#╰ 🗡 ╮°• ⟨ lore. ⟩

[splinter-winter]

Intro post

Here's what you need to know about me! :p

"I just lost a lung to a crab, leave me alone.."

Winter Snow

Immortal

Elf+Goddess

• Goddess of Chaos + Destruction

Genderfluid - Any pronouns

Pansexual

"Now one of my bosses..."

"What are you doing, Winter?"

"Nothing Bel.."

Belial Onyx

•Aliases: Bels_Art/Bel

38.

Human

Male — He/Him

Aromantic/Asexual

TAGS TO DENOTE THINGSSS

#💙Intro Post🗡

#💙Reblog🗡

#💙Winter Speaks!🧨

#💚Belial Speaks🗡

#💙Other Blogs!🗡

#🎃OOC speaks🎃

#💙Character intro🗡

#💙Magic Anon🗡

#💙Anon🗡

#💙Ask Answered🗡

#💙Art🗡

#💙Lore🗡

#💙Angst🗡

#💙Rp🗡

#💙Queue🗡

Full pfp art:

Main blog: @oct0berpumpkin

More about the characters/Additional characters (Character Profiles): Winter: Characterhub ('wiki') Unvale (Basic info) Belial: Characterhub Unvale

Divider Credits:

Paper Dividers: @saradika-graphics , @bernardsbendystraws

Blood Dividers: @saradika-graphics (again..)

Star/Teal Dividers: @g0ds-f4v-svp3rn0v4

(I CANT TAG THEM :(/OOC)

Clock/Teal Dividers: @sisterlucifergraphics

[gwynbleiddyn]

→ AN ODD COMFORT || Lucanis x m!Rook • mostly spoiler-free, implications and some dialogue from Lucanis' final romance scene

Exhaustion colours Lucanis’ face in grim gauntness, even under the glow of water and the sunlight of a gentle Rivaini hand.

Kerros traces the faint, blurred edge of a dark circle with his thumb until it sweeps over Lucanis’ dark brow, and fingers slip easily into raven-dark hair, nails dragging lightly along skin. It earns him a gentle grumble of appeasement from the not-sleeping assassin in his lap, whose eyes remain closed in spite of his arguments.

Or rather, Spite’s argument has lessened in shared yearning with its host. The thought crosses Kerros’ mind unburdened, recalling the oddly comforting embrace of spectral wings not an hour before. 

Could be worse, he thinks. He could be battling something like Endless Disappointment or the crushing gloom of Emptiness. Are those even demons? Probably. Maybe. They must be out there, somewhere, ruining every Fade party they come across–

“Rook. Think quieter. Want to look. At you.” 

Kerros’ eyes are drawn to Lucanis’ own, now barely open, purple light spilling from beneath long dark lashes. Beautiful, in a strange and otherworldly way. Kerros chuckles faintly, unwilling to disturb the host from a barely-kept slumber. He runs his fingers down the distinguished curve of Lucanis’ nose, feeling every gentle scar and subtle blemish beneath calloused fingertips. 

A strange privilege indeed, to see a contract killer this close without fear of it being the last thing he does.

“You’ve looked plenty, Spite. Let Lucanis sleep,” Kerros answers Spite, as he always does. The purple glow flickers away, receding as Lucanis’ chest rises with a sudden breath, eyelids fluttering open. Dark, glassy brown, and Kerros would kill to see them in a Rivaini sunset. Maybe after this is done.

“I never sleep,” comes the eventual reply, voice heavy with evidence to the contrary. Kerros lets him have the moment, hand returning to card through his hair, letting it fall from between his fingers before they settle at his jaw instead.

“It’s alright if you do,” Kerros says. “Spite and I can play cards or something.”

Another grumble ensues as Lucanis shifts, propping himself up on an elbow to stare indignantly up at Kerros instead, his brow creasing. “Don’t say that. I haven’t taught him Wicked Grace yet.”

Of course. A fair and compelling argument. Kerros grins, hand dropping to trail fingers down Lucanis’ neck and collarbone instead, feeling the thrum of his words through fingertips. It is a pleasant sensation, a new one. He’s still fumbling in the closeness, uncertain of the unknown. He hopes Lucanis doesn’t quite feel the trembling in his hands, but that is wishful thinking, to pretend that a Crow cannot see the obvious.

