cloudpools

[cloudpools]

The hunter felled by the hooded stranger was the one who had been binding her, but as their life drained, so too did their magic. "You would have been wise to keep your eyes on me." The smell of blood filled the air, and Nara wrinkled her nose. "Disgusting." She moved so quickly it was impossible to see, the only indication of her movement the flapping of her cloak as she ran. Before the hunter could continue his advance on her, she already severed the hand that had been holding the stake, and the other for good measure. He cried out, crumpling, and Nara sighed in bliss. "At least your singing is lovely."

Turning now to the final hunter facing off against her unknown savior, she is quick to rush up behind, grabbing the hunter by the throat and hurling her into the closest wall. Speed, strength, beauty, grace. Nara loved herself more than anything. "Now tell me," crimson eyes glinted in the moonlight as she took in the final figure left standing. "What would compel someone to step in to a fight they weren't apart of?" Too proud to admit that she had needed said help, she crossed her arms. "Your answer will determine how I deal with you."

The two hunters that she had attacked were still alive, groaning and disoriented. She'd promised them a slow death, and she would follow through with that promise once she was finished this little conversation.

“Shut up, leech.” Another hunter sneers, as they pull out a well-sharpened stake from their belt. “You’re in no position to make threats.”

As they say this, they raise the chunk of wood as if to stab her, but they get cut off by a scream. A large, hooded figure had somehow silently made her way behind them, and has plunged a small dagger into their side. The smell of their blood is almost intoxicating, she hadn’t been feeding nearly enough since she’d woken up. But, unfortunately for him, he doesn’t get the chance to indulge himself, as another hunter rushes for him.

He looks at Nara for just a moment, and she can see the stranger frown at her, as he seemingly doesn’t understand why she hasn’t run yet. Then she lets her victim fall to the ground as she turns to defend herself from the other hunter.

[cloudpools]

It takes a moment for Blythe to absorb everything she was being told, eyes trained on Zeyrfial as he explained. Information was precious to her, and she felt anxious to get back to her room and record all she'd learned in the notebook hidden beneath her pillow. There's relief in knowing that her contract had been different. Though still, she wondered why.

For a brief moment, she looked to the group of water sprites, undulating and staring blankly with black, beady eyes. There were so many of them. Why of all the contracts he had signed, had hers been different? Did... did she deserve to keep on living such an incredible life after the things she had unknowingly done? No, but again it reinforced her belief that Zeyrfial was a kind being. Even if that kindness was driven by pity, or whatever motivation she'd spin up to justify the decision.

Emerald eyes widened, pupils dilating as time seemed to stand still. "D- destroy them?" Her voice was a feather, floating weakly to the floor. It's not a question that needs to be answered. She completely understood what was being asked of her. The task that she had so excitedly grasped onto. The chance to prove to Zeyrfial that he hadn't made a mistake in bringing her here. That she was useful.

But... could she really kill the poor creature?

Carefully, she stood, trembling slightly as the body thrashed away, screaming in her mind. It was hard for her to watch them, but even harder was the crushing pressure of Zeyrfial's gaze on them both. What if she didn't do it quickly enough and they suffered? Did she even know how to kill something? Maybe subconsciously from her past... What was she thinking!? She couldn't kill something consciously! She looked at her hands, memories flitting through her mind of staring down at those very same hands, blood-soaked and scared. Hadn't she come here to get away from that? To keep from hurting anyone?

Blythe's loyalty to Zeyrfial was too strong... But maybe.... just maybe...

Offensive magic wasn't something she'd taken up learning. Blythe hadn't seen the need for it. A lot of her studies revolved around defensive spells... That, and spells to help with her daily cleaning duties. The ink blots in the sprite, growing and changing its form into the suffering, monstrosity it was now... Maybe... Maybe it was like a stain, and if she removed it, it'd go back to being a tiny, oblivious blob. It made her uneasy to think about taking away something's consciousness. She'd hated the times when she was unable to control herself, left in the dark and unsure what she'd find when she awoke... But she supposed even that was better than being gone forever.

Steeling herself, she raised her hands, concentrating hard on the simple spell. The screaming grew louder as the ink rose to the surface of their translucent skin, lifting them slightly as it tried to break through. "I- I'm sorry. I'm s- so sorry." Ink flooded out of every orifice on the creature, some of the ink pushing its way through the skin, surface tension giving way to Blythe's pull. It looked painful, and Blythe quaked harder, isolated inky orb starting to form above the creature. If only she had trained harder.... Been more naturally talented at magic, this process could have been less excruciating. The screaming rang on in her mind.

She didn't dare cry.

Zeyrfial regards Blythe curiously. His countenance doesn’t betray any surprise, but there’s something about the innocent curiosity that does instill that feeling. She’s asking if she will share their fate, and her tone carried no sense of anxiety towards this revelation. That if it were so, she’d accept it readily.

“No. And yes.” The archdemon responds, his words flat in tone akin to that of a teacher answering a question for a lecture. “They were all human at some point. But their fates were determined and decided upon by …different contracts. Our contract, the one which you signed- did not surrender your soul but your life to me in service.”

This payment which had been made in return for binding the darkness of her past. Intentionally vague as all contracts tended to be. This way the favor almost always played out for the demon or group that made it. With how fleeting normal mortal lives could be, this was simple done.

