#windchaser

[fl0ral-inkk]

⋅⋆ ─── ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚ ─── ⋆⋅

Windchaser has strong opinions about Starscream.. I wonder why that is…

⋅⋆ ─── ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚ ─── ⋆⋅

More transformers none sense with @spiderskull142

[mercless]

i would like to know more about hn talon's feathery ailment ... is it their demonic nature clashing with the angelic blood that is resulting in their worsening condition ? is there a reason why it is specifically feathers / bird-likeness as opposed to anything else ( i.e. would other demons undergo similar transformations if they also got contaminated with angel blood ) ? can you share more about how you envision the progression and prognosis ? will it kill them or will there be some sort of final stage of their transformation ( whether that's a bad thing because it only gets worse and worse , or a good thing because maybe now that it is complete , they won't be in as much pain and discomfort 🥺 ) ? is it at all affected by whatever they're doing / thinking / feeling / experiencing ( tamagotchi talon ... ) ? what do they do to manage their condition ? does it make them self-conscious or feel badly about their physical appearance ?

"-But it looks like the angels ain't done with you."

I don't recommend that anyone ingests angel blood (good thing that's a difficult thing to do these days) but I wouldn't want to definitively say how it works for anyone else either. and I think it makes sense if talon isn't too sure either, with not meeting anyone else in a similar predicament as they (yet... will get to this later) but say if it were another angel Talon had attacked and drank the blood of, I believe they would still be having similar symptoms, as angels are quite feathery beings (varus with his arm of feathers, irelia with her wings and other choicely placed feathers.) But the particular angel they stole from has had a specific impact on just how the blood has changed them.

The reason for their worsening condition is because the blood has a powerful influence, like an undiluted acid. And it is so dramatic of an change because this influence is the polar opposite to their demonic existence. The more that Talon fights against the changes, the less symbiotic the blood and their demonic nature melds, the more violent and painful the experience is for them. And without any interference either with understanding or other experiences, I see it as a bitter, drawn-out struggle. Just wallowing in fatalism until Talon is nothing more than an unrecognisable pile of bile, blood, and feathers that tore itself apart...

Fortunately for them, the more Talon interacts with their rotting world and the people (and creatures) also struggling in it, the more they will come to terms with their own potential, and reflect on how they can be something more than what they once were. Learning that they don't have to let their worst action define their existence. More than just accepting what they did, and putting in the effort to understand emotions and how to be an active part of life, will mean they are not stubbornly fighting against their affliction. This will increase the speed of it's progression, but also be far less painful of an experience since they won't be actively fighting against it. When Talon is unable to call upon any of their demonic abilities anymore, the physical changes of the affliction will be complete, but they will continue to learn and better themself in an attempt to make up for all the wrong and pain they have caused in their existence. I can picture this happening in two or three decades time, in which there is no longer any hellfire, brimstone or summoned weapons. Talon is no longer a demon, but maybe by then they'll also know if the powers that be would accept a malformed, inexperienced, makeshift samaritan as a stand-in. But that's a hopeful thought, thinking they'll live that long.

Going back to the symptoms of the affliction. Previously, Talon's form was one of shadow and brimstone, and they were able to phase in and out of being corporeal at will. Over time, this ability has been weakened - only able to vanish as a shadow for a moment at a time. Brimstone skin was made brittle until it fell away to soft flesh, hollow bone, and hair. Feathers have begun sprouting through this softer skin too, mostly across their left shoulder, arm and chest, but are beginning to sprout along their throat too. Talon used to pull them out by hand, but has forfeited the fight. Back to the left arm, a sort of carapace has begun to form over their left hand, along the thumb's metacarpal and back of the hand in layers of grey ash and weathered gold. This and the growth of the feathers is very similar to Varus' - the angel in which Talon killed and drunk the blood of - own feathers and angelic arm. But without any of the matching powers, it is a far less grand sight.

Although still considerably hot to the touch, Talon's core temperature has drastically lowered compared to the past. Whatever organs of malice and bile a demon has have made way for a growth in their chest, helping pump the foul angelic blood and pesky emotions around their body routinely, and push out more of their demonic essence every day, little by little. With this, it has already made their demonic powers incredibly weakened. Previously Talon also used to be able to disintegrate bodies with a slice of their hellish blades, but they just do not run hot enough anymore. The final physical symptom are their eyes. Once filled with hellfire, it is far more likely nowadays to see their extinguished, golden-brown irises instead. It is slightly controllable with their emotional state, or when using their powers though.

In other ways, the blood has made Talon far more empathetic, given them a conscience. Troubled with how their actions will effect others now, the suffering and cruelty of the world has become a pain all it's own. Dulling the delight in spreading fear and even disturbing the once simple exchange of souls, Talon is often contemplating their next course of action instead of only giving thought to their best interests. And how their previous, often violent actions, have caused so much.

The agony and illness of coughing up feathers and demonic bile leaves talon haggard and frail. Getting sleep and relaxation would help the most, but with their paranoia it is difficult for them to find places to fully lower their guard and properly rest. Talon's tried to get a room in the crossroad saloon before, but it's... never really worked out (Gragas doesn't let them). Hating and damning the ailment only makes it worse, since it's basically like trying to separate themself from something that has already been mixed in. Feathers get stuck in their many teeth, skin itches from keratin growing in. Fatigue and sensitivity to their own heartbeat. Talon tries their best to hide the majority of their symptoms. Their coughs and exhaustion are the most obvious.