“I’m not afraid of him. I just don’t want to waste time now that you’re here.” Lucanis tilts his head, indignance sweeping away beneath a coy glance and a half-hidden smirk. Every move, every look, every word - it all pulls and tugs at the wild little creature Kerros calls a heart, hidden safely behind layers of skin and bone and gold. He had tried to ignore it, and that turned out poorly. But he cannot bring himself to listen to it either, knowing that joy is nothing more than a chained bird, doomed to be brought low sooner or later.

But this Crow does not wear chains any longer. He made sure of that. 

“You still have to sleep sometimes,” Kerros argues. It is a weak attempt, and one that Lucanis easily bats away, his warm hand engulfing Kerros’ wrist as soon as Kerros dares to trail fingertips across his chest. Don’t tease, he can practically see Lucanis' eyes begging silently. 

“With you here, like this?” Lucanis sighs contentedly, gathering Kerros’ fingers and curling his hand into a fist only to press a kiss to ever-bruised knuckles. His beard scratches, his breath almost too warm, the kiss… his heart wrestles against its own bindings, and it hurts. Kerros doesn’t know what to do with it. 

“Lucanis…” Kerros murmurs, unsure of what he wants to say. Lucanis’ gaze turns from soft to sharp in a moment, assessing, the intricacies of a mired mind at work. He presses Kerros’ fist back to his chest, where Kerros can feel his own thrumming heartbeat. It is in his throat, and his head, and his stomach, and–

“Kerros.” Lucanis sits up, the plush cushion of the seat sinking as weight readjusts, placing Lucanis farther away than Kerros would like him. He frowns, instinctively reaching out but his fingertips only ghost warm skin as Lucanis turns to face him instead, and Kerros finds himself mirroring him. He lifts an eyebrow in silent question.

“I may not be afraid anymore, but I think you are,” Lucanis answers. “And I know it is not Spite who scares you.” 

He’s not wrong, even if Kerros wants to say that he is. He swallows, mouth dry, unable to speak past the heartbeat in his throat. 

“Is it me?” Lucanis asks, quiet and vulnerable, and Kerros groans, shaking his head. Never could be. 

“No. No, it’s not you. I never want you to think that, either,” he says, a little more pointedly than he means to. 

Lucanis offers a faint smile, reassuring - I had to ask- but the question remains in his gaze. 

Kerros feels it would be easier to dig into his ribcage and present the problem than try to verbalize it, but that might put a dent in the god-slaying plans for tomorrow. So he sucks in a breath and shifts a little closer, knees bumping into Lucanis’ own, arm stretching along the back of the sofa with a palm upturned - a gesture that Lucanis happily acquiesces to, offering his hand, and Kerros takes it firmly.

“I’m about to violently upstage your broody clouds of doom with my own, okay? Don’t take it personally,” Kerros tries to joke, and the muted laughter from Lucanis does a little to unwind the state his heart has gotten itself into. But only a little. “I just… don’t know how to be. I like flirting, I like the chasing, I love the– the fun of it all. But when that all turns real, when I know the feelings aren’t just here today and gone tomorrow, that scares me.” 

His thumb rubs gentle circles across the back of Lucanis’ hand, and he distracts himself for a moment studying every freckle and vein. 

“It scares me because I don’t really know what to do when it’s real. It feels so… vulnerable. Like…ugh. Not ‘oh no, I left my back open and got stabbed’ kind of vulnerable, the other kind. The one where it feels like someone can look at you and know every single thought. Every feeling. Every desire.” 

There is a flicker of understanding in Lucanis’ eyes, momentarily illuminated by the water-glow behind them. And perhaps there is a little of Spite’s purple gaze in there too. Watching. Listening. 

“That’s a lot. That’s a lot. And that’s the thing – I want you to. I want you to know me. I want to know you. You make me happy, you make me feel good when I’m around you, you… you understand the weird things, the insanity that we’re in. But you also remember my favourite dessert, and the way I like coffee. You know I hate the cold and the feeling of moss. You know stupid shit about me, and I love that, so much,” Kerros can’t help his smile, even if it wavers. All of those things are true - he does feel good here, safe, looked after. It’s easy to be around Lucanis. Kerros just wishes it could be easier still. 

