#rafent

[fellsparks]

♡ hello nee san :]

●●●●● | ATTRACTION CUTENESS ●●●●● | AFFECTION ●●●●● | INTEREST PROTECTIVENESS ●●●●● | LOYALTY ●●●●● | TRUST

"Brother... There are no words within our language that encompass that which I feel for you. Though I have spent decades aware of the fact that you are not the Nil I was born alongside, it has not lessened our bond, nor will it ever. I have long since made peace with the siblings I-- no, we-- lost. I am only thankful that you have survived all of this time, and that you now have the opportunity to live your life unfettered." "Regardless of the distance between us, my heart will always beat in time with yours. You have brought me back from the brink of death, and to you I am endlessly thankful... for I now have the chance to see you find happiness in your own way in a world that is unbroken. Seeing you happy... I cannot think of a sight more beautiful." Note: Nobody in this universe can possibly be cuter than Rafal to her. He's a handsome boy-- do not tell her about his sorta-romantic endeavors in the TOA-verse.

[dcggersedge]

∗ 13﹕ sender  takes  a  [ picture / video ]  of  receiver .

Ka-chikk!

Aim. Press. Immortalize. A satisfied smile crept across the albino man's face as he flipped through the most recent photos in his phone gallery and examined the fruits of his efforts. Here was a sleeping Yunaka with head dangled to one side like a puppet missing a few strings. On the next was a Yunaka with drool oozing from the gap of her wide-open mouth, catching flies. After that, one with flyaway strands of red hair clinging to her cheek and arms spread sporadically on either side of her like the chalky outlines of murder scenes. In other words: perfect.

He didn't bat an eye as Yunaka began to rouse beside him. With a dip in the couch cushions and a refreshing yawn that made him smirk. Innocent as a babe - oh, she didn't have a clue. "You're finally awake, I see. About time. Anyone else would have thought you were hibernating or something."

Off to the side, his thumb slid over the send button, sending off three in a bundle with unspoken glee. Ping. Ping. Ping.

Rafal liked to take unflattering photos of Yunaka because those were the undisputed best kinds; the intimate windows into a hardworking young actress that no-one else had the privilege of seeing. Only Rafal. But also sometimes, just sometimes, he liked to share those views with a trusted handful of others. Those he knew would take just as much joy in seeing them as he did. They'd know to appreciate.

"By the way: it might interest you to check what I sent."

He gave a stretch of his own, arms looping nonchalantly behind his head.

"—in the group chat."

Non-verbal prompts | Accepting!

"Hmm?" Yunaka's eyes trail over to Rafal as soon as he calls for her attention, blinking away sleep that she hadn't even realized she'd succumbed to. When had he gotten back? And more importantly, how long had she accidentally left him waiting? She rubs at her eyes with the back of her hands as she takes a moment to stretch out her back. Her phone on the table buzzes three times. "Sorry. Were you waiting long?"

She pushes herself upright with a yawn. Their schedules don't often align perfectly, so she was grateful Rafal didn't mind her coming into his house while he was still out. It was easier than going back to her place to nap just to meet him later. His place was nice too, and she always appreciated a couch that was good enough to crash on.

"Huh? Why not just tell me?" Had to be something important if he wanted her to look for herself instead of just telling her. Yunaka picks up her phone and swipes open the notifications to the group chat with him and the others.

It takes her a moment to process what she's looking at, still fighting off the lingering dregs of sleep. After a moment though, the colors become familiar enough that her brain's able to grasp onto the clue that suddenly shoves the photos at her with an abruptly clarity. They're photos of her, asleep, looking like shit.

Yunaka freezes in her seat, staring at the photos silently. Why would he send those? Why would he send those? She looks awful. She looks exhausted. She's drooling on herself in one of them, she realizes with a wave of horror, and he sent them to literally every person they know in common.

("I don't wanna be friends with Larimar!" A ghost of a little girl's voice whines loudly in front of their entire class. "Everybody knows she's poor and dirty and weird!")

...were they making fun of her too?

