’s calloused skin. It’s…

Whatever happened to him after the Throne of Want was conquered…?

No. No, no, no. She is not a friend, and she is definitely not trustworthy. She’s got a weapon, and she’s got a way with words, and she’s got one stubborn foot in the shallow grave he’s just begun digging for his image. No.

A hard blink, and a soft shake of the head, then Creighton’s finally back in the Now, albeit with a bit more of a headache and a bit less strength in his grip on his axe. “Oh, the gem?” he asks, clumsily fumbling to get back to the conversation at hand, all ferocity once again gone from his tone — yet another one of his brain’s lightswitches that she seems to enjoy flicking like a strobe light. “Yeah, they’re, ah…” Ah, hell, conversation machine broke… “They’re… old.” Nice save, bud. “Had ‘em a while. Nothin’ special. Not, ah… not the first time someone’s said they’re worth more than jus’ healin’, though.” Shrug. “Do you, ah…” — fuck… don’t say it, don’t say it, don’t you dare say it you stupid, idiot street dog... — “do you… want one?”

Goddammit, idiot, you went and fucking said it… Well, there goes that piece of his internal warrior’s dignity. Two feet she’s got in the grave of his mirror of Mirrah’s self-image now, and he’s just reached for another shovel. Great. She probably just lost all respect for him, least of all as the ruthless warrior she’d just been painting him as. Just, fucking… great. What the hell is wrong with me…

[lockawayknight]

the world below | dragon’s blood i | magerold | 942

The Nameless King’s footsteps are as silent as the clouds that swirl far below their mountainous home, but the great dragon curling protectively around Magerold’s lazy figure still cranes its neck to look towards the God with a snort of smokey soot from its nostrils.

The King meets the threatening noise with a patiently raised hand — a polite pat to the creature’s leathery snout — hollowed eyes peeking around the great beast’s throat to attempt to meet those of the merchant who sits nestled into its flank. But, as it was the last time, he seems distracted — distant, altogether gone — seafoam eyes fixed upon the world far, far below them in icy Irithyll.

A world of naught for the likes of them.

A world to which they can never return.

It isn’t until the great dragon, satisfied with its own trust of the King who approaches, shifts position to let the King through to the altar’s edge that Magerold blinks back his thoughts, looking up to the creature that guards him — and, in turn, seeing the King’s looming figure through the sunlight, haloed in gold. “Oh, beg pardon!” he half-squeaks, scrambling to sit upright — to take a proper dragon’s path position at the edge of this great cliffside. “Didn’t hear ya comin’, sir, m-my apologies!”

As always, the King stays silent, hands folded primly behind his back, tangling the torn fabric of his armour’s skirt with one hand, his weapon held strong in the other. He peers over the ledge towards Irithyll below, then looks back to the once-merchant as if to say, What’s on your mind?

Ah, but what isn’t on his mind, really. Magerold’s smile turns from anxious, to nervous, to genuine, to bittersweet. Eyes trail from the black holes of the King’s to the black waters of the valley, a hum slowly escaping him as the dragon settles comfortably behind the both of them once more, quietly flicking its tail.

He holds his silence.

Then, “Don’t suppose ya ever feel a want t’head back down to tha’ blasted world, do ya?” Magerold asks, snickering lightly, though he honestly doesn’t know the answer to that question — doesn’t know a lot about the King at all, really, except what he’s dug up in texts, and has pieced together from memories of yore. “S��jus so peaceful up ‘ere, jus’ the dragons an’ us, the wind an’ the rain, not a damned care for whatever’s hurt us.”

At least, as far as he knows. The King sits down beside him as he speaks, unreadably silent, hands folding softly in his lap. The dragon’s tail flicks again. The King continues to eye the merchant with those hollow, black sockets.

It’s a pressuring force.

So, of course, Magerold continues. “Hell, I dunno,” he says, answering a question he’d never been asked. “Don’t suppose there’s anythin’ really t’miss. I been watchin’ tha’ damned place go to hell an’ worse for as long as I can remember, so many wars an’ battles, enough bodies to change the colour a’ the landscape. S’bloody hell, I think. I don’t suppose there’s much down there anymore — not like there is up ‘ere. Not… mm…”

The King remains silent, but the way he leans forward to meet the merchant’s eyes once more speaks a hundred words — words like, How are you so sure? Why don’t you go see for yourself, if wanderlust has gripped you so?