So long as that dark soul, Blane, was imprisoned or bound, his end of the deal was being fulfilled. It was part of another soul, so he could feed from it without causing death after all. A tumor. A blight. One that was filled with so much passion and fervent memory it was turning into a delicacy feeding from those pages. Not that he often did. All good things in moderation, after all.

“Make quick and destroy it, would you, my dear? Before it makes a larger mess to be cleaned up. As much as it made for an interesting experiment, it is not one I have any need to further humor.”

Zeyrfial looks to Blythe expectantly. Then. Speaks again. To make things more clear for the girl.

“Finish the task I assigned you.”

The small mercy if you could call it that, was that the manifesting humanoid continued to be pinned down by some unseen force. Though it thrived and thrashed against its bindings, it was only able to move a few feet at a time. An effort too pathetic to be called a chase.

DONT DO IT. LET ME GO. I DONT WANT THIS. ITS A CHEAT. HE LIED.

Pleading rings through Blythe’s head while under the patient scrutiny of her master.

[cloudpools]

Carter feels a sense of pride when she takes what he'd taught her and uses it. Even if she did hit the wrong ball... At least she hit one at all! He also couldn't help but admire her excitement over it. Such a small thing, yet Madison seemed genuinely excited and that warmed him. Her smile was infectious.

"New for you, huh?" He can't help himself. He has to tease her. "What? You normally hang out with preppy losers?" Her ex seemed like a loser anyway. "Glad you're givin' me a chance, then." Carter snorts, taking a step closer to her. In the time of their lesson, and first couple rounds, a rowdy group had made their way into the less crowded part of the bar where Madison and Carter were playing.

He couldn't figure out why that pissed him off... Was he jealous? Of what? Not being basically alone with her? Why? They just met. This was supposed to be a friendly hangout! But the more he got talking to her, the more protective he felt...

So when the piss-drunk guy bumps Madison, he's sure to catch her with one arm, the other shoving the dude back. "Hey, asshole! Pay the fuck attention." The dude shrugged it off, grumbling something under his breath. Carter had half the mind to throw a punch, but he was beyond that now. He was a better man.

Instead, he turns his attention on Madison. "You alright?" Carefully, he reached down, rough thumb swiping the chalk off her cheek. "You gotta be more careful," he said low, breathy. "Don't want you ruinin' the outfit you probably spent hours pickin'g" Holding up his thumb, he showed her the blue chalk smudge hoping that it would explain why he was touching her at all.

Probably should have just said something to her about it. But again, Madison was infectious. He's lost in those brown orbs for a moment, hesitating before he tries to step away. "Sorry. Let me give you some space."

Madison’s little face flattened & her mouth drew straight. “I’m not that short.” A weak argument to make considering her boots gave her an extra 3 inches & Carter could still tower over her.

When Carter stepped up to demonstrate how to play she thought he was just going to show her. Madison definitely didn’t expect Carter to come in close, press his body into hers, touch her hands & fill her nose. Her eyes flickered to him, “oh…. So that’s how you do it.” She said softly said in his ear. Those big brown orbs widened in a doe way when they scanned each piercing on his face. She liked the eye brow one. The lip one too…

Suddenly he was standing up & pulling away. My turn? Oh yeah. “Umm I’ll try again.” Her hands tried to mimic the way he held the stick & this time she shot she actually struck the white ball. A cute excited gasp followed by a smile escaped, “oh my god, that was so fun!” The ball rolled striking a striped one —she totally forgot to aim for her own ball— but she was excited.

“I like your style, I think it’s kinda cute.” A casual shrug & a pointed figured gestured to his entire figure. “This is new for me, but I dig it.” Rather than focus on his sad story she tucked her hair & lowered her stick to the ground using the base to balance. Mistakenly she placed the tip of the pole against her cheek smearing blue cue chalk over her cheek.

The horny topic came up again & a wider almost wicked smile spread over her face & she bit her bottom lip to keep from making any other remarks. Though the thoughts were there. Is he horny? Am I horny? Her own head shook away the thought. Don’t do that to yourself. Don’t get caught up in his hazel eyes.

Carter sure liked asking the hard questions. “Well…. I guess I kinda like everything.” She shifted her weight on each foot making her hips sway. Compared to people in the bar, she was so small, it was totally possible someone could miss her in the small crowd. So when a few rowdy people got a lil handsy, one man backed into her bumping her & throwing her off balance. She stumbled forward right into carters chest. Her hands grabbed his waist & her chest pressed into his.

Her cheeks reddened.

Oh god. He smells so fucking good.

Her head tilted up & she actually had to lean back to look at him. Oh god he’s so tall.

OH GOD, IM TOUCHING HIM.

[cloudpools]

⚜ Starter for @ourladyoftears

"Hurry up and stake her!" one of the three hunters screamed, eyes glowing from the spell cast that kept the vampire snared in the magic circle as two others of their ilk closed in. Nara growled, fangs bared. The livestock had gotten wise. They'd traced her habits over multiple generations until they pinpointed one of her many homes in the country's capital port town, Caelmoor. She did love to dine here in the winter. The sun rarely shone during the season, and there was nothing better than the chilled blood of nobility.

Though years of arrogance and routine had led her to the very predicament she found herself this night.

