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@petrokhelidon sent: "You came for me..." / theo and barnabas

The wonder, nay, the disbelief in Theodore's voice cuts the king in a way he doesn't expect, nor fully understand. The young Dominant is in far worse a shape than he thought as well, restrained and bruised, his face bloodied from a hit to the face no doubt courtesy of his captors, arms shackled spread out to the wall on either side, the signature of his aether far weaker than it should be. So weak that it took the king far too long to find him. In fact, at some point it had been faint enough Barnabas was overcome by a rage like no other thinking someone had dared to extinguish the vibrant light of Theodore's life force.

But no, when Odin's might came to him while priming in a fury that saw an entire swathe of land leveled by Zantetsuken's might, Barnabas faintly felt Leviathan reach back from across the distance. From then on it was only a matter of hunting those down who'd dare attempt and take Theodore from him.

The king doesn't care for their motivs, doesn't care for the intel Waloed's taciticians provide him with, or the counsel of his advisors either. What does it matter if the territory laid to waste is under the protection of the Empire, or that the group who'd taken Theodore and sought to rid Valisthea of the Dominants altogether was but a small fraction of the population there? Everyone else swept up in Odin's might is collateral.

They don't matter.

He'd invade Sanbreque and kill Bahamut and the Emperor himself if this was what it took to get Theodore back. And should this, at last, cause Waloed and the Empire into an all out war, then so be it. Even the near suffocating grip of his master on his psyche is not enough to have Barnabas reconsider his actions. The splitting headache and knee-buckling weakness he is suffering now because his master is inacting a punishment is nothing compared to the ache in his heart at seeing Theodore broken down and suffering.

Zantetsuken disappears into a flourish of shadows as the king kneels before him, cradling his lover's face into both hands and tilting his head up when the young man tries to avert his eyes in shame. "There is no force on this star strong enough to keep me away from you." He vows, his eyes alight with a rare glow of his Eikon's power simmering hotly within him, the only thing containing his wrath being the fact he is able to touch Theodore and feel his warmth under his palms.

It's then that he notices the band of dark metal around Theodore's neck, it seems to sear his skin, the flesh looking burned and raw where it chaves against it, Leviathan's powers only barely able to keep up with having the skin heal. There are carvings in the band of metal, reminiscent of those in the ruins of the Fallen. Barnabas has seen them in reality and dream alike, in visions provided to him by his master. They invoke ancient magic, clearly powerful enough to keep a Dominant contained, to keep his aether subdued and the Eikon trapped within the vessel. Barnabas can sense it now, how Leviathan coils and snarls beneath the surface, Theodore's eyes glowing faintly blue and then yellow before returning to their natural greenish hue. Barnabas sees his jaw set, sees his muscles flex, his aether moving under his skin, coloring his veins and the hair on his head in glowing light before flickering out again. He's still attempting to prime.

"Shhh..." He soothes him, one hand reaching back to tangle in hair damp with sweat. "I'm here now, save your strength."

Barnabas reaches to undo the collar then, fully prepared for the agonizing pain that comes with grabbing it. He feels it etch itself into his skin, the sensation stark and close to what Barnabas imagines it would feel like to catch a piece of steel only just pulled from the forge. But it's nothing compared to the flames of Ifrit, nor does it measure up to the fury still burning within him at having Theodore suffer this.

He grits his teeth through the pain, shadows bleed down his arms as Odin's powers cause the collar to first crack, then crumble under his grip as he rips it off Theodore's neck. It sizzles against his flesh even as the king drops it to the ground. The shackles holding Theodore up suffer the same fate soon after, but they're not magical as the collar had been. Barnabas catches Theodore before he can slump to the ground, and briefly runs his burned palms down his back and through his hair once more, not minding the sting that comes with it.

A breath shivers out of him, torn between unending rage and absolute devastation. There is something else, too, something deep and devoted only to the man at last in his arms again. Barnabas holds him tighter, presses his face into the other's hair and channels Odin's powers once more to engulf them both in shadows.

"Forgive my being late."

And with that he takes them home.

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[HAND] Sender takes receivers hand so they don't get lost in a crowd. - @soulsalight Clive ft Theo

𝐈𝐭 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐬𝐞𝐞𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐨𝐝𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐟𝐚𝐫 𝐭𝐨𝐨 𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠 dwelling in smaller settlements or gotten all too used to the open, flat space of the desert, because it takes but less than a few minutes for him to feel quite overwhelmed by the sheer rush of goods and people pressing around him whilst passing through the streets of Port Isolde. A clamor and cacophony of sound, smell, sight that accosts his senses, the city's more commercial districts still lively and bustling despite the growing tensions within and without its walls.

