#v: radiant ruffian

[thefatalmarksman]

🌺 “I WANT TO KNOW…” Prompts |  Accepting!

@verumheart said:  “I want to know who your friends are.” {Subject X Ava tho}

Friends, huh? Braig hasn’t considered the usage of that word for... a while now. For it isn’t as though he truly thinks of the other Apprentices---whether of those slaving away in the laboratories, or those working primarily topside along with him as part of the Guard---as friends, per se. They are, more than anything else in his mind, merely folks that happened to occupy the same living space as himself. Braig had given up, after all, the concept of friendship a long time ago.

“Oh, those other guys that hang around sometimes? Go by Xehanort, Aeleus, Dilan, and Even---plus that quiet lil kid that’s always holdin’ Even’s hand, Ienzo. Though, to be honest with ya, they’re not really my friends, y’see. More like... coworkers than anything else, really---just acquaintances,” he replies---but upon looking at her, something nostalgic strikes him, despite his better judgement to push down the emotion. “...Y���know... I guess I used to have a good friend. Was nicer to me than most of the others I was around. Didn’t care that I was---different.

“But, far as I know, I guess she’s---” he tamps down the way his voice wavers at that last word, regaining his composure as he finishes, with resignation, “---she’s gone, now.”

[thefatalmarksman]

deathleads​:

          Victorious. Not only had she managed to get help for her dangerous self-given mission of the evening, but it had come in the form of her dearest friend, Braig! The only one of the bunch she could trust with a mission like this, legs swinging childishly from her bridle style palanquin. Unable to mask the giddiness being held so closely within his arms. Oh the thoughts of what this deadly pair of devils could be getting up to - 

She snickers, flashing an impish grin while he’d brought her back to the earth below and towards the mysterious fathoms of darkness that would surely greet them upon entry - hopefully. 

Now, it had been a hot minute since the scientist had been able to don her own weaponry, so she would have to make certain that she would not be making an absolute FOOL of herself in front of him. How horrible would such a thing be? How horrible it is to have a silly little crush on his teasing smirk.

But now’s not the time to dwell on such troubles. She had him to help her back into the swing of things. That ol’ familiar DANCE of power the two had often swung. And just how much wider would that smirk lengthen, she wonders, when he spots her just as she always had been  -  even BETTER, maybe?      “ Only my escort? Not my partner for the day? Oh come on, you’re not just going to watch me are you? Hm, Hm, you want to watch me from behind that bad? ”

Once he’d settled her down upon the ground---ensuring her feet were steady---Braig took stock of their surroundings. The outer areas of the slums weren’t the worst in terms of appearance: a variety of miniature flowerbeds dotted the landscape here and there, coupled with splashes of colorful paint on the building’s exteriors to break up the monotonous grey, tinged the area with a cheerful enough veneer. But deeper into the thick of things---towards the areas where Braig had toiled away his youthful days---would be an environment entirely lacking in these deceptively pleasant overtures.

“What can I say?” he started, checking his voice to ensure it lacked in any sense of hesitation, gaze roaming to focus instead on Christina, rather than the slums sprawled out before him, and offering a self-assured shrug. “I can tend to be a bit of a voyeur at times.”

Then, an exaggeratedly gracious bow in her direction as his voice rolled in all the grandeur and poshness his accent could muster, “Shall you lead the way in pursuit of the vagabond, Madame?”

[thewanderingknight]

Aside the Outlaws, Ch. 2

Life with your newfound family among the Van der Linde Gang is pretty rough and tumble, but your modest skill of riding sidesaddle could benefit the gang while infiltrating a wealthy Lemoyne estate.

Chapter I | Chapter II | Chapter III | Chapter IV | Chapter V

Preparing for the heist on the Pilot Plantation leads to a discussion that opens up aspects of your relationship with Arthur neither of you realized you needed to think about.

Arthur Morgan & Reader Warnings: Welcome to the Offices of Fluff & Fluffstein Word Count: 2,458 Notes at the end!

