#vaero

[carriecorzetti]

old oc redesign :-]

[oxavane]

SCREAMING CRYING EXPLODING i am so normal about them

[lowkey-tunes]

Desire - Vaeros

[times-chu]

Another piece of traditional art, once again acrylic on canvas plus ink on paper. This is concept art for a scene in one of my weekly ttrpgs that sadly we never got to play out, but maybe I'll get to come back to it in my writings. It's called Birth of the Fell Star, and features the deity Vaeros up at the top there, who is important to the lore in the world I'm compiling out of my adventures.

(Please don't repost my art or use it in a public space.)

[captainhancock727]

Vaeros - Long night

[an-unprofessional-artist]

Hey, you can call me Dale for now (she/him). I’m from California (the farm part). I have completed an associates degree in history and my associates in art history is in progress, with the goal of one day working in a museum. I’m primarily interested in historical culture and the day to day lives of people in the past. What songs did people sing? What games did children play? What nicknames did people give each other? What did people eat and wear and gossip about? I like learning about the social and cultural contexts of historical events as well.

I have OCD so please give me the benefit of the doubt if an interaction comes off as rude, and I won’t always catch sarcasm. I also tend to write formally or like I’m composing a telegram but I promise I’m not mad, it’s just how I talk!

You can find my art here. I mostly draw dragons, most commonly my self insert character from a fairytale book series I read when I was a kid that never fully left my brain: unnamed fairytale setting, sona: leviathan

My D&D character tags can be found below:

dnd oc: arden (he/him)

A tempest cleric of Stronmaus, living in the shadow of his mother’s grand adventures and great deeds

Draft centaur

“Kill them with kindness” wrong, call lightning 🌩️🌩️🌩️⚡️⚡️⚡️🌩️⚡️⚡️🌩️⚡️

My current character

dnd oc: locryn (she/her)

A light cleric of helm, struggling to make decisions after following orders her whole life

Red dragonborn

Arson

Campaign on hold

dnd oc: quill (he/him)

A swashbuckler rogue keeping his two younger cousins safe as they venture away from the sea in search of adventure

Tuxedo tabaxi

Overprotective dad (he’s barely older than his cousins)

Campaign on hold

dnd oc: vaeros (she/it/any)

Raised to reign terror over the kingdom, now in hiding after her mother’s unexpected defeat at the hands of an adventuring party

Young red dragon

Nepo baby

Campaign on hold

dnd oc: nix (she/him)

Technically pathfinder, not D&D

A no-nonsense monk

Minotaur (aurochs)

“Based? Based on what?”

Made to practice running games to help out our dm

Feel free to ask questions about them and I’ll answer as best I can. Please request them in any oc ask game I reblog too

[thequeendomhq]

NAME. Eivor AGE & BIRTH DATE. 315 & Unknown GENDER & PRONOUNS. Cismale & He/Him NATIONALITY. Unknown SPECIES. Dragon ( Prismatic ) FACTION. Vanguard of the Light OCCUPATION. Crusader FACE CLAIM. Aaron Taylor-Johnson

biography

( tw: torture, body horror )

There was never a time where Eivor could remember what it was like to live within Avalon. Yet, he knew the Light. He felt it within him, as electricity crackled between his palms, as magic gave him the best sort of adrenaline and thrill. Freedom was earned, that’s what he was taught. Freedom was not given, it wasn’t meant for everyone – lies fed to him when he was young. A cage was all he knew, and a cage was all he would know for centuries. 

Magic, however, was part of his life that did not go away. There was no warmth in it, pressed to the edge of his ability at all times. Torn between the idealized version and stories of Avalon, of the Elvhen – that’s what he was, wasn’t he? Ears as sharp as knives, the strength of the Light of the Laurelin within his soul, his magic. But everything could be taken, and perhaps if Eivor had been old enough to understand that, he would’ve fought a little harder. An "Elvhen" had a long life ahead of them, and the magic that Eivor had considered a blessing from the gods turned into nothing more than a curse.

But it was all a lie. Born a prismatic dragon, there was a part of Eivor that was always repressed. This Elvhen that stared back at him in the mirror, it was a falsity. It was a lie that was easily manipulated into Eivor’s broken mind. He had been young when he’d been taken away from Avalon, those memories had not changed, but the promise of the future? He’d never known such a thing. The weight of the wind beneath his wings, the idea that he was a creature to be feared – it was beaten out of Eivor before he could understand that he was nothing more than an animal to the Aetherians that had bound him and taken him so easily. 