“You deserve more than that, if we’re going to do this. You deserve everything. I want you to know what’s all tied up in here,” Kerros presses a hand to his chest, and his fingers tangle in the gilded chains around his neck. Gifts. Keepsakes. Soon to be a memory of those he’s going to lose. “But I can’t fucking let it go. That scares me, because I don’t know what to do when it’s gone.” 

The admission is raw. The words have never escaped Kerros’ lips before, and the force of them leaves his eyes stinging. His face feels drained of colour and warmth, goosebumps crawling up his shoulders along with the cold realization that the day he dreads is rapidly approaching. 

“Hey,” Lucanis’ voice cuts through the echoing drum of his heartbeat, louder than ever. Kerros doesn’t have time to think before his face is buried in Lucanis’ neck, his nose filled with the scent of him, his body wrapped beneath the weight of him, his heart… well. It remains bound. But it hurts less when Lucanis is holding him as he is, like he never intends to let go. 

“Your honesty is all I ask, tesoro mio,” Lucanis murmurs. The words bleed out of him, honey on the skin, warming Kerros through along with the hand rubbing gentle circles at his back. “I do not ask for things you cannot give, and I never will. Whatever is in there? Keep it. If it sees you through tomorrow, and the next day, and the next, keep it. Keep it until want becomes need.”

“But you deserve–”

“Nothing, Kerros. Nothing is owed. Nothing is deserved. We made no contract, and I will not reduce your heart to ink and parchment. You are more than that.” 

There are few better ways for a contract killer to alleviate Kerros of his guilt. He feels the release almost immediately, the self-inflicted bindings unravelling faster than Kerros can manage, and so he sinks into Lucanis’ hold and stares blankly at the undulating water casting light through the glass of his room. 

“You’ll stay?” he mumbles into Lucanis’ shoulder, following it up with a fleeting kiss to a cluster of freckles, now committed to memory. Lucanis leans back, sinking into the corner of the sofa and bringing Kerros with him. He gives Kerros room to shift in his arms until he’s lying comfortably, securely, feeling safer than he has in a long time, and too-gentle hands begin to card through his hair. Kerros acknowledges he is going to fall asleep here, forgetting about the weight of tomorrow. It is hidden somewhere behind Lucanis, out of sight, and out of mind.

“For as long as you’ll have me,” comes Lucanis’ answer. Kerros smiles, faint and tired. “Sleep. You need it.”

“We. Watch. Keep Rook safe,” echoes Spite. 

An odd comfort, indeed. But Kerros will take it.

He cannot let his heart go, yet. But perhaps he will be able to sooner than he’d imagined. 

[nox-in-a-box]

Okay so this post has a lot of rambling about Percy and dragons and I realised too late that I need to give a little bit of context first so we're all on the same page. So um. Percy Jackson x HTTYD Crossover where Percy is in the HTTYD universe or whatever because that's my favourite type of crossover, Percy randomly ending up places. Now he's ended up in the Archipelago.

Okay moving on.

So, Percy riding a dragon. Firstly, I was thinking about the obstacles he would face in doing so. Obviously he would be wary of dragons, since he's someone who spends most of his time fighting monsters. And even if he grew to like them, they are still flying creatures, and he'd be in the air while riding them. And the sky is Zeus's domain. And I think that this latter point is the more important one.

Assuming that Percy just ended up in some alternate universe or into a different time period (?) you could maybe argue that since he is nowhere near the domain of the Greek gods (but rather, Norse), it should be fine for him? Could that even work? I need to brush up on my Riordanverse knowledge...the little amount that I have left, at least (man, I really need to reread those books). But like, I could always twist canon to my liking anyways, so...

Okay but forget all that stuff, I wanna think about what dragon he would ride, if he were to do so. First thing that comes to mind is a night fury, and it makes the most sense to me, to be honest. He could free it from the dragon trappers similarly to how he freed Blackjack from Luke's ship, maybe.

Moving on...another thing I was thinking about is: Percy can understand sea creatures. Would he then be able to communicate with tidal class dragons? I mainly brought this up because scauldrons are one of my favourite dragons and I want him to interact with one. Oh, maybe he could ride a scauldron! He can breathe underwater so diving would not be an issue.

[selfship-dreamland]

A bit of a lore rundown with Vanilla (my Kirby sona) if she's part of the Right Back at Ya anime.

