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@sunsfade

if anyone is still alive u can find me @sunsfade

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if anyone is still alive u can find me @sunsfade

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hey babes. i think you might have realized by now, but i’m done with tumblr for the time being. 

it was two fun years, and i enjoyed talking to everyone on the dash, but it’s time to let go and get another hobby. maybe i’ll come back later, but with work and college i legit can’t manage to log on here and be present. plus, i dont think i’ve enjoyed my time here in a long while, which it took me some time to realize, and well. if it doesn’t spark joy, throw it away. 

if you wish to keep contact, feel free to ask for my discord, i’d love to hear from you guys from time to time!! byye

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LOTHEWS ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎ .‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎ TUMBLR ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎ .‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎ COM ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎ by ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎lux ‎‏‏‎ ‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎

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by Alexa King

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☀            @sorrowh​            {            WITH.            gansey.

we’ve    had    a    tough    couple    of    months.    we’re    all    figuring    out    who    we    really    are    and    what    we    want    in    life,    and    that    can    be    painful.    however,    you    can’t    really    heal    yourself    until    you    stop    living    a    lie.

a    tough    couple    of    months    is    such    an    amusing    way    of    putting    it.            one    would    not    necessarily    choose    the    term    'tough'    to    describe    months    of    sleeplessness,    chasing    another    dreamer's    dream,    hoping    so    very    strongly    to    find    the    light    at    the    end    of    this    very    dark,    very    scary    tunnel.            'tough'    is    underselling    it,    which    is    one    thing    gansey    is    so    very    good    at.            he    uses    words    the    same    ways    ishtar    dreams    of    stars        —        that    is    to    say    he    whispers    them    into    existence    long    before    they    give    him    the    answer    he    requires.            and    yes,    perhaps    there    is    something    to    it.            perhaps    on    some    dreadful    sunny    days    she    loves    the    way    he    talks    about    their    life,    and    how    they    are    meant    for    wonderful,    extraordinary    adventures.            perhaps    on    some    eery    nights,    she    is    willing    to    close    her    eyes    and    seek    for    pictures    that    look    like    the    ones    he    draws    with    his    voice,    rather    than    the    truth    she    knows    is    there,    right    behind    the    thin    wall    of    her    eyelids.    

not    today,    though.            today    she    is    exhausted,    khairos    a    strangely    heavy    weight    on    her    shoulder        ;        a    tiny    dragon    that    conveniently    looks    like    a    lizard    if    you    do    not    know    where    to    search    for    clues.            she    dreamt    him    the    second    night    she    ever    dreamt,    in    hopes    of    finding    a    friend    rather    than    whatever    darkness    awaited    for    her    on    the    first.            she    never    thought    about    it    after    that        —        he    was    hers    just    as    much    as    she    was    his,    and    the    world    understood    that    the    little    girl    with    cowboy    boots    had    a    lizard    friend.            the    mechanics    of    it    all    interested    nobody.            but    today    it    seems    that    the    picture    is    coming    apart    at    the    seams        :        khairos    is    not    peacefully    lying    at    the    crook    of    her    neck.            he    is    perched    on    her    shoulder,    so    very    aware,    eyes    staring    at    gansey    with    the    same    unamused    look    as    his    dreamer.            «        a    lie?        »            there    is    a    pause.            but    it's    not    a    gansey    kind    of    pause,    as    in    she    isn't    carefully    pondering    her    words.            it's    a    pause    not    dissimilar    to    the    way    a    bull    pushes    his    head    toward    the    ground    before    charging.            «        what    are    ya    calling    a    lie,    exactly?        »            voice    so    very    even,    so    very    cold,    so    very    leery.            «        i    know    who    i    am,    richard.        »            a    low    blow,    considering    she    used    to    be    elise    before    she    decided    she    wanted    to    be    ishtar.            «        and    i    know    damn    well    what    i    want.            do    ya?        »            a    dare.

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trc dreamer ishtar.  that’s all

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ARRESTED DEVELOPMENT SENTENCE STARTERS.

“ILLUSION. A trick is something a whore does for money…Or candy.”

“Wine only turns to alcohol if you let it sit.”

“I had to finish it. It’s vodka. It goes bad once it’s been opened.”

“I’m afraid I just blue myself.”