A speech bubble pops up on her screen as someone else starts typing. Yunaka turns off her phone before the wave of nausea even finishes. "Man, whatever." She shoves her phone back into her pocket as she stands. "If I wanted someone to give me shit about taking a break, I would've stayed at work."

It's not that big of a deal, the logical part of her brain tries to insist, but it's barely heard over the stinging mix of betrayal and humiliation that drives her to pick her bag up off the floor and throw it over her shoulder. Her phone buzzes in her pocket, and his echoes it. A second later, her keys hit the ground and she curses to herself as she scoops them up. She was gunna go crawl in her room and die as soon as she got out of here.

"Next time you're gunna make fun of me to everyone, at least do it where I can't see so you don't fuck up my whole day."

[twistedisciple]

Rafal was not in the habit of asking for anything. Rather, one could safely imagine that the dragon would sooner take his wants to the grave than utter them aloud. A strong spirit of independence even assured that he much preferred to be his own provider. Be that as it may, sleep on this night more than any other was crucial in preparation for the new week, and due to discomfort, Rafal could not sleep.

A dire circumstance that demanded solution. He would not be at a disadvantage.

His attention landed on a short window of opportunity with all stars aligned; no-one else in the room, and a knight of conveniently similar size within walking distance. Bare feet plodded over, shuffling across the wooden floor. He stood over the lounging Griss and cleared his throat emphatically.

“Ahem—Griss, your room is dreadfully cold. I am without proper sleepwear and we are the same size. Lend me a shirt. Or a blanket of yours. Either will do." Naturally, Rafal had not come to the Rat dormitory with anything more than the thin beach clothes on his back.

It wasn’t often that Griss got the room to himself. Just as he’d told Lord Rafal earlier that day, the Rats had proven to be remarkably resilient. Compared to the other teams, they’d hardly lost anyone. And were it not for the current circumstances (a definitely-not-hiding fell dragon), any of the other dorms would have been more comfortable. Or at least less crowded. Usually Griss was out roaming the island until gods-knew-when, and rarely crossed paths with his roommates during the waking hours, but tonight, whether it was because Caspar and Citrinne knew he’d be entertaining their new guest for the indefinite future, or because they simply had other (better) things to do, they were out of his hair. And the room was empty and quiet, except for the hum of voices from the other rooms down the hall.

Waiting was the worst. The sooner the games started, the better, and for now Griss drifted in and out of some vigilant half-sleep, stretched out on top of the sheets of his bed, head hammocked by his hands. He’d lost interest in dismantling the furniture after the first week (the dresser handles remained piled up on top of it, not on its drawers), definitely not because his roommates had complained so much about it, so there was hardly anything fun left to do inside.

The sound of his name shook him out of some amorphous daydream that disappeared from memory the moment he cracked open an eye and looked up at the one who’d called, half-expecting it to be that little blonde marching up to nag him again for something or another.

Somehow, he’d forgotten Lord Rafal was here.

“Huh? What’d’you mean cold?” he asked unhelpfully, pushing himself up onto his elbows. Blinking blearily, he glanced at the window open to the noises of the jungle outside, and then up at the dragon’s bare chest. All things considered, he was lucky to catch Griss between sleep and wakefulness, because his base instinct was always to please.

Except—

“You think I brought any shirts?” Griss, too, wasn’t wearing anything but some loose pants, scarred and inked torso exposed to whatever cold was bothering his temporary roommate. He rolled over and slung his arm over the edge of the bed, feeling around for where he’d stashed a thin rucksack of belongings. Catching it by one worn out strap, he dragged it back up with him, sat back cross-legged and began digging through it. Blades. Needles. Some thread. Rings. A couple of knives. Some bandages.

The hideous sleepwear handed out by the monastery. Griss ripped it free of something it’d snagged on inside the bag and held it out to Lord Rafal.

“Here.” It was full of holes. And also stained. Who knew what with.

[starrook]

🎨

“Rafal’s eyes are beautiful.”

One of Alcryst’s favorite things to draw were eyes—specifically a left eye with a ton of detail to get lost in. Unfortunately, it also led to a bad habit of his when drawing: drawing the face before drawing the head.

