#severine writing

[snakemoltsiren]

Has your character ever undertaken a morally questionable act they knew was wrong but would contribute to a greater good? How did they wrestle with that? How do they feel about it now?

Severine was - and to no small extent still is - a professional con artist. She has done it for quite a while at this point, even if she doesn't exactly need to to get by. She only grifted from those who could afford it - no small number of Ul'dah well off fell victim to her at some point. For a little while she did it for her own good alone. To get by. To make some money. Somewhere along the way it became far more common for her to steal for the betterment of others rather than herself. As she became more confident in both the local politics and in her own skills, she had unspoken arrangements with numerous groups of refugees. The majority of the money she got from the Ul'dah elite went to job training and placement, provisions and shelter for dozens if not hundreds of people. At some point along the way she earned a moniker - Saint Savage. A nickname that she's more than happy to be known by. Severine has done a lot of things in her past that she's not proud of, and she works every day to atone for them. But she has absolutely no regrets about anything that others might call into question morally, as long as in the end it benefited someone who needed her help. (thank you so much as always for the question SEA!!! <3)

[secretly-of-course]

Well! I did it! My big Steve x Katya fic is officially finished! Have some kisses for Steve to celebrate!

Word count: 61,815

Summary: Through a series of chance meetings Steve, a loyal scout in the Emperor's Coven, gets to know Katya, an intriguing witch who has had her fair share of clashes with the Emperor's system. He finds himself drawn to her but there's a problem--she only knows him outside of uniform.

And here's a bonus Severine with a tiny cat :3

[ramssby]

this world needs more fem snape in snarry fics, whether yuri or straight i just needd her

[handma1denofvenus]

Severin x Wanda

Venus in Furs

(Basically imagine severin fucking sobbing as he scribbles this into his diary with doodled broken hearts all in the margins and the paper stained with his tears) (while he tries not to listen to the Greek rocking Wanda's world in the next room over. That is it. That is the context.....)

_________________________________________

My neck stained with fingerprint bruises

Maroon, lilac, and chartreuses

What an ass I am to thank thee

Who holds the nooses

My statue of Venus

My garden of Eden

Strike me down

Or cast me out

And still you'll find me

Kneeling at your feet

(Ps plz stop fucking the Greek ;O)

_______________________________________

ORIGINAL CONTENT!!! NO OTHER SIMP COULD HAVE WRITTEN THIS BUT I!!!

[ustalav]

character voice tag

tagged by @foxboyclit and my dialogue is "i am not what you wanted"

i got a teensy bit wordy w the action hmmm but lol still posting it, thank you for the tag!!

Rules: Rewrite a line of dialogue from the person who tagged you in the voice of your OCs! (You can include a beat of action to help establish character if you want.) Pass on the tag with a new line of dialogue.

Gideon: His voice is tight when he speaks, shaping his words carefully, not quite meeting their gaze. “We will never see eye to eye, I… I would sooner die than revoke my oath to the Chantry. You must accept this if we are to carry on. You can’t keep waiting for me to change.”

Grant: His laugh is a huff of exasperation, hand pulling through the strands of his dark, messy hair. “Maker, what do you want from me? I’m not your blasted savior, your revolutionary. I’m just trying to fucking survive.”

Cyril: There was a time the Queen looked at him with admiration, he’d even go so far as to say desire. All he sees now is hate and contempt. Cyril rises to his full height, a towering presence of horns and wings and the warped power of the Abyss. “I hope you enjoyed murdering my troops while you sent me on that wild goose chase, your Majesty. Drezen no longer requires your aid, you shall either leave of your own accord or the Balors will escort you.” His expression is schooled as coolly as hers but he can’t help the twinge of regret when met with the strength of her ire. It’s a distant thing.

Severin: “Yes, yes, I’ve heard it all before, Mother Dearest. I’ll never lure a man with my feminine wiles if I spend half my time gallivanting about as a man. What was it Lord Daveth said? ‘Sev’s a right lad, can drink you under the table with the best of them, but I need a wife.’” Her voice is mocking, deep and low in the best impression of the Lord they can make while slumped gracelessly on a couch, wine sloshing in their glass with each drunken gesture. Stings less like that.

i tag @lords-of-fortune and @amatres anddd @space-writes with a good ol' angsty "i'm sorry" as your dialogue prompt

[dragons-ire]

#15 Portentous

The rains rolled in the desert without much warning. Ominous black clouds rolling in out of a clear sky, a long shadow cast over the earth. The smell of petrichor in the air, and then the deluge.