After moving over from her home to Cappy Town (probably that of her pudding dog family would like to have her leave their kennel for a new life. But hopefully she'll be able to visit them). The dog would feel that it can be a good place to live in. Once she gets her new sweets shop set up by Kawasaki's restaurant, Vanilla immediately begins her business before a few Cappies come by. The chef sees it and goes over to check, he sees more Cappies going by and it was having poor Vanilla become overwhelmed to do their orders.

When Tiff and Tuff saw Vanilla, they eventually warm up to her as a friend and both of the kids brought her to Dedede's castle where they and their parents live. Elflin and Like also welcome the dog in as family. However Tiff and Tuff only brought her because since she's a new kind of dog around her sugary sides in Dreamland.

Vanilla finds a pink ball eating a slice of her cake and it was Kirby. Upon seeing him for the first time, she finds him so adorable and cute, making Vanilla just wanting to hug him for life and thus becoming fast friends. However, unfortunately, it leads her to be in a little trouble as the King's snail right hand; Escargoon caught her, thinking that she came her unannounced with a trolley full of baked goods. As she's brought to Dedede's throne room. Vanilla was nervous of being in trouble and tries to make an excuse, in order to have the king let her go. But instead, she made one about showing one of her cakes out and gives him a taste test. Of seeing how delicious her cakes were, Dedede was impressed and likes to promote her as the title of 'Royal Baker' for his kingdom.

While being both a resident baker and also a baker for her majesty. At her shop, she eventually met Meta Knight, although they were talking normally, Vanilla seems to be getting quite shy of how the swordsman speaks. When she spoke with Kirby about her latest interaction who looks a lot like him except he's blue and wears a mask around his face. Kirby smiles, knowing of that his canine friend is talking about Meta Knight.

In the castle, while Vanilla is helping out Dedede. She would eventually bump into Meta Knight (and/or sometimes his allies Sword and Blade who follow with him around). Both would make small talks till the king gets impatient and demands his desserts to be bringing by her.

She would let Kirby sleep in her home since when interacting with Tokkori, Vanilla seems upset at the bird letting Kirby sleep at his nest outside and he takes his house.

[unstxblesystem]

Request from priv twt for Wickwatcher Pyro which btw everyone should watch the first episode if they haven't

[change-of-fates]

looks like we got company shed!

*i lean on his shoulder*

just think what multiple of us could do! i mean i could do worse as just me but wheres the fun in that! i like taking it slowly!

``...``

``I'm not entertaining any of you.``

``Do what you want, but I wont go off.``

``I refuse to let any of you annoy me to the extent you already have.``

[snixx]

diversity win! guy who runs popular hindutva account I had beef with on instagram back in 2021 is gay for my favourite cousin who apparently catfished and ghosted him??!

[chill-vibes-but-rainbow-panic]

I noticed that I've started talking a lot about Vince and Vikram; and I have shown Cassandra and technically my Ex-Dark Lord here, too. But I never really talk about the other members of the team.

So while it's not many yet, have some (concept) art of them :)(Warning, some of these drawings are old)

The Warrior - Derek (He has appeared in my tags before)

The Cat - No Name Yet

The Thief - Clyde

The Imp - Astaroth

[umbral-archives]

i don't know if you've answered this before, but why does murdoc choose to call reader "fawn?" it's very cute but knowing him there's definitely some sort of Evil Bitch Lore™ behind it in his lil head

I have answered this but some of the lore changed/I've better character insight on Fawn and Murdock so I'll link the old post and give a bit more info.

For one thing, take any lore I list for Fawn's background with a grain of salt as I'm wishy-washy with everything from Murdock's killing motives to his first name (Murdock is a middle name) and his eye color to Fawn's occupation and how they meet. As an example, previous post has Fawn being adopted, yet more recently I've rolled it back to bio-mother and stepfather. Fawn's bio-dad has a pivotal role in the story as he has from the beginning. Everything related to 'Fawn' as a nickname in that post remains true to my canon, but what I've changed is as thus: The night Fawn and Murdock meet, Fawn freezes up when faced with the threat of a murderer- ironically not the first one they face that night but they don't know this. In Murdock's mind, Fawn very much reminds him of the baby animal in question, and he mockingly refers to them as such. The intent is to remove a witness, glean information from them because he saw them interacting with the other murder, his longtime target- only for something about them, some old deja-vu to stay his hand, letting them escape... ... but they don't leave his mind.