He draws in a steadying breath, trying not to let it get to him and keeps his gaze fixed on Clive's broad back, his guide through these unfamiliar streets. It's clear his companion at least has been here before and Theodore feels glad for it. Safe for it too, Clive's reassuring presence like a lodestone and a soothing agent to the nerves churning inside his gut. It's the first time since merging with Leviathan that he's chosen to leave the familiarity of Boklad and then later the Hideaway with the intent and possibility of using his eikonic abilities. With the misunderstandings between Ifrit and Leviathan mostly settled, his control has improved greatly and this was to be a first test he set for himself to see how he could help his friend, the same way Clive has continuously helped him.

Of course, with the growing feelings in his heart blossoming more each day, his reason for volunteering have another motive too -- any excuse to spend more time with Clive is time spent well; even if that does mean bracing himself for crowds.

Or pick-pockets.

He manages to intercept the urchin before he can make off with his coin purse, years of having to manage the orphans in Boklad having sharpened his senses quite well to such things. The purse is released back into his own care with a gentle twist of the urchin's wrist, a touch meant to warn rather than to hurt and Theodore watches with a low sigh as the boy vanishes from sight just as quickly after -- likely realizing when to cut his losses, considering the sword at Theo's hip and the bearing of his armor. Just as well. Theodore hadn't planned on handing him over to any authorities. He's seen how they treat the less-to-do population enough times.

When he finally looks back up to where he last saw Clive after stowing away his coin more securely, his friend is nowhere to be seen.

His gut clenches at the realization, his skin prickling with discomfort and the starting hint of fear. Green hues search intently, flitting across the crowds as he pushes forward to the direction they were heading, flinching when he almost collides with a passing merchant. He heads the man's curse off with a fierce glare, tension hunching his shoulders; at the back of his mind, Leviathan hisses and Theo has the impulsive and certainly foolish idea to draw upon her powers simply to see if he can sense Ifrit.

He should be able to on his own. They've trained for it. But surrounded by so many people, gripped by extreme discomfort and wariness at the way everything suddenly feels so foreboding, so overwhelming, he can't seem to find his focus.

Theodore is about to throw caution to the wind by shouting Clive's name -- no, Cid's name, he cannot forget that -- when he feels a familiar hand catch him around the wrist. " Where'd you go? I turned around and you weren't there. " Concerned blue hues meet green, Theodore certain the relief shining in his own eyes to be immeasurable. His breath escapes him in a gust of air, his mouth curling to a sheepish grin as the discomfort passes. " I apologize. I got distracted for just a moment and lost you to the crowd, it seems. I am fortunate you seem to be better at finding me than I you. "

Clive's smile is warm enough to make Theo's heart flutter in his chest, his eyes averting down towards their hands where the other is linking their fingers together in a firm hold. " Let's make sure we don't lose each other again, then, so we've no cause to search. "

Warmth rises to his cheeks unbidden. He wishes, selfishly, that neither of them was wearing gloves, wanting more than anything to feel Clive's palm against his own through the warmth of his skin rather than the leather of their gloves. Still, there's something light in his chest when he looks back up and finds a similar red hue to Clive's cheeks. He squeezes their fingers and then, on impulse, leans in to brush a kiss to his friend's cheek, enjoying the bristle of Clive's stubble against his lips.

He smiles when he sees the blush deepen before tugging on their joined hands. " Yes. Let's. "

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CLIVE ROSFIELD Final Fantasy XVI (☕)

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「 WHISPER 」 : for sender to whisper something suggestive in receivers ear / theo ft barnabas @soulsalight

𝐈𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐨𝐝𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐝 about himself since awakening as the Dominant of Leviathan and taken under the wing of none other than Odin himself, it's that he is ill suited for the games and intricacies of courts and the politics at play at their sundry functions and feasts. He's never been well-spoken, charismatic or even close to diplomatic, such qualities ever more his sister's boons and whatever elegance his footwork displays while holding a sword promptly deserts him the moment he steps out onto a dance floor with a stranger.