For how the changed made by the affliction is making talon feel... I'm going to paraphrase from a previous message;

I say its dysmorphic but the more I think about it, it's also… having your health decline and your body changing along with it, at least with talons perspective right now since they're losing their demonic powers. dysphoric in the way that they're still holding on to the thought that this isn't what they're supposed to be, they're Supposed to be a being of shadow and hellfire not flesh and bone, let alone feathers and sympathy. so I want it to be much more about accepting that this is their body now moreso than finding a way to reverse the changes. That it's okay to change with age and wisdom as you open yourself up more to the world.

At this time, Talon misses being completely monstrous, of being frightening and having that implicit respect. They feel weaker than they really are because they continue to compare themself to the long-gone height of their power, and because their new physical changes make them feel vulnerable. Being constantly exhausted also doesn't help with any of this. Beyond this though, the only other thing they don't like about these changes is just that; it's different. The uncanny features still don't feel like that that's who they are, and there is this disconnect when others react to them, or comment on their looks.

poses I don't know, maybe Talon just needs some sort of big motivation to no longer see this affliction as a curse, but as an opportunity to be more than a demon that skulks in the shadows. And some encouragement that yes, that is in fact a good thing. Maybe like an ultimatum of some sorts.

[dannimonart]

Native American Hatsune Miku by DannimonDesigns

[witchcraftandburialdirt]

✧ ━━ 𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐃 ♡ 𝐓𝐎 𝐒𝐄𝐄 𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐌𝐘 𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐘𝐎���𝐑𝐒 @windchaser 𝚂𝙴𝙽𝚃 ♡ 𝙵𝙾𝚁 𝙻𝙴𝙰𝙶𝚄𝙴 𝚅𝙴𝚁𝚂𝙴

○●●●● | ATTRACTION ⤷ Robin think's Yone is very handsome in looks and personality ○○●●● | AFFECTION ●●●●● | INTEREST ○○●●● | LOYALTY ○●●●● | TRUST

HIGH | ●●●●● | LOW

These two hurt me due to how close they are to being able to help the other in the way the other needs - but the time they met rendered their trauma too ingrained for either of them to really like ... connect properly. They're both kindred spirits, but they both suffer too heavily to heal and this ends up putting them both in the hedgehog's dilemma: hedgehogs seek to move close to one another to share heat during cold weather, but their prickles end up pushing others away.

In a cold winter’s day, two hedgehogs cuddle close together for warm. But soon their spikes hurt the other. So they separate again. But then the cold forces them back together, and of course they end up hurting each other again. So the hedgehogs find an equilibrium: far enough to not be hurt by spikes, close enough to be somewhat warm. A compromise that leaves them unsatisfied, but it’s better than nothing. Schopenhauer argues that it’s better to be alone, to be your own source of warmth. While also realising that such is not possible for the vast majority of people: humans are social animals. 

Yone and Robin are so stupidly, ridiculously close to understanding eachother - but because they refuse to relinquish their spines, they never will. Robin won't believe his heart when it tells him that Yone is safe. No one is safe. I often wonder what would have happened if they'd met sooner, before life decided to ruin them both. Just knowing that maybe they could have connected when their hearts were more open, that they could have healed eachother, helped eachother and found a way to love their flaws too but were a bit too late in meeting? Ughhh it kills me to think about. They both want to care for eachother, but are unsure of how to. Unwell.

@windchaser 𝚂𝙴𝙽𝚃 ♡ 𝙵𝙾𝚁 𝙼𝙾𝙳𝙴𝚁𝙽 𝚅𝙴𝚁𝚂𝙴

○○●●● | ATTRACTION ○●●●● | AFFECTION ●●●●● | INTEREST ○○○●● | LOYALTY ○○○●● | TRUST

HIGH | ●●●●● | LOW

I completely agree about their situationship issue; Robin has a similar problem with Yone as Yone to Robin - the I shouldn't trust this person but for some reason I do. But Robin's reaction falls into misunderstanding and once again his inability to properly connect; even though I genuinely believe Yone may be the only person to understand where he's coming from in his life. And that terrifies him, quite a bit, so he does the only thing he can do - build walls.

Safety, submission, and control at the price of seclusion. Is it worth it?

Yone is too polite to push his way closer to Robin, and Robin is unable to make that jump himself, so they end up once again stuck. I think if they hadn't met through work, like in their base verse, their relationship would be different. And naturally the yearning turns into the healthy dose of gay that infects their relations.

[agonizedembrace]

♡ spirit blossom ; high noon ; and if you want , i am curious if evelynn has heard of him in classic

●●●○○ | ATTRACTION ●●●○○ | AFFECTION ●●●●○ | INTEREST ●●○○○ | LOYALTY ●●●○○ | TRUST

i think eve and yone have ... likely a shaky relationship at best. though at times i am sure they are on friendly terms, evelynn's nature probably unsettles/upset yone -- or that's what she suspects, and in turn that creates some tension from her side. that said, i do think he interests her quite a bit ; his story is compelling to her, especially when she considers his brother as well.

●●●○○ | ATTRACTION ●●●○○ | AFFECTION ●●●●● | INTEREST ●●●○○ | LOYALTY ●●●○○ | TRUST

you see, as it is widely known : evelynn is very interested in yone. sure, she finds him a mildly attractive fellow, who turns out to ( generally ) do good ... she cares little about that -- which is known. what she cares about is why she wasn't allowed to kill him, and being denied such a fact has further increased her interest in him. even now, as they're on more friendly terms, evelynn cannot shake away that feeling ( and desire ) to know what makes him so special.