But it’s a thought that makes Magerold’s skin crawl, honestly — returning to that dreadful, horrible world, with all its thrones and tyrants, evil and hatred, liars and scammers, death and woe. The dragon flicks its tail once more. Magerold winces. “Scares me, really,” he answers another unspoken question. “I always been curious, but I ain’t that curious, ah-hah!”

But aren’t you? the King’s eyeless stare asks. You are a human — quite the conundrum of a thing to be. You belong to a world naught of fire and gold. You have a place down there amongst the Lords.

Magerold frowns, eyes trailing to the spires of the castle — of Anor Londo, once this Lord’s home, too, he knows. He could say something terrible right now, if he were in a bad mood. But he isn’t, and so he doesn’t. He simply hints at it. Huff. “Jus’… I don’t think tha’ world wants me anymore. Surely did a number tellin’ me otherwise, it did.”

The King gives him a look like, You’re telling me.

And Magerold rolls his bright eyes. “Maybe m’just scared.”

Pause. The King doesn’t disagree. He also doesn’t act like he isn’t, too.

The dragon flicks its tail, three times.

The King’s face then reads, That is why I am still here.

Or maybe that’s only what Magerold wants to believe it reads — wants to believe he has to say. Wants to believe is a sentiment they both share. Wants to believe doesn’t make him weak.

Wants to believe he isn’t alone within.

The King reaches a giant hand outward, pressing heavy fingers to Magerold’s shoulders. You can be different, he seems to say. Down below is your world. This is your Age. You can return, if you’d like. We will always welcome you back.

“I… I dunno…”

You have told us all a great many tales of your past adventures. Don’t you yearn to start another? Hasn’t this cliffside caused you to grow weary, scoured of all its treasures and tales?

��… I-I suppose…”

Then what is stopping you?

“…”

He doesn’t really know.

He’s honestly never known.

And the dragon flicks its tail — flicks its tail, flicks its tail.

[lockawayknight]

@derjaegermond said: "i know i lied to you. You can hate me and it's all right."

from 400 dialogue prompts [accepting!!]

It’s like seeing a ghost, honestly, and just as terrifying through and through. He can feel its morbid chill in pinpricks of chicken skin down his arms, an iciness in his gut, a pang through his very heart that pierces him straight through, serrated and sick like a saw spear. If he were told he’d gone pale at the sight of her, he wouldn’t be the least bit surprised. He’s honestly shocked that the lock of golden hair that flips over his right eye hasn’t gone completely white in his horrified state.

Maybe he is seeing a ghost. Maybe that’s why he’s feeling this so viscerally.

But regardless of anything else, of anything of or not of this world, in heaven or hell, and life or death, one thing can be said for certain:

Helena is back.

He doesn’t know when he threw himself at her for a tight embrace, and perhaps he wouldn’t have done something so overbearing if he were in his right mind, but here he is now, arms linked in the small of her back as he holds her close as if tethering her to this world lest she up and float back into the ether. By the Gods, how long has it been since she’d disappeared? A month? Two months? A year? How had the beasts not gotten to her — or, perhaps worse, the Church? How is she still in one piece?

How is she still alive?

He doesn’t know. And he doesn’t care to know, if she doesn’t care to tell, either. Curiosity is a biting cat, of course, but its fangs break brittle on the steel of his relief.

He’s just glad she’s safe.

“‘Course I don’t hate ya,” the tomb prospector says, breathy against Helena’s black locks. “I could never hate ya. I jus’…” — a sniffle — “I thought I’d lost ya…”

Pause.

Then, an awkward laugh as he realises what he’s doing — pulls away, claps his hands, flattens his coat, runs fingers through his hair. All nerves. All embarrassment. All toothy grins and unsure mumblings. “I, ah — ahah — s-sorry, but y’got no idea ‘ow worried I was.” A shy smile. A nervous grimace. “Well, heh, s’pose I shoulda known you could take on anythin’ an’ come back alive, but… well, not like I was doubtin’ ya — course not! Not that, ah, ahah, I, ah…”

Stutter stutter stutter, awkward laugh after awkward laugh.