Experimentation was not unheard of within this world he lived in. Eivor knew there were things he’d stolen for his Archon, things that he was warned needed to remain covered, hidden, until the right time. Stones, alchemy – all things he had heard of, but did not know. These memories, fragmented from when he’d been so young, were just reminders of the lines upon his skin. Every vein that would light up, the telperion masking and muting the transformation into his dragon form. Stuck within his polymorph, Eivor was easily controlled, easily manipulated. The anger he felt was channeled, controlled – he always saw what they wanted him to see, and nothing more. Eivor’s free will had always been within him, burning alongside every piece of himself he had to break off and hide – but this? The recognition that they’d completely ruined what he was, changed him into someone unrecognizable, it was like the last bit of sanity finally left the prismatic dragon’s mind. Like a shattered mirror, he could never again piece those jagged edges together. 

It was only when he lost himself in his mind, when he was left alone in his silent cage, that the dragon would sometimes connect with the former parts of him that he thought he'd lost. His mind, fragmented as it was, still remained connected to the veil, to the spirits that he knew were his closest companions – his closest realization to the truth. The spirit of Wisdom that the Aetherians had bound, was his only source of comfort. The spirit and he were old friends, from before a time that Eivor could remember. When he was Vaeros, when he was a dragon of reverence, and free to walk amongst the world of spirits and dreamers. It was his only solace at times, even as he felt the sorrow, the rage, that his spirit was being pulled away from its very purpose. Wisdom, twisted into Pride, Vaeros became Eivor, a matching kindred spirit – no longer who they were.

Pushed to his limits, forced beneath the boot of the Aetherian Empire that he’d only known as his captors, it was his life. He learned when to speak, when to ask questions – and when to simply go without a word. A trophy of a distant realm, that’s what he and his kind were within the kingdom. Tamed like animals, Eivor knew things were not meant to be this way. Yet the dragon could not question it. The telperion that muted him into a polymorph form also acted as a conduit for magic that would feed off of it whenever used around him, storing until it would burst from his hands. An electrical current that matched his draconic ability, only amplified by the telperion now in his veins. A soldier, the perfect attack dog, and a successful experiment.

He had another name once, one that Aetheron had told him to forget, and it had been lost in favor of the one he’d been given – the spirit he'd bonded with, the one that truly knew him, was the only one to remind him of it. It was his own mind attempting to protect itself, perhaps. Listen, don’t go against those that gave him his next target. Eivor would use his channeled ability to burn the life out of someone, to torture others that went against the Archon, against anyone who dared to speak out. And with each use of his power, Eivor felt more of himself burn away. Aetheron was a kingdom of mages, of floating empires and technology that had helped create a weapon that could be harnessed against any enemies.

Eivor’s chance at freedom came at the price of what was left of his soul. Despite his leash, despite the way he killed on demand, there was a time where he decided that maybe he could fight his way out. His escape had been planned, yet another Elvhen had stopped him under the guise of helping him. Little did he know that they had been promised freedom for their cooperation in stopping him. Betrayal, another hit in the world and little trust that Eivor had built for himself. Was he truly worth a few coins and an open jail cell? Perhaps he would have done the same. But as the sorcerers surrounded them, he watched the light die in the other Elvhen’s eyes, burnt from the inside out. And ashes fell, and Eivor was pulled back into the life he had wished to be free from. In his mind, if he could not be free, then no one else could. 

The dragon became one of the Archon’s best achievements in weaponry, one of a few that had become like him. The prismatic, the one that was easily leashed by magic, controlled by a simple trigger in his mind – Eivor had once thought he knew there was more to what he was. But slowly, as the ages passed, as the requests became more violent, Eivor’s mind seemingly fell blank. He wasn’t a dragon – he was an Elvhen. Just a man that was supposed to follow orders, and if he did, there was nothing to fear. His chest was a hollow cavern, but the first signs of life were only rekindled by the Archon’s son. 

