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[conjuringink]

"Well, I have no issue with leading, if you would be more comfortable that way."

Without waiting for a response he takes a step forward, gentle hands reaching out toward his friend. One rests on Olruggio's waist, the other scooping up his hand. Dancing wasn't any sort of required skill for a witch, but he did like to indulge from time to time.

And despite his occasional clumsiness, he's rather graceful on his feet.

Qifrey feels a callus on Olruggio's thumb brush over the top of his own. He squeezes his hand lightly.

"You're not that bad; give yourself more credit."

"You said it first, but I didn't expect to see you either. I wanted to make sure Coco was doing alright if she was here. Looks like I didn't have anything to worry about."

"I'm not really much good at dancing, but I'm pretty sure you know that." And unlike dancing with Qifrey's apprentice, letting her stand on his feet to make sure she had fun, this was definitely different.

"Can't just let you stand on my feet while we spin in a circle."

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"I didn't expect to find you here; then again, it's not the type of event I'd typically find myself at."

"We should make the most of it, then. May I ask you for a dance, my friend?"

@searedpath

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here's the fit<3 pretend the dagger is his sword

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Something is troubling her, and she won't say what; it's plain as day on her face, just like that injury. Qifrey sets aside his own unease for now to make quick strides towards her, closing the distance between them in no time at all. The forest is dark, darker than it should be.

And it's starting to rain.

"What is it?" He lifts his robes up to drape around her, bringing her close to his right, to protect her from the ever-increasing downpour that the thick canopy of leaves above does little to shield them from. It's cold on his face. They should find their way out of here—but if she's running from something, the ought to go in a different direction. "You can tell me; I can help you."

The forest floor turns thick with mud as they walk. His breath fogs up in front of him.

Around them, the trees are twisting into familiar, willowy shapes. They're black as the ink he uses to draw his magic with. Dead. Every part of them. The stench of rotting wood is thick among the smell of wet, tainted soil. It makes him feel nauseated.

This is something he doesn't want her to see. They need to get out before it gets worse.

He's only vaguely aware of the wet warmth on the right side of his face. He can't see her from that side, but he keeps his robe held around her and guides her closer. Using their sylph shoes may be their best means of getting out even if it means getting absolutely drenched, and—

Oh... goodness, that hurts.

Qifrey's hand flies up to his face, nearly knocking his glasses right off, to cover where his right eye should be. He doubles over with a gasp. The rain hitting his face runs red. The pain is piercing, sharp and throbbing in his skull. There's little he can do to keep himself from stumbling forward and falling to his knees in the muck.

✦✧ It was scary how quickly something good could become something bad. The power to manipulate your dreams sounded good on paper. Coco had definitely had her fair share of fun with the mechanics that had been presented to her at the time, but things had gotten... bad. Once beautiful dreams had been distorted and, fearful, Coco had fled into the forest depths. She hadn't meant to follow anyone through the fog, but eventually the sound of footsteps in front of her were all she could hear.

"P-Professor!?" A familiar fragrance had tipped her off just moments before he'd spoken to her, bringing into plain sight this person she had been tailing her. It was obvious that Coco had been spooked. That wasn't an expression that she normally made. Perhaps most striking about her appearance was the re-emergence of a wound on her face, however.

"I... Um. I had to get away... from something." She was a little worried about admitting what. She was afraid of getting in trouble, even if it was just something she had dreamed.

[conjuringink]

It's... quiet.

He doesn't hear any birds. No rustling of critters in the bushes or trees. None of the brilliant blue butterflies the forest of Airaisal offers. It's hard to tell just where he is in consciousness, how much of this is real, if any; because it feels hazy, distant.

Damp. Foggy.

Footsteps behind him, small and light. Familiar. No. Qifrey turns around in their direction.

"Coco? What are you doing out here?"

What are either of them doing out here? He can't say he even remembers coming here. Even though he has his frequent jaunts through the Cotes ward, he doesn't venture too far into this part of the forest. Now he thinks he may have gone in too deep.

@preciouswitch

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hii planning to do some event stuff soon. my bones

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going to otakon, i'll be back on monday. will pop in on mobile every now and then. 💕

[conjuringink]

What an interesting contraption! Naturally he finds himself drawn to it, alongside that woman in pretty pink—she doesn't look as puzzled by it, which makes him wonder if she's familiar with whatever it is. Qifrey has a lot of questions, plenty of things he'd like to ask before he tries to open it up, but...

"What kind of magic is this?" Wind, perhaps, to keep it suspended in the air like this. Or maybe a kind of magic that he's never seen before, from a completely different world. Maybe not even magic at all. "I've never seen anything quite like this."