Skin pale, pitch-black hair draped around her otherworldly frame in deep contrast, the vampire woman stood tall despite the discomfort of the spell restraining her. "Once I am free, I will not grant you the mercy of a painless death. I will laugh as you suffer by my hand. It will not even be to feed on you. Just to enjoy ending insignificant pigs." Her deep red eyes glinted with hatred. Murder. But still the hunters approached, weapons in hand, ready to end her.

[cloudpools]

Holly woke in the middle of the night, dazed and confused. Where... where was she? Was this hell? It sure was dark and there was a LOT of beeping. Trying to sit up, she was startled at the feeling of the IV in her skin, monitors carefully clipped to her fingers and chest. Speaking of her chest, that was sore as hell, and she groaned looking down to find herself bandaged.

This was a hospital.

How did she get here? Had someone heard the explosion from her magic and retrieved her limp frame from the wreckage? God, she hoped not... That seemed like an annoying line of questioning she'd have to figure out how to handle. Yes, detective. I was in the sewers fighting a cult. How? Oh! I was given special powers from a talking cat. Holly heaved a sigh, head throbbing. That wouldn't go over well.

Hazel eyes, finally adjusted to the dark, looked around the sterile room. There wasn't much besides the typical equipment and furnishings. The only thing out of place was a folded-up piece of paper tucked neatly on her bedside table, along with some water and snacks. Careful not to dislodge any of the wires attached to her body, she reached out and took the note, unfolding and reading it.

Zaire... He'd been the one to bring her here... Sitting back in the bed, she sighed. She shouldn't have been worried about what that meant for him, but she was. Now that he had helped her, she owed him, which she didn't love... But she was still thankful for the assist. And hopeful that because the leader of his weirdo group was his own father, that he wouldn't be punished too severely. Surely he would have told his father a lie, right? He seemed a little stupid though...

Hopefully he had, because she was sure he had seen her true identity. The magic had to have faded shortly after their escape, frilly clothes changing back in a burst of light to her usual streetwear, lavender hair and eyes fading back to blonde and hazel respectively. Vulnerable. Exhausted. Weak. But he hadn't ended her. He'd saved her...

And he was sorry?

Setting the note back on her bedside table, she carefully turned on her side, curling up under the blankets. Once her magic recharged, she could heal the cut from Anton's sword easily. But for now, she just hoped they'd let her out of there in the morning with little questioning...

"I-I'm not sure why-?" Zaire could only stammer out an answer to the question. In truth, this was all overwhelming and confusing for the young lad. Before it had been clear cut, black and white, but here there were different things going on and different feeling tugging him in different directions. However, now was not the time to think...for the first time in a long time, he was going to trust his gut.

While the son was going through an internal moral dilemma, the father was not. His mind was clear. Anton flicked he sword a little and some of Holly's blood dropped on the floor. He pointed the blade at the Magical Girl to strike her again...then he noticed the magic swirling in her scepter and changed tactics.

He pointed his blade down and held the hilt in a reverse grip, the jewel on top of the hilt began to glow as he chanted under his breath "Hoc me muniat obice Starmaker.." ...but he was a bit too late. The vines shot out towards him, while the barrier he erected blocked most of the damage, she still managed to hit him with part of the vine that shot through before his spell went off. "HM!" He grunted in pain, the flash of light would also blind him for a second.

During the lightshow, Zaire took his chance. He knew his father was going to be pissed about this later, but he had made up his mind this time.

He scooped up Holly and darted towards the entrance, slipping out as the light died down. Anton only saw his shadow leaving the Sanctuary and heading into the sewers. The older man sheaved his blade and shook his head.

---

Holly would wake up in a nearby hospital, bandaged but safe. Zaire was nowhere to be seen, but there was a note left by her bedside.

"I'm sorry. Be careful, we have moved location. - Z"

[cloudpools]

"You have my attention." (Zaire to Holly)

First to Admit Meme || ⚜Accepting⚜

Zaire -> Holly

Holly snapped her fingers in front of the cultist's face. "Hello? Earth to Zaire. You in there?" The setting they were in felt wrong. This wasn't a dark tunnel, or back alley. This was Holly's apartment. And he looked horribly out of place. Doom and gloom in an otherwise well lit, pastel paradise. Not that Holly had all the time in the world to spend on interior decorating, but she had the basics, and a few pieces of art hung. What else did she need?

Apparently, this was all very fascinating to her.... what was he? Coworker? Accomplice? Spy? Eh. Whatever. Zaire was looking around her place, completely in outer space. Grinding her teeth, Holly was getting tired of being ignored, so she made a point of stepping right in front of him, and he bumped into her, his gaze finally fixing on her instead of whatever trinket he was absorbed in on her bookshelf.

"You have my attention."

It was said so flatly, so unimpressed, that something in Holly broke. Luckily, in his favor because she was laughing. "Oh! Good! Glad you're finally back. Now. Let's get to work!" She needed a model for the line of clothes she was going to design and pitch to a local shop. It was easy to make clothes for herself. But for guys? Well. She didn't have that many male friends, so weirdo cult boy was going to have to do.