Hope was a fickle thing, and Eivor was more than ready to bite the hand that fed him. It was a risk that all took when they saw the broken dragon. Time passed, but the mage continued to visit. His former spirit of Wisdom, twisted and manipulated by Aetheron to become something that it wasn’t, Pride was no more a weapon than the dragon had become. Barely sensitive to the veil, Eivor’s soul seemed to cry out in a way that the dragon had thought he’d lost. Too easily, Eivor could be seen as a cornered animal. There was mistrust in all that he did, rage that fueled his chest into something bigger than himself. It took years, but all plans had a purpose – especially as Eivor and Nikandros locked hands between bars, as the dragon looked for the only source of comfort he’d ever received, there was a quiet promise between daemon and dragon that there would be a reckoning.

The prismatic dragon’s personality morphed into one that mirrored the very sorcerers that had taken everything from him. A hatred for magic, a hatred for the thing that he was supposed to love, to embody – a hatred for himself. But his purpose could be moved, and when Aetheron was suddenly pushed forward, the world they’d built crumbling around them, the Archon’s son returned for him. The cage was sprung, and Eivor, nearly pulled into the fray, took one look at the daemon and left with him, instead. Into the realm of Taravell, washed up into the shores of Iskaldrik, he was nothing more than a violent creature with nothing holding him back. 

It was only his bond that pressed him forward. Daemon and dragon, they found the Vanguard. A place where Eivor could channel his functioning retribution into a sword, into a force of magic that would cleave any Aetherian from theirs if they were to find he and Nikandros once more. He was a protector, and as Nikandros’ wit rose him through the ranks as well, they were free to live within Taravell, hiding in plain sight. The fanatics of Astoria were easily looked upon with distaste, but even then, the Vanguard did not kill any and all that walked in their path. Eivor saved his revenge for wayward witches, ones who’d made a pact with the Dark One, those who believed they were above the laws of magic. 

The world itself was new, and yet it was familiar. Eivor’s freedom felt like magical shackles around his wrists, his mind – things that he still couldn’t control despite his absence and lack of proximity to the very Archon that had created him. Yet still, Eivor followed Nikandros wherever he went, even into Iskaldrik. Iskaldrik was a place that wished to mute those connected to the weave, a sort of injustice that neither Vanguard would ever stand for. They’d destroyed ancient druidic sites, imprisoned witches and Elvhen who had no place to go, and still – this Light they’d followed had gotten them chained once again. Shoved into the mines of Iskaldrik, Eivor felt that sanity that he’d been slowly piecing together for a decade begin to fall apart.

It was perhaps an act of irony from the pattern itself that Aetheron’s attack upon Iskaldrik had the Vanguards freed. Eivor’s chains broken once more, all his magic brought back to him as he destroyed witchers, humans, any Iskaran that stood in his and the other’s way – a path out, even as Aetheron’s looming presence once again reminded him that they’d been here for a decade as well, and if they had regained enough strength, it meant he’d never be free. 

The dragon took one final look at Aetheron and envisioned a bloody heart in his hand. The cold wind of Iskaldrik on his back, he’d settle back in with the refugees, with Nikandros, with the Vanguard. He would have his revenge, and he would have what was rightfully his – retribution.

personality

+ loyal, methodical, protective – vengeful, deceitful, aggressive

played by lauren. pst. she/her.

[heyiamhzvan]

| TRI THỨC |

Động cơ của một con tàu khổng lồ bị hỏng và không ai có thể sửa chữa nó, vì vậy họ đã thuê một kỹ sư cơ khí với hơn 40 năm kinh nghiệm.

Anh kiểm tra động cơ rất kỹ lưỡng, từ trên xuống dưới. Sau khi nhìn thấy mọi thứ, người kỹ sư dỡ túi và rút ra một chiếc búa nhỏ.

Anh nhẹ nhàng gõ một cái gì đó. Chẳng bao lâu, động cơ đã hoạt động trở lại. Động cơ đã được sửa chữa!

7 ng��y sau, kỹ sư đề cập rằng tổng chi phí sửa chữa con tàu khổng lồ là 20.000 đô la cho chủ tàu.

Chủ sở hữu: “Cái quái gì? Anh hầu như không làm gì cả. Hãy cho chúng tôi một hóa đơn chi tiết.

Đơn giản: “Gõ bằng búa: $ 2.

Biết gõ ở đâu và gõ như thế nào: $ 19.998”

Tầm quan trọng của việc đánh giá cao chuyên môn và kinh nghiệm của một người ... Bởi vì đó là kết quả của những cuộc đấu tranh, thử nghiệm và thậm chí cả nước mắt.