Huhubici Jujubici sat at the front of his trade caravan, squinting over the chocobos heads as they pulled in to Camp Drybone. The rain washed the roads, threatened to hold up travel.

Wouldn’t do to get stranded out in the mud. Better to weather over here until it passed.

With luck, the local Brass Blades could be convinced not to inspect the cargo too closely.

His bodyguard stood with his arms folded while Huhubici jumped down to the ground. A wasn’t half a dozen 

“HEY! Watch it.” He yelled out, turning to see who it was

“Sorry!” A pair of young voices called back, waving as they ran past. A pair of elezen young enough to not have their height yet, a pale-haired one just a little taller than (his? her?) blue-haired and skinned comrade. They paused under an awning, still soaking wet from the rain to whisper to each other.

“...looks like the rain washed all the garbage clear out of the Shroud.” Grumbling, Huhubici turned up his collar and continued his hurried way towards the dingy inn for a little respite. The small party burst in the door, wringing water out of their clothes.

Just himself, his personal security detail. The drivers, the chocobos, the rest of the guards should be fine in the elements and in the wagons for now.

The only other inhabitants in the main room when his small party shuffled in were crowded around a corner table. They didn’t look up - a large Roegadyn man conferring with a shorter miqo’te woman. Another elezen - quite a few of them here today for such a small town - off to the side, watching the door without seeming to watch anyone coming through.

Huhubici deliberated for all of half a second before stomping over. 

“Are those your kids out there?” He demanded. The elezens gaze (how eyes that orange color could look so cool) shifted down to regard him.

“...were they causing you trouble?” They asked in return. “I’m deeply sorry if they were.”

“They need to watch where they’re going, or they’re going to seriously hurt someone.” Huhubici went on, folding his arms.

“I see. Again, I’m very sorry. I’ll be sure to have a word with them about being more careful.” The older elezen finished, then turned back to their drink and the conversation.

 If Huhubici hasn’t beent so miserably damp and tired, he might have been ready to demand more for the indignation. As it was, he just waited, seeing if there was more to that apology.

When nothing came, he made a small sound in the back of his throat, turning to the bodyguards. 

“Come on, let’s go.” And turned towards the long bar counter to head that way.

2019 Prompt: Wilt

@sea-wolf-coast-to-coast

[the-baschet]

#23 - Suit

Continued from #18 - A Fish Out of Water

Severin looked as if he fit right in; his silken midnight tresses always seemed to frame the ghostly features of his sunken mien perfectly and his posture spoke that of a nobleman in some respect. The uniform he suggested for all of them to don may have complimented him the most though he had a more specific reason in his choice of garb in mind. A reason he only got to enjoy for a moment.

In contrast, Chance’s shoulders rounded as he lingered about the snack foods with his lofty companion, bidding the other’s demands without complaint. His darting eyes and meekness made it clear how out of his element he was while endless streams of sighs groaned in and out of him.

“Really? That’s how you two want to spend the next few... four, five bells?” A lean Midlander in their same black and ivory formalwear waltzed up to the pair of sulking Elezen with a wide grin stretching his tanned face. “There’s music, food, ladies that are looking at us.” He glanced to his left, their right, at a table of overly dressed Elezen staring at the trio, though namely, staring at Severin.

To which the man sipped from his glass, a long, nearly provocative drain, until he handed the empty cup to the Hyur. “Nicholas, you were always good at entertainment, mayhap you could keep them busy? I might have heard them whispering something about you before you arrived here, you know? About a swarthy man with scars littering his face, how courageous he might be and the sort.”

Whatever Nicholas’ reaction may have been, Severin saw none of it, already walking past him for one of the vacant balconies to spend his time. The ornate balustrade held the weight of his elbows and then some, vehemently wishing for the night to advance into the morrow though his expression remained as bleak as ever.

“Severin! Pray, don’t leave me alone like that...” Chance followed him outside, far too young and dependent to feel a sense of confidence on his lonesome.