●○○○○ | ATTRACTION ○○○○○ | AFFECTION ●●○○○| INTEREST ○○○○○ | LOYALTY ○○○○○ | TRUST

SO -- i do not think that they'd likely know each other in verse HFKJDSKJFHDSKJF, but with that said i do not think they'd get along well, if at all. she'd likely be a prime target for him, and if anything else she'd find the whole thing a little game. she would be interested in his azakana though, which might in turn cause her to toy with him.

[ashored]

❛   𝗦𝗨𝗖𝗛   𝗧𝗥𝗔𝗚𝗘𝗗𝗬   𝗜𝗡   𝗛𝗢𝗪   𝗬𝗢𝗨   𝗠𝗜𝗦𝗨𝗡𝗗𝗘𝗥𝗦𝗧𝗔𝗡𝗗   :   /   𝗜𝗡   𝗧𝗛𝗘𝗦𝗘   𝗗𝗘𝗣𝗧𝗛𝗦   𝗦𝗪𝗜𝗠𝗦   𝗡𝗢   𝗙𝗘𝗔𝗥   ,   𝗡𝗢   𝗦𝗢𝗥𝗥𝗢𝗪   𝗧𝗢   𝗪𝗜𝗧𝗛𝗦𝗧𝗔𝗡𝗗   .   /   𝗘𝗡𝗩𝗜𝗦𝗜𝗢𝗡   𝗬𝗢𝗨𝗥   𝗪𝗢𝗥𝗟𝗗   𝗪𝗛𝗘𝗥𝗘   𝗠𝗢𝗡𝗦𝗧𝗘𝗥𝗦   𝗖𝗘𝗔𝗦𝗘   ,   /   𝗔𝗡𝗗   𝗪𝗛𝗘𝗥𝗘   𝗦𝗧𝗥𝗨𝗚𝗚𝗟𝗘𝗦   𝗘𝗡𝗗   ,   𝗬𝗢𝗨   𝗙𝗜𝗡𝗗   𝗬𝗢𝗨𝗥   𝗣𝗘𝗔𝗖𝗘   .   ❜

from   all   around   continues the   voice   , this faceless visitor of dream , ❛   𝘄𝗶𝗹𝗹   𝘁𝗵𝗲   𝗹𝗶𝘁𝘁𝗹𝗲   𝗳𝗶𝘀𝗵   𝗻𝗼𝘁   𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘀𝗶𝗱𝗲𝗿   𝗵𝗲𝗿   𝗵𝗲𝗹𝗽𝗹𝗲𝘀𝘀 𝗽𝗹𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁   ?   :   𝘁𝗵𝗲   𝗹𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁   𝘆𝗼𝘂   𝗱𝗲𝗳𝗲𝗻𝗱   𝗶𝘀   𝗳𝗹𝗲𝗲𝘁𝗶𝗻𝗴   .   𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿   𝘀𝘁𝗮𝗿𝘀   𝘄𝗶𝗹𝗹   𝗱𝗶𝗲   ,   𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿   𝗼𝗰𝗲𝗮𝗻𝘀   𝘄𝗶𝗹𝗹   𝗱𝗿𝘆   ,   𝗮𝗻𝗱   𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿   𝘀𝗸𝗶𝗲𝘀   𝘄𝗶𝗹𝗹   𝗱𝗮𝗿𝗸𝗲𝗻   .   𝗱𝗼   𝗻𝗼𝘁   𝘄𝗮𝘀𝘁𝗲   𝘁𝗵𝗲   𝗲𝗳𝗳𝗼𝗿𝘁   .   𝗶𝗻   𝘁𝗵𝗲   𝗲𝗻𝗱   ,   𝗮𝗹𝗹   𝘁𝗵𝗮𝘁   𝘆𝗼𝘂   𝗹𝗼𝘃𝗲   𝘀𝗵𝗮𝗹𝗹   𝗿𝗲𝘁𝘂𝗿𝗻   𝘁𝗼   𝘁𝗵𝗲   𝘃𝗼𝗶𝗱   …   𝘀𝗼   𝘄𝗵𝘆   𝗻𝗼𝘁   𝗵𝗮𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗻   𝘁𝗵𝗲   𝗶𝗻𝗲𝘃𝗶𝘁𝗮𝗯𝗹𝗲   ?   — 𝘀𝗲𝗲𝗸   𝘀𝗼𝗹𝗮𝗰𝗲   𝗶𝗻   𝘁𝗵𝗲   𝗱𝗮𝗿𝗸𝗻𝗲𝘀𝘀   𝗻𝗼𝘄   .   ❜

𓆩✧𓆪 - Nami feels herself being pulled down before anything else. Eyes blink at the cold water rushing past her, desperately searching for a point of light beyond her own glowing source to be her guide in the deep black encompassing her. Although she knew she wasn't moving, not of her own volition anyway, the waters made the mermaid sink. Looking up, that's when she sees it; three shining lights far above her, fighting back against the darkness together. All the while she was being dragged further and further away in this rip current. Even as she desperately tries to fight back as fins kick, hand reaching up, reaching for her friends to join them, knowing deep down that every action was in vain acts like an anchor.