[cloudpools]

›     FIRST   TO   ADMIT      →      receiver    to    sender.

i   think   about   you

you   make   me   nervous

you   feel   like   home

don’t   leave   just   yet

i   missed   you   today

i   want   you   close

you’re   hard   to   ignore

you   matter   to   me

my   heart   knows   you

i   care   too   much

you’re   all   i   want

i   waited   for   you

i   feel   it   too

i’m   drawn   to   you

it’s   always   been   you

i   can’t   stop   looking

i   like   you   more

don’t   make   me   fall

stay   a   little   longer

i’m   not   over   you

you’re   more   than   beautiful

you   feel   like   safety

i   need   you   here

you’ve   ruined   my   plans

i   can’t   unfeel   this

i   like   your   laugh

you   have   my   attention

you're   in   my   dreams

i   noticed   everything   about   you

i   didn’t   mean   to

just   say   the   word

i’d   choose   you   again

you’re   impossible   to   forget

i   want   more   time

i   still   remember   everything

i   can’t   fake   this

you’re   not   just   anyone

i   want   to   try

i   want   you   badly

i   wish   you   knew

i   think   you   know

i   meant   every   word

you’re   more   than   enough

you   make   me   better

i   feel   something   real

you’re   messing   me   up

i’m   not   afraid   anymore

don’t   make   me   say   it

i   love   your   voice

you’re   too   important   now

i’d   ruin   everything   for   you

i’m   trying   not   to

you’re   in   my   blood

don’t   let   go   yet

i   ache   for   you

you   already   know,   right?

i   didn’t   expect   you

you   mean   so   much

this   can’t   be   casual

i   need   to   tell   you

it’s   killing   me   inside

you’re   all   i   see

i   feel   so   alive

i   wanted   you   first

it’s   always   been   this

i’d   wait   for   you

you’re   more   than   temptation

i   keep   choosing   you

i’m   not   good   at   this

please   don’t   walk   away

you   were   worth   waiting

you   make   it   hard

it’s   not   just   physical

i   feel   every   second

i   want   to   stay

i   can’t   do   this

say   something,   anything   please

you   still   have   me

i’m   not   pretending   anymore

this   is   all   real

just   let   me   in

i   feel   everything   now

i   tried   to   hide

you’re   already   in   deep

this   changes   everything,   doesn’t   it?

i’m   terrified   to   lose   you

don’t   make   me   guess

you’re   all   i   crave

i   wasn’t   supposed   to

this   is   more   serious

i   didn’t   expect   this

i’ve   never   felt   this

you’re   messing   me   up

can   you   feel   it?

i   don’t   regret   us

i’m   scared   it’s   real

we’re   not   just   friends

you   feel   like   forever

do   you   feel   it?

i   think   i’m   falling

[cloudpools]

›        FIRST   TOUCH   PROMPTS       →     receiver   to   sender   (pt.   2)    …   espionage   /   spy   /   romance   inspired.

brushing     hair     behind     their     ear

hands     grazing     while     reaching     for     the     same     object

catching     them     by     the     waist

sliding   a   hand   over   their   holster   while   checking   for   weapons

tending   to   a   gunshot   wound   in   silence

brushing   fingers   over   their   pulse   to   check   they’re   alive

pinning   them   against   the   wall   to   keep   quiet

wiping   blood   or   sweat   from   their   brow

gripping   their   hand   tight   during   an   interrogation

pulling   them   behind   cover   with   a   firm   grasp

lifting   their   chin   to   check   for   signs   of   life

steadying   them   after   a   sudden   explosion   or   attack

wrapping   a   scarf   or   cloth   around   their   neck   for   disguise

touching   their   lips   to   silence   them

brushing   past   them   in   disguise,   pretending   not   to   know   them

adjusting   their   cufflink   or   watch   mid-mission

helping   them   out   of   a   tactical   vest

gripping   their   wrist   before   they   walk   into   danger

holding   their   face   after   a   close   call

brushing   dirt   or   ash   from   their   cheek   gently

sneaking   a   hand   under   the   table   to   reassure

linking   arms   to   pass   as   a   couple

tracing   a   fresh   scar   with   careful   fingers

pulling   them   close   while   hiding   in   shadows

fixing   their   earpiece,   lips   inches   apart

pushing   hair   away   to   whisper   a   secret

pressing   a   hand   to   their   chest   to   feel   their   heartbeat

zipping   up   their   suit   slowly,   lingering   at   the   collar

wiping   a   cut   on   their   cheek   with   a   thumb

lacing   fingers   together   before   parting   ways

touching   their   face   to   make   sure   they’re   real

grabbing   the   back   of   their   shirt   to   stop   them

brushing   a   hidden   note   into   their   hand

tapping   their   knee   under   the   table   for   reassurance

laying   a   head   on   their   shoulder   after   a   long   mission

cupping   their   jaw   while   patching   them   up

gripping   their   coat   lapel   to   make   a   point

letting   their   fingers   linger   after   handing   over   intel

holding   their   gaze   while   adjusting   their   glasses

brushing   off   shards   of   glass   from   their   back

wrapping   arms   around   them   after   a   near-death   moment

trailing   fingers   down   their   spine   to   check   for   wounds

sliding   their   hand   over   theirs   in   a   tense   car   ride

resting   a   hand   on   their   thigh   mid-interrogation

pulling   a   splinter   or   wire   from   their   skin

grazing   their   fingers   while   sharing   a   burner   phone

tilting   their   chin   up   with   two   fingers   to   meet   their   eyes

tugging   gently   on   their   jacket   to   stop   them   from   leaving

laying   a   hand   over   their   heart   after   a   confession

smoothing   their   collar   after   a   close   encounter

letting   their   fingers   linger   on   a   fresh   bruise

catching   their   wrist   as   they   reach   for   their   gun

leaning   forehead   to   forehead   behind   enemy   lines

pressing   a   palm   to   their   back   before   a   mission

brushing   off   flecks   of   blood   after   a   takedown

squeezing   their   hand   before   going   separate   ways

resting   a   palm   on   their   chest   during   a   rare   moment   of   quiet