“Oh no! One eye is lower than the other… I’m so sorry Rafal…”

[doyouevenliftbrooo]

🎲 funsies :^)

29. A kiss to the back of the hand

She hasn't figured out what to think of him yet, truthfully. He's prickly, that's for certain-- and he seems constantly irritated by her sprints around the Somniel; which... is fine, she supposes. It's not like she does those things for any sort of acknowledgment. She can't possibly figure out why he'd be annoyed, though. So she attempts, wholeheartedly, to be friendly and integrate him into her own social circle. Rafal, as expected, resists and continues speaking to her in his haughty tone; Etie's face is a frown more often than not when it comes to speaking with him... but she'll get through, one way or another. She didn't get this far in her life by being a quitter, and she's dealt with her fair share of noble jerks to figure out how to deal with a stickler here and there. "Yo, Lord Rafal!" Etie calls out to him, a flower crown complete in hand from her own efforts from earlier. She already knows he probably won't like it, but it's worth a shot, right? "Here, lean down. I've got something for you." Once he complies, she quickly places it on top of his head before giving him a nod of approval, clapping her hands together. "Nice! It matches your colors better than I thought it would. Really makes you look like a king now. Whaddya think?" She exaggerates a bow before reaching forward to take his hand, bringing it towards her lips and pressing a feather light kiss to his knuckles. It's ridiculous, truly, and she immediately breaks out into laughter upon doing it-- it all happens under the span of about 5 seconds, and she quickly releases him before she inspires him to have a worse attitude than normal. "It suits you. Keep it as long as you want, King Rafal."

[princeofopenness]

He keeps touching me.

[ashenprofessor]

The mountain should fear us

They had been led out of their holding cell but a pair of guards to be taken to a mining pit to be put to work. Their new 'friend' Daniel was with them and they are instructed to bring what was left of their weapons too. Byleth felt more capable knowing they had their trusty gauntlets ready as they venture deeper into the mountain.

Arriving at the designated site, the guards drop them off with knowing grins on their faces. Before them are winding passages and caves to traverse to clear out for the miners. Byleth led the way into the first room, noting immediately the presence of creatures there waiting for them.

"Great. Of course the witchy mountain contains horrors hidden away within." The Professor told their teammates.

Pulling on their Aura Knuckles, Byleth noticed the skeleton, hiding towards the back of the group, bow in hand. A perfect target for the first attack, take out the support. Darting forwards, they drew back their fist ready to strike.

Byleth 10/10HP hits and hits Bonewalker 12/12HP with Aura Knuckles (One-Two Punch). [Rolls: 15, 6; Hit!, Hit!; Damage: 1.5 + 0.5 + 0.5 = -2.5HP, 1.5 + 0.5 + 0.5 = -2.5HP, Bonewalker 7/12HP]

The first hit catches the skeleton in it's boney shoulder, knocking it off-balance before the second hits square in the chest. Undeterred, it raises it's bow to fire back.

Bonewalker 8/12HP hits Byleth 10/10HP with Devil Bow. [Roll: 12; Hit!; Damage: -2.5HP, Byleth 7.5/10HP] (Devil Bow roll: 1. Failure) Bonewalker 7/12HP loses -2.5HP; Bonewalker 4.5/12HP

The arrow soars through the air and pierces Byleth's arm. Pausing, to break off the shaft, Byleth looks up to notice the skeleton almost seem to wince. The bow in it's hand glows red and seems to draw something from the enemy leaving them weaker than before. Some sort of cursed weapon, the Professor wonders.

Wanting to capitalise on the opportunity presented, Byleth moves in again for another attack.

Byleth 7.5/10HP hits and hits Bonewalker 4.5/12HP with Aura Knuckles (One-Two Punch). [Rolls: 9, 7; Hit!, Hit!; Damage: 1.5 + 0.5 + 0.5 = -2.5HP, 1.5 + 0.5 + 0.5 = -2.5HP, Bonewalker 0/12HP]

Byleth knocks it's skull back with a glancing blow before swiftly adding in an upper cut. The skeleton's head pings off the top of the spine before rolling away with a clatter across the floor.