The voice of a melancholy tone fills the emptiness, then. Nami's attention turns in search for it's source. Worried for the words spoken, and - with her clouded senses unable to realise this was a terrible dream - that someone else was down in these depths too. They sound so far and too near all at once. if Nami reached out, would she be able to catch them? But then again, was that something she should do? The words alone were beautiful. Their finality and acceptance of the end of all. The loneliness struck her heart. Hands embrace one another before her, and she realises there is not even water, anymore. It was only this endless expanse, and the voice calling out to her. Urging her to see the pointlessness in her struggle.

But even with this immense pressure, Nami's light grows stronger.

"All my life, we hid in the depths from the dangers that threatened our world from above. The only light that ever shone strong enough to reach us were the Star Guardians that defended us and our home." Her voice feels small in the vast open, and Nami can only hope her reply is heard in turn. "I always dreamed of being able to save my people, to join such a wonderful cause. And I won't let the end happen before it's time while I'm still a Guardian."

If there was no sorrow here, then there was no joy, either. No celebrations of overcoming a difficult goal. No relief after anxiety. No love to continue harbouring, long after its source is gone.

"When I first breached the surface and saw the Sun rising over the horizon for the very first time… I want everyone to experience that, too." Even if peace in life was only achieved in small bursts from immense effort, it only made the reward sweeter. If existence was fated to return to nothingness one day, then Nami would cherish every moment she had. "You're right, in that eventually there is an end to everything… But that doesn't mean the present matters any less! What I love and care for now, I will forever! I will protect my home until there is no longer an ocean. I will look up at the sky with wonder, until there is nothing left to see!"

She is hurtling down, now. A sense of all of this ending approaches rapidly. But she needed to do one last thing. A hand reaches out past her light and into the darkness as the drag fights this extension. Struggling to keep it held out, sparkling tears of effort form at the corners of her eyes, and Nami calls out one last time, to whoever was all alone in the dark,

"So please, join me! I want to show you the horizon while it's still shining, too!"

[archivedolon]

[ 4:13:37 PM — aphelios ] : you've been in your room all day . did someone leave the blanket over your cage again ?

[ 4:13:59 PM — aphelios ] : here — enrichment for your enclosure :

image attached :

[ 4:14:14 PM — aphelios ] : come eat dinner .

[ sms : 요네형 🐔❤️ ] — so rude, you're the one who's supposed to take the blanket off [ sms : 요네형 🐔❤️ ] — moo deng (˃̣̣̥ᯅ˂̣̣̥) [ sms : 요네형 🐔❤️ ] — i want to hold her like that [ sms : 요네형 🐔❤️ ] — [ IMG ]

[ sms : 요네형 🐔❤️ ] — what's for dinner ᯣ_ᯣ

[weldfists]

not just a scratch in hs verse pls ...

send me    ‘ not  just  a  scratch ‘    for your muse to catch mine trying to patch up a wound in secret…

Maybe he shouldn’t have stormed off—

What’s the point in being collaborative if he was just going to take everything to heart? This wasn’t like before. He wasn’t nineteen standing before his own flesh and blood, where he was presenting something and already bracing himself for it to be torn apart. It’s so far divorced from everything he’d gone through for years with his music and yet it still made the weight on his shoulders unbearable, the strain in his jaw almost crushing. And before he could let the wounds from the past tear open at the drop of a simple critique he’d excused himself from the studio, despite the odd look Yone had thrown him as he shoulders past K’sante roughly (much to his offense). 

He doesn’t care what it looked like, up and leaving and shoving his seat backward with a growl as he did it. But the sting from just… he can’t even fucking remember what it was that Ezreal commented on that triggered that dread that manifested bone deep within him. But he knows it was enough to echo the words of his father once upon a time and it was enough to make him fly off the handle. This is how he ends up outside the studio; his back pressed firmly against one of the trees nearby as his ears pin flat against his hair despite hidden in the pockets of his beanie as an itch spreads across his arms while he tries to shake out the trepidation. Fruitlessly, really— he knows better than anyone how to shake it.

Is he overreacting? Maybe. 

He can’t think about it now, not when the sting of wood splintering beneath his knuckles scratches that itch far better than talking this out ever could. At least that’s what it feels like. Another wind up, another punch, more wood cracking beneath the hit and digging into his skin. It doesn’t stop till his breathing evens out and it doesn’t feel like there were ants crawling all over him. Doesn’t stop till he realizes just how stupid he was to start in the first place. A flex of his hand blooms a new pain, knuckles bloodied with skin split. Fuck.

Sett up and leaves, angry but not really, set off by something he can’t quite put into words yet with the boys, doesn’t have the patience to talk about it anyways, but to then come back with his hand fucked up? How the fuck was he supposed to explain this? As soon as the adrenaline is gone the regret begins to flood in as he holds his hand carefully, fangs bared at no one but himself. 

Sett thinks he’s been gone for what feels like forever, rushing back inside and moving as quickly as he could to a bathroom. He had to wash it away, hide the fact he wasn’t as in control as he thought he was. Suddenly he’s nineteen with watery eyes and a busted lip and a bloody nose, washing his face silently until the water ran clear and he could stand to look at himself again.