helping   them   out   of   a   disguise,   brushing   hands   often

letting   their   hand   hover   before   finally   touching

[cloudpools]

"Yours is smaller because you pick a cue based on your height. And you're short." Not that that was a bad thing. It was cute really. But Carter was a man of facts, and he wasn't afraid to say them... Even if they could be taken harshly...

Hazel eyes watched as Madison whiffed twice. Had he really given her too short a pole? Had she even played before? Probably not, from the way she was whining. "Here. Let me show ya." Carter made his way around the table, carefully positioning her hands, using his own as a guide. He wasn't trying to be flirty about it, but he was close (how the hell else was he supposed to show her?). "Look. You use your front hand to keep it steady, and then the back hand for power. Just gotta be sure you hit it straight." To drive his point home he pulled back, perfectly hitting the cue ball into a solid one and sinking it for her. "And when you get one, you get to go again."

Carter let Madison go to try on her own this time. "What do I need a car for? I've got two legs and this town has surprisingly good public transportation." He shrugged. "And yea. I guess people get put off by my style... And my resting bitch face." He smiled at that.

That smile drops when she starts feeling bad though, and he quickly ran a hand through his stiff hair. "Listen, you don't have to be sorry about nothin'. I shouldn't have even brought it up, but it's the first thing I thought of so- I said it. But let's drop it. It's definitely a mood killer." Did it make him strong for handling the situation as he did? He wished he'd been stronger back then to stop his friend from dying at all... He wished...

Drop it, he thinks, following his own advice.

Physically shaking off the thought, he laughs. "A bunny?" His mind can't help but float the idea of Madison in one of those cute bunny suits. The ears, a tail. He tries to let it go, but damnit was it stuck for longer than it should have been. What was up with him tonight? Why didn't he have control over what he was thinking about? For fuck's sake... Maybe he needed to drink more?

He did just that.

"Probably a lizard, like you said before. They look weird and people are scared of 'em, but they're actually really nice." Smiling, he poked one of the tips of his spiked hair. "And horny." Laughing, he made his way back around the table. "Alright. Seems like we're getting to the 'what's your favorite color?' part of this game. And that's fucking boring. So let's talk concert. What kinda music are you into? You're not gunna drag me to some country show are ya? I've been to plenty of those when I was younger. That and rodeos." Snorting, he sighed. "But I'd do it, if that's all you liked."

Madison studied the way Carter held the stick & flung it forward toward the white ball which caused the pack to break apart. It seemed easy. Just a bit of aiming. When he stood up & it was her turn she looked around the playing field, “so…. I’m solids?” She asked & picked up her stick, “hey…. Why is my little compared to yours?”

It didn’t stop her from lifting it to the table top & bringing her fingers up to guide the wood the way he had. But unlike him, when she flung the stick forward she completely missed the ball.

Her eyes blinked confused. “Wait….” Her stance fixed, bending at the hips, tightening her core, arms extending, hands ready to try again. And again, she managed to completely miss the bad. “Whaaat???! How did you do that?????”

Before she could continue to whine her brow raised, “wait… you don’t have a car?? How do you get places?” She gave him a cute head tilt of curiosity.

“You intimidate people?” She giggled, “that’s probably the nicest thing anyone has said to me. Or offered to do. Maybe I’ll take you up on that offer.” Her eyes rolled, that pretty smile widening making the apples of her cheeks rounder. His sad story wiped her face clean of any happy crinkles, “oh my gosh.”

Bee voice softened, “I’m so sorry that happened to you Carter.” Was that the first time she said his name? Carter. CARter. CarTER. CARTer. Carter.

What a nice name. Pretty name. “That’s horrible. I’m sorry I asked…. Despite how awful that is. I’m very happy & proud you were able to find something positive to take from that experience.”

Her head shook. “You’re very strong, far & few to be able to experience that & turn around & be better.”

Madison tapped her fingers on the wood, “maybe a bunny. They are so cute. Their nose wiggles, they kick their little feet when they are upset. They are literally me. What about you?”

[cloudpools]

Her hubris had gotten the better of her. She'd skipped right past the mini-boss and minor squabbles with his mob right to the main villain. And despite feeling absolutely ready to take this on, Holly was in for a rude awakening as the proverbial and literal sword came down on her. Zaire had been fast, but Anton faster. She didn’t have time to block the blade, and before she can even let out a gasp, she’s sent flying.

Holly’s frame collided with the wall, stone cracking from the force of the hit. Crumpling, she hit the floor, dazed and confused. Vision blurry, lavender eyes squinted hard, trying to focus on the enemy ahead. It had been a while since someone had beaten her up this badly, but it wasn’t the first time...