“I made a pun! ,,,Even in this trying time.”

“You can’t see it…I just winked.”

“If that’s a veiled criticism about me, I won’t hear it, and I won’t respond to it.”

“I don’t understand the question and I won’t respond to it.”

“I don’t know who that is and I don’t care to find out.”

“It’s a great day. For being sad.”

“I’M A MONSTER!”

“Why should you go to jail for a crime someone else noticed?”

“Oh, [ name]. After all these years, God’s not gonna take a call from you.”

“Stop lying. Stop manipulating. Just be nicer.”

“Marry me!”

“I care deeply for nature.”

“Here’s some money. Go see a Star War.”

“What is this? What’s happening? Why are you squeezing me with your body?”

“We’ve had a tough couple of months. We’re all figuring out who we really are and what we want in life, and that can be painful. However, you can’t really heal yourself until you stop living a lie.”

“I’m tired of trying to find happiness through lies and self-medicating.”

Keep reading

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☀            @unheroine​            {            WITH.            sansa.

«        i’ve    seen    the    look    on    a    man’s    face    when    he    realizes    he’s    going    to    die.        »

death    has    many    eyes        &        many    expressions    of    horror.            some    beg    and    some    keep    their    chin    high...        yet    all    fall    to    their    knees    when    the    last    strike    befalls    them.            it    is    a    story    that    has    already    been    written    a    thousand    times,    and    there    is    nothing    interesting    in    having    it    repeat    times    and    times    again.            ishtar    does    not    care    much    about    death,    whether    suffering    it    or    inflicting    it.            one    grows    unconcerned    by    the    bane    of    life    when    time    no    longer    pushes    them    toward    the    edge.    

that    having    been    said,    death    can    lead    to    opportunities,    and    these,    the    sorceress    is    much    more    interested    by.            the    smile    that    she    offers    to    the    young    noble    is    one    of    incredible    calm.            «        and    i    suppose    you    would    like    to    see    it    happen    once    again,    lady    stark?        »        dhufeainnewedd    speaks    in    prophecies,    and    often    the    riddles    are    nothing    more    than    knots    meant    to    be    untangled    by    time        &        choices.            yet    as    she    looks    at    sansa,    she    must    see    something    more    than    an    idle    request    for    murder.            «        if    you    tell    me    what    for,    i    might    be    inclined    to    help.        »

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☀            @soulvalor·            {            WITH.            maddy.

                  “     bitch ,   you  come  here  looking  like  a  rat  drowned  in  redbull  and  you  expect  me  to  look  at  you  normally ?     ”     body  leans  against  the  front  door  as  dark  eyes  scan  the  girl  from  head  to  toe  once  again .     a  couple  beats  pass  before  she  opens  the  door  wider  to  allow  her  to  walk  inside ,   cold  air  leaving  goose  bumps  across  exposed  skin .     she  is  not  one  to  close  the  door  to  a  friend  in  need ,   but  if  ishtar  expects  no  questions  to  be  asked ,   she  came  to  the  wrong  place .     “     come  in  and  be  quiet ,   my  parents  are  sleeping .     ”

rat    drowned    in    red    bull    is    an    acute    description        ;        ishtar    had    walked    under    the    pouring    rain    for    almost    an    hour    because    her    bike    had    stopped...biking    while    she    was    at    samuel's,    and    the    asshole    had    gently    declined    to    let    her    use    his    money    to    call    for    an    uber.            looking    miserable    under    the    dim    light    of    the    perez'    porch,    ishtar    shrugs.            «        can    i    get    a    towel    or    somethin'.        i    can    tell    ya    'bout    hartford    and    jacobs'    party    last    weekend    in    exchange.        »            she    thinks    maddy    would    be    kind    enough    to    help    without    the    gossip,    but    ishtar    is    also    a    kind    soul,    and    well.            she    likes    it,    okay,    sue    her.            coming    inside    but    staying    close    to    the    door,    ishtar    waits    patiently,    only    getting    rid    of    her    cowboy    boots.            but    honestly,    her    socks    are    just    as    wet,    so    she    sighs    even    harder    and    gets    rid    of    these    two,    only    waiting    for    a    towel    or    something    to    avoid    turning    maddy's    living    room    into    a    pool.        

