spectrals

[spectrals]

new icon time!!! new icon time!!!

[spectrals]

nathaniel, local alchemist and proprietor of mystique offerings, at your service!

[spectrals]

Nathaniel watched the spectacle unfold with mirth. Certainly strange, to see plants and vines acting on behalf of the innkeeper herself, but hey, what could he say, truly? He was a race from beyond these realms. He shouldn’t be here, but here he was.

“Noble Haven, huh,” the plasmoid said, mostly to himself, as she turned and returned to the inner workings of her inn. He caught a glimpse of those within before the door swung shut—most seemed to gorge themselves silly on food, though some peered curiously to the mouth where the troublemakers were unceremoniously cast from.

Nathaniel approached the board, the one she’d gestured to.

“Don’t start a fight,” he mutely echoed, gaze trailing over the first, boldly scribed rule upon tamed, smooth wood. He turned, peering back at the individuals which laid, sprawled and shamed, in an ungainly heap upon the ground before the establishment. Amusement lilted his words. “Well, didn’t heed that one, did you, buds?”

In he went. He was sure to let his expression, which had been woollen and otherwise undefined, warp and morph into something more pleasant—a small smile, slight plumpness to his violet cheeks.

Funny, to be in a society so intent on facial features, when his own race was naught but a blob. The very notion of the face, and by extension facial expressions, was foreign to his people. He’d gotten quite good at it, yes, but still didn’t wield it with the same fluency as the mortals who trekked these lands, born and raised.

The Noble Haven was quite a pleasant looking place. Its shell wore something alien but mystical, and the inside echoed the same sentiment. Many of the tables were occupied, word travelling much like a wildfire tearing through dry forestry, and the wafting aroma of food was heavenly. Certainly better than what his cooks whipped up in his own establishment, Mystique’s.

Though, to be fair, people rarely to came his club with the intention of getting good grub.

“Nice,” he chirped, beelining towards one of the few vacant tables.

it was a good place to be, so had been determined. having spent a good couple of months only striking down along well-traveled but long-stretching roads with no accommodations along the way, settling down here at the outskirts of baldur's gate was a bit of a treat for the innkeeper herself, an indulgence being close to the city so she might close her inn a day or two at times to explore a little as she has often done in the past.

with few minor adjustments for safety of the building and her customers, drawing upon nature to help out a hand where mere mortal hands could do nothing to stop the ravaging of the waves on this cliff. after all, it would be terribly bad for business if the lot of them all fell off it during night or day.

it had not taken too long for customers to start trickling in, slowly at first until word had started spreading about the nearly impossibly cheap prices offered and stellar quality of food & alcohol as well as lodgings. the inn, though never very devoid of company, always did draw in larger numbers near cities like these, and it also meant no shortage of shenanigans and incidents, ranging from merry drunk mischief to those thinking they were above the sacred rules enforced on the premises. the former ada could live with. the latter, however, almost never forgot their encounters and always left with quite the lesson.

vines slithered through the inn, tightly wrapped around the troublemakers whose screams and protests fell upon deaf ears as none of the other guests saw fit to try and stop this innkeeper's rather unique way of dealing with trouble. dragged to the front, the plants unceremoniously opened the door and sent the men flying out onto the ground as someone approached. " and you best stay out !! no fucking fighting, and what i say goes in this place! " one had to rule with an iron fist, perhaps especially when one was a woman of smaller stature. couldn't have people think she was a doormat. " anyone else fancy a lesson tonight, hmmm? " quick murmurs of resounding no's and the shaking of heads as people turned back to their respective eating, drinking, and whatnot, leaving the innkeeper looking satisfied as she picked up some empty beakers before turning to the new arrival. " welcome, welcome, do come on further in, i don't bite. excuse the unfortunate incident you just saw, but the rules are very clear here at the noble haven. " a slight nod to a board one could not miss, six rules boldly written upon it.

[spectrals]

me wanting to join in on these sunday shenanigans but looking at my cast of lads and being like. hm. eeny meeny miny moe—

[spectrals]

for @innchanted.

The weather was tempered; it’d been pleasant these past few weeks. Nathaniel decided—for the second time this week—he’d like to take a longer trip around the outer skirts of Baldur’s Gate, closer to the seaside and the salty zephyrs tickling his cheeks, rather than to beeline for his abode deep within the city’s heart.

As he walked, quite a leisurely pace, he came to a gradual halt. A few moments passed, the cogs of his brain churning: forced into a double-take, he snapped his head to the left—to this clifftop inn. An inn around these parts wasn’t necessarily a shocking happenstance, but what was, was the fact that this inn definitely didn’t sit here approximately two days ago when he took the same dragged-out route to his house. Everything was prim and proper, and alien flora sat about, beautiful and hugging the infrastructure in a way that felt simultaneously pretty and also protective.