“You did not wish to keep Nicholas and the others company?”

“Everyone else is already talking to someone, and you know how awkward I am.” Admitting such a thing aloud tinted his sallow neck and ears just a tad. “I just want this over with; they all keep staring...”

“You and me both, Chance. We must hope and wish that our dear lord keeps us lesser people in mind... Or mayhap I might end it early with a mishap.” A devilish smirk cracked his wintry disposition as he pulled a glittering ruby from the breast of his coat.

Chance hurried closer to the other, snatching Severin’s hand just to quickly yank himself back. “Stop messing around,” he whispered in great distress.

A large laugh shook Severin over the railing, turning to face Chance in his lounge with a sudden mark of enjoyment coloring his expression. “Oh, you know I would never. This is too important a time anyroad and I will not be the one to ruin it for him. Should anyone of us fall out of line, I will deal with them personally though I have confidence not all of us are witless.”

Chance merely peered over his comrade’s unusual countenance, noting the pleased curl of his lips and strange lift of his eyes. Seeing him actually not dour for once brought an easy smile to his own face. “Right, and I’ll help you with keeping everyone in line too.”

“Of course. We need only wait until Matti is freed and then the night will hurry along much faster.”

Severin peered through the doors which they came wisping a small sigh scarcely heard by Chance. Within remained just as they had left it, Nicholas seeming to truly make a fool of himself in the distance, though it was enough to wipe his face clean of whatever joy he felt a moment ago.

[houserosaire]

Prompt #9: Fair

“It bothers me, father, because it just isn’t fair.”

His father, who had been staring hollowly into the fire the way he so often did of late took a moment to look up. “A lot of things aren’t fair.” He said quietly, and Silvaineaux knew immediately that he was thinking of mother. “But what is it particularly that troubles you, little Silvaineaux?”

He scowled a bit at the nickname. He was still little at fifteen summers, however much he might have hated it. Especially when compared to his father’s towering and sturdy frame, but there was really no need for his father to rub it in so, was there? “Florent.” He said, pushing past that small irritation to address the larger one. “Why couldn’t he be a knight if he wants to? He works hard! He is so good with his spear, sometimes he even knocks me in the dirt.”

His father straightened, turning all the attention in his amber eyes on him. “Florent does work hard doesn’t he?” He conceded. “He might be a talented dragoon if…”

“If his father wasn’t a gamekeeper.” Silvaineaux finished. “But it’s not his fault who his father is and his father is a good man too, isn’t he?”

“He is.” Severin agreed. “Though I do not think his father wants to be a knight either. Does Florent?”

“He does.” Silvaineaux said. “And he practices so hard and we all let him practice and some day I will be a knight and Honore could be a knight if he wanted and he doesn’t even want to, but Florent can’t and it isn’t fair.” Silvaineaux rather expected that his father would give him the same lecture his tutor had about the importance of bloodline and the hereditary courage of the highborn.

Instead Severin simply looked at him, all of his attention fixed on him and his golden eyes as thoughtful as if Silvaineaux’s words were worth every bit of his consideration. “You’re right.” He said at last. “That isn’t very fair is it?”

“No.”

“Well,” Severin said. “What are you going to do about it?”

“What do you mean what am I going to do about it?” Silvaineaux asked. “I can’t change who Florent’s father is and I can’t change the law…”

“I mean that if you see something that isn’t fair you should try to correct it, shouldn’t you? The world does not just fall into fairness, it is our job to try to make it fair, if we can. And as a Baron’s son and a knight you will have more power than say… Florent’s father or a stable boy to do so. So what do you think we should do to make it fair, Silvaineaux?”

“We can’t just change the law, can we?” He asked hopefully.

His father chuckled, and Silvaineaux thought it was good to hear because he had not heard his father’s laughter in a long time. “We cannot.” Severin said, reaching out to pat his shoulder. “I do not have anything like that sort of power, but born nobility is not the only way for a man to earn a knighthood. He might perform some great deed of valor as a soldier. Very very long ago the first Silvaineaux earned our lands and titles thus.”

“But that seems so hard.” 

