#stresstal

[darkestheir]

@stresstal replied: She did, properly tucking her robes beneath her. Her hood remained over her face. "I came back for my duty as a Light bearer. I'm needed here. If that answers a question on your mind."

" some. not all, but -- some. "

there's a presence when she sits, the gentle press of his influence on her mind like he can't help but reach into the spaces that were left empty in the moment.

it's not prodding, just present enough to be felt.

" this place is calling all sorts of souls back. again, here i am at the center of it, through some action of the past. "

the presence in her mind sighs like can't remember, like there's some sort of veil over the shape of it. it's something he can't pierce through.

[reynauld]

:D

[darklinaforever]

@berrychanx

@stresstal

Sorry but no. Kisshu's hands are resting at Ichigo's shoulders, they are not wrapped around the back of his neck. He does not strangle her.

It still shows a little much that the hand is paused at his shoulder, and not wrapped around his neck !

Unless the author herself confirmed that the scene was meant to be a chokehold, I don't see the scene that way, and even if she did say so, she just drew it wrong if that was it that she wanted. Kisshu's hand is literally paused. It's not rolled up anywhere.

Tell me...

It really becomes a habit to goad the morally ambiguous character into strangling (commit acts of violence on) the object of their affection, when it's not at all present in the source material...

What exactly is this shitty trend ?! They think they're smart to make an already morally ambiguous character worse to deliver a stupid message about how dangerous this type of guy is ?! Or is it a new fetish on female characters (or the nice character) that we like to see suffer even more ?! I would really fucking like to understand !

[openveined]

stresstal

She sits down, humming. "What brings you to this place?"

He sighs. This question again... well, he supposed a few of them already know. Perhaps she doesn’t remember? She’s like him, then. Blessed and cursed with no memories. 

Dismas motions for the barkeep for her and pulls his own ale closer. 

“Mh, th’ short answer ‘s Regulus. Th’ longer one ‘s a sin that made it so I couldn’ stay anywhere else. ‘N you?”

[rotweald]

stresstal:

Slowly, she started to lower her hand. "....what are you?"

She lowers her hand. Good-- good. It’s safer this way. Her weapon lingers at her side-- that’s dangerous. Not as quick as its teeth though. No. No. It’s teeth are quicker. 

It lays down, slow with eyes on the vestal. Its tail still sweeps, somewhere between interested and agitated. It hadn’t turned this time out of starvation-- a favorable situation for both of them. No, bandits had gotten too close to town. They were gone, now. A mess of bones for a farmer to find in his fields. 

A small heckling laugh sounds in its throat at the question. What is he? It? 

“Twisted.” 

[graveshot]

Puts Sadie's hat on her own head.

“Ah. Thank ya. Its good to see you.”

Again. Again? Perhaps again. She does know her, though. The woman with the warm touch, and soft humor. Who likes good puns and a certain jester. She knows her, but the details fall short. This hat is hers, with a veil. ... she had lost it, hadn’t she? But when. How did it get here?

[eldritchbled]

"Are you quite alright, sir?"

@stresstal​ | another life.

even the staunchest of hearts inevitably gave way to the horrid ventures demanded by a place like this; that in turn would lead to desperate pleas to soothe their wretched souls. a frothing hunger that only the pleasures of flesh would satiate, a guilty conscience sequestered in a cloister that would more demand than pray. 

though the Beast within would gravitate towards the former (albeit with a more literal hunger), nesdin did his best to steer himself towards the latter. only through the contrast of calming breaths and through the earthy scent of burning incense could he keep his mind active enough to resist the tugs of his eager tenant. though try as he might to keep evidence of the internal struggle hidden, this woman’s concern attested his failure to do so. 

“My, ah-apologies.” it was only now he realized that he had been pacing, bare feet collecting pollen from the overgrown goosefoot that coiled and twisted around the side of the path. “It’s nothing to.. to trouble yourself over. Nerves, is all.” 

believable enough and not an outright lie if all she had to go on was his aimless pacing and nervous fingering of his moth-eaten cloak. 

[theburden]

@stresstal

She smiles politely at the strange man--but she could not be picky, when there was work. "Indeed, there is a flagellation room, I've been told."

“ I would be surprised if there wasn’t! every proper temple should have a penance hall. ”

he claps his hands a bit before he steps up the broken stone stairs and shoulders a piece of wood leaned into the doorway. there’s a strain in broad shoulders before the plank is shoved aside. . .and what remains of the door falls down the stairs.

“ hm. shall we investigate? ”

[rallyingflare]

Continued from x @stresstal​

“Healing? No, no. Just putting names to faces, s’all. I’m Missandei.” 

She knocks back her waterskin. 

“Men? They don’t bother me. War is full of them.” 

[darkestheir]

the magic comes easily to him, the manner of manipulating the mind and body with eldritch ability similar enough to the old cultists they once fought.

sometimes, only sometimes, did his tome appear. whenever it did, he took it as a herald of a bad set of days to come. (it is hidden in the stagecoach for now, tucked under his seat and carefully covered.)

he watches junia lift the symbol, the lantern glowing with the light within, and her voice is even when she recites the words he knows very well by now.

he's expecting something usual, the warmth that edges on just a little too much, but never leaving lasting damage to him. what he isn't expecting is for something inside him to recoil, twisting his guts until it's wringing a surprise noise of pain and startle from him

he lurches back, stands with a scrape of the chair and pulls his coat tighter around his shoulders as he does, his eyes wild as he looks to junia and tries to steady himself.