[exagides]

Angelica: Where does your muse draw inspiration in life? What motivates them? Lavender: How easy is it to gain your muse’s trust? Once their trust is broken, how might one go about mending it? & Southernwood: How seriously does your muse take themself? Do they prefer a solemn & intellectual atmosphere or do they delight in jokes & banter?

Angelica: Where does your muse draw inspiration in life? What motivates them?

Wikstrom's inspiration, first and foremost, comes from his family's legacy. All that strive to push others to be the best they can, to work with their partner pokémon to form a better bond, it's all from the stories and legends he was told about how his ancestors worked alongside pokémon to protect those around them. He wants other people to find that same passion and drive. That need to protect and care for anyone weaker.

Above all else, though, he wants to make things easier and better for anyone that comes after him. Be it the next generations of people and pokémon, or just the person who takes his place in the Elite Four — anything at all he had to fight to do, he wants the next in line to not need to.

Lavender: How easy is it to gain your muse’s trust? Once their trust is broken, how might one go about mending it?

Generally speaking, Wikstrom usually gives people the benefit of the doubt in terms of trust. Depending on the person, of course, but gentle trust is easy to get. Further trust, like what he has with his team, with the Elite Four and especially Diantha… That takes work. A good amount of time working together and being reliable can win him over.

Broken trust, though? That's a tough one. It'll vary from person to person and the prior relationship. If someone breaks his trust and seems like they want back into his good graces immediately, he takes it as a red flag. There has to be communication about how that trust was broken and how to repair the foundation — if you just try to say “my bad” and go back to how things were, he's going to be keeping a very, very close eye on you, if not shut you out altogether.

Southernwood: How seriously does your muse take themself? Do they prefer a solemn & intellectual atmosphere or do they delight in jokes & banter?

There's got to be balance in this for Wikstrom. He loves a light-hearted atmosphere and the ability to joke around! His klefki alone is proof of that much — Oberon is a mischievous little thing that Wikstrom loves very dearly. He wouldn't change him for anything, and he may even encourage it now and then.

At the same time, with how much of Wikstrom’s daily life is influenced by his family's legacy, he has to be able to flip that switch and be serious. That part of him can get a little dour — but only because he knows the topic of Kalosian history and his family's role in it needs respect. He won't joke around about that — he'll tone it down for younger folks so as to not come across as intimidating, but it's still serious and solemn.

Overall, though, I think he comes across as someone who's bright and positive because that legacy deems it — his ancestors made things better for him, so he wants to appreciate it. And he's sure to make others know that — look to the past for why one should be happy in the moment! Make sure the ones after you are happier than you!

[maximumeffort69]

I thought edd and edward were the same alter mb

JOW DO I EXPLAIN when edd was formed he was kind of a split off of edward specifically because edd's source was edwards special interest for the LONGEST TIME EVER (still is) and adopted half of his traits to the point that he doesnt even have those traits on purpose. and then edd formed which took SOME of those traits but they still have some similar personality traits and like fav foods and drinks

[infernal-general]

what kind of herb are you?

Dandelion

You grew up too fast and all you know is the calluses on your fists and the thousand invisible scars that you pretend don't ache. Your anger burns so bright, so hot or maybe not at all, so deep you could never tell it was there. You are yours and you will defend that to the death after so many years of being ripped apart and denied your own agency and maybe you are still facing the bastards who stole your innocence but you will survive because that's the only thing you know how to do without breaking, the only thing you know besides protect, protect, protect, protect, yourself or sometimes those few others you claim as yours. You are a thousand sharp edges but impenetrable, a traumatized child so covered by thorny armor that you promised yourself you're grown now, you're stronger than anyone who has ever hurt you. You're safe. Nothing will ever hurt you again. You're so alone though sometimes, in a world that sees you as too much or too broken or too angry or too hurt, and you want to scream with the too-much of it, prove that you're okay, that you're self-reliant, that you are strong enough to stake your claim on your body, on your mind, on your heart, on your people, and protect it from any who dare take it away from you. You are the sea in tempest, a howling sky, a tsunami in motion, a force of nature, no matter how much you sometimes yearn to be still, to be safe, to be small. You are a dandelion, stubborn and determined to grow in the rockiest of soil, and bloom again in spring.