“Okay, Josiah, what do you think of this one?” You yanked the curtain back and stepped into the polished hallway of the tailor’s, arms extended to display the black velvet riding habit you wore. The sleek velvet hugged your arms, and the low neckline came to a clasp at the front that revealed a stiff white collar. The skirt hugged your waist, and floated just above the ground as your walked. You pulled at it a bit as Trelawney fussed over you for a moment, smoothing the fabric over the shoulders and straightening your collar. He turned you toward the large, ornate mirror in the corner.

“My dear, they’ll never know what hit them,” he smiled over your shoulder.

You stared at your figure and thought of your mother’s portrait back at camp. You looked just like her. The thought steadied you, and you returned the smile to Trelawney.

You grabbed your hat from Trelawney and stuffed it on your head. He scowled for a moment at the sight of , but let you be. He opened the door and escorted you through the streets of Saint Denis to the stables, where Arthur had taken Godiva to get fitted for the sidesaddle.

You turned the corner around the stable and saw Arthur standing with Godiva near the sidewalk.

“Oh, she looks beautiful,” you muttered as you approached. She nuzzled your shoulder as you adjusted the new bridle. You walked around her, checking the girth on the saddle. Arthur gave her an affectionate pat on her neck.

“Now my dear, make sure Arthur helps you up. That’s the proper way to do it. A lady never mounts on her own. Arthur,” he turned sharply, gesturing at you, “I bring you a radiant young woman. A lady of fine distinction. Please return her to camp looking just like this. We could do without your ruffian ways for an afternoon.” He gives you a succinct bow cut at the waist, and cleanly turned and headed back up the street, hand in the air, waving. Arthur absentmindedly waved him off.

“I can’t make any promises,” Arthur had already turned towards you, eyeing your new habit.

You posed in front of him, “What do you think?”

Arthur leaned in, “Are you...wearing a new corset?” His voice pinched.

“Shh, Arthur!” You giggled. “A lady never tells.” You raised an eyebrow. “Well?”

“Darlin’, what can I say? You’re beautiful. A lady indeed.” You blushed, moving your hand to comb through Godiva’s forelock, unsure of how to respond to Arthur’s bluntness. She leaned her large head into your chest and let out a heavy sigh.

“Can we walk for a while? I want to wait until we have enough space before I get on, just in case.”

“Course, let’s go.”

You walked side by side, your horses as bookends to you and Arthur. A soft sunset fell over the quiet neighborhood on the outskirts of Saint Denis. The horses’ hooves clopped along the cobblestone, echoing the other’s steady rhythm. You held Godiva’s reins in one hand, and took Arthur’s arm in the other. He smirked down at you from beneath the shadow of his hat as confirmation, and hiked up his arm a bit to let your hand rest on his forearm.

“Lookitchu, princess. Reckon this is what you’d wear if you stayed in that life?” He asked.

“What life?” You looked up at him quizzically.

“You know, before.”

“I suppose. Never really thought about it before, seein’ as I fell in with you lot not long after I ran away. Feels a little strange, though. Dressin’ up in something that I only knew of as a child, an’ now I’m gonna rob people lookin’ like this. In this new life,” you stared at him pointedly.

“Ah, I didn’t mean nothin’ by it. Just that, well, you look like you belong in that thing. Proper like.” “Well, who was it that said ‘clothes make the man’? Or in this case, a woman. Bet you’d look handsome in a nice suit,” you squeezed his forearm, prompting his eyes to yours. “Not that you need one to be handsome, mind.” You shot him a toothy grin, one that has been successful in the past.

He just shook his head, like he was trying to shake loosed leaves to the ground, and continued forward. His silence lingered in your mind, rattling in the empty space that should have been filled with words. Either yours, or his. Didn’t matter to you, but it felt opened and unsafe, like an ill-fitting stirrup when you can’t feel the horse, and the horse can’t feel you. The horse was free to move in any direction, unless you guided it.

You walked on further, until you reached the last house before the bridge.