And that's not even mentioning the admirers now flocking to him. Of course he's had prior experience with all this pomp and circumstance back when he still belonged to a well to do merchant's family, but he'd been too young to really ever be immersed the way he's being now as part of Barnabas' closest retinue. People want to see the long lost Leviathan and the man who got to claim that eikon. They vie for his attention, watching him with hungry gazes like he's a prize Chocobo at the stables or with a reverence he feels unearned and unwanted.

At least such summons and invitations are sparsely enough accepted by the King, especially now that the blight advances ever further and the political tensions among the nations of Storm are growing more and more fraught with war brewing among many borders. Sparsely enough the downsides of needing to attend them barely outweigh all the other changes that swept into his life since Barnabas plucked him from the ruins of Boklad and started training him.

He never would have expected that spending time with the King would become the highlight of his time in Waloed. The exhilaration of sparring him and honing his powers aside, there'd been times where they simply ended up talking, where Theodore somehow manages to coax out a different side of the King beside the stern, intimidating and dour ruler of Ash, the intensity that came with being the Dominant of Odin. A side that, when slotted in with the rest, had made Theo's admiration deepen to infatuation; a bond of loyalty deepened with intimacy when Barnabas had responded to his clumsy attempt at flirting by taking him to bed after a particularly intense spar where Theo had nearly come out the victor.

Of course he's not foolish enough to imagine it love, or rooted in romance, but it doesn't matter.

It also helps somehow makes even these meetings bearable, sat next to Barnabas at the negotiating table now while thinking of sneaking into his chambers later. At least there's no plans to stay for a feast or a dance afterwards.

The sudden presence of a hand on his thigh has him stiffen and blink back to the presence, Barnabas casting him a mildly amused glance. Commander Harbard is talking now, Theo notes, the representatives' attention on him rather than the King, whose attention now seems to be on him. " You seem distracted, Theodore, " Barnabas' voice is low, dark, aimed to be heard by Theo only, the hand on his thigh moving a little further up and closer to the consequence of that distraction. He probably should've known better than to think Barnabas would not catch him daydreaming rather than listening. He swallows thickly, wondering what happens next. " Should I give you something else to focus on? "

Before he can even react or think to ask what Barnabas means, the hand on his thigh shifts to cup him through his breeches and Theodore is barely able to catch the sudden noise that threatens to spill from his lips, his cheeks growing hot. Harbard keeps talking like nothing is amiss. None of the dignitaries seem to have noticed the Dominant of Leviathan suddenly looking somewhat fevered.

" Consider this part of your training, " The King also continues talking, his features betraying nothing except for the gleam to his eyes as nimble fingers undo his laces one-handed to curl around him in earnest. " Unless you wish to give them a sample of the noises and expressions I will draw from you as I take you later, let this be a test of your focus and composure, hm? "

Theodore shivers as Barnabas' hand gives him a firm stroke from root to tip, his movements as slow and controlled as the rest of him. He wishes he could curse the man out, tell him to stop. Wishes he could find the strength to pull away. Wishes he didn't actually find this as exhilarating as everything else the King has subjected him to in the past. " If you manage to keep quiet now, I will do everything to make you scream later━ several times. "

He locks his jaw, hands held tightly together atop the table at that last little challenge. It is folly to allow this. Folly to give Barnabas this kind of power over him, never mind that it's already too late for that. He should pull away, lace himself back up, make it up to Barnabas later.

Instead he straightens his back, green eyes stubbornly held forward. Beneath the table, his legs shift wider, one knee now pressed to Barnabas' own. Heat coils in his belly like a snake when Barnabas touch firms but doesn't speed up and he hopes to the Eikons that the meeting would end soon.

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SOULSALIGHT | RP-BLOG | written by STRAY independent | multimuse | multi-ship | selective & mutuals only featuring: Irvine Kinneas from Final Fantasy VIII & others writing style: lit | multi-para | novella

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@tripleflames sent: heart of wolves. sender intimately licks blood from the receiver's body / from theo & [ 𝐥𝐢𝐩𝐬 ] : sender and receiver are sharing a kiss that draws blood. from theo. — combined the two bc they went well together.

When faced with the prospect of a Dominant's wrath being unleashed upon them, any other person would likely have submitted long ago. Especially if that Dominant wields the entirety of Leviathan's might with merely a flick of his hand. The king of Waloed however revels in the challenge it poses and therefore provokes the young man until he either exhausts the Dominant's body to the point of fainting, or losing control. The latter while ultimately making him stronger, also makes him expulse more aether, and it usually ends with Barnabas simply forcing him to submit by draining him of said aether by dodging or parrying the volatile attacks thrown his way.