And wouldn’t be the last.

Zaire’s assistance confused her though. "Why.... why are you helping me?" she groaned. If this was his father, weren’t they working together? Now would be the perfect time to finish her once and for all. But she took the small grace, allowing him to pull her up.

Holly's free hand went to her stomach, and in a sobering moment, her vision cleared, revealing her blood-soaked hand. Her magic wavered. She had a choice: use her final attack and finish this, or heal herself. She didn't have enough power to do both...

Raising her scepter, an incredible amount of power swirled around her, budding into a giant flower overhead. Holly staggered, but pushed on. "PETALLLLLL..." The magic surged, rippling as more flowers bloomed, vines curling around her and Zaire protectively. Deadly. Once she felt the magic at its peak, Holly threw her scepter forward, screaming. "PRISM!!!!"

Slumping in Zaire's arms, the giant flower bloomed, vines shooting forward surrounded in blinding sparkling light. If she was going out, she was taking this bastard Anton with her. Breath shallow, she tried to right herself, power draining rapidly. Fading lavender eyes looked to Zaire. "You... you better do the right thing..." What did that even mean? She didn't know. A call back to their encounter earlier that evening?

Her head was pounding, and she was slipping into unconsciousness. Soon, her magical powers would wear off and she'd transform back into human girl Holly, and that wouldn't be great if the enemy found out her secret identity...

"Hmmm...so you are Iris indeed, powerful for sure...but still a young girl." The cult leader didn't seem to be put off by her magic scepter. Instead he flicked a switch on the top part of his cane's shaft and then...

He rushed her, in what seemed like no time at all Holly would feel pain shoot through her body as a large cust was slashed across her stomach. She would notice Anton right in front of her, in his hands he had a cane sword, and it was dripping with her blood. "You come to my holy sanctuary and dare to threaten me, I apologise for the pain I'm going to inflict on you child." With that he kicked her in the stomach and sent her flying into the opposite wall, causing her to slam into it.

"Iris!" Zaire cries out and rushes over to help her up, causing Anton to raise an eyebrow at him, a little confused.

[cloudpools]

🪖 for a fake hypothetical argument [for harima and holly]

Dreaming meme! || ⚜Accepting⚜

🪖 for a fake hypothetical argument [for harima and holly]

It wasn't often Holly asked for help. And even now she was struggling with writing out the text. Pacing her room, time kept ticking ever closer to running out, and she felt the pressure of the world fall down on her.

And somehow the only person she had to rely on was Harima?

Well he wasn't her first choice! But he WAS the only human being on the planet that knew about her particular, magicular predicament. There was also Luca, but that asshole cat didn't have a phone and showed up whenever he damn well pleased! So it wasn't like she had that many reliable options...

The nature of her request was relatively simple. Of course on the day that she was supposed to submit her portfolio to a fashion company, including a few sample outfits she had painstakingly put together in her minimal amount of free time, there was some jackass out causing mischief and Iris had to be called in. All she needed to say was, "Harima. Can you come over, get my portfolio, and deliver it to this address? Thanks!" But the Harima in her mind was being a total asshole about it.

"I'M NOT YOUR DAMN PERSONAL DELIVERY BOY. GET SOMEBODY ELSE TO DO YOUR ERRANDS."

"I would... but then they might ask why they need to and it's related to things I can't tell them about..."

"I DON'T WANNA GET INVOLVED WITH YOUR WEIRD, SECRET IRISH PRETTY GIRL SHIT."

Holly ground her teeth thinking about this. The imagination Holly was being much more kind and patient than the real one would have been. Her idealized version of herself? Hmmm... "Well, I wouldn't be asking if I didn't really need your help. So would you just come over?"

"Maybe. Say please." Growling to no one, Holly's fingers flew furiously across the screen, finally deciding what to send him before she rushed out the door.

To [ Loser ]: FUCK. YOU.

So much for her big break...

[cloudpools]

❌ for an 'ooc' "They Would Never!" imagine [wynara]

Dreaming meme! || ⚜Accepting⚜

❌ for an 'ooc' "They Would Never!" imagine [wynara]

Her face would give nothing away to the casual observer, but to those who knew her well, to her lord of all people, it would be clear that something below the surface was bubbling and she was trying desperately to keep it corked. Tonight had started as a dream, and still Nara floated on Wylan's arm, painted, groomed, and dressed as a high lady. A façade; her latest mission in ensuring his safety. The sword she had taken all those years ago was still strapped to her back, hidden beneath the layers of fabrics and frivolity, ready to be drawn at the first sign of danger.

They were in the lion's den. A neighboring kingdom with which their nation had warred with for decades. This was to be a first step at civility, but there was always the chance that this was a trap. A banquet not to celebrate their alliance, but the end of all that Wylan had built.

Nara would not let that happen.

Though the samurai took pride in her work, the early events of the evening kept pulling her attention away from the task at hand. A brush. Such a simple tool, but wielded by her lord against her had her on her knees. How else was she to hold still? It was all so foreign. Makeup, the gentle way he held her chin so that he could apply the lipstick with precision. Her cheeks still burned now from that touch, hopefully concealed by the layers of white powder she had been dusted with.