Returning to the group, Byleth rolls their wrists, casually remarking. "That's Bones taken care off. Who wants a shot at them next"

@amitieos, @dracofalchions, @sweetroyalberry, @rafent

[verseandrhyme]

8. Is your muse comfortable with, or proud of their body? Are they insecure?

I've made jokes before about how "Mitama can get away with it because she's cute" but I do think Mitama is aware that she is (or at least considers herself to be) cute. She's very confident about her appearance and, even if there are things that might not be "ideal", she's very matter of fact about them because literally what is a girl to do about it?

Some things she is less than positive about about herself:

Her eyes get her a lot of attention whether she wants them to or not. While she does see them as something quite special, hearing all the star related puns and flattery (especially when she canonically hates puns) has made her pretty neutral about them. Yeah, they're stars. Yeah, it's weird. No, I don't know why or how it happens. Meeting Fogado was probably the most excited she's been about her eyes in years.

I made her short. I forget what the motivator was behind that, but she is short. People pointing it out or doing things that call attention to it (ie. putting their arm on her head to lean on her) would drive her to start biting.

She often has ink stains on her fingers from her poems and she worries it makes her look messy. She is messy. That's besides the point.

[stepbysstep]

7. Is your muse the big spoon or the little spoon?

sunday funday hcs | still accepting!

Little spoon. Lene will always try to go for the little spoon position. Lacking the attention of a mother figure in her youth has made Lene generally touch-starved, but embracing might be where she feels that hunger the most.

As a little spoon, Lene is wrapped up within her other's grasp while lying right on their chest. There is no better way to lock herself right in her significant other's embrace. She definitely cuddles frequently while being the little spoon, yet can hold back and simply sleep soundly within her partner's security.

Lene sees herself as independent, not needing others to be happy. But spooning is the perfect excuse to take a break from that cautionary exterior.

Still, Lene is a very considerate partner. Depending on her significant other's mood, or if they are just tired of repeating the same position, Lene is more than comfortable to swap and act as the big spoon. Even if she is smaller than the other, she tries her best to be a comforting presence, mixing embracing with soft pats and soothing words. Seeing the position as a maternal figure may be strange, but Lene simply wants to share the passion that she never had while growing up.

Tl;dr though, she defaults to little spoon. Smol spoon.

[nelithic]

He'd traded words with an Emblem once, admitted something at the tail end of their exchange regarding siblings. A belief that he truly meant- that he well and truly believed. 'Elder siblings are not the only ones who care.'

Stalking the docks- searching for his older sister with a grim expression that staved off strangers in a sweeping radius- that opinion clung tightly to the truth. He pushed past the men and women going one way with single-minded focus. Rafal stuck out. Rafal didn't care. He thought about transforming and scouting for her from the air just to make the search quicker, and only vanquished the thought at Nel's sighting.

"Here you are, sister." An angry furrow cleaved the space his brows even before he approached her. So easily sprung up at any annoyance. At this juncture it was a signal of something deeper; worry and distress. Nel hadn't been on his ship. Word of major assignments to different continents flooded his ears instead. It was easy to connect the dots.

"You are on a different ship. Did you tell them it was a mistake?"

But it wasn't a mistake. He knew that. His shoulders tensed preemptively with the burden of that knowledge, wanting to erase it. Wanting to change the rules. Rafal had promised to be her brother to him, to her, and to himself, and he had meant it.

A frustrated sound whistling sharply through his nose, he dragged his fingers through his hair. ". . .No matter. I can simply accompany your ship. I can fly if I have to—if there isn't room for another passenger. If they intend to stop me they may contend with my fangs."

chance was the word the weak used to explain the planning of the strong — so had it often been said in gradlon, land of their origin. whatever opinion one may hold on such a maxim, it is what occurs to her curiously now as a pale, stormy twin pushes his way through the milling crowds towards her. despite his thunderous expression, nel's loses a fraction of its own with relief. before she can say, however, that she had been searching the docks for him as well and so his finding her here was not only owed to coincidence, he launches into accusation: more and more familiar now since he had shed his skin as nil, but still yet an adjustment from the meek and compliant temperament she had known for centuries.

