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lunarscaled · 4 days ago

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-> His presence alone is almost enough for them to say that the feeling is mutual. They could have encountered any Espada in these halls who may have given them more grace than he does, but their bad luck wins out all the same, haunting them like the shadow of death where his hood obscures his face in blues. He calls it cute. Their lips peel back to their gums.

-> A cold crawls over their back with spindling fingers, leaving bumps all over their skin as they drag their exhausted body down the hallway, but fail to do so in a way which can escape him. The clack clack clack of his shoes behind them keeps their nerves sheer as they hold their breath in their wounded chest; he peppers them with questions and they growl again like a meek dog trying to ward away a reaching hand. The distance between them does not console them or balm their wounds as their tail drags along the floor.

"... it already fled."

-> It does not answer his questions. Provides no insight and only leaves more riddles: did someone else scare it off? Did Lyric merely escape? Was it in the palace lying in wait? Their body veers a step closer to the wall like they consider leaning on it for support as they apply pressure to their wounds, but they steel themselves not to in front of him. They're showing so much weakness as it is.

"Stop mocking me."

It's hard to know where they were before this. If they had gone out intentionally again, without supervision, knowing it was again Ulquiorra's wishes——or if they had simply wandered and become lost. Found themselves at the gaping, broken wall of an abandoned section of Las Noches in a palace no one used and became a sitting duck.

The patters of red along the floor follow behind them in serpentine patterns, weeping from the long-drawn scratches that carve up their torso and arm from hip to shoulder. The fabric of their sleeves droops down around their elbow as they hunch into the shadow of the wall and against the stone. Copper bleeds and spreads from the long wounds to color their fake white uniform, gorey in its sight as Lyric's chest rises and falls frantically.

——but at a closer glance, the wounds are not lethal. Just messy. It seems they escaped whatever was foolish enough to make a grab at them in a hurry.

Their breathing doesn't calm when they spot him at a distance. They don't greet him either, unsurprisingly; just grow more rigid and clench their teeth. The growling they make sounds more like a wounded thing than a frightened thing, and their pause is long and still before they slink again. The heel of their boot drags through accumulated blood and streaks it over the floor as they take the hall down the left away from him.

The scent of blood-- oh, Nnoitra knows it so well, heels turning on the black marble floors as soon as the smell reaches his nose. His excitement grows, once he can sense wounded prey getting closer, closer still, long legs closing the distance until he rounds a corner, and at the end of the hall, he sees--

"...Tch-! You?"

His lips curl in a sour mix of disappointment and disgust. It's just Lyric? What a shame. It's almost too disappointing to find out it was them, that for a moment, the sorry state of Lyric is almost entirely forgotten.

They still, seeing his tall form at the other end of the hall, and they growl at him.

"Oh, that's real cute."

A mean grin spreads across his features, the hunger of a predator still lingering on his lips as his tongue swipes over his teeth. His heels click casually through their trail of blood as he makes to follow them, slow enough to let them limp along pathetically.

"Aw, what's the matter, you little punk? Ain'tcha happy someone stronger's around so those small fry won't try t' pick you off? What got ya? Was it bigger than you? Or are ya too embarrassed to say~?"

#samagwi #⋇ WITH THEIR CAVIAR AND DEAD CIGARS THE AIR WAS SAUNA HOT: BLEACH / BURN THE WITCH #they will absolutely be difficult but maybe a bit of time apart has tempered their willingness to throw a complete fit ))#we shall see ))

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lunarscaled · 4 days ago

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𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐘𝐌𝐈𝐎𝐍, 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐓𝐈𝐂𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐂𝐈𝐓𝐘. 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓𝐑𝐘 𝐎𝐅 𝐒𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐄. 𝐁𝐈𝐀𝐍𝐍𝐔𝐀𝐋 𝐓𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐎𝐅 𝐆𝐔𝐈𝐋𝐃𝐒.