[pixelpaladin24]

|| I've finished the first Dune book and I'm on 🔥🔥🔥

[unstxblesystem]

Everyone reading this if you like funky minecraft lore and especially things like Whitepine I beg of you go watch Wickwatcher the first episode just premiered a bit ago and I need people to support my goat Jack Pyroscythe he's an amazing writer and I know he's gonna cook so hard with this project

-🗡

[violetsareblue-selfships]

Plethora, defunct, saudade!

Thank you for the questions! :3

Plethora (n.) Excess, a large amount. How many total f/os do you have? Do you think you have a lot compared to most people? (Nothing wrong with having a lot of f/os, it’s just cool to see how many some people have!)

If this is romantic only... I have 49 total. I do think it's a lot compared to most people I've seen hehe. (And then I have a bunch of platonic + familial f/os too)

Defunct (adj.) No longer existing or functioning. Are any of your f/os from media that is already completed? If you could have any new content for your f/o, what would you like to see?

I mean, a lot of the Zelda ones come from games that likely won't get a sequel so that's finished. It would be cool to see them in a game again but unless we get more sequels, it's unlikely. But even seeing them in another Hyrule Warriors type situation would be cool ^^

Saudade(n.) the feeling of longing, melancholy, or nostalgia. Have you had any of your f/os for a long time? How long have they been your f/o? Which one have you had the longest?

Yeah, I've been shipping with a lot of my Zelda f/os since I was younger - like I have fics from 2016 or so with them (i.e. Ghirahim & Dark Link), though technically the Snow White with the Red Hair ones count too (Shirayuki, Zen & Obi) - I was planning a self insert in 2017 & never got around to writing it - though I'm still using the lore currently ^^

[shaingles]

First Encounter (Part 1)

Characters involved: 🗡 (Midas), 👑 (Boss), 🐏 (Osric), ☎ (Shepherd)

Crash! Bang! Slam!!!

Midas wakes up to men hollering and crashing dishes coming from the main hall. Despite it being routine, it doesn't fail to get under his skin. He groans, burying his head into his pillow to shelter himself from the ruckus.

Eventually, he rolls out of bed and preps for the day, dreading the inevitable. If it were up to Midas, he would blow this base up and hop off the grid... unfortunately, it isn't as easy as that...

He heads to the dining hall to get some breakfast. He's not in the mood to eat a hearty meal. Instead, he grabs a sunsettia, rinsing it off before sinking his teeth into the fruit's tough flesh.

"Good morning, junior," a passing member teases, provoking other Hawkeye members to snicker. Midas rolls his eyes, unamused by the laziest attempt to taunt him. He takes another bite of his sunsettia, letting its cold juices distract him as he exits the dining hall.

After breakfast, everyone migrates to the meeting hall. Midas stands among the crowd, keeping his head low and avoiding eye contact. The last thing he needs is someone starting something just to humiliate him. The buzz of chatting voices overwhelms him. He wishes he was still in bed.

"Attention!" A loud voice silences the crowd. "Boss has an important announcement! Listen well!"

Boss steps onto the podium, clearing his throat before asserting his presence.

"Let's get straight to the point. I have a lot of things to say about our operations. Listen closely. I won't be repeating myself..." His deep, rough voice echoes throughout the meeting hall as he announces his concerns. Everyone, including Midas, gazes at the older, brawny man as he speaks. As much as Midas wants to doze off, Boss's presence alone keeps him wide awake.

After his announcement, he divides the crowd into groups before assigning tasks to them. Midas attempts to rush out of the room—

"Midas," Boss yells, "get over here, boy!"

Midas gulps, walking over to Boss with haste. It's not uncommon for Boss to personally chat with him, but it still spikes his anxiety. "Yes, sir?"

Boss studies the younger man's raggedy appearance before sighing. "You're haul last week was underwhelming. I'm expecting higher-quality material today. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good. Now go."

Midas nods before rushing off. The lump in his throat loosens as he strays further away from the brawny older man. He nervously runs his fingers through his long brown hair as he catches up with his assigned group.

"Finally, you caught up, rookie," Shepherd jests.