“Arthur, wait.” you paused, unsure of the words. Your horses stopped, sandwiching your conversation between them. “I don’t rightly know how to say, but...but you haven’t really said anything ‘bout me being a part of this plan Dutch is cookin’ up. About this being my first. I never really had to join you boys before, seein’ as I pull my weight around camp helping Miss Grimshaw with the cleanin’ or Kieran with the horses, and I guess-- I guess I’m just wondering how you feel ‘bout it. That matters to me. And I don’t want you to say you don’t feel anythin’ ‘bout it. Just... tell me what you’re thinking.” You stopped suddenly, at the edge of your flowing words before the plummet off a waterfall.

Godiva snorted. Arthur’s horse stamped a foot.

“Why don’t you start with tellin’ me how you feel about it.”

“Arthur! That’s--”

“You tell me, and I’ll tell you.” Your face narrowed, then softened.

“Oh, I don’t know. Nervous, but excited. I’ve always kind of envied you boys. I think it’s brave, in a way. And now I get a chance to be brave, too. Like I have a purpose or somethin’, I don’t know…” you eyes moved down the bridge, the sun glinting off the river. You looked back at him, now casually standing next to his horse with an arm over his horse’s neck. He just looked at you and smirked. “Okay, I said my piece! Now you!” You pointed at him, fighting the smile on your face that was infected by his own grin.

“Well,” he groaned as he straightened himself, “Dunno why I’ve been quiet. You know I won’t stop you from doing what you want.”

You sighed. “Arthur- now I know what Hosea keeps complainin’ about!”

“What?” He stared at you, eyes wide, took a half-step back. “Please, please don’t do me the disservice of pretending you don’t know what I’m talkin’ ‘bout.” His gaze softened, he dips his head and sticks his hands to his wide hips, boots shuffling on the gravel. You forced out a sigh, and turned towards Godiva, only then to hear him speak up.

“I’s...nervous too.” You whip your head back to him. His hat is still shielding him from your eyes, you let him speak softly to the ground, knowing it’s for you. “I always thought, keepin’ you safe was easy. And now, feels like you could fall through the ground at any moment.” His words strained in the back of his throat; he coughed and quickly wiped his mouth with the back of a hand. You rubbed the soles of your boots into the ground. “But, I don’t want you feelin’ like your chained at camp--” “I don’t--!” you interjected.

“But--” His hat tipped up, his blue eyes on you, “I’m proud, darlin’. Proud of you. I can feel differen’t things, can’t I? Nervous ‘bout what could happen. Proud that you can do all these things with such grace, it makes me look more like a brute.”

A thought taps the back of your mind if he had thought that all along. He gingerly reached for your hand, holding it in his open palm. The slow brushing of fingertips ignited a memory, something of painted white teacups in a room that remained off-limits, and an excitement that shivered in your chest when you were finally handed one of those cups.

“You’re not a brute, Arthur.”

“Well don’t go wavin’ that around,” you saw a small smile emerge. You pressed your hand into his.

“So you, kinda like that I’m doin’ this?” You looked up.

“I do. We all gotta take a chance, right?”

“You know, I couldn’t have done it without you behind me, right?”

Arthur scoffed, “you seemed to be doing just fine on yer own.”

“It’s true!” you countered with a light laugh. “This is my first time, how would I have known what to do? Good thing I got my brute by my side.” You playfully hit his chest with the back of your hand.

“It’s a role I know well, sweetheart.”

“You act it well. Is he the Hyde to your Jekyll, love?” you jest.

He scrunches his face. “Weren’t they the same man?”

“Hyde is born from indulging in vices, though.”

“How many books you got your hands on?”

“My point is,” you paused, unable to keep a smile straining the tips of your mouth. “With me in this dress, seems like it’s hard for us to keep runnin’ away from the past when we’ve got all these reminders.” You thumbed the visible scar on Arthur’s shaved chin. “Usin’ the only things we know to disguise ourselves.” He raised his eyebrows slightly. “My past, and yours. Maybe we’d be different people if it weren’t for our pasts. But the life in front of us, now, that’s the one I want. It led me to you... You’re the man I want.” You pulled on his hands to help you onto your tiptoes, gently pressing a kiss to the fleshy corner of his mouth, the tip of your nose sliding along his cheek.  He looked down and choked out a laugh. “Don’t you go bein’ embarassed, my love.” You decided to let that sit, and moved on. “Now be a dear and help me up.”