“It is.” Severin conceded. “And many that try find their way to the Fury’s halls rather than the sort of glory they would seek. But there is another way. We might sponsor him as a candidate, if you like. If you think he is good enough and would work hard enough and would like that. He would still have to earn it. But we have the power to make it a little easier. Would you like us to do that?”

Silvaineaux nodded. “I would. That seems a bit more fair.”

“Well then, I will do what I can.”

“Just because I asked?”

Severin smiled. “Just because you asked… and a bit because I have seen him in the practice yards and I think you are right.”

Silvaineaux settled down on the sofa beside his father and after a moment one strong arm settled around his shoulders and pulled him close. He said nothing for a moment just basked in that warmth as they stared into the fire together.

“I am proud of you for speaking to me about this.” His father said at last. “For noticing and seeking to right something that bothered you. You should always try to do that when you can.”

“I  will.”

[brinkofdiscovery]

Hunted

Marcello sat frozen, wide eyed, feeling like a rabbit in a wolf’s jaws.

 This setting is Gabe’s domain! It belongs to @crash-bump-bring-the-whump. Severin (the creature) is mine. He sucks.

This is a continuation of this piece

Contains: Overheating, Unsafe binding, Stalking, Blood, Gore, Choking, Suffocation, Threats of dismemberment, Guns

__

The air was oppressively hot, as heavy as his clothes that clung to him–soaked with sweat as he made his way through the empty streets. Marcello gripped his bicep as he walked, checking every few blocks to see if the bleeding had stopped and only seeing fresh blood every time.

He tried to wipe sweat from his brow with his free hand, only managing to mix it with the blood that had dripped down his arm and covered his palm. He was nauseous from the heat, dizzy and out of breath. He felt like he should have already passed out. He wanted to stop and strip out of his binder, but he couldn’t bring himself to slow down.

Something was following him. He could feel its gaze boring holes into the back of his skull. He had felt it the second he’d ended up here, something at his heels that he couldn’t see when he looked over his shoulder.

He kept walking. He couldn’t run. Whatever was following him… he knew it wanted that. It’d turn this into a chase, and he’d be dead the second it caught him. He scanned the city around him, glancing down every alleyway as he passed it.

“I’ll know it when I see it.” The only descriptor for the location he had. He cursed the fact he hadn’t turned this job down in the first place. “Has an elevator… Know it when I see it.”

“Know it when you see it…” A voice parroted from behind him. Marcello slammed to a stop. In one motion he pulled his gun from his hip and turned off the safety as he whipped around. No one was behind him. Just the empty city blocks stretching on into forever.

“Okay,” Marcello whispered, turning to press his back against the wall as his pulse raced in his ears. “It’s fine, you’re alone. You’re losing it, but you’re alone.”

“Alone…” The voice hummed, somehow still from behind him. A cold hand reached out of the wall; Marcello watched, frozen in place, as featureless black fingers stretched from the shadow and curled around his shoulder. “You have to know by now that’s not true.”

Something like ink soaked into Marcello’s clothes where it touched him. Marcello opened his mouth to speak, words catching in his throat as a second shadowy hand seized his wrist from the other side. The gun clattered to the ground, and whatever was behind him spun him to face the wall.

“Stop! Fuck, what–” He stared up at the wall, at two impossibly long arms stretching out from the brick.  “What the fuck is this?” He tried to pull away, only for the hand on his shoulder to grip him tight, and the one around his wrist to suddenly yank him upward. Marcello’s voice broke in a sudden terrified cry.

Two bright circles lit up against the shadowed wall, like someone had cut through the darkness from the other side. The circles blinked, staring back down at Marcello as a wide, paper cut-out smile spread to life beneath them.

“Where are you going in such a hurry, little thing?” The warped, unholy shape of something close to human emerged from the wall. Empty eyes stared down at Marcello above a cartoonish grin. It was like some freakish shadow puppet come to life, Marcello could see the wall behind it through its expression. “There’s nowhere for you to go down here.”

Marcello silently struggled for words. The creature stared back down at him, still smiling.

The eyes shifted, somehow. Moved across its face as it focused lower on Marcello’s form. The hands holding him in place shifted again, forcing his injured arm into the air as the other arm wrapped like a rope around his neck.

“Ohh! Looks like someone already got to you.” The creature laughed and twisted Marcello’s arm further. It snaked down to look closer at the wound. “Interesting, they didn’t do much to you at all.”