So, no— he doesn’t hear when the door to the bathroom creaks open. Doesn’t hear the footsteps that approach him cautiously, methodically, before stopping not too far behind him— watching. Sett’s only concern was cleaning his hand until he could stand to look at himself again. When the sting of the cold water blasting away the splinters and scabbing was enough to make him wince, that's when he catches the glimpse of white hair posted behind his reflection and he stills completely. Mouth falling open to try and speak only to find nothing to say, distress lingering in the crease of his brow while the water continues to run down his mangled handiwork.

Sett doesn’t try to hide it, but it’s evident in how he sucks in a harsh breath and clenches his fists that being found was frustrating him beyond what he’d ever admit. Perhaps it’s good then, that his ears stay pinned closely to his head, his tail flicking roughly from side to side as he begins his ritual of cleaning his fist once more. In moments like these, Sett’s rather thankful he has them opposed to the myriad of times where they’ve done him dirty. Either way, Yone of all people finding him bloody knuckled and mere moments from panic had not been something Sett was looking forward to.

“I don’t need ya checkin’ on me. S’fine.”

The words cut clean and dry when he does eventually speak, his eyes locked on the other man through the mirror. He wasn’t planning on opening up about what he felt right now or about what dragged a knife across the tender scars within his chest in the studio any time soon. Silently, Sett just hopes that the image of him frantically scrubbing away blood stays hidden within Yone’s mind, and dies with him really. 

But he knows better.  He knows what this will lead to later when the two cross paths in the early mornings and Sett wants nothing to do with it.

[pitgritted]

does sett got his CDL for that dump truck

a  fucking  what  ???

[ionianwanderer]

riot Gamies is vague about it but what do you think happened between high noon yone and yasuo i want to know ur thoughts bruther

From what crumbs Riot has given us about Yasuo’s High Noon skin pre the revamp of the skinline to include Southern Gothic aspects, it ties with his original lore pretty closely: A man trying to outrun the sins and the guilt he carries on his back. But with the introduction of Yone into the universe things tend to shake up a little bit more. So for my interpretation of the two:

A tale of two brothers heading west for new opportunities, nothing unheard of for those migrating across the eastern settlement. But to leave the humble little town their mother had settled in along with the ranch they’ve known since they were kids, it hadn’t come as a surprise for Yasuo to be the one setting out on his own first. Only for Yone to follow suit out of growing concern to protect his only sibling. So out west they went.

As time went on, the two made themselves a little life catching odd jobs in every town they stopped in through their travels. Wasn’t a fruitful life but it was what they could consider comfortable as they went about their journey westward. All this until Yasuo manages to catch the eyes of a few folks that weren’t too keen on the two brothers strutting into town. 

Something that Yasuo always found comfort in was the saloons in each stop of their journey, this was no different. Settling in at one of the many wooden tables among the rest of the patrons before a bottle of rum was placed on his table. Much to Yasuo’s detriment, he’d managed to settle himself exactly where a few of the regulars had carved their names into the edge of the heavy oak, and they weren’t too fond of finding the cowboy in their rightfully claimed abode. What results is a fight between the four of them, at first the snide comments turning to shoving and chairs being pushed over. Escalating further when one smashes a bottle against a table and threatens Yasuo with it, something he never took kindly to. And as the wild and reckless little brother he’d always been, Yasuo shoots first. The saloon erupts into more chaos then as the man lay bleeding and clutching the wound dealt by Yasuo’s trigger happy finger. Before long Yasuo’s gone, taking off through the Saloon doors and past Yone as he races towards the source of the chaos.

It makes Yone skid to a stop, kicking up dust and dirt as his body snaps towards the direction Yasuo ran. Men pour out from the Saloon and past him as Yone divides their numbers like a rock parting a stream, legs heavy as he watches onward. Questions racing through his mind until he’s shouldered roughly by another man who tells him Yasuo’s getting away. That’s when Yone moves, racing through the stampede after his own flesh and blood in order to grab him, set him straight, find out what happened and why he did it. But he never does quite make it to him.

Yasuo, who had been quick witted enough to cut a horse free from its post, climbs upon the beast’s back and hikes the reins high before snapping them harshly. Setting off galloping straight out of the town and kicking up the dust of regret in his escape. There’s a moment, as he braces himself low against the saddle, where he rears his head back over his shoulder to watch as they try to shoot him. Finding Yone, standing among the very men that now wanted him dead, still as can be, unbelieving that this is the thing that severs the tie between them. Yasuo squeezes his eyes shut when he turns to face the horizon as he snaps the reins once more. 

Yone never finds him again after that.

[weldlune]

it   is   an   ungodly   hour   of   the   night   —   one   night   of   many   in   the   past   two   weeks   ,   and   so   late   now   that   when   yone   rises   from   their   workstation   ,   he   can   do   little   more   than   mumble   something   from   which   only   the   word   '   coffee   '   is   clearly   discernible   .   he   does   not   wait   for   aphelios'   response   ,   but   there   is   doubt   that   he   would   have   remembered   even   if   he   had   .   standing   in   the   kitchen   ,   the   dull   ache   in   his   mind   is   a   constant   companion   at   this   point   ,   and   as   he   tilts   what   liquid   remains   from   the   pot   into   their   mugs   ,   a   sudden   disorientation   careens   through   him   :   there's   the   sense   of   being   but   pressed   between   the   pages   of   a   poorly   animated   flip   book   ,   every   motion   fragmented   and   hollow   .   each   blink   is   a   gamble   ,   and   when   he   finally   realizes   he's   been   staring   blankly   at   the   cup   in   his   hand   for   the   past   fifteen   seconds   ,   he   knows   it   is   long   past   time   to   give   in   and   go   to   bed   .