You turned around to check Godiva’s girth and tightened it. Arthur stood close by, and stooped next to you, laying his interlaced hands on his bent knee.

“My lady,” Arthur cooed as you steadied your hands on the leaping pommel and cantle of the saddle, then lunged upwards with help from Arthur who supported you until you could sit proper.

“Oh, you a gentleman now, Arthur?”

He laughed, “Never tried but, perhaps it’ll suit me. So, how do you feel?”

Your mind had split for a moment, reconciling the feeling of something so old and familiar. You had felt empty on your right side. You had been riding astride for so long, it had become second nature to feel Godiva through both legs. Now, with your right leg tucked above the leaping pommel, closer to her shoulder, you tried hard not to move the deadweight leg. Godiva sensed the hesitancy, here ears swiveling back towards you.

“Oh, blacksmith gave me this, too.” Arthur revealed a long, thin cane from the scabbard on his saddle that he handed up to you. You grasped it in your right hand with the gathered reins, and let the end rest near Godiva’s ribs. You could feel her move against your left calf. Perhaps she was taking the time to remember this old role, as well.

“Dear me, it has been a while,” you breathed, adjusting your position, rolling your shoulders back, flexing your hands.

“How ‘bout a walk across the bridge, loosen you both up?” Arthur swung into the saddle and you followed him, feeling the sway left to right of Godiva’s steps in your hips. You steadied her through the reins, and tapped her with your left heel as she smoothly leg yielded to the right. You tried to mimic the motion with the cane, and she yielded again to the right. You zigzagged across the bridge, looking at Arthur who had turned in the saddle to watch you.

“Looks like you got the hang of it!”

“I believe we do!” You shouted back over the clops of hooves on wood. A giggle fell from your lips. When was the last time you remembered riding as, well, fun? “Hey!” you shouted at Arthur, who looked back with raised brows, “when’s the last time we took a ride just for the fun of it?”

“Uh, never.” he replied flatly.

You squeezed Godiva between your calf and the cane, and tapped her again so she sprung forward into a happy canter, flowing past Arthur.

“Well? Come on, then!” You pulled him with your laughter, following behind you.

“Hey now!” Arthur gathered his horse into a canter and followed suit, the horses surging through the turn of the dirt trail past Caliga Hall and under the canopy of trees.

Your hair fell out of its carefully plaited low bun, and you lifted your hat to let the rest fly back in the wind. The world rushed past you; you had almost forgotten the feeling. Godiva’s stride confidently struck the earth as she leapt forward, covering ground nose to nose with Arthur’s horse. The wind took hold of your ears and cooled your face after a day in the sun. Your cheeks grew sore from holding a smile. You snaked through a purple Lemoyne, the crickets creating song as Godiva slowed to a trot just outside Clemen’s Point. Your hair wild, smile wide, you turned to Arthur who reflected the beating in your chest that just could not seem to slow down. You felt warm without whiskey, and it made you giggle.

You walked the horses down the path, letting the flicking campfire guide you back. Dutch sauntered toward you, arms stretched wide. “Look at this, we’ve got our very own Belle Starr!”

You playfully tipped your hat at him. It was almost too perfect, playing to Hosea’s con artist methods and Dutch’s philosophy of the gentlemen thief and looking the part.

Arthur hitched his horse, then raised his arms to help you down. Once your feet hit the ground, you looked up at him.

“This is the first time I’ve been aside since, before. Thank you for making it fun.” He gave you a toothy grin. “So much for discarding your ruffian ways for an afternoon.”

“Somethin’ tells me you like it when I play the brute,” He growled, gripping you closer and drawing a line with his nose down your neck that earned him a squeak.

Later, In Arthur’s tent, your skirt hiked up, astride his lap, he finally asked, “can I see it?” You laughed into his temple as your fingers fumbled with the clasp on your jacket.

Notes: Belle Starr was (kind of) a real person! Most notable are her velvet riding outfits, her mare named Venus, and a pistol always on her hip.

Also: I am very much leaning towards a HH Arthur in this.