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☀            @siennabook​            {            WITH.            sienna.

sienna’s toxic trait is that she cries when she gets angry. ( ha, 'toxic trait’ implies that she has only one and that she is not heaps and loads and mounds of toxic traits shoved into a sienna-shaped body-thing. she’s just going to leave it at that. ) on the topic of one of her toxic traits: she tries to channel her anger into the fist clenched around her cane, and, fuck it, her other fist is clenched too. it’s a buy-one-get-one-free type of situation. it’s all she can do to try to contain everything, everything, everything inside. 

she has no right to cry for someone who was never hers, someone who never even bothered to look at her twice. actually, sienna’s not even sure ishtar looked once. why would she? sienna wasn’t compelling — she wasn’t that forced exposure that led ishtar to a husband, she was just that awkward international student with a cringey obsession with theatre and viruses. now that she thinks about it ( hindsight is 100/20, but that’s better than ∞/20 ), maybe she and ishtar didn’t have that much in common. two outcasts, sure, but ishtar was an outcast by choice and no one could fucking stand sienna ( she couldn’t stand herself, either )! they were drawn together by ishtar needing a couch to crash on and sienna having a single dorm because her brain was too fucked to have a roommate. it was a childhood fantasy, a fleeting obsession — or not so fleeting, if sienna is honest with herself —  bound for nothing. they didn’t end in disaster or in heartbreak ( well, sure, sienna’s heart broke, but that mattered nothing in the grand scheme ). they just didn’t end because they never started. sienna was a fool to have fancied anything else. 

sienna is silent, because if she opens her mouth, she will say something unkind and unfair. it’s not ishtar’s fault she found someone who could do everything sienna couldn’t. it’s not ishtar’s fault sienna felt entitled to her companionship. if sienna is miserable now ( and she is ), it is all because of her own doing. they’re in their thirties; it’s time for sienna to take responsibility. a sideways glance at ishtar shows her that it’s going to be a perfectly happy little family, a white picket fence, a child, husband, affection for life, love for life, a life worth living. she allows one tear to fall, just the one, and she quickly wipes it away with a hand still fisted.

     ❛ congratulations. ❜ sienna’s always-monotone voice is perfect for now. it reveals nothing. her face reveals nothing either, save for the now-gone tear. only her fists reveal something, but what it is, sienna doesn’t want to qualify. she has nothing else to say, and a part of her wants to leave, but the other part — and sienna can’t tell how large that part is — misses her old… friend… though they were never really friends. still, she was the closest thing sienna ever had to a friend, so she’ll treasure her forever for that, even though the larger part of sienna is riddled and whipped with hate — yes, hate — because sienna’s soul is the ugliest thing to ever walk the earth. 

a step here, a step there, and out into bilbao’s streets. the day is lovely, a happy, carefree sun that doesn’t burn but simply warms, a few perfect, fluffy clouds, lovely streets full of colors and chatter. sienna just wants to slink back to her hotel room and hide for a long time. maybe forever. but hiding with bertrand wasn’t very much fun either. 

sienna doesn’t know what she wants. 

     ❛ glad you let yourself stay long enough for that forced exposure to lead to something. ❜ sienna can’t meet ishtar’s eyes. she looks away instead, looks at the lines of people wanting to enter the museum, the security guards explaining that it’s a private event, children drawing on the sidewalk across the street. ❛ that's—good. that’s really good, and— ❜

no, what she was going to say is unkind. sienna grips her cane tighter. 

     ❛ life is treating me… alright, i suppose. ❜ that’s dressing up her life to the Nth degree. ❛ actually, it’s less about how life is treating me and more about how i’m treating life. i, uh, disrespected life — humanity, you could call it — and i’m trying to… ❜ she doesn’t know what she’s trying to do. step, step. ❛ congratulations, really. a family. that's—that’s great. ❜ 