The land had once been cleared; swept down. What sat prior was a humble home of a fisher, but, as the cliff began to chip away, it became too dangerous for them and their family to stay—they left some time ago, hoping to set up elsewhere. The land had been up for sale for some months, flirting with a year, before all attempts were naught but sadly scratched away. The cliffside flanks had been lashed down, the maws of the relentless seaside dragging down piece by piece of rock and rubble. What was once a modest home of this fisher and their family, had been decimated to a few, scraggy piles of wood and other mediocre leftovers. Every time Nathaniel walked by it felt like the land got narrower still just by a lick.

Now stood this inn—and if he wasn’t mistaken, it seemed to have reconstructed some footing of this here cliff, extending its chin enough to form something safe and sturdy for the inn to sit upon. Nathaniel stepped closer to it; curiosity piqued.

Commotion ran amuck inside.

[spectrals]

almond cottonwood!! 💕

[spectrals]

since tumblr isn't letting me post the full picture (it shows on my blog, not the dashboard </3) let's see if this cropped one works for now!!

[spectrals]

almond cottonwood!! 💕

[spectrals]

the people have spoken..... almond's hair shall Henceforth be bloo

quick question! the medium blue or the dark green? i'm leaning, i think, towards the dark green but i think they both look good GFDKLMDG

[spectrals]

graphics test??? yes!!!

[spectrals]

quick question! the medium blue or the dark green? i'm leaning, i think, towards the dark green but i think they both look good GFDKLMDG

[spectrals]

thinkin abt almond cottonwood, my hexblood character <3 whose parents desperately desired a child, options ran dry, and made a deal with a hag in order to get their wish <3 but not without consequences <3

[spectrals]

Laughter ruptured from his throat, head thrown back some. The seared yellow-red of his hair—if it could be called that—grew in its glow, heat beating in the molten sloughs and slabs much like that of his heart.

“Ah, come on, promise I’m sturdier than I look!”  Pompeii flashed a big grin, plumping his cheeks.  “If anyone should be worried about getting stepped on, should be you! Heard the soles of my feet, even through shoes, are quite—warm.”

There was a waggle of his brows, the threat jesting and lighthearted but not without an ounce of candour, before he gently took the tiefling’s hand within his own and beckoned them both onto the extravagant dancefloor. Despite his crinolined attire, it became increasingly obvious that Pompeii were to take to dancing like a duck unto water; natural and gifted with the sway and swish of his heels.

His movements were slow, accommodating his newfound dance partner, with that grin still happily plastered over his lips.

@spectrals : ❝  i come with some admirable qualities!  ❞ — ballroom dialogue prompts, for the equinox event from pompeii!!

“Mhhhhm—uh huh, uh huh—go on, go on!”

His fingers curl at the end of his chin as he nods his head quickly as Pompeii speaks, looking down at him—which is weird, now that he thinks about it. Sure, he’s seen dwarves and gnomes and goblins before—interacted with them even, but he still wasn’t quite used to being taller then someone.

Still, Trust wasn’t necessarily picky—he had some preferences, sure—but he was open to giving some people a chance. Besides, he didn’t expect being asked to do anything at this whole ordeal; he was planning to pickpocket a bunch of rich people and leave—but, the music and the people—he knew someone long gone who would have enjoyed this—but the thought is tucked away deep into his mind with a shake of the head.

“Okay okay, y’know what? I believe you, my molten guy,” Trust shrugs his shoulders. “Let’s give it a go! I’m not a great dancer though—I skipped out on those classes. Promise I won’t step on ya though!”

[spectrals]

thinkin abt almond cottonwood, my hexblood character <3 whose parents desperately desired a child, options ran dry, and made a deal with a hag in order to get their wish <3 but not without consequences <3

[spectrals]

Xahillid tried hard—so desperately hard—to not let discomfort warp his face, body, and mind. He might have to spit falsities left and right in this conversation, especially if this man fixated on the point of his birthplace. He might be able to pull wool over his eyes, by appearing unsophisticated, ungainly, gawky, and overall just an awkward mess. Or maybe it’d just horrifically worsen his situation. Who knew, really!

As Banu tilted forward ever so slightly, Xahillid tilted back ever so slightly.

“North,”  he said, curt. Perhaps a little too curt, and he came to this realisation one second too late—the space between sentences drawn out just a smidge too long for a happy, seamless transition.  “You, uh. Where do you. Come. From?”

It took considerable effort not to laugh at the slap of his hand, the brush of knuckle. An olympic feat had been presented to him! He bit down on his inner cheek until he felt the familiar taste of iron coat his tongue, lips curling inwards into a tight thin line, in a desperate attempt to curb his laughter.

Swallowing blood and amusement, he returns his hand to lay against the small of his back as he tilted ever so slightly forward. Thankfully, his curiosity usurped his desire to burst into a thunderous roar, but it still remained ever present.

"Xahillid -- the pleasure is all mine." A smile, but he maintains his tight-lipped grin. No use in flashing a pair of bloody teeth. Not yet, at least.

"Tell me, Xahillid, where do you hail from?"

[spectrals]

show ur tits off king !!

[spectrals]

pompeii rly said short king hours