yet there are certain things that remain the same. a frenetic energy beneath the outburst that speaks to its root. she finds a smile touching her lips whilst he rails, for what greater comfort can there be to a fraught fell dragon, ever mindful of her other half's safety, than to know that the desire to remain at one another's side is returned in full?

it eases the part of her that had, for a moment in time once, feared— doubted— that his triumphant rejection of her after the shell of nil had been sundered was not so made of flagrant display as she had adamantly believed. in the clutch of that urgency at the fall of a world, it was all she had had to believe, and so she had clung to it then with an unshakeable tenacity and a willful denial of any other truth ironically befitting of sombron's once-favored heir.

she is remitted for it now, in each moment like this one.

"you know as i do that that is not an option, rafal," comes her anticipated, staid reply — stone to curb his agitated flame. "you must have heard that my destination is hostile to our kind. i would not tolerate you putting yourself at risk." a quick headshake. "and before you ask — i will be careful."

quiet gaze returns to his, garnet to garnet matching, and with the disquieted shadows of his face and figure to the waiting background of large ships moored for imminent sail, there comes an undeniable pang in her chest. were they somewhere quiet and alone together, she would perhaps transform and enfold him in the microcosmic blue of her wings in an embrace that had always come more naturally than those of this smaller and somehow inadequate form. instead, she only takes his hand, holds it firmly as though she intends to lead him somewhere as she always has.

"i understand how you feel. to be separated when you have waited a thousand years is indeed cruel beyond words. i am also pained that i cannot watch and protect you as well, as i have since we were nestlings. it will be the first time we have taken long missions apart. i trust you will return to me safely."

a statement, not a request. at the fall of a wholly different kind of world, it remains still an adamant belief — a willful denial of any other truth.

[hresvelged]

[ Tea ]

Rafal in his observation of the Black Eagles leader was nostalgically reminded. To his once covetous eyes, the Bracelet of the Three Houses had been a treasure grander than any other. First a treasure, then an ally on the battlefield, he had learned deeper things of the Emblem Edelgard beyond the strength of her axe and the commanding presence she wore. For example; that the amount of sugar cubes Rafal drowned in his tea had been to her most egregious. A cardinal sin. 

One foot pushed him from the wall, a cup in each hand.

“Edelgard. Does a moment of repose find you? If so. . .here. I would ask that you take one of these off my hands. Being made in advance, the left one is far from sweet enough for my tastes.” Not sweet enough by nature, or that Rafal had not sweetened one of them to begin with? A mystery, to be sure.

An ungainly blink, then another, with subtle focus on the feathery brooch she wore, and then the spaces right and left of her. Rafal hovered and did not seem to know what to say. What else was meant to be bespoken during such. . .informal exchanges?

Her attention was drawn towards the cups in Professor Rafal's hands— Lilacs sharp as her lips drew to a part. "Oh? Your timing is impeccable. I was just thinking about heading towards the teas, myself. I appreciate it." Her fingertips wrapped around it, bringing the beverage closer towards her person. Music enveloped from the back; Edelgard's stare lingered in front.

She took it upon herself to fill the void that was the silence looming in her direction. A clear of the throat, hovering forth words to share: "Well, then. I hope you don't mind if I seize this opportunity. Will you join me? I do prefer my tea in the company of another." Her pinky flickered atop her black feather, unclasping it with her free hand as she placed with her professor in lieu of the teacup. Wordless, without prompting. Her eyes spoke enough; of gratitude and insightfulness.

The Imperial Princess brought the awaiting cup upwards, slowly raising it nearest her mouth as she took a sip. What she tasted first was its warmth, pressed with subtle florals. Her eyes closed for but the briefest of moments, lowering the glass as its contents swirled. It reflected nothing, all the while showing all she needed.

[fellsparks]

∗ 24﹕ sender  crawls  into  bed  with  receiver .

The screams in Gradlon Temple were fewer tonight. Quieter.