𝙼𝙰𝙻𝙻𝙾𝚁𝚈 𝙵𝙰𝙻𝙺𝚂 𝚂𝙰𝙸𝙳: Are you on your way here??? 𝙼𝙰𝙻𝙻𝙾𝚁𝚈 𝙵𝙰𝙻𝙺𝚂 𝚂𝙰𝙸𝙳: It's been like 30 minutes.

I said I was coming. 💢 Do you know how long the security line is right now at the depot? :📱

𝙼𝙴𝙻 𝙲𝙾𝙿𝙿𝙴𝚁𝚂𝙲𝙰𝙻𝙴 𝚂𝙰𝙸𝙳: should we check in without you??? :(

Do NOT check in without me. I'm the one who made the reservation! :📱 Sit down and wait 15 more minutes in the lobby. You already checked in at the gate, they know we're here. :📱

𝙷𝙰𝚂𝚁'𝚃𝙷𝙰𝙻 𝙰𝙻𝙴𝙰𝙽𝙰𝚃𝙷 𝚂𝙰𝙸𝙳: They were unmotivated to allow us passage through the check-in even with our invitation because you were not with us. 𝙶𝙰𝚁𝚁𝙴𝚃𝚃 𝚄𝙽𝙳𝙴𝚁𝙵𝙾𝙾𝚃 𝚂𝙰𝙸𝙳: & because the guild is new.ᐟ Were like star rookies ᝰ

Don't go around telling anyone that. It'll put a target on our back. :📱

𝚇𝙸 𝚂𝙰𝙸𝙳: … it's crowded…

-> Lyric sighs as their head leans against the brick wall, shifting their bag on their shoulder. They feel the burn of the long walk back to the train station near the field and a hard leap on the teleportation circle from one continent to another weighing down their body, but they cannot rest until they meet up with the rest of the guild and unpack in the hotel room. Maybe run once more through their piles of information and binders to prepare as much as possible before the opening matches are decided.

-> All the luggage was brought with the boys and delivered ahead of time; Lyric only wears their necessary gear for their work and whatever they took with them when they left the hall. Their phone teeters on a precarious 15% as the check-in line meanders slow——it felt like airport security, but worse. The high reaching ceilings of the guild member accessible areas are decorated with swoops of tapering lines in a lustrous art nouveau style, yellow lights and white walls and plenty of glossy tiles. After spending almost three nights outside in the pitch black, it gives them a migraine just to look at, but everyone else here is dressed up with their enthusiasm.

& fighting instinct.

-> There is a crawling on their back as they press their palm to the flat of their bag. They can feel eyes upon them, sizing them up. Someone who was not here last year but is here now; they think someone tries at least once to intentionally step on their tail.

❝Please present a copy of your ID, Guild Registration Permit, and your Tourney Invitation.❞

-> The attendant at the front of the line asks, and her wording is a little too stiff for Lyric to doubt if she is truly a living thing or not. They'd heard rumors that the country of Selene was developing lifelike constructs derived from automatons, made to handle the menial everyday tasks which were often subject to human error but put others at ease by appearing like a living organism. It was a bit off-putting, for Lyric, but perhaps this was a model being put to the test. They aren't sure anyone else notices…

-> The hair of the attendant is perfectly curled at the chin in a bob, her uniform neatly pressed without a crease out of place. The hat on her head looks like a conductor's cap with the symbol of the royal family on it in a gold pin. That might explain whose affording these things… Lyric hands over their documents to her without saying anything, even when she repeats her request with a cheerful tone. They watch her eyes lower, lashes framing her irises as they emit a subtle glow.

Magic identification, then. To make sure they're not forgeries.

-> Lyric shifts their bag to their other shoulder and glances around the terminal at murals and standee information signs and poster advertisements for sightseeing in the country. A poster for Endymion proudly proclaims 𝗦𝗘𝗘 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗛𝗘𝗔𝗥𝗧 𝗢𝗙 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗧𝗜𝗖𝗞𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗖𝗜𝗧𝗬! in bold font written like a postcard over a painting of its infamous magic clocktower, its mighty turning gears and gold half circles held weightlessly in the air as they orbit around the clock itself. The rumor was that the clock, in the heart of the capital of the country, was built around and powered by an extremely powerful magical artifact——supposedly an arch mage's staff, so strong the crystal it kept had to be broken into 7 pieces. The staff itself and several pieces of the crystal are housed in the clocktower, one piece resides in the Princess' crown, and the rest are not publicly accounted for. Or so it's said.