Sapphire eyes scanned the room before those very eyes fell once again on Wylan, and she's thrown back to that memory. The closeness they shared now, the closeness they had had then. The closest they had ever dared be save for a few sparring sessions. Normally she was standing outside those types of rooms, doing her duty, guarding and protecting. But now she had breached them. She was before him, vulnerable, nervous. Unsure. Admiration had warped into something new... Something dangerous.

Crimson lips part, breath hot as she imagines if they had had a few more minutes in that room. If she had closed the gap in their closeness so that now his lips were stained with the paint he'd so carefully applied. So that his hands may not just touch her face, but- The cork pops, and her grip on his arm tightens, heart racing as vague images flash through her mind of them... together in such an inappropriate way! Wylan looked to her, masking concern, but on edge.

"My apologies. Everything is fine, my lord..." she whispers, hoping to put him at ease despite her hands now quivering. Compose yourself! She chides. This was not the time to be having such impossible thoughts!

[cloudpools]

✳𒉼 ▫ Angst starters ▫𒉼✳

Send [...] for my muse... Send [...] + 'reverse' for change roles

[ SHATTER ] – pushes your muse away in anger or fear.

[ ECHO ] – calls your muse’s name in desperation.

[ STONE ] – refuses to speak to your muse.

[ STORM ] – breaks down in front of your muse, unable to hold it in anymore.

[ SILENCE ] – leaves your muse without explanation.

[ SCAR ] – shows your muse an old wound and tells them the story behind it.

[ SNAP ] – yells at your muse after bottling things up for too long.

[ CRACK ] – tries to smile, but can't.

[ ASHES ] – burns something that once meant something to them and your muse.

[ BLAME ] – accuses your muse of hurting them, whether it’s true or not.

[ DROWN ] – admits they’ve been struggling but didn’t want to burden your muse.

[ FROST ] – pretends not to care as your muse walks away.

[ COLLAPSE ] – clings to your muse after holding back tears for too long.

[ VANISH ] – disappears for days without telling your muse.

[ GLASS ] – says something cruel they didn’t mean and immediately regrets it.

[cloudpools]

💦 for an awkward imagining [BLYTHEGURIN]

Dreaming meme! || ⚜Accepting⚜

💦 for an awkward imagining [BLYTHEGURIN]

Daydreaming came with the territory of curiosity. An active mind that spun and spun until every scenario was considered, every thread followed to the end. Sometimes they'd lead to a cluster of new threads Blythe would happily trace. Sometimes they led to a dead end. The important part was what lay at the center of the web. The initial thought that started the ball rolling.

These days, all lines led back to Gurin.

Her first crush. To someone as excitable as Blythe, the feelings she had were magnified tenfold. Every time she wrote about him in her journal, the ‘i’ in his name was dotted with a little heart. Anytime Ukolai and his group would visit the manor, Blythe would find every and any excuse to catch a glimpse of the entourage (from a safe distance, of course) hoping he’d be among them. She’d go over conversations they could have, things they could do, and ways she could get in touch.

Blythe was thinking of him even now in the garden while she clipped fresh flowers to replace those that were wilting throughout her home. The redhead wandered even further into her mind as the collection turned into a proper bouquet. "...I wonder if he would get me flowers..." A selfish thought (she was having a lot of those lately), but one that she chose to continue chasing.

Gurin knocking on her door, a wrapped bundle of moonflowers (her favorite) thrust into her hands. How had he known? How had he gotten there? Oh yes! She'd invited him to dinner with her family. Dur'zog would prepare something incredible, and even Taethea would join! Zeyrfial would sit at the head of the table, and there would be some mild tension. "What are your intentions with our dear Blythe?" he'd say and then she'd grip Gurin's hand under the table, as he spoke up. "I intend to take her out tonight." Emeralds would widen, flicking nervously between arguably the two most important men in her life (Sorry, Dur'zog). "G- Gurin!"

"Is that so..." Even the Zeyrfial in her imagination made her shiver, worried about what may befall her date for being so bold. Quickly, she'd stand, trying to deescalate the situation before things got... violent. But that would cause a chain of events that would leave the night ruined.

Chair scraping loudly against the floor, falling back from the sudden push. The noise scaring her into somehow flipping her own meal into Gurin's lap. In an effort to quickly clean up the mess, she'd grab the table linen, mistaking it for her napkin, and turn only to bring half the dishes tumbling down on both of them. "I- I'm sorry! I'll c- clean this up right away!"

Laughter echoed through the courtyard, Blythe for the first time in a long time finding tears bubbling in her eyes, not because of sadness or fear, but because the scene playing out in her mind was way too ridiculous. Couldn't she have imagined herself a little more confident? Why hadn't she spoken up herself? Well. It wasn't real no matter what. And most likely would never come to pass. No, the thought of everyone she cared for sitting in the same room was something she'd leave to her imagination. Blythe finished her gathering and made way for the foyer, tripping over the threshold on her way out.

[cloudpools]

dreaming meming :: open

send a symbol for a lil drabble where my muse thinks about yours in a way

@cloudpools sent: 💦 for an awkward imagining ((Nara Eira LOL

No, by all means it was ridiculous. Why she felt inclined to help the other idol. The reasoning provided was sound, certainly. But any idiot can rationalize their own actions in a way that is palatable. If she were a proper businesswoman, much like the other Kestrov of her family. This was a prime opportunity to cut them away and steal what spotlight had already been nabbed away. A perfect finish to her career. Spotless, and on the top. Compared to Nara, who was...