the    truth    is    that    ishtar    is    terrified.            she    never    thought    she    would    get    to    this    part    of    the    story.            she    had    become    accostumated    with    the    idea    that    she    would    never    leave    her    teenage    years    and    that    something    would    take    her    out,    either    her    own    reckless    decisions    or    fate    itself,    deciding    it    was    enough.            she    always    imagined    that    life    would    stop,    in    one    way    or    another,    and    that    she    would    never    see    the    other    side    of    her    twenties.            past    twenty-five,    she    convinced    herself    thirties    wouldn't    happen.            and    yet    here    she    is,    thirty    and    married    and    happy.            terrified,    yes,    because    none    of    this    was    imagined    beforehand.            the    test    came    back    positive    without    her    being    completely    sure    she    wanted    to    be    a    mother.            with    the    bad    example    of    mamma    and    the    very    obvious    lack    of    a    mother    figure    in    her    life,    how    could    she    imagine    being    one    herself?            the    only    thing    keeping    terror    from    leading    her    straight    to    the    abortion    center    was    caranthir,    and    only    because    she    knew    that    he    would    not    let    her    fuck    up.            perhaps    this    is    what    had    been    problematic    with    sienna        :        ishtar    had    never    been    able    to    trust    her    to    hold    her    accountable.            sienna    loved    her    too    much.            and    she    didn't    love    her    the    right    way.            it    was    all    wrong,    the    way    she    would    kiss    the    ground    ishtar    walked    on,    and    how    she    would    never    scream    at    her    for    all    the    bad    decisions    that    ishtar    kept    making.            sienna    had    been    an    angel,    yes,    letting    her    storm    in        &        out    as    if    nothing    mattered,    but    ishtar    needed    someone    to    anchor    her.            she    needed    to    know    that    if    she    were    to    fly    away,    someone    would    hold    her        &        look    at    her        &        remind    her    that    she    wasn't    some    wild    concept.    she    was    real,    and    needed    to    take    responsability    for    her    life.    

sienna    couldn't    have    done    that.            she    could    barely    do    it    for    herself.            in    that    way,    they    had    been    atrocious    for    each    other.            «        thanks.        »            the    word    is    quiet,    but    ishtar's    eyes    are    searching.            sienna's    face    used    to    be    much    more    expressive        ;        ishtar    could    read    her    in    a    moment    and    use    it    to    her    advantage.            that    was    a    dirty    trick,    one    she    is    still    rather    fond    of    when    interactions    are    needed.            but    the    difficulty    she    has    in    knowing    what's    happening    behind    sienna's    eyes    is    rather    striking,    in    the    sense    that    she    doesn't    remember    things    ever    being    this    way.            the    years    have    left    a    gap    so    big    between    them    that    ishtar    can't    even    read    between    the    lines.        and    so    she    keeps    silent,    and    simply    walks    away.            away    from    the    big    party    and    the    loud    talking    noises,    away    into    the    street.    

«        it    wasn't...    tha'    way.            it    ain't    happened    just    'cause    i    suddenly    stopped    runnin'.        »            she    isn't    sure    why    it    is    necessary    that    sienna    understands,    but    ishtar    feels    like    the    pill    might    be    easier    to    swallow    and    fists    might    be    easier    to    loosen    if    sienna    knew    that    it    was    more    of    a    "him"    situation    than    a    "i    suddenly    decided    i    could    settle    and    kept    the    first    boy    who    wanted    me".            «        he's,    he's    borin'.            and    too    serious.            and    sometimes    he    doesn't    get    my    jokes    and    just    follows    along    'cause    he    knows    i'd    get    annoyin'    if    he    didn't.        »            and    it    should    be    all    bad    things,    but    she    is    smiling    softly,    and    if    you    were    to    look    at    her    face,    you'd    say    she's    talking    about    the    best    thing    that    has    ever    happened    to    her.            «        and    when    i    was    younger,    all    of    this    would    have    made    me    run    away    so    fuckin'    fast.            but,    i    really    really    wanted    'im.            i    wanted    the    borin'    and    the    seriousness    of    it    all.        »            she    looks    at    sienna,    now,    hoping    she    understands.            «        went    through    forced    exposure    so    that    i    could    have    'im.            not    the    other    way    'round.        »            and    that's    the    depressing    conclusion,    is    it    not?            she    wanted    him    enough    to    stay.            she    needed    to    stay    if    she    wanted    him.            sienna    never    managed    such    an    ultimatum,    and    when    she    tried    her    hand    at    it,    ishtar    flew    away    so    fucking    fast    an    army    plane    would    have    looked    like    a    toy    next    to    her.    