Still, she's looking expectantly, eagerly, and he figures that the surprise factor makes it all the more exciting... so, he won't speak any further just yet. Instead he reaches out and gives it a hard smack over the top.

And what pops out is... a small, but long, furry white creature with four tiny legs. It looks around with big eyes and then puffs itself up, back arching in what it thinks is a threatening gesture, hissing out a 'nbiii!'

"Ah, a brushbuddy!" Qifrey holds his hands out to it, but it turns to jump onto the woman's shoulder instead. "Not something I would have expected."

"You see it too, right?"

There's a lot to imagine and enjoy on her own (almost to an overwhelming degree), but she decides she wants to share a bit of home with others, too. The "it" in question is a question block, suspended within arm's reach and drawing the attention of another with its bright yellow luster.

She supposes she should decide what's in there, eliminating any risk of it being something unfortunate for the sake of a first-timer... If she wills it to just be "something good", maybe that'll work? A coin, a mushroom, a super leaf--things like these come to mind, but perhaps it could even be something the other person wishes to see? What would a stranger to her world expect to come out of something like this?

This is turning out to be more of an experiment than anticipated! But Peach continues as planned, watching expectantly to see if they'll take her up on her offer.

"It's like a mystery box. A...pinata, almost. Go ahead, give it a good hit!"

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This city really was strange. How they had a ward that felt so similar to his world, and then a ward that seemed the complete opposite. He still gets a bit of— ah, what is it, culture shock? Yes, a bit of culture shock when he ventures anywhere else, but it isn't exactly unpleasant. He's a fast learner, he adapts quickly, and he's learned how to pass the time with every new thing he comes across here.

Others may struggle more with it, like this man here.

"Yes. It feels like every part of this city is a whole separate world from the others," Qifrey replies. "And when we are already in a whole new world, that just makes it all the more confusing. ...You know, there are many different tales of golden cities, but all the ones I know of meet a tragic end."

A horse-drawn carriage makes its way down the street. Qifrey steps aside, letting the beast of burden pass. He places his phone back where he had been carrying it prior; he knows the way back home from here well enough, but this man...

Well, he must need some help. He must have been wandering for a while to just happen to end up here, unless their captors had assigned him this ward to stay in. And even then.

"But that's an aside; is there somewhere in particular that you're trying to go?" He asks, his voice warm and pleasant as can be. "I can do my best to point you in the right direction."

Fascinating, this communication device is a pocket database the likes of the terminals in Azys Lla. Tomestones are never this accommodating, acting more like digital books than a versatile, all-in-one point of reference.

Dirge ignores how materializing out of thing air unnerved the man at first. He's always had that effect on people—that prideful part of himself, the Garlean before the fall of Garlemald, is glad he continues to inspire fear in others. It's not something he's meant to indulge anymore, according to all those therapy sessions by the Eorzean Alliance, but still, it's nice to know he hasn't lost his touch.

Accessible maps complete with real time pinpoints. Incredible. Either the powers that be are idiots, or they are so cocksure about their abilities they do not think providing their victims the resources they need to escape will lead to just that. Dirge isn't sure which conclusion he likes least yet.

If the device has maps, then it likely has a simple text function. It doesn't take him long to find it, his throat raw from the previous exertion, a hundred razors scrapping along its walls.

Very lost. This city makes little sense from the bottom.

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moe through helplessness

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The Opalarian Market Town has quickly become one of his favorite places to visit. There are shops he can't find elsewhere in the city, people that are so much like the ones he knows back home, and he's even begun to do most of his grocery shopping here. It's a bit of a commute from home, but everything's still much fresher, more organic. He's found out aout a little farmer's market on Saturdays. It's become a routine.

He has a bag with an assortment of ingredients looped over his elbow, and he's stepping over one of the overgrown roots crossing over the pathway on the way towards the train. Except a man appearing before him quite suddenly almost makes him take a tumble out of surprise.

Thankfully, he recovers quickly and regains his bearings.

Oh, is he new here? Qifrey's still learning his way around, too, but he thinks he knows this ward well enough by now to be of some help. He makes a mental note of the strain in the man's voice in that single word, the way that vocalizing seems to cause him discomfort.

"Oh, we're in the Cotes Fantasci ward," he supplies helpfully. "Just a stone's throw away from the Opalarian Market Town."

There's a map on that "phone" contraption that everyone gets. Qifrey fumbles around with the pouch at his hip to pull his out, minimizing the multiple applications he still has open to open up the map. He turns the screen towards the man, tapping the little blue circle showing Qifrey's location.

"Here—and the train is over this way. Are you lost?"