So, all things considered, the outcome is usually the same, what differs is how quickly they arrive at that point.

At least, that is what happened every time up until today. They've long abandoned the idea of sparring on castle grounds since Theodore gained a more intricate grasp on his powers and Barnabas now has them cross blades near the shore, far enough from other people that he doesn't have to caution Theodore into being mindful about not drowning his subjects. It also means that they're far closer to the element Theodore draws his strength from and the steady glow of blue in his eyes as he wields the water like an extension of himself is more than enough proof that this is exactly where he is strongest.

Barnabas can practically taste his aether in the air around them and it in turn baits him into using more of his own might. His lips pull into a smile as Theodore makes a sudden move and within the blink of an eye Barnabas finds himself face to face with the younger Dominant, their blades crossed in a contest of will.

Barnabas holds fast, one arm still firmly placed behind his back, his sword arm lazily parries the next few swings of Theodore's sword, turning his body to the side when a whip of water wielded by the other threatens to cut him. He uses the moment of unguarded recklessness and checks his opponent with a shove of his shoulder. Theodore stumbles backward.

"Too slow." The king taunts. "Again." He commands immediately after. He watches the color of his opponent's eyes flicker from blue to yellow. He has learned over their time together that Leviathan doesn't appreciate being berated, and that it doesn't take much to provoke the Eikon's annoyance. It's an easy exploit to force a victory for him. However, Barnabas' smile widens when he sees Theodore wrestle the Eikon's might back under control. A sense of elation overcomes him when he witnesses his opponent's aether swell, and senses him rise to a semi-primed form. The brigthness of his eyes intensifies, aether lights up his hair and lines of it pulse across his skin.

It's a beautiful thing to witness someone come into his powers like this. In his revelry the king becomes reckless. He lets the younger Dominant gain on him, allows him into his space, just to be able to feel the increased strength when their blades cross once more. Taken with the glow of Theodore's eyes, the determination within his gaze as he bears down on his sword and steps closer the king for once does not pay attention to anything else.

It's why the next strike of the water made form takes him by surprise and knocks him back. Followed by the rough strike of Theodore's blade just grazing his chest, tearing his tunic and shirt. His footing is uneven as the king is forced closer to the ocean. The waves lap at his feet. Then, the water snakes around his throat to force him down to his knees, legs digging into the white sand of the beach, the cold of the water begins to soak his pant legs. Water bears down on him like a vise, cutting off the air to his lungs. The king can't speak his approval, but he does grin up at his opponent stood above him. The thrill it brings him to see Theodore like this enough to drown out the sharp sting of pain of the cut across his chest and the panic his mortal form threatens to fall into as the edges of his vision begin to turn dark and fuzzy.

The king waits for the embrace of unconsciousness, not bothering to wrap himself in Odin's mantel to turn this into a proper battle. He is proud to declare Theodore the winner of their spar. Even though his current state does not allow for any words whatsoever. That is, until Theodore sinks down onto one knee, bringing them back to eye level, shallow water splashes around them. The hold around the king's throat is relinquished all at once, but he doesn't have time to gasp for the air his lungs so desperately crave at this point. Instead, he finds himself pushed onto his back, his lips trapped in a forceful, nigh painful kiss. A clash of teeth and tongue rivaling the spar that just concluded. Swords are abandoned, clothes torn. And it doesn't take long before Barnabas tastes blood and feels the sting of a split lip. He isn't afforded the time to enjoy this either, for just as he tilts his head and brings up his hands to dig into Theodore's hair the younger man pulls away and moves along his throat down to his chest.

It's then that the king clutches the dark strands harshly, the sting of the superficial cut exacerbated by the tongue lapping across his chest, tasting his blood. The king throws back his head as one of Theodore's hands finds its way between his legs as he keeps licking the blood of the fresh wound from the king's chest. Barnabas feels a rush of aether sink into him and the next breath he heaves is one of relief when the pain from the cut subsides.

When he turns his head to investigate, he finds his bare chest unblemished aside from the old scar across his pectoral. He looks on in stunned silence for a moment before surprise is overcome by blatant need when Theodore looks up at him, Eikonic blue replaced by natural green, his pupils blown wide with want in turn. He pulls Theodore back up and into another bruising kiss. Heartbeat pounding in his ears, breaths heavy between them

"Well done." He breathes, unable to keep the reverence from his tone. "Now, claim your prize."