" you've -- gotten stronger. "

he exhales slowly, counting the seconds, before he dusts himself off. his signet gleams, the coat is smoothed with only a wrinkle or two.

" impressive. "

Quincey, Tardif, and Sinclair--that was good. More faces, more familiar wardens of the Light. And it was assuring that some faces that weren't so welcome didn't make their hideous appearance again.

Still, she was not going to be partaking of the wine any time soon.

The former Iron Crown cultist was a missing face, truly. Someone who had embraced the Light and had fallen back into the shadow. Perhaps she had escaped. Junia could only hope for that from someone who had given them great help.

The heir reached into her mind, a gentle, secondary prod, and she frowned at the admission.

Reynauld was the type to keep things to himself, to ignore worries as long as possible and take things upon himself. More than anything, he believed the advice that it was respectful to let people handle their own problems and respect their autonomy--up to and including poor choices--so hearing him voice them meant things truly had gotten bad.

She withdrew her symbol--the lantern surrounded by the beams of Radiance--and she looked him directly in the eyes.

"May the Light come forth, and burn the Darkness."

[semanticsreally]

stresstal replied to your post: She rushes forward, in the dampness of the cove....

She breathes heavily, eyes darting around. They are spellcasters, the two of them. Scouting ahead while others rest. Foolishness, but necessary. “Thank you. You must get a better cloak. I am not sure how good of a shield i can be.”

      he flicks his tongue over his lip, tasting blood and saltwater from their clash, and shrugs a bit. his coat is soaked through with seaspray ( a reminder of the friends he is separated from, unfortunately ) as he steps close to her again, raising the orb of light to peer down at the unfortunate fishmen who had decided to make a foe of them.

           “ -- magic and armor do not work together very well. i am not very good at casting in it. ”

[darkestheir]

@stresstal replied: She thinks for a while, and gives a small smile. "before the Hamlet. Before. Before this place at all."

before the hamlet? that seems to give him an extended pause, his eyes cast to the window facing outside.

" i. . .remember my siblings. it's hard to forget my eldest brother, the bastard. and the estate. i lived away for a while at school, but i don't remember the details of it. it's very hazy. "

he's silent a moment before he drums his fingers on the table.

" i think i keep seeing ghosts of my old teacher, but -- it's probably my mind playing tricks on me. "

[reynauld]

JUNIA

"The apples, Reynauld! You absolute dandy!"

“...”

He takes a look at the boiling pot just within the office door. It filled the Abbey with a sweet smell. Maybe... it was excessive to search and find them.

“Aye? Rare things- from an orchard three towns over. I earned them.”

[vengefulfinale]

stresstal replied to your post: "Chester...what do you see in my future? Do you...

She gave a little nod. “Draw.”

His finger twitched over the deck, the first card flipped and moved to the left. 

“The Conjurer. A past I can see for you. You manifested quite a bit of hope in people’s lives.” He hummed as he drew another.

“The Seer. The future is uncertain as ever, ever changin’ in a place where time shifts and the hour glass long broken. But that is your strongest source of protection and good as well.”

“The Torturer. A symbol of power and strength. Havin’ the resolve from the pain you have endured and inflicted will help you in your goals, with the strength to not become what caused you to change in the first place.”

“The Horseman. Ah, a light will shine on an ally that will help you in your fight against the darkness. A person or force that can be avoided, but once here will bring ruin to all that object them. Something of great power and and even greater ally if able.”

At the last card, there was a dramatic pause as he glanced up at her before flipping the last card over.

“The Innocent. Your greatest enemy, a follower of the darkness, left unchecked will be your downfall. Deceivers come in many forms, a child’s face is not unheard of.”

He sat back then, looking over the reading silently for several more minutes before looking back.

“Remind me, whatever was your first reading? Its been two years.”

@stresstal

[openveined]

Thumps the back of his head. "You are utterly clueless!"

She cuffs him and it breaks his train of thought. Ah... yeah he should have expected that, shouldn’t he? He rubs the back of his head like it hurt, grumbling. “Eh,” he mutters, “no need to fire a gun off ‘bout it...”

Utterly clueless? Well, that might be fair. Still, the circumstances aren’t exactly normal. Should be fair for anyone to be clueless about it, really.

[rotweald]

A mace in one hand, the other outstretched in a spell. "Beast...."

This one. This one he shouldn’t eat. 

The creature’s tail sweeps side to side, pensively. Clicks low in its throat. It can speak-- not to any lengthy extent-- but it doesn’t want to. Not with this one. 

She’s Light-touched. In direct opposition to the thing he’s become. And altogether too similar to the crusader. 

She’s dangerous. Dangerous to deal with. 

The spines and fur along its back bristle, and open jaws reveal sharp and long teeth. It rumbles low in warning, takes two steps back. 

“Don’t.”