Marcello focused on using his free hand to fight the way the creature’s arm tightened around his neck. It directed its gaze away from his arm again, watching his face with that wide eyed vacant smile as he struggled.

It tightened its grip, pulling him closer to the ground and smiling wider as his feet went out from under him.

“Where were you going?” It asked, voice light and floating.

“Fuck you.” Marcello wheezed.

“Oh, not an answer.” Dark shadows wrapped around Marcello’s legs, pulling him roughly to his knees on the concrete. He stared up with wide eyes to the creature looming over him. The arm around his neck tightened, squeezing tight as Marcello’s vision blurred.

Additional tendrils of darkness, wherever they came from, spread across Marcello’s face, covering his mouth and nose as the pressure around his neck released. His shoulders dropped and his chest heaved, trying desperately to pull in a breath out of reflex. The mask of darkness held tight, suffocating him and keeping him in place as the monster stared down at him.

“Let’s try this again.” It started, looming over Marcello as his lungs screamed for relief. “When I let you go, you tell me where you were off to.”

Marcello would have nodded if he could, but the creature seemed to take his fear as a yes. The shadows unwrapped from his face, and he fell to the ground with a desperate gasp for air.

He could feel it watching him, he swore he could even feel its smile. It tightened its grip around his legs, like it knew his next move was going to be for his gun.

“Well?” That sickeningly gentle voice teased from above. “Do you have an answer for me?”

“I’m…” Marcello managed to prop himself up on his elbows. Whatever black ink the monster was made of dripped from his face and neck; it coated his wrists and mixed with the blood on his skin. “I’m working. I’m looking for someone.”

“Looking for who?” The smile in its voice was clear–so content and proud of itself.

Marcello didn’t look away from the concrete. He just shook his head–a silent refusal.

He could feel impossibly long fingers wind into his hair. The monster pulled his head back, he met paper cut-out eyes with a defiant glare.

“Do you know what I’m made of?” The creature asked.

“Something fucking–nasty?” Marcello could feel it soaking into his hair, threatening to drip down the back of his neck.

It pulled back on Marcello’s hair again, guiding him to sit up on his knees.

“Shadows.” It answered. “Darkness. Which means I fit wherever darkness does. I could crawl inside you right now. Tear you apart from the inside out. Pop you like a little balloon.”

He could feel cool darkness slipping between his parted lips–it gripped his jaw as the other hand twisted in his hair, wrenching his jaw open and holding him in place.

“Looking for who?” It asked again. Marcello sat frozen, wide eyed, feeling like a rabbit in a wolf’s jaws. The creature gripped him tighter, drawing a strained noise from the back of his throat as it forced his mouth open wider.

“Who are they? Could they save you now, lost soul?” Marcello’s voice caught in a whimper as his jaw was strained further. The darkness at his teeth crept closer to the back of his tongue.

Marcello tried to pull away and the creature released him, moving to hold him by the wrists as he coughed and sputtered and choked on the ink in his throat.

“Gabriel!” He answered between strained coughs and gasps. “Gabriel Rivas!”

He kept his eyes closed as he caught his breath, looking up in time to see the creature had fallen still. It stared at him with the same wide eyes, but its smile had vanished.

Tendrils of shadows unwound from Marcello’s wrists and legs, and the creature backed fully away from him. He lunged for his gun, and it let him. When he rolled onto his back to take aim, it was standing where he’d left it, still watching him.

Marcello trembled, staring at the monster over the barrel of his gun. It stared back, empty eyes floating in a featureless black mass.

They watched each other silently. Neither one of them moved. Marcello didn’t pull the trigger. A smile split the darkness before it finally spoke up again.

“You were going the right way.” It motioned to the sidewalk beside them, “Don’t let me stop you.”

—

Marcello didn’t stop running. His chest screamed for mercy, his binder felt like it would crush his ribs if he kept going, but he didn’t stop. He knew the shadow monster wasn’t behind him anymore, but the feeling of being hunted lingered. He kept his gaze ahead, haunted by the screams that echoed through the city and followed him through the streets.