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𝐒𝐔𝐁𝐓𝐋𝐄 𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖 …

✦ a collection of prompts that can be considered nsfw, with a lot of teasing and tension driven prompts. adjust as needed ; send ‘ + reverse ‘ for sender and receiver to switch spots. Combine prompts by sending more than one.

「 SQUEEZE 」 : for sender to rest their hand on the receivers thigh , giving it a squeeze .

「 LINGER 」 : for senders touch to linger on the receiver.

「 MASSAGE 」 : for sender to give receiver a massage .

「 LOTION 」 : for sender to rub lotion into the receivers skin

「 SLIP 」 : for senders hand to slip between the receivers legs.

「 TUG 」 : for sender to tug on the receivers hair

「CLIMB 」 : for sender to climb into receivers lap

「PULL 」 : for the sender to pull receiver into their lap

「BITE 」 : for sender to bite the receiver ( include the location )

「 MARK 」 : for sender to leave hickies on receiver

「 BARE 」 : for sender to undress in front of receiver

「 HELP 」 : for sender to help receiver undress

「 GRIND 」 : for sender to grind against the receiver

「 HOT 」 : for sender and receiver to share a heated kiss

「 OOPS 」 : for sender to accidentally send receiver a risqué image.

「 CHIME 」 : for sender to purposefully send receiver a risqué image.

「 WHISPER 」 : for sender to whisper something suggestive in receivers ear

「 HOLD 」 : for sender to hold receivers throat

「 THROW 」 : for sender to throw receiver onto the bed

「 PRESS 」 : for sender to press receiver against a wall and kiss them

「 CAUGHT 」 : for sender to catch receiver pleasuring themselves

「 LIGHT 」 : for sender to touch the receiver with a feather light pressure.

「 INNER 」 : for sender to kiss along the inside of receivers thigh

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merry christmas and happy new year everyone <3 here's to an uptick in activity for me in 2025, even if the fandom's kindaaaa dead.

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you know, i can sort of understand personal blogs like, reblogging headcanon posts or w/e bc other blogs who aren't necessarily rp blogs do it too and i've reblogged some of those myself but..... i'll never understand personal blogs actually reblogging part of rp threads/replies??? the former i can handle if it's not a reblog spam from one blog but the latter is always an insta-block.

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@darksteelreign posts something. me, immediately popping out of the woodwork like 👀 👀 👀

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replies and starters are done, yippeeee

short to do list for me, wanna take next week to see if i can catch up.

asks (not counting hc asks) - 14: @secondflame (4), @darksteelreign (2), @levinstrike (3), @starspurn (2), @madrites, @tsckcyomii, @fire-branded

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𝐉𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐰𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐬 𝐮𝐩 𝐭𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐨𝐝𝐲 and a deep, bone-weary exhaustion hollowing out her chest. She must've passed out somewhere along the road, she thinks at first. Maybe the iron men took some pity and carried her rather than dragging her along by the chains. But then━

The skin around her wrists is chafed raw and bloody from the manacles, the skin around her throat equally tender. The chains are gone, though, and that's a first sign that maybe she's not where she thought she was. The second one is the fact that she's in a relatively comfortable bed, dressed in a simple shift that's clean and that her surroundings are wood and not stone. The third is that from the gentle rocking and creaking of the bed, she seems to be on a ship; but it is unlike any ship she knows.

The fourth is, she's not alone. Icy grey hues snap up the moment she hears a soft gasp from the corner, meeting a woman's she doesn't immediately recognize who says something in a language she does not recognize. Jill barely even gets the chance to react to the intruder ere the woman's out the door. She does, however, recognize the distinct click of a lock being turned.

A prisoner, then. Of sorts. She supposes being the Dominant of Shiva might give anyone pause ere putting her behind bars, but the room is a prison to keep her in all the same for now.

She should feel afraid, probably. Angry. Maybe even hopeful, because wherever she is, it's clearly no longer with the Iron Kingdom. Instead, she lets the familiar cold numbness deaden her heart and resign herself to whatever horror comes next. / @encelvdus

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𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐚𝐟𝐞𝐭𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐭 feels both achingly familiar and shockingly foreign. In the grand scheme of things and the thirty-two summers he's already spent on this star, the one year and some months they spent apart doesn't sound so long. He's heard tales from his fellow dragoons━ and he won't deny thinking of them still makes his heart clench with grief━ of spending many moons apart from their beloved ones; knows that him and Terence have been lucky to be able to spend most of their time together, even if the intimacy of their relationship had to be kept a secret. So in the grand scheme of things it should feel like no time has passed at all.