As much as I’d love to try riding sidesaddle, I’ve never actually done it, and can only assume what it would “feel” like based on my 15+ years of astride riding. If anyone can weigh in, please do!

[cryptidsncurios]

@maregiis: " How long did you cry when you got that ouchie? :( " [ from maregiis because smol kairi conversations were had ]

Braig wasn’t too keen on dealing with kids these days. Typically, they were far too loud, too inexplicably sticky, too absolutely incapable of appreciating his dry wit and---quite frequently---inappropriate sense of humor. In truth, he would require more than several hands to count the times he had let slip his---what he would consider---charming turns of phrase, to merely be elbowed roughly in the gut and chastised in private.

But this kid was… well, different.

After eons of observing the myriad of hearts during his travels, he had gained an acute instinct on sensing the quality of their auras---whether it be those glints and glows of the Light; or the harrowing, curling growls of the Darkness. In most folks he had encountered, these tended to be subtle, given that the majority of beings had a mixture of these sorts of elements.

As Luxu had learned, Light never seemed to be entirely unaccompanied by Darkness---and, alas, vice-versa.

Yet at times, there were hearts that brimmed with such power---and this little one here? Shimmering with Light.

Thus, Braig was---due to his current career---willing to deal with this particular wee one---even if this interaction didn’t necessarily line up with the usual conversations that constituted his favorite sort of pastimes.

So, while gazing upon the little girl with his well-known half-grin, one hand alighting his injured cheek (though, not bothering to touch on his damaged eye, which also offered itself up as a prominent subject of discussion), he lightly scoffed, so responding with a kiddingly sarcastic lilt, “Cry?" and he followed with an exaggerated snort. "Nah, I ain’t some kinda crybaby---though, I will admit, maybe I did some grumpin’ on the side---” then, caving to the need to stoke the child’s imagination, added, “---but lemme tell ya, it was quite the crazy adventure.”

[thefatalmarksman]

𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐃 & 𝐁𝐑𝐔𝐈𝐒𝐄𝐒  | ACCEPTING!

@deathleads​ said:  “Getting stabbed wasn’t really on my bucket list.”

“Pretty sure it ain’t on too many folks’ bucket lists, but life is just full of unfortunate surprises.”

Despite his own need for first aid lacking in these days, he still retained some sense of his knowledge concerning the procedures: the application of pressure to the wound, the winding of bandages, the administering of any additional care the individual patient might require. Information that had become deeply-rooted through his many lifetimes, and freshly-renewed with Braig’s recently-added knowledge.

“Ya gotta be careful with some of these folks,” and, once Braig felt satisfied that his job was successfully finished, placed a hand onto Christina’s shoulder in a reassuring fashion. Then, his voice lowering to something of a conspiratorial whisper: “They wanna say this city is a paradise---but, believe me, like all Edens, there’s snakes hidin’ in the branches.”

[thefatalmarksman]

☾Moonlight Aesthetic Starters☽ | not accepting

@verumheart​ said:  “This place is like a ghost town!” {Subject X Ava}

“That’s just kinda how it is here, when it gets dark like this.”

The parts of Radiant Garden best left ignored---the parts that were superficially painted up in brilliant and delightful shades only to hide its true ugliness---to hide the fact that there were still folks in the sage-king’s boldly-proclaimed “utopia” were still capable of suffering.

Just as any society, Braig had learned, was capable. 

For in his mind, “paradise” was a farce---especially here, in the shadows behind the looming castle as the night wore on, and the denizens walled off from their more well-off peers sought shelter from the chill.

In truth, he was uncertain why he had chosen to take her here---to drag her so far from the whimsical gardens and soothing waterfalls the more pleasant pieces of the world had to offer. Perhaps his own nostalgia---perhaps the need for a somber moment. Perhaps another slip-up where the memories of his vessel began to seep in, then peek up stubbornly from within the muddled and muddied confines of his heart: the remembrance of how harshly cold it could get without a proper blanket, how lonely it could become basked in this utter blackness. Packed together with all of the other children, yet still shivering, unable to sleep.

Either way, something coiled within his chest---something dark and bitter, and, despite his better judgement, he chose to nurse it.