Nếu tôi làm một công việc trong 30 phút, đó là bởi vì tôi đã dành 20 năm để học cách làm việc đó trong 30 phút. Bạn nợ tôi những năm tháng, không phải phút giây.

Saturday, 9 Mart 2024

[viridianreverie]

Most of a whelp's diet consists of cooked meat and eggs, cut into small pieces. When they are a bit older, they can add insects, bones, and small crustaceans to their diets as a crunchy treat. For fussy whelps, or as a reward, honey can be used sparingly as a sweetener.

-Vaeros, Nursery Director

[oxavane]

Durgetash just hits different. Where else can I get the Act3 vibes of 'I came here to get intel and betray you but deep down in my body's muscle memory the feeling of you brings overwhelming comfort'

[Me going on for a bit about feels under the cut] vvv

Gortash meeting Vaeros in private and going from "Is that really you? Not the mindless puppet parading around at the head of that group of misfits- is it you again? My equal? My partner in crime? That which I thought lost?"

Gazes flickering, fingers interlocking. A stutter that is so foreign in his voice, but there's something undeniably his down there, something that Orin's blade couldn't butcher.

And Vae replying back with "Help me remember"- he doesn't know what's here, but it fells good and nice and logic and it all makes a bit too much sense to simply treat Gortash like another Ketheric or Orin. He doesn't know who Gortash is to him, but he wants to rediscover that all over again.

Yes these two will end up with complicated backstabby dynamics all over again, ofc. But for some brief, blissful moments- everything is simple and comforting again.

[freydis-freydat]

How odd a concept it was to have been brought into the world without having to grapple with the concept of death until now. She wondered quietly if he could still be killed if he was able to return to Avalon, but suspected the rumors of the dwindling branches would not make it so. It seemed frightening and cruel to be forced to have to reconcile with such an unavoidable fate, but then most things that Eivor had encountered were frightening and cruel from Freydis’ perspective. “So they made you this,” she began quietly, gesturing to his Elvhen polymorph, “to make you into a weapon more quickly?��� It confirmed something she was already beginning to conceptualize and try to accept; there would be no world in which Eivor might be happy passing the remainder of whatever time he did have in his Elvhen form. Quietly, despite herself, she asked, “What did they say?” She had more questions, dozens more, but she realized he had pushed so hard against the boundaries of what had previously been known to him in the few minutes that had passed between them. Others could wait, they could afford a small break. Freydis simply nodded that she would use the name he preferred, but she did not think Vaeros was one to be earned. She found it to be bespoke to him already, but his redemption was not hers to chart. 

“What is it?” she asked quietly, openly at the sight of his tilting head. She wanted to reach out, but she feared smothering him–she was perpetually censuring herself lest she become too suffocating. And then she suddenly wanted the earth to swallow her whole. She shrunk visibly under the arc of his grin, almost caved beneath the weight of his amusement. “It’s not such a ludicrous line of thought,” she tried to argue quietly, but her humiliation was evident. Mercifully, it was also short-lived, and she rebounded slightly as she barbed back at him, “If you would be my personal god, you’d find yourself with a deeply faithful acolyte.” Back to their flirtations of faith–blasphemous as they were unserious. “Do you remember what happened?” she asked, searching his features. “Do you think it was by chance that you landed here, or that something divined it?” She hoped for the latter, though she was not sure it made a difference. 