Yet the man he was that year ago is so, so different from who he is today. He needs but feel the aches in his body, the tightness of his skin scarred and burnt as it is to know. Part of him thought he never would have this again. Part of him yet thinks he doesn't deserve it.

Terence's voice soothes the instinctive doubt this may yet be a dream, his touch kindling a flame within his chest Dion had feared extinguished. Right now, basking in the realization that he needs neither worry about anyone interrupting them, anyone finding out, nor worry about his own duties seeing as there are no more duties for him to uphold, that he can take his time and simply be, Dion allows himself to melt further into that touch. He feels Terence's lips on his skin, those slender, calloused fingers at the back of his neck and almost laughs at the frisson of want it sends down his spine.

How long ago had it been since he'd felt any such baser interest? He'd almost thought his broken body incapable of it now. " Just you, " He murmurs, tilting his head back so he can see Terence's face. " Unless you've somewhere to be I━ wouldn't mind simply staying right here. " A beat, before he sucks in a steadying breath and then, with a slightly wavering voice, " I suppose I could do with a kiss, however. " / @tsckcyomii

Terence feels the way Dion's shoulders pull taut the moment he awakens. For a moment, he contemplates allowing the other room to breathe and reorientate himself without, perchance, feeling stifled by his presence, yet any tension seems to leave his body a moment thereafter. Even now, after they've loved one another for years, Terence still feels honored that Dion allows himself to relax and... be weak around him. Because Dion, in all his perfection and the way he holds himself to impossibly high standards, needs not be perfect for him. He needs be but himself.

Terence shifts and closes his eyes feeling a hand settle atop his hip. A painfully familar gesture that he yearned for for so many months.

"I am real. I promise." His voice, barely above a whisper, carries the note of certainty and reassurance as to alleviate the troubles Dion might experience. After everything that has happened, after what they both lived through, what Dion lived through, he needs stability, no? And Terence is more than happy to provide it, and to the best of his abilities.

Exhaling a shaky sigh, Terence tilts down his head, his lips pressing to the crown of Dion's head. His right hand trails up his back, resting in his nape and securely holding him close. "I am real, my love, and I'm with you. Now and forevermore." Oh, how this promise has been true and held weight from the very moment that Terence joined the Dragoons to serve under the prince. There's no where else he'd rather be, after all. No where else he's ever wanted to be. His love for Dion will not and can not wither.

"Do you need aught...? Or do you wish to rest longer?" he murmurs, burying his nose further in Dion's hair, drowning himself in his love's presence and his scent. 'Tis still unbelievable, that they've found back together, he thinks, but he shall thank Greagor for the rest of his lives to be granted another chance.

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next few days are going to be a lil busy still but i hope by sunday i'll have some spoons to do a few more replies here and there.

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Is this what my life is supposed to be?

petrokhelidon. independent multi-muse rp blog featuring leon kennedy and rebecca chambers from resident evil, as well as muses from genshin, hsr, ffxiv and more. as written by curry, 30+ she/her.

*** sideblog that follows back from ritterblood.

*** carrd / pinned / promo template credit

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" Apologies, I nearly didn't see you there, " Dion shuffles a few ungainly steps sidewards, narrowly avoiding collision with the man afore him, hidden behind the pile of boxes he was carrying up the stairs while Dion had been going down too lost in thought to pay much attention. Even after some weeks of staying on the Invincible in preparation of meeting Ultima in battle, he's still not quite used to the Hideaway's twisting and turning walkways and stairs; nor to its people. Craftsmen, bearers, former sellswords, botanists and peddlers, both bearers and non-bearers seemingly living together in perfect harmony, each as equal as the other.

Not even Ifrit━ or Clive, as Dion should remember calling him━ the de facto leader of the place is treated any different than the others. In fact, from the errands he's seen the man being sent on by various others he's perfectly content being used as a packmule and weapon both.

Or mayhap used is not the correct term. Not here, in any case.

He himself has not quite found a connection to anyone but Joshua and his attendant and maybe Tarja. The others watch him either with open curiosity or wariness. Some even hostility, which is of little surprise considering the amount of former imperial bearers finding their sanctuary here.