“Even this world,” he reflected, sternly, brooding, making sure she was close at his side with the touch of his hand upon her shoulder, “has its share of Darkness---but not the kind we can just swat away with a weapon, or even readily see with our eyes.”

[thefatalmarksman]

Deep Ass Starters | not accepting (atm at least)

@verumheart​ said:  “You can’t just hide all the time.” {subject x ava maybe?}

It was odd, seeing her emerge from her usually catatonic state as he breached the confines of the underground laboratory---but, every once in a while, Braig actually didn’t mind the company. Even if, to some degree, their interactions were merely a painful pantomime that only served to remind him of... fonder times.

“Ain’t hidin’,” was his lazily-drawled, clipped explanation---then, throwing himself into a chair just outside the bars of her cell and crossing one leg over his bent knee, decidedly elaborating, “---I just need a lil of that precious me-time is all.”

[thefatalmarksman]

FINAL FANTASY VII REMAKE STARTERS | Not Accepting

@freezing-scholar​ said:  “don’t worry. you’ll feel much better in the morning.”

Doubtful, but Even had been dubbed their resident expert on the subject of all medical diagnoses and prognoses, and so Braig would simply have to take his word on it. At least he could perceive that the pain had dialed down from intolerably excruciating to somewhat tolerably but still quite noticeably excruciating. But he attempted to comfort himself with the notion that even this slight shift could be an indication that the medication was starting to work its magic.

All he could do for now, however, was weakly nod in response to Even’s suggestion---his mouth incapable of any major movement without causing intense stabbing agony---and, after adjusting the blankets yet again as a means of unsuccessfully distracting him, reach out toward the pencil and lined notebook resting on the nearby nightstand, swiftly jotting out in his simplistic, block lettering:

WATER?

[thefatalmarksman]

❣️                             SOFT   INTERACTIONS !  | not accepting

@verumheart​ said:  [flower] {Ava, but she gives him a dandelion. Bonus points: subject X verse :3c}

[ flower ]  for  your  muse  to  offer  my  muse  their  favourite  flower .

Continuing the arduous task of hardening his heart had been---has been---a chore for Luxu. He had not always been this sarcastic, this harsh, this devoid of goodness and kindness. Once upon a time (oh, what an ironic way to start a story such as his), he had had so many very beautiful and poignant emotions---full to the brim with joy and light and love. Expressed them openly, with the sort of excited naïvety of a child first opening his wide eyes to the world, still glorious with innocence.

...But that Luxu---the Luxu that had departed with nothing but a Keyblade in his hand, a Mysterious Box at his side, and the highest of hopes in the depths of his being---had vanished, and in his place was Braig. In his place was centuries of turmoil and heartache, the tortures of the seemingly endless loneliness that stretched on further than he could have possibly imagined, wrapped in the scarred skin of a bitter orphan.

Fitting for Luxu at this point in time, truly.

And yet, even as Braig, he continued serving a Higher Purpose, for it was all he had left---all that remained of what had once been some semblance of an identity. Clinging still to that notion that there would be An End---the sincere hope of a reunion warped into a shadow of what it had once been, now a burbling monster hissing just beneath his flesh, hungry for its release.

Hungry for freedom.

At whatever the cost.

But for now, he had no choice but to trudge forward on this path of predetermination---as a bodyguard to Ansem the Wise, as a right hand to Apprentice Xehanort, as a slave to his fate as he wandered down the corridor towards his current destination: the outer gardens.

A breath suspended in his chest for a few seconds yet what felt like a millennia all over again upon exiting the arched doorway and seeing her. It seemed to happen every time---this existential pain that very nearly cut away his distorted resolve like a chunk of rotted meat still clinging to his weary bones, made him remember I am Luxu---I am Luxu, and that is... it’s... it’s her.

It’s.

Her.

His pace slowed as he approached the two figures, one sitting numbly amidst the multicolored flora like an inanimate doll---Ansem claimed that despite their extensive studies and her seeming unresponsiveness, they simply could not keep her locked up like some sort of animal, and she would be given fresh air on a regular basis---the other Dilan, standing by idly, boredom no doubt finally seeping into his bones due to the extensive yet required free time demanded via Ansem’s orders. Silently, the other guard noticed Braig’s approach and took this as his cue for shift change, reining in his footfalls so as to not seem too eager to take his leave.