the   coffee   never   makes   it   back   ,   instead   finding   itself   poured   out   into   the   sink   .   yone   trudges   back   to   the   studio   ,   resigned   to   the   task   of   dragging   aphelios   to   bed   if   he   has   to   (   and   he   hopes   he   does   not   have   to   ,   because   god   ,   he   is   tired   enough   as   is   )   .   legs   as   heavy   as   lead   halt   at   the   doorway   when   he   realizes   that   aphelios   has   beaten   him   to   it   .   kind   of   ,   at   least   .

he   has   fallen   asleep   at   the   desk   ,   slumped   forward   with   his   head   tucked   between   his   shoulder   and   elbow   ,   and   the   image   of   the   younger   man   fighting   to   keep   his   eyes   open   before   ultimately   succumbing   to   the   weight   of   his   own   head   flashes   in   yone's   mind   .   drawing   closer   ,   lips   begin   to   form   his   name   —   aphelios   —   but   the   sound   catches   in   his   throat   as   his   gaze   falls   upon   the   peacefulness   that   sleep   has   smoothed   into   the   other's   features   .   he   is   staring   again   ,   but   this   time   ,   he   is   conscious   of   it   .   in   the   silence   of   the   room   ,   the   colour   and   texture   of   aphelios'   breathing   stands   out   like   paint   upon   a   canvas   ,   and   for   a   second   ,   yone   wonders   how   aphelios   would   react   if   he   knew   of   the   art   he   produced   even   when   quiet   .   another   moment   passes   before   he   says   softly   ,   ❛   ...   aphelios   ,   wake   up   .   you   shouldn't   sleep   here   .   ❜

Aphelios has always worked better at night. It's the most peaceful time, when his phone is quiet and no one's moving around and making noise or asking him for something, but it's more than that — even with the lights of the city obscuring the stars, he feels like the moon's light makes him think clearer, makes him breathe a little easier, makes his thoughts a little brighter. He's used to staying up — much prefers it to the hustle and bustle of the mornings, likes to wake up late and start the day easy, when everyone's already left the house.

It's harder, of course, in the HEARTSTEEL house. It's noisy, and it's harder to keep to his own schedule, but he can generally rely on there being coffee when he gets up, so it's not all bad.

Still, even Aphelios has his limits. He was only going to rest his eyes for a moment. It felt like they were close to a breakthrough (though really, that was probably the sleep deprivation talking, rather than any creative energy that might be left in his mind). Aphelios had crossed his arms on the table and let his head rest on them, promising himself that he'd get back to work when Yone returned with the coffee, but the next time he opens his eyes, it's to Yone's gentle voice. He blinks a couple times, eyes gluey with sleep, then straightens up in his chair and rubs his eyes with his fingertips. Even without making a sound, it's clear what he's communicating — no, no, I'm awake, I swear — as he checks the time on his phone, then glances at Yone's distinctly coffee-less hands.

His head tilts, his eyes bleary with sleep, his blinks slow. Really, Aphelios is trying so hard to appear more alert than he feels. Then, carefully, he signs a question, one that every member of HEARTSEEL knows well. 'Coffee?'

[venstm]

' i believe you . ' for kayn

There was something earnest about his controlled cadence, Kayn can feel it like bile clawing up the back of his throat, his stomach still brimming with a grisly concoction of alcohol and pills. Under the blinding fluorescent light of the bathroom Yone’s concern tastes like acrid smoke accompanied by the shrieking of his own heartbeat thundering through the hollow canals of his bones. He thinks he was crying, there’s tracks of moisture running down his cheeks, clinging to his lashes in repentant droplets. There was nothing that pissed him off more than crying in front of others, he would have rather punctuated the silence with agonized screams or hateful tirades. With his skin cast pallid in that wan light and the exhaustion deepening the shadows of his countenance he looks pitiful, in the long minutes it takes to convince his swimming vision to focus on Yone’s inscrutable expression, he realizes there’s no pity there. “ I’m trying.” he spat, his tongue laden with vitriol and teeth bared like a cornered dog. Trying to do better, be better, inevitably came with a litany of short-comings, of failures. He had refined failure until it felt like an art, his hands always woefully empty, his lungs always searing with the self-hatred that accompanied it. He feels so small, his gaunt hands failing again and again to smooth the ugly puckers in his trousers, his shirt still reeks of vomit but he knows it’ll take too much out of him to haul his ass into the shower just yet. With his knees curled to his heaving chest and his forehead pressed to his thighs he looks defeated, like he might just relent into Rhaast’s sweet voice and just give in. What would he be giving into exactly ? Where in the world would Kayn be spat out if he recklessly turned his back on their band ? Deciding that none of this shit was worth fucking anything. He turns his head so he can look at Yone, really look at him, squinting through sodden lashes until his features are rendered in superlative detail. “ you believe me, you just fucking said that right ?” The rasp of his voice recedes into bitter laughter, a spasmodic, wet sound as he shakes his head. “ How can you say something like that now ?” he lapses into silence, grimacing as another wave of nausea threatens to have him retching up mouthfuls of bile again. “ Sorry…” Kayn doesn’t apologize, placating his bandmates was hardly his fucking prerogative but here he was and he was so painfully sincere too. “ I’m fucking sorry you have to see me like this..” 