Not silent but nothing at least compared to the bestial horrors of yesternight. It was always like that with their home - irregular, haunting, and never ending. The sound of slick fangs finding purchase in soft skin or beneath tough scales, the separation of life and body as throats tore and stomachs split open like rupturing earth. The loveless reality that only Fell Dragons knew, their deepest ties abandoned for one shared dream that ran even deeper. Thousands of young serpents vying with twins, brothers, and sisters without satiation until they could be the only ones.

But they weren't like that: Nel and Nil.

Shivering with the tiniest vibrations like a shaking leaf, Nil covered his ears with tightly clamping palms and pressed himself closer to Nel. Beneath the thin blanket, their identical skinny knees bumped together like two puzzle pieces attempting to match. In Gradlon, each pair of twins only received one blanket. They were expected to squabble and feud and to eventually kill one another for control of limited resources, but that didn't work with two twins who always resolved to share.

"I'm scared, sister," Nil whispered against her neck, and it wasn't accompanied by soft weeping like the true Nil, but his fear was real all the same. "Do you think. . .we can sleep outside tomorrow? It's hard to sleep inside the temple when it's so loud."

The screams no matter how quiet were always louder for his kind; the defenseless and powerless Failures made to sleep with one eye open, more vulnerable a population than any other in a land where no-one was safe.

Nel has long since become immune to the sights and sounds of bloodshed that echo throughout the dreary halls of Gradlon Temple. Such violence is merely a way of life to those that reside here, and she is no different-- the only inconsistency is who the target of her killing intent is. Where the others turn on their sibling, ripping, tearing, and clawing their other halves into pieces that no longer resemble anything intelligible.. Nel chooses to bathe her hands in the blood of her brood if it means there's one less Fell Child that thirsts for Nil's end. She doesn't care if the others don't understand her motivations, and she doesn't care about the animosity and envy directed towards her-- she'll take the blows if it means that her brother suffers a little less. She can't take him away from the things that haunt him. The thought causes her to press her cheek against his trembling head, offering him what little warmth and comfort that she can. The bloodthirsty heathens outside are getting closer-- she can hear the growls growing louder, low and guttural, full of a primal hunger. They're waiting, stalking, and the sound of claws scraping against the stone walls of the temple sends a shiver down her spine. She shifts their position slightly, wedging herself between the doorway and her brother. Nel knows they're not safe here, not truly, but for now... she's the only defense that he has. She's not afraid. Not for herself, at least.

"I won't let anyone touch you. I'll keep you safe, Brother, I swear to you," She whispers softly, her fingers running through his hair as her arm tightens around him. "We'll go wherever you want to go. We won't stay here forever."

She pulls the blanket tighter around him, unconcerned with the fact that more of her skin is bared to the chilly night. It's long since been ingrained in her to endure, and this is nothing compared to what he must be experiencing. With a sharp breath, her hands move to cover his hands at his ears, humming a random tune in a desperate attempt to keep the howls from reaching him.

No matter what happens, she'll keep him safe. She has to-- the cold, the fear, the monsters simply masquerading as their family-- they mean nothing compared to the love she holds for him.

"Close your eyes. I'm right here. I'm never going anywhere." (( When her spear pierces her own gut centuries later, she sees only the scared, frail boy that laid in her arms for nights on end. The same boy that she'd give her life for in an instant, the same innocent child that deserved none of the pain inflicted upon him. Perhaps in the end, she's broken her promise to stay with him for eternity-- but a promise kept means nothing if his life is forfeit. )) (( If there is any truth in this universe: he completes her. For he is the sun and she is the moon-- what light is seen in her is merely his reflected through the length of night. When her eyes close for what she believes to be her end, her only regret is that she can't hold his hand one more time. ))

[twistedisciple]

Snowy and blinding, white was an easily spotted color to be sure. An easily sullied one, too. The soot of the forge and the drudgery of cleaning duties alike layered atop habitual pallor like a second coat, silvery strands to smoggy grey with only two sharp red eyes untouched. Those same eyes would nest upon Griss at the end of his search, a fraction of their sharpness pared away.

"Griss." Calling for Griss was no unlikely occurrence, but uncommon nature pervaded elsewhere; a tossed tome in his direction. Cover smooth and contents unused with a swirling design of gust to distinguish it.