The man he almost ran into peers from behind his mount of boxes, however and rather than look at him with any of the aforementioned, there lurks a spark of recognition in green hues that speaks of more than merely knowing Dion by reputation. The odd thing, despite Dion being sure he's never actually met or even seen this man, is that he somehow feels the same.

Do you need help? He wishes to ask. Instead, what comes out is: " Do I━ know you from somewhere? " / @levinstrike

[tripleflames]

His brows are furrowed in contemplation, the meaning of his father's words not quite clear to the young boy. Clive's not certain where his father has failed him when in Clive's opinion he's done naught of the sort, or if he truly believes that he's done no wrong when his mother cannot even look at him without showing ire and disdain━ but the reassurances at least serve to lessen the hard knot of tension in his belly. To know he can always talk to his father, to know he won't be scolded or turned away, that he is not alone━

A tentative smile paints itself on his lips, blue hues shining once again with a spark of excitement rather than anxiety 'pon his father's suggestion to head to the kitchens together. It would've been better if Joshua had been allowed to join, of course, or even Jill who is busy with her letters in the other tower, but Clive won't deny the simple joy he feels blooming at the prospect of spending time with his father one on one. " Alright! " his hand slips in his father's own without second thought, his hold firm and secure, " We should ask the cooks to prepare those lemon bars uncle Byron brought back from Port Isolde last time he came to visit. Joshua seemed to really enjoy those, " Because of course his first thought would go t'wards his brother's favorites rather than his own. " I don't think Jill was there try them last time, maybe she can have one as well! "

With his good spirits returned, Clive can't even find it within himself to be wary of his mother's disapproval should she find out from the handmaidens that he tried to ferry secret notes to his brother, for Anabella would surely not believe him if he were to say his father helped him; too excited to imagine the surprise on Joshua's face once he finds them. For now, though, his thoughts remain on the sundry treats they might be able to smuggle to his brother and an earnest blue gaze looks up at the Duke, eager to learn more. " What's your favorite treat, father? " / @fire-branded

He can't let go of Clive. It's as if he fears the boy he loves so dearly might slip away entirely if he does -- as if the pain that the prince feels will drive him elsewhere, far away from his father. The truth is that if Clive did decide to run, the Archduke wouldn't blame him for it. Scorned by his own mother, looked down upon by the nobility...

And what has his father done for him, except let his selfish love for the child stop him from giving him a better, happier life?

If it is possible, the man's hold on his eldest son tightens even more protectively. His face is buried into his child's shoulder as he, too, shudders from an onslaught of powerful emotions. And then he exhales slowly, steadying himself in terms of composure. As he does shift back, it's only enough that he can gaze upon Clive's face; gloved hands find themselves resting on the other's shoulders, where they offer a reassuring, encouraging squeeze.

Finally, Elwin smiles. At first, it's tentative and filled to the brim with sorrow. Soon enough it's warmed up considerably, into its usual warm, equally as reassuring one. "Listen closely, my boy." This time as he speaks, it's with confidence and warmth to mirror that of the sun -- or the great firebird's most gentle of flames. "You have done no wrong. Not now, not ever -- you need not apologize to me. I should be apologizing to you... for failing you when you needed me most, both before and now. I am sorry. I cannot change the past, nor can I change our circumstances; but I can support you, and I will."

Another squeeze to Clive's shoulders. "If you have need of reassurance, then I will be there to cheer you on. And if you find yourself in tears, my arms are open for you henceforth." You deserve better, is what Elwin really wants to say; along with, I love you. If only Anabella would listen, would see for herself the truth of what a remarkable young man Clive is. And it is his fervent hope that one day, she will see it, even if he wishes so desperately that that day would come sooner.

When his hands withdraw, one curls into a loose fist, which is then bumped lightly against the youth's chest. Then he stands, gesturing for Clive to follow him -- and reaching for one of his hands. Even if his eldest son is considered "too old" for such things, it's a simple gesture, but one that means the world to his father. In some small way, it's an effort to make up for some of the lost time between them, and to convey that despite his failures and absences, he does love his boys.

More than he knows how to express to them.

"Of course we can. If we ask nicely, perhaps the cooks can be persuaded to make your favorite treats... and allow us to taste test." This, of course, is followed by a playful wink. "Why don't we ask one of your mother's handmaidens to take some to Joshua as well... and we can sneak little notes to him amongst them? It will be our secret."