sienna's    story    gets    a    small    chuckle,    eyes    amused    as    she    opens    the    door    of    the    coffeeshop.            «        disrespected    humanity,    uh?            that's    a    big    one.            how    did    ya    even    manage    that?        »            door    close    behing    them,    and    ishtar    looks    down    at    her    changing    body,    red    washing    across    her    cheeks,            «        yeah.            yeah    it    really    is.            thank    ya.        »

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☀            @siennabook·            {            WITH.            sienna.

sienna is not one for subtlety. 

quite the opposite, she makes every intention of hers known. life is about direction and effort. it does not come effortlessly. sienna can’t simply wait for her — okay, she’ll admit it! — crush to approach her. she needs to make the first move ( or, like, the fifty-seventh move at this point ) and hope that this time ishtar might reciprocate. finals are all finished, and it’s now a fine friday night, the kind where there’s lightning in the sky and thunder in their hearts. 

a black dress that reaches mid-thigh is not a staple from sienna’s standard wardrobe. neither is the red lipstick nor the iron-curled hair nor the highlighter dusting her cheekbones. none of it screams sienna, not at all, but this is sienna. this is not sienna the nerd, but this is sienna who might be pretty enough to hold hands with ishtar. sienna with curled hair, sienna with red lips, sienna who’s polished her glasses’ lenses. most importantly, she is sienna who is going to try forward flirting instead of sienna who stares awkwardly from afar in hopes that it translates to i like you. 

but house parties are not sienna’s thing. her earplugs are stuffed in her ears and she’s holding a glass of water instead of the sugary mixerd drinks everyone else is holding ( she is not going to ruin her chance with ishtar by having a diabetic emergency ). no one talks to her during the party, and sienna does not mind. she is not here for them, she is here for ishtar.

a little ways into the night, ishtar shows up. she’s easy to recognize because of her hair and because of those boots. one flutter of sienna’s eyes and she sees herself and ishtar, kissing in the rain, and then her eyes are open again and ishtar is so far away. 

but it doesn’t have to stay that way. 

sienna pushes past crowds of students, some already sloppy drunk, and makes her way to stand beside ishtar. she touches ishtar’s shoulder to grab her attention; this is a physical greeting, because sienna has physical intentions. 

     ❛ come outside with me, ❜ she says into her ear, trying to overpower the blaring music. ❛ it’s raining, but there’s a covered patio. we won’t get wet, unless… we want to. ❜ 

the    party    is    a    blast.            ishtar    didn't    exactly    doubt    that    it    would    be    the    case,    but    dilshad's    kind    of    partying    isn't    exactly    ishtar's    scene    either        :        house    parties    are    a    smash    or    pass    kind    of    dilemma    and    it's    only    with    the    right    atmosphere    and    the    right    amount    of    wine    that    one    might    survive    the    evening.            ishtar    is    doing    amazing    as    ever,    though—            she    talks    to    everyone    with    the    same    light    in    her    eyes,    just    twinkly    enough    that    she    seems    mesmerized    by    absolutely    whatever    tale    leaves    the    other    person's    lips.            she    laughs    at    all    the    right    times,    and    the    way    she    laughs    is    cute,    okay?            it's    not    too    much    but    it    rings    true,    and    when    she    smiles    at    you    once    she's    done,    it's    like    she's    contemplating    how    funny    you    are,    and    how    happy    she    is    to    talk    to    you.            it's    a    rare    thing,    you    know,    the    way    she    pays    attention    to    everything    you    do    or    say.            that's    why    people    like    her,    and    why    when    she    goes    from    one    group    to    the    next,    all    that    remains    behind    her    is    easy    banter.            people    don't    laugh    at    ishtar    anymore—            when    she    was    a    kid,    they    would    sneer    at    her    ugly    clothes    and    her    off-putting    words.            but    now    that    she    has    grown    into    her    personality,    people    just    shrug    it    off.            it's    ishtar.            she    wears    what    she    wants    and    she's    smart    and    snarky    and    sometimes    a    little    bit    malicious,    yes,    but    it's    all    in    good    fun.    