Freydis softened at his question, but her eyes fell into their laps rather than managing to stay with his own. “I had done so little with my life but look the other way at every injustice that showed up on my doorstep screaming for my attention,” she responded quietly. “Who would want to remember a person like that?” Now, she did not feel that this was quite true; certainly the chances she had been given to push back against injustice in her youth was squandered, but she was running herself ragged now in a futile attempt to make up for lost time. Her eyes, already downturned, reflected the light that illuminated his veins, and as always she looked like she would be a moth to the flame to reach out and grab it consequences be damned if he didn’t stop her or she didn’t come to her own senses in the nick of time.  “That is not how I put it,” Freydis reminded him, her posture regaining a bit of her confidence as she corrected him. She could not resist but to twine her finger around his and drop a gentle kiss against his top knuckle before releasing him. “And while that is my preference–that is not all I meant by cheaply.” It didn’t bother her to explain it to him, she suspected he genuinely lacked the context and consideration for what she meant. And it was important to her that he knew. “I do not wish to be had or treated as a conquest on the mere basis of availability and opportunity,” she tried to explain. That had been the depth of her connection for so long, pretty and false words to lead her to fall into the first available bed when she was nothing more than a dare, an experiment, or a joke to her peerage in the Iskaran court. Girls had tried her one for the experience, and boys, the ones who had not tried to entrap her in gilded lies to usurp her fief, had treated her as an opportunity to prove they were braver than the next boy, that they were not too coward to knock on the door of some forbidden house. “To be a convenience is not enough for me, I don’t have the stomach for it. That doesn’t mean it isn’t tempting, that I don’t think about it,” she muttered, her eyes tracing the shape of his lips as she explained this to him. She knew she had a reputation for being virginal if one was being charitable and frigid when one was not. Freydis had been reared in a culture where it was not so desirable for a woman to be quite so direct about what she wanted; she was somehow unrelenting about her insistence to wait for what she felt she as worth nonetheless. “Much like you hid behind the cloak of the Vanguard, as a woman I chose to hide behind the veil of disinterest. You are not the only one practiced in restraint. But I don’t want a momentary bed partner because it is easy or casual: to me, cheap,” Freydis told him, rounding back to the operative word. “I want to matter–even if it’s only for a while.”

"I dont know, what we called days and months back then. In Avalon, time was never ending. Mortality was...a problem only for those outside of Avalon." He spoke slowly, not entirely for Freydis' benefit, but to piece together what his fragmented memory was slowly putting in line for him. "But in this form, I grew...faster. Dragons age slowly, very slowly. Even now, I'm considered...far less than an adult. But forced into Elvhen bodies – as permanent spaces – it allowed our powers to grow quicker. I remember, now. What they said." It seemed like an out of body experience, watching what he'd become through the eyes of someone else. Of the magistrate fusing with a spirit, a corrupted one – they'd made Nik what he was, just as they'd forced Eivor into one. "Eivor. It's what I know most. What they gave me. Until I earn my name back, it is not for others to know."

He tilted his head at her question, though the sentimentality of her previous words were not lost on him. Eivor couldn't imagine carving himself a place in such a corner of the world. A gentle one, at that. A human woman, touched by the fey, protector of the Veil, pulled through the Arches, and he was an experiment gone wrong; an escaped animal, ready to snap his jaws at anyone who got too close. "You think me a god?" His grin was slow, shit-eating, almost – before he shook his head. "Once again would you be on your knees before a god, Freydis?" Her second question made him hum, "No, neither of those things relate to me. The Old Gods had the ability to become dragons, so they say. I am not a person who became a dragon." It was the opposite, yet still – Eivor had been locked away, a weapon – he was not free to see the Sundering for himself. "Something happened, and I escaped in the chaos. I'm starting to believe it was...this – coming here. Time manipulation, like you would not believe."

"How could I forget you?" It seemed like an obvious thing; they'd marched at the back, Eivor had shown her his ability, and the look on Freydis' face had been worth every moment. He held his hand up, the prismatic colors on his veins shining once more. Gone was the ability to manifest lightning, and in its place, Eivor's true ability of prismatic magic. An absorption of magic still made him shine. Her words made his seem less than – but he'd never had such a relationship before. He and others usually took what they wanted from each other, and went on their way. This was different. Her use of the word cheap made him tilt his head. "No fucking other people," he put his finger up, like it was the point she'd been making all along. His smile remained, an easy one – something unfamiliar to him as well. Perhaps this was what it was like to be enthralled with the feeling of a place to find comfort.

[frogdude]

New outfit for Vaeros!!!!!

[viridianreverie]

"Lasztak, please get her down from the tree. She is almost an hour overdue for naptime!" - Vaeros, Nursery Director

[fyrenxsolon]

Fyren could see the apprehension melt away from Vaeros, fear that translated into anger, rage, and unyielding pain. How much the prismatic had suffered if it meant another dragon suffered even a fraction less, he was one Solon would always revere even if the dragon could be a touch aggressive out the gate. Many dragons were territorial or preferred to live in solitude, he would presume Vaeros was once a combination of such two wonderful traits and the mistreatment from Aetheron, the torture, only exacerbated said traits. "We were all set free, yes, but I don't know how we made it through," Fyren barely blinked as Vaeros gripped his shoulders, chuckling bitterly, "The wheel weaves as the wheel wills, hm?"