Finally, then, unable to gather his words through sniffles and snorts, his words come to a stuttering stop, then he gives her a gentle backhand to the collarbone — scolding, nagging. “Well, why’re we standin’ out ‘ere! Come, come, inside” — he circles around her to her back, pushing her towards the door as if she were a piece of heavy furniture — “we got so much t’talk about. Where ya been? Found yourself with any good stories?”

[lockawayknight]

"Tell me" [p8cr8 aaaand pate n magerold for kicks]

from put “tell me" in my ask and my character will answer [accepting!!]

If you snuck into my room I would:

[ X ] Go back to sleep [ ] Kick you out

[ X ] Cuddle with you [ ] Be like “How in the world?”

[ ] Let you sleep on the floor [ ] Become angry

—

If you kissed me (or hugged) I would:

[ X ] Kiss or hug you back [ X ] Smile and laugh

[ ] Stiffen, and feel uncomfortable [ ] Push you away

[ ] Be shocked [ ] Strike you

—

If you asked me to go out with you for a day I would say:

[ ] No [ ] Yes [ ] Most certainly not. [ X ] Without hesitation.

—

You are:

[ X ] Cute [ X ] Adorable [ X ] Attractive [ X ] Beautiful

[ ] Okay [ ] Ugly [ ] Am not going to grace this with an answer

—

You are to me a:

[ ] Stranger [ ] Acquaintance [ ] Ally

[ X ] Friend [ X ] Love [ ] Rival

[ ] Enemy

—

I find you to be:

[ ] Pathetic [ ] Off no consequence [ ] Intriguing

[ ] Frightening [ ] Unsettling [ ] Annoying

[ ] Infuriating [ X ] Pleasant company [ X ] Comforting

[ X ] Unable to be lived without [ ] Trustworthy

—

“Hell am I s’posed t’say? He’s my damned husband, a’course I’m fond a’ him. Would do anythin’ for the rat. Won me heart an’ soul, the ol’ bastard, an’ I pay the price for it every damned day.” Sigh.

—

If you snuck into my room I would:

[ X ] Go back to sleep [ ] Kick you out

[ ] Cuddle with you [ ] Be like “How in the world?”

[ X ] Let you sleep on the floor [ ] Become angry

—

If you kissed me (or hugged) I would:

[ X ] Kiss or hug you back [ X ] Smile and laugh

[ ] Stiffen, and feel uncomfortable [ ] Push you away

[ ] Be shocked [ ] Strike you

—

If you asked me to go out with you for a day I would say:

[ ] No [ X ] Yes [ ] Most certainly not. [ ] Without hesitation.

—

You are:

[ ] Cute [ ] Adorable [ X ] Attractive [ ] Beautiful

[ ] Okay [ ] Ugly [ ] Am not going to grace this with an answer

—

You are to me a:

[ ] Stranger [ ] Acquaintance [ X ] Ally

[ X ] Friend [ ] Love [ ] Rival

[ ] Enemy

—

I find you to be:

[ ] Pathetic [ ] Off no consequence [ X ] Intriguing

[ ] Frightening [ ] Unsettling [ ] Annoying

[ ] Infuriating [ X ] Pleasant company [ ] Comforting

[ ] Unable to be lived without [ ] Trustworthy

—

“Ah, I love ol’ Patey! Been friends for a real’ long time, we ‘ave, even if he don’t like to admit knowin’ me, hah! Rude bastard he is, likes t’act like he don’t need no one, but tha’s part a’ his charm, I suppose. Ol’ bugger needs to be a li’l nicer, though, I will say. Thinks he’s all tha’ an’ some crisps, but Gwynsen knows he ain’t. Ah well. Due time, due time.”

[lockawayknight]

hh i'm still rlly happy with how cam and maggie came out for those cards but ofc half their art got covered by text boxes n shit so pls indulge me here hghghvhfh