And now it was just Braig---

And her.

A remnant from an age long past, and yet she had not aged even a day since he had last seen her---the brilliance of youth, untouched, unblemished. However, despite her perfectly-intact visage, that her body was certainly here, beside him, she herself appeared to be entirely vacant---gone, far away, somewhere else.

As he knelt down beside her, engaging in the required visual examination (all limbs intact, no injuries---it all checked out, as Xehanort’s team was meticulous in their... “care” of her), her dull eyes turned up towards him, defying the glare of the sun, eyelids fluttering, as though trying---trying to discern the soul within his skin. Trying to look through him, into him. And there lay the true source of his despair: that she never would be able to. 

Never.

He no longer attempted conversation during these encounters---no longer tried to reach her. The things that had happened to her---the things they had done...

Keep that heart hardened. Keep your resolve. Keep going.

Soon.

Soon.

However, before his thoughts could consume him, there it was within his vision, lifted and bobbing within the delicate breeze: a single yellow dandelion, like a miniature sun held betwixt her fingers. No communication of her intent---merely her hand extending the gift, an inoffensive offering.

Braig’s heart twisted in a way it hadn’t in so long at the kind gesture---some sort of torrential emotional cascade that brutally assaulted his gut, heaved through his chest, electrocuted his veins, prickled the corner of his eye---

...Then, just as quickly as it had entered him, forced it all into the void---forced it into nothing.

Nonetheless, he took the flower, albeit without a single word of gratitude (for he had to wonder if she was bordering on no longer even comprehending such sentiments), twisting the stem between his thumb and index finger---back and forth, back and forth, as though a nervous fidget to distract himself from something far worse than he could possibly handle if he allowed his mind to linger for too long.

Continue hardening that heart, was the sort of thought that consumed him during times like these. Hope that one day it will be nothing more than an unbreakable shell, he steeled himself as he watched the setting sun with Ava at his side, a twisted reflection of what they had once been during the days of their true youth, hand in hand in tender affection---

Squeezing and squeezing, layer over layer, an all-encompassing shell, until there is no heart left at all.

[thefatalmarksman]

@x-purpose replied to your post: xigbar voice: xeha-NERD

the correct term is Xehadork

“Personally, I’m a fan of Xeha-nerd, but Xeha-dork is fine too. Also Xeha-geek is acceptable. At the end of it all, though, I’m just gonna end up givin’ ya a wedgie.”

[thefatalmarksman]

“I had to tie you up. You didn’t leave me any other choice.” (from grown up and x-blade wielding Vanitas. X'D)

Terrible First Meeting Starters | NOT accepting

“Y’know, I was wonderin’ where ya scampered off to,” Braig laughed, though admittedly, it was less hearty than usual. The need to struggle against his bonds itched at his subconscious, despite fully knowing it would be of no use. 

Of course, under normal circumstances, Braig would not be bothered by someone binding him—his space-warping abilities allowed for him to dodge out of these sorts of messes without any issue, and always made for an entertaining party trick.

However, it seemed Vanitas had done his fair share of studying, and knew to also rob him of his sight, for if Braig was not aware of his surroundings, he could not safely teleport himself to a different location. For obviously, he wouldn’t want to accidentally get himself stuck in the floor, a wall, or the ceiling—or, perhaps more nauseating, another living creature. Hadn’t happened to him before, fortunately, but he certainly didn’t want to find out the consequences. Nothing like the idea of a theoretical concrete slab combining with your innards or turning into a conjoined abomination to put you off your experimental nature.

“So what’s the problem, huh? I ain’t big into playin’ the damsel tied up on the train tracks---I’m most usually the one doin’ the tyin’, feel me?”

[thefatalmarksman]

@x-purpose liked for Braig to be an insufferable pest a starter!

Braig was usually pretty decent at finding ways to keep himself entertained, but this evening he was feeling a tad impish---and besides, intruding was one of those way to keep himself entertained anyway.