A skyscraper sat at the end of the street, double doors beckoning him as he picked up his pace. It looked generic, overwhelmingly indistinguishable from the buildings around it, but he was drawn towards it. As the double doors opened, the panic in his chest subsided–even as the walls around him stretched into impossibly tall obsidian slabs he felt secure.

He took a moment to slip out of his binder under his tank top, breathing in a deep sigh of relief as the pressure on his lungs was relieved. He let his binder rest around his neck and looked around him. The stranger said he’d know the place when he saw it. This was it.

[teenbasher]

fuck, y’all will never understand how badly I miss the twins. Like I know Alex doesn’t exist in canon & Seb doesn’t have a twin & if he does, people usually make Severin his twin. Who doesn’t actually exist either in canon, but feels way more real because of all of the thousands of people who head canoned him. & don’t get me wrong I LOVE Severin. But in my head obvs he is the responsible, respectable older brother who despite how much of a mess Sebastian may be, he doesn’t give up on his little brother & I love that for him.

Severin is Sebastian’s rock when he is at rock bottom & I like to think that it is because of Severin that Sebastian gets his act together (at least partially lol) & gets into the army after he gets cleaned from the drugs & eventually ends up to live into adulthood & meet Jim.

But the whole story of Alex & Seb being the bestest of friends and inseparable as twins tend to be. Having Alex be Seb’s first ever source of love, companionship, care & encouragement during the twins formative years & equally losing him in such a traumatic & heart breaking way, still during those formative years, to not only go on to be eaten up by guilt from his own, under developed child minded perspective & blame himself, but also be blamed & hated by his father for it the rest of childhood & see first hand how his mother fell apart because of it. is particularly poetically tragic that it makes me long for the sweet, fleeing moments of innocent childhood happiness the two had for the short years Alex was alive. & sometimes I like to imagine how nice it would have been for seb if his brother had grown up with him & maybe softened the harsh environment Sebastian grew up in, practically alone & abandoned since Severin was sent off to school shortly after the accident, having him being much older than the twins in my head canon.

dang. I meant to write this as a reflective pice about the twins relationship because I miss Alex but now I just made myself sad 🥲

[snakemoltsiren]

18. what is something they wish to try? why haven't they tried this yet?

Severine is very happy with her current relationship. It fulfills her emotionally, mentally and physically. Anything she or her partner are interested in, they can talk about and typically receive enthusiastic consent. She would be the first person to tell you how incredibly lazy she is - including in the bedroom. Not quite a pillow princess - her partner's enjoyment is incredibly important to her and she doesn't mind doing the work - but hey, if she doesn't have to? She won't. If she can turn her brain off and just go along with it? Great. However... There's a deep-buried part of her that wants her partner completely at her mercy. Following every word and demand to the letter. Just to see. She would never suggest or try to do this, however, because she doesn't trust herself. Because she knows that it's possible to achieve this. That with just the right pitch in her voice she can demand anything. And it's an aspect of her own power that scares her more than anything else. Plus honestly? Because her current relationship is so ideal, so incredibly giving and nurturing on both sides, she doesn't need to demand anything. Even if the thought is still in the back of her mind. At least a little. (thank you so much!! <3 <3)

[saint-severin]

[secretly-of-course]

Rare pair enjoyers this one is for you!

Pairing: Severine x Morton

Word Count: 1762

Summary: When a tiny cat falls seriously ill, Severine rushes to get some elixir for her. In her haste, she forgets her wallet! Thankfully, the kind potionist from Mr. Elixir is willing to return it to her.

[neoma-eltanin]

Prompt #23: Suit

For FFXIVWrite2023 Character: Severin d'Aumont Warnings: None

Every occasion required something fitting. Whether it be proper and simplistic for appointments with business partners, or elegant and decorative for extravagant evening balls and social gatherings with the noble elite, the young lord of house Aumont knew precisely what suited each occasion, and which suit to wear.

Cufflinks of gold neatly secured, embroidered roses of silk creating an exquisite pattern on his coat, fabrics of deep burgundy and ebony combined in a thoughtfully balanced ensemble. Today was a day like any other, and as Bernadin assited him with the final touches, he quickly looked himself over in the large mirror situated in the dressing room. Everything looked as it should, which was to be expected.