On the bottom?

Would she be a bottom in that scenario too?

Oh GOD.

The woman smacks both hands over her face, groaning into her palms as the image worms its way into her subconscious before she can fend it off. Oh this was stupid. Sitting in the back of her driver's car, she wished she could dissolve into the seat for a moment. It's not the kind of thing she wants on her mind. Nara. Her manager. Or anyone else in that... sort of situation.

Or in any position for that matter.

"Wait. Bacchus, on second thought. Don't take me home just yet. Please." Eira speaks up, rolling forward in her seat and staring blankly at the floor. No, if she went home now she'd be alone with the same train of thought. Even more awful invasive thoughts around her rival engaging in .... things would dominate her-- AAAAGH.

WHY IS NARA SO STUPID? WHY WAS EIRA?

"Studio! Yes. Take me there, and call in the instructor if they're available. Have her paid double. I'm going to do some dance practice. Enough that I can't even..."

...Walk right the next day?

Eira wants to scream.

[cloudpools]

dreaming meming :: open

send a symbol for a lil drabble where my muse thinks about yours in a way

@cloudpools sent: 🐎 to imagine them in their 'natural habitat' ((Blythe Gurin~

Some time had passed since he'd sent her off. Not enough time, of course. Just like not enough time had passed between their first meeting. Like ushering out a pest from a door, damn that human for being as tenacious as she was about causing problems. Veril still needed proper recompense for taking the fall. And there was a chance that other people started muttering about him being seen with another human. At least, if Dravok talked.

Couldn't trust a blowhard like that guy. For now at least Gurin was living a life he would consider typical enough. Frivolity. Business. Equal hands of dignity and deviancy. And yet, as he tried to mold his days into how they may be- the thought continued to prick at him. Small needles that caught at his hands and fingers as he went about.

Maybe he would hear a laugh, or someone would stutter, and his mind as if caught on that string would be momentarily pulled elsewhere. Just what the hell does a human like that... do for an archdemon like Zeyrfial? There were suspicions of course. The weaver's business utilized outside help here and there.

The rumors about that warlock, Malkuth, may have played into it. But from the bits of information he gathered it was an entirely different situation. Nobody had seen that one, with her tasks being errands into the various mortal realms or collecting on late fees. Whatever that meant? Blythe, meanwhile was permitted to go about normal business. She just... did she just live in the manor?!

That's just weird. He tries to imagine that girl traipsing those golden halls. Shelving tomes despite being so tiny. Ah, bouncing on her heels to try and reach the higher shelves... ....hnn... or climbing up something. Hardly a capable assistant. Hells, Gurin can imagine her dropping a single novel and spending the rest of the day apologizing instead of just working harder.

She gets it off easy compared to any other demon. And now he's...

"Hey. Hey! Gurin?"

"Oh. Yeah. I was listening. And your problems ain't mine in this case, buddy. I said I'd help you get the job. But if your underwriting is shit and the client weasels their way out. That's your own skill issue, huh?"

[cloudpools]

dreaming meming :: open

send a symbol for a lil drabble where my muse thinks about yours in a way

@cloudpools sent: 🩹 for a sad, or negative thought ((Nylon

There's been enough time to feel sorry for himself, he knows. Negativity is a pernicious, stubborn thing, though. The initial wound cuts deep, the roots from the seeds it spawns can go even deeper. And for someone like him? A man who already had enough rivulets of history to map a continent? There were plenty of old scarred pathways for those thoughts to follow.

Letting that violence bleed over, a bloom from those damned seeds, provides an unsettling reprieve from his mental conflict. A fist slamming into the bag before a right hook catches the rebound. Maybe if his heart keeps beating faster, it'll pass. Maybe if his sweat continues pouring out, it'll clear. Those plague doctors of times past would have a field day with him.

Shit.

If someone said putting leeches on his skin would draw out his malignancy maybe he'd consider it.

After all, he knows- believes- that he has struck a death blow to Nara's career. It's in her eyes. That everything she was working towards might be worth giving up and he can't stand that thought. It runs antithetical to what he was supposed to be doing here as her manager. Goddamn. He really fucked it up.

"But what can I even do about it?" The emotional side of him says to reciprocate, but everything else in his mind rejects the mere concept of it. Settling down? Romance? He's terrible at it beyond a facade meant to lure people in? Like he lured in Nara. SLAM. The sandbag whirls backward, and Wylan's fists fall to his sides. The weight comes to rest against his back, head rolling to stare at the ceiling of the gym.

"No no no. I didn't. I didn't!" How is this his fault, anyway? At least... for starting it. Damn if he didn't do everything wrong to put a stop to it. If he could take his libido and slap that onto the bag before him. And beat the hell out of that, it'd be a sight more accurate. Ha! Ha...

The thought crawls up from the depths. An insect all too familiar with how to navigate the crevices and scars of his past. Its legs maneuvering their way up through his spine and into his skull, all to eager to leave whispers in his ear. His skin crawls.

"Maybe I really should just disappear again. Rip the idea out from her head by the root."