He loathed surprises.

Always had, and perhaps he always would. Vaeros couldn't speak his name so easily, not as Solon did. So many the Aetherians had bound, that even Eivor couldn't remember all of their names. But in the end, he'd fought. Over and over again, through his life he'd fought – and in the end, in the panic, they'd all been set free. "Solon." He took a step closer, listening to the epithet. He'd joked once, it was a memory that triggered, making the bristling dragon smooth down his hackles. If you are he who walked among dreams, then am I the Chromatic Calamity? Gods, Eivor had forgotten how funny he was. He studied Solon's features, looking for something, anything that would tell him the other dragon was a liar. But he saw nothing. "You live. How? Tell me." He put his hands on Fyren's shoulders after a moment, demanding answers in a much nicer way than he usually did.

[bloomvalyria]

sparxshipping headcanon list pt. 1

You all asked for it ... and here it is! These are just the ones I can currently think of. They all technically apply to the Broken Pieces Universe but not really, so please keep that in mind as well. There are a couple more I could've added and did but they're way too spoilery for the trilogy so I cut them, but I left a few that are a bit more vague. When I can think of more that are non-spoilery I will make another (hence the pt. 1).

I tried to go with more fluffy, wholesome ones for this. So ... yeah. I’m way more nervous about this than I thought I was going to be. Let’s just jump into it!

When Bloom moves into the palace, Baltor does sneak in to see her pretty much every night, but Bloom’s worried he’s going to be caught so they decide their secret meet-up place is going to be the royal library on Roc.

After one particularly rough day at the palace, Baltor takes Bloom to the stables where she finds out there are no horses on Sparx, instead they have dragons. And he shows her how to ride one. It quickly becomes one of their favorite things to do together.

When Baltor finds out that Bloom can sing, he teaches her old Sparxian folk songs and when they're alone he'll have her sing them to him.

They tell Mike and Vanessa about their relationship before they tell Oritel and Miriam for obvious reasons. However, Baltor is more nervous to meet Mike and Vanessa. He knows out of both sets of Bloom's parents, they're the ones he really needs to impress.

In fact, the first time Baltor meets Mike and Vanessa it's because Bloom drags him to Gardenia for Christmas. (Yes, I have oneshot for it. Did I ever finish it? Of course not. It’s been sitting in my docs for like 4 years.)

After Oritel announces that he does not approve of Bloom seeing Baltor, just to piss him off, Baltor will regularly crash royal gatherings as Bloom’s unspoken plus-one. And even though it’s unspoken, Baltor always makes it perfectly clear to everyone that they’re together.

Magic is something they’ve always bonded over. Any time Baltor acquires a new spell book, he always teaches what he learns from them to Bloom. And he actually helps her learn the ancient languages so that she can read them and learn them on her own.

Out of all of Bloom's friends, Baltor oddly enough forms a not-really-friends-friendship with Stella. They claim they hate each other but Bloom knows they’re lying. They respect how much the other cares about Bloom and end up bonding over that. They also share a flair for dramatics and regularly enjoy poking fun at Bloom and her ignorance of the Magic Dimension.

Bloom does have a stripped back version of Baltor’s Mark just because she wanted it. However, it does have a tracking spell in it as a precaution in case Baltor can’t find her using their Dragon Fire connection.

Bloom used to partake in witchy activities (think spell jars, crystals, tarot, etc.) before she came to Alfea. And the first time Baltor sees her room back on Earth, he's stunned to find that since she did have powers, she accidentally created some things that actually work and they’re crazy powerful (i.e. crystals with elements of the Dragon Fire's healing abilities, spell jars with chaos magic inside them, etc.). The magic-obsessed idiot begs her to let him have them. She eventually caves and let’s him.

When they’re not on Earth, they spend most of their time on Sparx at a place called Vaeros Manor, which is Baltor's family home. It sits on the coast on the outskirts of Dragonswood, looking over the Western Sea. The master suite offers a superb view of it, if you catch my drift.

Baltor knows he will be slaughtered if he doesn't, so he does make a point to ask Stella for permission to marry Bloom.

Bloom slept in Baltor’s bed with him one time and now he despises sleeping without her. It was the first time he’d slept through the night since before he joined the Ancestresses.

Yes, Bloom has shown him Labyrinth. Yes, he is very confused by it.

[mvpmotorsports]

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