To be underestimated was better than the opposite. Dirge learned early in his tenure as an Eorzean that, regardless of how scary he might seem, inciting pity upon others was an emotion he could manipulate. Safety or advantage, it didn't matter—few thought a half-mute dangerous, capable of fighting eikons toe to toe. Sometimes he hated it, other days he welcomed it. An ambivalence common to the maimed, he was told.

This man resembles an Elezen. Half-Elezen? Lanky limbs, aethereal vibes—some sort of caster, surely, the clothes mark him as such. Dirge's never known a magic user who wasn't knowledge-hungry to a fault, an insatiable curiosity if they were baited just so. Exploitable.

Luckily he doesn't do that sort of thing anymore. Right hand on his throat, massaging it for a bit, Dirge materializes into Qifey's path, wraith-like, asking in a similarly haunted voice, "Location?"

It hurts to talk. He makes it obvious it hurts him. That, of course, makes people all the more interested. And isn't it nice of their captors to grant them a tomestone-like communication device? If this man asks for clarity can use it to ask a specify. He really does want to know where the fuck they are, and this man seems nice. Looks nice, certainly.

@conjuringink

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"Is that so," he hums. The little creature in her lap is noticed, it piques his curiosity, but he says nothing of it right now. It's odd enough for a strange man to be speaking with a child he doesn't know at this hour, she doesn't need to be further inundated with questions. It really isn't his business, but at the same time... he really is curious, but he's still concerned.

From the short time he's been here he already knows just how much danger lurks in this city, if you happen to stumble into the wrong place at the wrong time. Some parts are safer than others; this is true of any city, big or small.

Which is why she shouldn't be running around on her own.

But perhaps she has powers that keep her safe, who's to say? He's still quite limited in what he can and cannot do here. It's a little frustrating, sometimes. He wishes he could do more. It makes him feel far too vulnerable. What will happen if someone who means to cause him and those dear to him harm shows up?

"You should still remain vigilant," Qifrey suggests. "Not that I don't trust your ability to take care of yourself, or that I think this place is particularly dangerous. Have you been here long?"

The swing comes to a halt, but the child remains seated. Her green eyes stay locked on the man and the small creature remains curled up on Dam-bi's lap. Its own beady eyes are also on the older man. Even when Dam-bi looks away at the trees that surround them, those smaller beady ones remain on him. It trills, long spindly legs stretch out only to then tuck right back underneath its round-ish body.

"This place isn't dangerous. Not like the world we're used to." Her home was dangerous, but perhaps because of her and other monsters that lurked within. This man's world was full of magic. And while this place had all sorts of colorful people...Peace somehow was intact. For the most part.

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after almost 4 years of using csp i've FINALLY found perfect texture of pencil. im unstoppable now

[conjuringink]

Send me a symbol and I will write a headcanon about…  For multimuse blogs, please specify!

𝓕 : My muse’s handwriting. (Is it good, bad, difficult to decipher, do they prefer writing by hand or with the help of some form of machine, e.t.c.) 

✈ : My muse and  traveling. (If they do it frequently and why, if they never left their home town, e.t.c.)

✿ : My muse and nature. (If they are an ‘outdoorsy type’, like the sound of bird’s singing, if they have never set foot in a forest, e.t.c.) 

☼ : My muse’s first memory. (Where it was, who was with them, how this memory makes them feel, e.t.c.) 

☙ : My muse’s favourite food. (Bonus: A memory, be it good or bad, associated with said food.)

♬ : My muse and music. (What type of music they like listening to and in what context, what music they would never listen to, e.t.c.)

↺ : My muse and the past. (Do they live in the past and struggle to let go of past grievances, or move on more easily, is there anything in their past they want to forget, e.t.c.) 

☾ : My muse and sleep. (How much they sleep, how much they wish to sleep, if there is something that never fails to put them to sleep, e.t.c.) 

✧ : My muse and art. (If they have an artistic side or not and why, favourite artist if they have one, e.t.c.) 

❃ : My muse and social media. (If the muse is/would be on social media and why/why not, their general opinion on it, e.t.c.) 

✉  : My muse and others. (If they social and outgoing or more introverted, and why. If they prefer communicating with others face to face or in written form, e.t.c.). 

▶ : My muse and level of education. (If the muse has some form of education, what education they perhaps wish they had, e.t.c.). 

◐ : My muse and animals. (If they like animals and treat them well, do not care for them at all, e.t.c.). 

❒ : My muse and gifts. (If they are good/bad at finding gifts, good/bad at receiving gifts, good/bad at wrapping gifts, e.t.c.) 

☘ : My muse’s relation with their family. (If they speak with each other and how much, if they are close or estranged, e.t.c.).