"Excalibur. A spoil of the marketplace purchased on our venture into the city. I did not think particularly of you." Rafal did. "Nevertheless, it has occurred to me that you of all people would be a proper user of it."

Wind for Hound; by that perspective, the Fell Heir would be a most cruel master, indeed. Wind and Hound; reversely, if two sages should remain alike in the way of Rafal's expectation, then the tome known as Excalibur was in no better hands.

"I trust your performance with it will not disappoint."

Rafal gives Excalibur (20/20)

The tome was a nice one. Nearly as nice as the fresh Seraphim spell that guy with the terrible haircut had handed him earlier. Griss took it with a long, appreciative whistle, thumbing through its pristine pages. Excalibur was a comfortable spell, one he'd gotten pretty familiar with over the years. Despite his erratic and often disorganized appearance, he'd earned his title as a sage, and with just a few glances across the figures printed within, he could tell the differences between this and Elyos' variant.

"Wind kills so much better than these light spells. A lot more blood when you cut clean through an artery." He flashes a grin at Lord Rafal in lieu of any kind of thank you. "Unless we're gonna be fighting more monsters, but whatever. Killing's killing. Speaking of blood--"

Snapping the tome shut, he thumped it against his shoulder, his other hand at rest on his hip. He tilted his head to look the dragon over. An eye and nose for blood were other, unofficial characteristics of a Hound, but if Lord Rafal was suffering from any grievous wound, it was well hidden beneath the soot. Griss smirked.

"Looks like you could use a bath." With a stretch, he settled against the wall and crossed his arms. While the excursion to the coast with Pasithee had not left him with many physical injuries of his own, the psychological ones were different. He'd thought he'd gotten over Zephia's death. He thought he didn't care about what happened to Marni out there, even though he had no idea where she was. He thought he didn't need a 'family.'

His expression sobered a little.

"Anyway, I'm gonna stick by you for a while."

[starrook]

'a kiss on the corner of the mouth, hoping for more but expecting nothing'

To Alcryst's surprise, Rafal hesitates in the end.

The dragon has him caged against the wall, at his mercy, and yet he acts so unsure. There's a part of Alcryst that worries Rafal got cold feet, or realizes that it's not worth debasing himself in front of this Brodian prince. But to be honest, Alcryst is mostly relieved. He's nervous too. It's a relief to see the other prince also wavers in this moment, hesitating before they finally cross into unfamiliar territory.

Alcryst moves before he thinks. He turns his head slightly to catch Rafal's lips in a brief kiss before they have a chance to leave him. "...I know you can do better than that," Alcryst whispers. With trembling hands, heart pounding against his chest, he guides Rafal's palm up and invites him to cup his cheek. Alcryst offers a small, nervous smile. "I'm yours. So please, kiss me properly."

[elusivia]

19. a memory of someone they don’t see anymore

He could taste it to this day.

Zelkov remembered lying on his bed, groaning miserably. He must've been around five years old, old enough to know better, he mentally scolded himself.

"You're going to be just fine, sweetheart." His mother was barely restraining her laughter as he spat out more herbs. Vulneraries, he'd just learned, were not meant to be ingested. The little bundle had looked so much like a dumpling... he hadn't thought about it. He'd shoved it in his mouth whole and bit down with all his might.

Nasty.

NASTY.

He'd wound up crying on her shoulder, still sadly coughing up herbs for several minutes. His brother had made fun of him for weeks, only stopping when they found something else to squabble about.

Zelkov had always held it in his mind as a memory proving how much of a handful he'd been as a child, but he had to admit, he too would be trying to hold in laughter if any child tried to eat one of his vulneraries.

Perhaps love could be endeared to moments such as that.

Zelkov would eat a hundred vulneraries to see either of them again.

[achaemenidstar]

🕯️ welcome!! :)

He reminds me of Teach, if Teach talked a lot. Similar expressions, wise-ish beyond their apparent years, wields some sort of mysterious power, and reveals so little of their past that I can't help but probe for answers. Usually I can read people easy, but there's something more to Rafal. I just can't put my finger on what exactly it is... Hm...

-----------------------

[rp meme can be found here :D]