“Xehanort, buddy!” he exclaimed heartily as he burst through Ansem’s most prized apprentice’s door, approaching with his arms spread wide. “How’s it hangin’, dude? Got your nose buried in a book in order to avoid the existential crisis caused by long-term amnesia or are ya just disappointed to see me?”

As one might observe, zero shits were to be given on this day.

[thefatalmarksman]

Trinity-of-umbra: Terra: he frowned a bit at the situation at hand, how had he ended up alone with the the guy in a place this large? Could his luck be any worse?

Obviously Braig wasn’t entirely pleased, either, to be dealing with the guy that had royally marred his dashing good looks—but, for the sake of keeping his other eye in check, he would force himself to be civil.

“Yo dude, I know you Wielders got a habit of pokin’ around wherever you like, but this is the royal palace, so I suggest you should probably skedaddle before one of the—how do you say—less-nice guards catches you skulkin’ around.”

@trinity-of-umbra

[thefatalmarksman]

@lightandthedarknxss liked for Braig to actually not be a completely insufferable ass what??? a starter!

Braig had seen this lady around before, wandering the threshold of the palace, strolling about the gardens---and, most notably, noticed her wielding a Keyblade. 

Braig knew it important to take note of such individuals---they would, in all likelihood, become important in the Overall Scheme of Things---but he felt the need to keep his distance for now, uncertain how to go about approaching her. After all, he was still dealing with the wounds from one Keyblade from a few days ago, and during his reconnaissance observing her, he had to wonder if she’d end up giving him the business end of the blade as well.

(Oh, how he absolutely missed having one himself these days...)

However, he came to the conclusion that she definitely seemed a lot less aggressive than the other guy, and it heartened him just enough to finally address her when he caught sight of her in the gardens yet again---despite his, uh... less than savory state.

Throwing on his most charming persona, he strolled towards her when she seemed to be taking a break, and---whoa, she was actually kinda pretty---greeted her, albeit while a tad self conscious of his appearance:

“Hey, uh, miss---I haven’t seen you ‘round these parts before. You lost or somethin’? If you need a guide, as part of the Guard, I might be able to help out---if you’re interested.”

[thefatalmarksman]

AGGRESSION   //   SEXUAL  TENSION . | Accepting!

@deathleads​ sent:  🚨   //   push  my  muse  to  the  ground   &   straddle  them .

He’d taken to letting her show him what she’s got. The other Apprentices, of course, shook their heads at such a brash decision, but Braig would not be swayed otherwise. She’d expressed an interest in properly learning how to engage in battle, after all, and if no one else, he would be a most appropriate teacher, given his extensive experience (which was far more extensive than anyone else could know). She’d proven herself less than just a laboratory dweller like Even and Ienzo---she had chops. Perhaps not Guard-level, but nonetheless, Braig gave her the benefit of the doubt that her moxie would prove her greatest weapon.

And he definitely wasn’t complaining about being pinned underneath such a bodacious babe.

“Not too bad, Qissy---” lopsided grin parted just enough to bare a hint of jagged teeth, “---not too bad at all.”

He’d gone easy on her, obviously, but not so much that she’d suspect it---and, of course, he could turn the tables at any given moment if he so chose---but he would let her enjoy this victory. Truly, this round, she’d most certainly earned it.

[thefatalmarksman]

𝐌𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐅𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲 𝐑𝐏 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 | Accepting!

@thievingninja​ sent:  “He looks like a gentle giant.”

Glancing towards the diminutive, self-proclaimed “ninja,” Braig crossed his arms and tilted his head curiously in her direction at her statement. He could tell she was trying to size up whether or not it would be worth trying to sneak into the Radiant Palace, at which Aeleus currently stood stolid at the entryway. She was a pesky pest like that---probably one of the reasons he had taken a bit of a covert shine to her.

“Giant? Definitely. But gentle? Well…” a pinch of his chin with a gloved hand as his gaze passed towards his rusty-haired comrade-in-arms, Dilan posted on the opposite side---both with chests puffed and weaponry at the ready. “Guess it depends on who ya are.”