[mercless]

as the powder witch lounges: yone is away . doing god knows what at this hour , he doesn't like to share . she thinks he could be making his rounds . she thinks he could be sneaking off to that magical bar to drink — though that uprightness of his , even if he does fit the bill of a man down on his luck , makes it hard to take slugging alcohol as being his vice . maybe he is with luna . she thinks , she thinks , she thinks . but more importantly — she is alone with talon . this is shockingly not the first time the gunslinger has left her alone with them , but it is the first time he has does so at night . this is bigger of a responsibility than it seems , and rell wonders if yone has said as much to talon . how would he have worded it ? — there is no way he would have told them the full story ( not only to preserve her own privacy , but because he'd go way over the allotted amount of words a day he is willing to spare on talon , she thinks wryly , and she rolls her eyes ) — but then what , a stern , ' if she sleeps and you aren't staying put , leave the light on ? ' ugh . it sounds ridiculous to even think it to herself , to imagine his voice . and it is ridiculous . she is meant to be sixteen years old , outgrown the need to be babysat — not a responsibility . or maybe it isn't like that . he has never called it so . maybe she is just insecure . maybe she is just overthinking the fact that she has not since the first time had to wake up alone in the dark , and that she cannot remember the last time the gunslinger hadn't been there . yeah . she could lie to herself like that . she could believe . yeah ! and so yone has left rell alone with talon . she would like to think that it's because he trusts the demon with at least this much . she would also like to think that he trusts talon more than any of them would guess . she believes this to be the case , but perhaps this is also a lie she likes to tell herself . maybe he just trusts her to be able to take care of herself , to make sure that talon does not get up to anything nefarious . maybe he has not let her alone with them , but them alone with her . and there is true threat in this — not just in her magic , but the way she descends upon them then , curiosity rabid ; there are sometimes questions that can only be asked when either of them is away . can i ask somethin' , she asks , though it is more of a formality at this point . she can ask questions ; whether talon's answer will satisfy them is a whole other matter . but there are always questions she wishes to ask , of talon , of yone . there are also questions that she does not want to ask . yet , or ever , she is unsure . a strange silence follows , and it's as if she's fired a blank . she is in her casual garb , laying on the bed with her bare feet towards the head of the bed , and she stares up at the ceiling . ❛ you know what ? ❜ she suddenly says , pushing herself up . ❛ how about we get outta' here and find somethin' fun to do , save the questions for later ? ol' rickety bones don't gotta' know — we can leave a note if that matters . ❜ already is she looking for something to write with , to write on — the gears in her head turning , she eyes the carpet mat and ventures that if she just lifts up a corner ... @windchaser (hi uh . touches the ground . something happened here .)

It is a hushed evening in this homely little room the gunslinger left them in, while he went out on his righteous errands. Refusing to elaborate, let alone be accompanied on his business with their kind of ilk. And as Talon has their boots kicked up on the chair turned to face them, arms sizzling like an low oil flame across their chest and musty hat upon their face, they were of two minds about it; It was a break from Yone's constant vigilance. Finally, to not be beneath the weight of his suspicious glare no matter the action or lack thereof they committed. Not so long ago he made it his job for the evening to watch the demon - unblinkingly, mind you. They had stared right on back until their eyes stung to confirm. Made their afflicted skin crawl sometimes, he did. It had been a spell since they had last known the freedom that was the dark veil shrouding the range, to finally be the scariest thing in the night again, at least in the immediate area. But then, they weren't outside in the quiet eve, the chorus of crickets and woeful birds quieting upon their arrival; even without seeing a hellspawn, the land and it's critters instinctively knew when a stranger to their mortal world approached. No, they were cooped up in this little inn room Yone had dumped both the young powder witch and them in. With little more than the orders to stay safe until his return, which only he knew the hour of. Of course.

Talon cared very little for who in fact was watching who in this situation. They would be the last to underestimate the lengths of which Rell's powers could bend and twist metal, but it wasn't as if they couldn't leave unnoticed. If Talon really wanted to. But then, Rell would be alone... Which wasn't their issue. It would be the haunted gunslinger's fault, if anyone's. His form of retribution just wasn't something they were looking forward to receiving anytime soon. So they sat as comfortable as they could, oil lantern bright enough for a human's vision to see that the corners of the room existed.

She had spoken up at some point, garnering a movement of Talon's head to now rest on an ear and face the source of her voice, their hat still covering every feature. But it had been some time since then. Enough cricket chirps has passed that they were left to wonder if the witch was stuck on what to ask first, and eyes consider closing and no longer take in the low light between strands and treated leather. Rell so did like to ask things of all sorts. Her constant questioning should be bothersome by now. Talon almost starts at the commotion, shuffling from their own lying position and lifting a hand to pull their hat away. Over it's jagged brim do they watch Rell rise from the mattress, and soon their own disgruntled boots meet the floorboards with two tired thuds. And even behind their exhausted features is there something new alight at her scheme; the clandestine plan, the potential antics, the threat of trouble if they meet it out in the night or they're caught returning late…

Fixing their hat atop their crown, Talon watches Rell look around the room and the small possessions their little entourage had stored for the night as curiosity tugs their head from side to side to follow along with her search. "What he don't know won't do no harm?" The corners of lips threaten to curl into a smile, even once she has begun to mess with the carpet. A little sign, that they were here once, but ultimately decided their time was better spent elsewhere. The thought of Yone finding it after a quick gander at the empty room, the imagined squint of his eyes and twist of his lips exposes Talon's teeth, for a breath. As long as the little witch returned unscathed... They finally stand with what effort remained unspent, the blades trailing behind them lifting and slithering daintily with a roll of their shoulders as to not get caught between chair rails. Watching as she lowered to the floor, they wait until hand has nearly met the boards to speak up again; "Go ahead if you wanna risk a scoldin' on property damage."