so    all    in    all,    ishtar    is    having    a    good    time.            she    flies    from    one    conversation    to    the    next,    carrying    news    from    one    group    to    another    with    the    same    ease    as    a    busy    bee    going    from    one    flower    to    the    next.            she    doesn't    settle,    because    ishtar    isn't    really    the    kind    to    limit    herself,    but    it's    not    as    rude    as    it    could    have    been.            she    has    learned    what    she    didn't    know    as    a    kid,    the    way    you    can    manipulate    a    group    into    opening    for    you,    and    how    you    can    ease    the    public    into    letting    you    go.            it's    all    a    grand    performance,    and    she    definitely    became    the    maestro.            at    least,    until    a    hand    touches    her    shoulder,    and    suddenly    ishtar    isn't    flying    anymore.            she's    on    the    ground,    both    feet    keeping    her    upright,    attention    now    focused    on    whoever    possesses    this    hand.            eyes    find    sienna's,    and    for    a    moment    it's    silence.    

the    whole    party    quietens.            sienna    is    beautiful.            however    she's    beautiful    in    a    very    wrong    way,    as    if    someone    had    taken    everything    that    made    her    sienna    and    had    thrown    it    into    the    ocean.            they    have    smoothed    her    out    like    a    statue,    all    white    polished    stone.            and    for    a    moment,    ishtar    isn't    completely    sure    what    the    right    thing    to    say    is,    because    yes,    she    feels    compelled    to    compliment    her,    but    sienna    takes    to    words    like    a    sponge    absorbs    water,    and    ishtar    has    no    desire    to    make    her    think    that    whatever    this    is    is    better    than    good    old    sienna.            and    perhaps    the    appearance    should    have    been    a    warning,    because    the    words    have    her    frowning    hard,    which    is    not    a    very    ishtar    thing    to    do.            «        sienna,    dude.    are    ya    okay?        »            a    pause,    as    if    thinking,    which    is    much    more    in-character.            «        ya    look    beautiful.            got    a    hot    date?        »    

[dhufeainnewedd]

WHAT  FLAVOR  IS  YOUR  SOUL  ?        cinnamon.

          oh child of spice you are bound to the core of the earth.   can you feel the heartbeat of nature pulsing through your veins.   you are the mouthful of autumn that scorched through your throat, you are the pepper of life that wakes up the weary.   the foolish and shaking will attempt to dilute you with sickening sugar, do not let them.   your spark is what keeps us alive my dear.   keep burning, little star.   you see the beauty and the light, but oh you have been fed poison and refuse to drop it onto other's tongues.   be wild.   I know what your heart is chanting.   run.   run.   run.   run dear, find your story.   do not trade your spirit for safety.   you are a child of the earth, forever seeking, forever dancing.

tagged by  :  @fzzco, thank you op <3 tagging  :  be gay & do crime !

[dhufeainnewedd]

☀            @shotjocks​            {            WITH.            jason.

«        jd,    heyyyyyyyyyyyyy.        »            the    sway    of    alcohol-loosened    hips    in    rhythm    with    the    music    as    she    makes    her    way    to    the    couch,    only    to    fall    on    it    without    any    grace.            a    grin    brighter    than    an    early    sun    upon    her    lips    as    she    boops    him    on    the    nose,    as    if    unaware    that    he    probably    had    no    desire    to    have    her    all    up    in    his    business.            «        what    are    ya    doin',    broodin'    in    a    corner?        »

[dhufeainnewedd]

☀            @luredeep​            {            WITH.            ciri.

«        girl,        »            and    when    ishtar    says    girl,    you    know    something    is    wrong,    because    she    isn't    particularly    fond    of    gender    norms,    and    she    is    definitely    into    wordsy    replies.            when    she    goes    straight    to    the    one-word    reaction    and    hits    you    with    a    "girl"    that    sounds    like    a    tap    of    the    back    of    her    hand    against    your    cheek,    you    know    whatever    you    did    isn't    working.            «        what    is    that    fresh    hell    ya    put    on    yer    face?        »

[dhufeainnewedd]

☀            @endlessfables​            {            WITH.            jules.

«        sex's    like...        »            eyes    on    the    ceiling,    fingers    spread    above    her    head,    watching    through    them        &        admiring    the    coat    of    nailpolish    they    applied    earlier.            on    her    right    hand,    LIL    1    tattoeed    across    her    knuckles.            «        confusin'.            when    there    are    feelin's    involved.            yunno?        »            hopefully,    that    will    explain    whatever's    been    going    on    with    rue        &        jules.    