All his life he had been taught that clothes make the man, and it was a sentiment he completely agreed with. It determined status, wealth, rights and opportunities, something he was careful with making use of to the fullest. He knew the power his position held, all the luxury of comfort it offered him and what he was capable of thanks to it. Many of the things he enjoyed so dearly would be difficult or nigh on impossible were he not so fortunate.

It was then he noticed a flaw on his otherwise immaculately ivory colored cuffs. A small stain, easy to miss at a quick glance. Perhaps it was a small thing to fuss over, but it was a stain nonetheless. The color of the stain was unmistakably easy to determine for those who had seen it; a dark reddish brown, almost like chocolate. Of course, it wasn't actually chocolate.

Severin only sighed with an amused shake of his head, a relaxed smile on his features as his golden eyes studied the stain before turning to his butler. "Forgive me Bernadin, but I am afraid we will have to start over with a different shirt. Looks like the laundry maids missed a spot. Have Annelise bring another, will you? And see that she brings this one to the laundry room."

Bernadin bowed before helping his master remove the assembled outfit, piece by piece of clothing until the skin of his upper body was revealed, followed by the butler disappearing out of the room with the stained shirt. Severin rolled his shoulders, pacing through the room to the window. The sun had yet to set on the city of stone. There was still time.

And after all, nobility tended to be fashionably late.

[strawstories]

The Severin Conspiracy || Scene Snippet

Alllllright, I know I've been gone for uh.. quite a while but life kinda happened and I haven't really been writing haha As an excuse, have a small snippet of Cai finally realizing that snogging your enemies isn't a thing people just do when they're drunk. And if anyone's still interested in being on any of my tag lists, lmk OBVIOUSLY, SPOILERS AHEAD

Blaine was crouched down on the ground, the big dog nearly smothering him as he scratched at its ears. Blaine was smiling. Genuinely, honest to god, smiling.

He hadn't noticed me yet. I was standing in the doorway, frozen, glued to the floor. Memories flooded my head, of all the times Blaine had been alone in a room until I had walked in. Memories of Blaine looking down at a book, the slightest of smiles playing at his lips. Memories of Blaine leaning against a wall, seeming truly relaxed for once. Memories of Blaine staring out of a window at the night sky, the light of the stars reflecting in his gray eyes. I hadn't fully registered it until now, but there had always been this one second in which Blaine hadn't noticed my presence yet, in which he had seemed more like Blaine somehow, the real Blaine. Until he'd realized that I had entered and the mask had slipped back onto his face.

And it hit me then. It had never really been Blaine I had hated – in the first couple of days, maybe, but in the most recent years? I didn't hate Blaine. I hated the mask. I hated that he felt the need to keep up that facade around me. I hated the fact that I couldn't be someone he was comfortable with. I hated the fact that I would never get to see more of that other Blaine. I wanted to get to know that other Blaine, the one that only seemed to exist when he was alone. I liked that Blaine. I wanted him to trust me enough to let me see more of that Blaine. And yet he felt the need to keep up that stupid mask whenever I was around, had slipped it on the moment we had first met and never taken it off since.

I must have shifted my weight subconsciously, because the floorboards made a creaking sound and Blaine abruptly straightened up and turned around to face me. And there it was again. That goddamn mask.

He raised an eyebrow. “What is it, Wellington?”

I didn't know why I had entered the room anymore. My mind had gone completely blank. I wanted to tell him that it was nothing, that it wasn't important. But what came out of my mouth instead was: “Why?”

Blaine scoffed. “I'm afraid you're going to have to be a little more specific, Wellington.”

“Why do you hate me so much?”

He looked genuinely taken aback for a moment before the mask slipped back into place. I didn't know why I had asked that. I hadn't given my mouth permission to say those words.

Blaine opened his mouth to respond, but I didn't actually want to hear his answer. I wanted to leave, needed to think, to process the truly terrifying realization I had just come to and then never think about the whole thing ever again. So that's what I did. Instead of waiting to hear whatever Blaine had to say, I whirled around and left the room as fast as I could without seeming like I was running away.

[bogkeep]

Watch out or Severin Guest Pokemon Edition will become their own oc.

eh i'm more thinking that i can add any new lore that pops up or fun design quirks to the Original. what happened with sparrow was a freak accident