Humming in their throat, a hand rises to their hat again, taking hold of the brim as the top of their blond stands are revealed. "If we leave an additional alleviatin' sign, too..." With a final cant of their head in thought, Talon chucks the hat through the air, spinning and landing softly on the table where their abandoned chairs stood about. Making their way to the door, Talon reaches for the raggedy, beaten duster they insisted on keeping hold of. It came in handy to keep the suspicions of settlement inhabitants to the same level as they would be when any outsider walked their streets. Arms of brimstone and feathers respectively are tucked away into worn sleeves in turns, and their ashen eyes fix on Rell with a rare, quizzical look of their own.

"What do young witches get up to after dark for fun, these days?"

[fervonian]

' reckon you’ve made more enemies than friends around here . ' — high noon ... took one of the quotes from that prompt and yeehawified it

pre-established connections. | accepting.

the smell of blood and ash hangs heavy in the air, and acrid smoke stings the insides of her nose. it's strange how this body grows tired, or experiences discomfort far more acutely than she ever used to feel. that's the sort of thing they never tell you about falling from grace, irelia supposes. all these aches and pains never bothered her when she resided in heaven, and now that she's... well, fallen, taking care of a physical body is far more maintenence than this angel is used to.

⠀⠀⠀⠀" you're late to the party, bounty hunter. " once a melodic tune rung from heavenly bells, irelia's voice is dull and guarded as she watches the other closely; the embers within her eyes glowing and alert as she watches yone. the blood of demons yet drips from her blades. his greeting was not an unfriendly one, and so her blades remain in their dormant state. " if you came here for this sorry lot, i'm 'fraid you'll be returning empty handed to whence you came, " irelia swallows. the battle was not a simple one, despite her casual tone. she expended much of her power in order to dispatch the hellfire beasts. she needs sustenance, and swiftly.

⠀⠀⠀⠀" hm. it's far easier to make enemies instead of friends in this town, wouldn't you agree? "

[witchcraftandburialdirt]

inside meme : 9 for base ; 22 25 for modern 😌

✧ ━━ 𝐀 𝐏𝐄𝐄𝐊 𝐀𝐓 𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓'𝐒 𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐈𝐃𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐈𝐑 … 𝙻𝙴𝙰𝙶𝚄𝙴 & 𝙼𝙾𝙳𝙴𝚁𝙽 𝚅𝙴𝚁𝚂𝙴

𝙻𝙴𝙰𝙶𝚄𝙴 𝚅𝙴𝚁𝚂𝙴

09.     “junk” drawer. ━━ Which one? Robin's little cottage/shack has so many drawers for storage and most of them are filled with seemingly random items and knick knacks. Organized chaos is very much his style of living, so most of his drawers are junk drawers. You'll find everything from herbs, to calligraphy pens, sewing supplies, a bowie knife, and loose change all in one drawer.

𝙼𝙾𝙳𝙴𝚁𝙽 𝚅𝙴𝚁𝚂𝙴

22.     amazon shopping cart.  ━━ As stated before, Robin's shopping list is usually last minute items he forgot that don't need to be of perfect quality to work. He doesn't shop super extravagently, and you'll find most of his purchases come from local artisans (he's a massive supporter of the arts).

25.     five most recent in google search history. 

[agonizedembrace]

' is that a ... baby ? ' he blinks , unsure if his eyes are deceiving him , but judging by the way she holds the child , it seems to be the case . where did it come from ? — or perhaps a better question : how is it still alive ? ' where did you — ' it cries at the sudden uptick in his volume , and he hushs at once , whispering to her as he comes closer , ' where did you find them ? ' were there others just like it ? he suddenly worries that they've stumbled upon a moon that the company would not like them to have found .

evelynn is generally not a fan of children of any variety ; whether that'd be of a human or another creature on the planets she visits for the company, she typically does not care. yet when this ... fellow waddles at her, with the most adorable whine in its tone, the woman feels more than compelled to pick him up.

it is cute , she tells herself. this alone takes her by surprise : there is very little that evelynn finds cute.

one arm cradles what she deems ' the baby ', the other prodding at its mouth gently with a soft coo escaping her lips. she appears like a mother with their child, softly soothing them from whatever horrors they may have seen.

unsure of how much time passes, she deems that she at least has to find something for the company. yet she cannot compel herself to leave this child behind ... so along it comes, cradled in her arms as she trudges through the mines. it isn't until another voice hits her ears, or rather -- the child starts crying again does she realize that she's not alone.

" shh, it's okay dear. " evelynn thinks if she stopped long enough to realize how ridiculous she looked, she'd likely hate herself. so she does her best not to dwell upon it, instead consoling the now calm child as the speaker approaches. blinking away the surprise as yone questions the very being in her arms, she shrugs it off.

" it just ... came to me? " she speaks honestly, finding that he of all employees is likely the one to understand her best. her gaze shifts from him and back to the baby in her arms, whose own gaze sparkles as it stares back up at her. " it was crying ... like searching for it's mother -- so i picked it up. and well -- here we are. "