[dhufeainnewedd]

☀            @pendraigon·            {            WITH.            arthur.

                       he   doesn’t   know   the   importance   of   the   relic   in   the   palm   of   his   hand   ;   all   he   knows   is   that   she   was   looking   for   it   and   he   had   but   the   faintest   idea   on   where   to   find   it.   cue,   the   knocking   down   of   a   door,   the   group   of   bandits   sliding   to   their   feet,   grabbing   weapon   closest   to   them   to   defend   themselves   and   begin   their   attack   on   the   barged-in   prince.   then   came   the   bloody   nose,   which   has   now   eased   into   a   slight   throb   and   a   small   stain   around   each   nostril.   ❛   maybe   i   keep   forgetting   because   all   of   the   hits   to   my   head,   you   never   know. ❜   he   shrugs,   but   she’s   also   probably   right.

 he   notes   her   change   in   demeanour   when   her   eyes   lock   onto   the   object   in   hand,   this   necklace   of   seemingly   no   importance   to   arthur,   but   worth   something   to   her.   he   lets   her   take   it   without   much   fuss   ;   why   would   he?   she   wanted   it,   he   got   it.   that   was   the   deal.   he   lifts   his   brow,   and   rocks   back   and   forth   on   his   heels   as   he   waits   for   her   to   finish   admiring   the   piece.   ❛   so   …   ❜   he   clicks   his   tongue   and   points   a   finger   out   to   it.   ❛   what’s   so   important   about   it   anyway?   i   think   an   explanation   is   owed,   considering   all   we   gone   through   to   get   it.   ❜

 point   of   his   finger   turns   from   the   necklace   to   his   nose,   that’s   what   he   gone   through.   a   bloody,   aching   nose.   ❛   no   payment   is   needed.   you   could   just   give   me   an   answer   and   we’ll   call   it   even?   ❜   he   tells   her.   ❛   so   …   it’s   magic,   isn’t   it?   we   didn’t   go   through   all   this   for   just   a   bit   of   stone   tied   to   rope,   did   we?   ❜   brows   point   downwards,   he   hopes   that   isn’t   the   case.   he   hate   to   think   he   got   hit   in   the   nose   just   for   a   bit   of   stone!

«        it    would    do    you    good,    to    have    your    nose    broken    for    a    rock.        »            she    wishes    she    could    tell    him    it    is    nothing    but    a    stone,    well-polished    and    perfectly    even.            the    prince    would    be    disappointed,    she    knows,    and    she    would    be    deeply    amused        ;        at    last    a    fitting    punishment    for    barging    in    without    a    plan.            alas,    he    is    right    :            the    necklace    is    important,    and    more    than    magic    it    has    a    story.            one    she    has    studied    for    months    before    even    approaching    arthur    with    her    request.            «        but    no,    we    didn't    go    through    all    this    for    a    pretty    necklace.        »

eyes    remain    on    the    shimmering    colors    within    the    stone,    only    to    throw    an    amused    gaze    at    the    prince.            «        it    is    quite    a    long    story,    your    highness.    will    you    do    the    honour    of    getting    us    some    wine?        »            and    she    believes    he    needs    to    sit,    if    all    the    blood    on    her    handkerchief    is    anything    to    go    by.            for    a    moment,    the    sorceress    wishes    she    knew    some    healing    spells,    if    only    to    repay    him    for    his    kindness.            but    alas    she    had    always    been    more    interested    in    making    thunder    fall    from    the    sky    than    she    had    wished    to    see    skin    being    repaired.            she    had    no    patience    for    the    healing    arts,    and    had    too    much    of    a    temper    to    even    pretend    she    could    do    anything    but    damage.    

walking    across    the    room,    she    sits    at    the    table    where    the    necklace    is    put    down.            «        it's    an    old    story,    and    most    of    it    might    be    untrue.            i    haven't    had    time    to...            make    sure    of    its    authenticity.            could    not,    without    the    object    itself.        »            curses    are    peculiar    things,    and    one    must    be    careful    when    trying    to    understand    its    inner    workings.            that    is    why    most    of    curse-breaking    is    history    work.            one    has    to    find    all    the    hearesay    in    order    to    come    upon    the    actual    magic.            «        are    you    sure    you    wish    it    hear    it?        »