"I'm not a rookie," Midas glares at him, "You, of all people, shouldn't be talking down to me." He tries to not let their goofy nicknames get under his skin, but it's hard sometimes.

"Whatever, let's hurry before the miners enter the Chasm."

The group descends into the chasm, effortlessly evading the surrounding Millelith soldiers and miners. One slip-up is enough to bust their entire operation. They have to stay conscious of their surroundings.

Once they sneak in, they slink into the shadows and regroup.

"Alright, you know the drill: grab what you can get," Shepherd asserts, "Don't leave any rock unchecked. We'll regroup in an hour. Understood?" The other treasure hoarders nod before looking at Midas, who seems distracted.

"Midas," He snaps his fingers, "Do you understand?"

Midas blinks before sighing, "Yeah, I got it."

Shepherd sighs, shaking his head. "Keep your head in the game. I'm not scrubbing the cellar floor because you'd rather daydream." He lights a torch before shooing everyone off. "Be back here in an hour."

"Prick..." Midas mumbles under his breath as everyone departs. They get to work, rummaging through unsupervised mine carts, abandoned rock piles, and unfinished tunnels.

Eventually, Midas strays away from the group as he searches for quality ore, grabbing one of the torches off the wall to illuminate his way through the dark cavern. He works better alone, or so he thinks. Deep down, he just doesn't want to stay near them. He explores the cavern, taking solace in the echoing silence of the Chasm. He wishes moments like this could last for eternity.

Something shiny catches Midas's eye. He walks closer to the glistening object before inspecting it. It's weightier than he expected. He brings the ore closer to his face, watching the dark blue surfaces shimmer in the dimly lit cavern. His focus was interrupted by rumbling echoing from a nearby tunnel. He shoves the gem into his coat pocket before unsheathing his dagger, grasping it tightly as he continues walking. He hopes he'll find more of... whatever that gem is.

Midas's search comes to a halt when he hears distant screaming. It grows louder as he looks around, searching for the source. Just as Midas looks up, a stranger falls down onto him, followed by debris and pebbles.

"Ugh..." Midas groans, "Watch where you're going, jackass!" He angrily shoves the stranger off him before stumbling onto his feet and dusting dirt off his raggedy clothing. He recovers his fallen torch and dagger before returning his glaring gaze to the stranger. The stranger's sheep-like ears catch his attention as he watches the man rub dirt out of his eyes. This is the first time he has seen anyone with Bovidae ears... coily hair... or brown skin.

"Here," he sighs, "Let me help you up."

The stranger looks up at Midas before taking his hand. "Thank you," he coughs, "I'm sorry for falling on you."

"It's whatever. Just watch where you're falling..." Midas helps dust the dirt off the sheepman's clothing before studying his appearance further. "Umm... I'm sorry for barking at you. Are you alright?"

"I'm okay," the sheepman reassures, "Also, it's no big deal. I'd be upset if some guy fell on me, too."

They both share a brief laugh.

"Umm... are you alone? It's not safe venturing the Chasm by yourself..."

"Ah..." the sheepman scratches the back of his head nervously, "Yes and no— I was with a group, but I got distracted and strayed away from them... Which then led me to the hole above, then it led me to... you." His sheep-like ears twitch again as a nervous chuckle escapes him.

"... You can come with me until you find your group," Midas sighs, taking some pity on the man, "Just keep your distance and keep up. I won't be slowing down for anything."

"Okay," the sheepman nods, "Thank you." He smiles as he follows Midas further into the Chasm.

The walk, for the most part, is silent. Every time Midas glances at the shorter man, he bears witness to him curiously scanning the rocky walls. He'd like to question the sheepman but can't with this odd feeling tingling his skin. I just met him, he thinks, and I'm letting him follow me? This is a bad idea... although spending time with an outsider is better than nothing.

"My name is Osric, by the way," the sheepman announces, "What's your name?"

"I— Uh... Midas... You can call me Midas."

"Mi-das..." Osric echos, his sheep ears twitching as he digests the new information. "That's a lovely name. It's nice to meet you, Midas."

Midas's cheeks flush when Osric compliments his name. "... Yeah..."

That's new... He thinks, turning away from Osric to hide his flushed face. He needs to stay focused on his task and not let the kindness of a stranger fog his mind. The walk remains quiet as the pair continues exploring the chasm.

To be continued...