❝ ——thank you for your patience .ᐟ Your invitation has been approved, and your entry has been registered. Please take your documents and proceed to Platform 11, where the next tram will take you to Hightown .ᐟ ❞

-> Eugh. Her enthusiasm is so much it makes them recoil. Lyric takes their documents back and shoves them ungracefully into their bag as flat as they can manage, weaving past groups of people and trying to hurry on their way. The sooner they got out of this place the better.

-> All the walkways and platforms are the same kind of too-clean, too fancy feeling aesthetic that makes Lyric's rumpled demeanor seem more out of place. While they are far from the only guild member coming through this way that looks jaded or grizzled ( they saw a rather hefty orc with a missing nose, and siren whose neck gills had slashes right through them ), Lyric thinks they easily appear to be... the most pitiful. Not quite bit enough and not quite intimidating enough; all their weapons hidden and with their head tucked down and their shoulders hunched up.

-> They hear someone snicker behind them. They hear someone mumbling on their left. They feel eyes on the back of their head like hot irons.

I'm getting on the tram, be there soon. It took a long time for the line to move. :📱

Everyone sits shoulder to shoulder and then some.

-> Lyric tucks themselves into the first available corner and holds their back to their chest and takes slow, deep breaths in through their nose and out through their mouth, willing themselves to be invisible on the spot. They rest their head on the rubber insulator lining a window and see their own face looking back at them as the interior of the station chugs past while the train picks up speed, and then rushes into a blur as they take the tunnel before coming out into the open landscape.

-> Selene is a surprisingly lush country for where it is. Perhaps that, too, is a type of magic. Or perhaps a blessing afforded to the people and the family by some means dealt with long ago. Perhaps it is a fragment of that staff of rumors, feeding the soil like a fertilizer. Either way, even in the blue of evening, they can see the sprawling open fields bursting with wild flowers meeting the tree line, the edge of the ocean far beyond that. In the distance at the end of the long rail, Endymion itself is aglow with lights of many colors, the clocktower standing proudly at the peak of three individual city rings, framed at its base by the royal palace. They can see fireworks popping, and glowing air balloons loft over the fields. Everyone in celebration for the opening ceremonies.

-> Selene was one of the countries still ruled by old magic blood, upkeeping their nobleman way of life through innovation which benefitted their peasantry. At the risk of their entire bloodline dying out it seems the monarchy which ruled eventually learned that serving their people was the best interest, and so they became known for their focus on magic technology. "A place where guild members were not needed to protect the people" was the pitch they threw, "and so they should feel welcome to relax and enjoy the competition to their heart's content." A nice story, if you overlooked the massive amount of tourism and revenue such an event garnered. Several other countries have hosted the guild tourney over the centuries, but it was reported few were as beautiful and well recognized as Selene.

-> Lyric heard the princess was a sight to see. Maybe that had something to do with it. This was the perfect place to rub elbows with people of power——Lyric was not without that motivation themselves. They had something they were looking for.

-> They stand rigid in the train car for a near 25 minutes until it finally pulls into the station platform, and when everyone begins to file out in a rush they can breathe. They are one of the last to leave, careful not to bump elbows or tail with anyone, as they exit onto a new platform: more rustic this time. Brick and brass work, hand painted signs and plenty of decorating greenery even on the inside. The lamps are made to look like oil burning but are 100x as bright. Lyric shuffles their way up and escalator ( is it still an escalator if it's powered by magic? they're unsure. ), down an escalator, down a loooong hallway of signs to other platforms and finally out the front of the station and almost right onto the street if not for the slightly elevated area right out front.

-> If they thought the train was bad, Hightown is absolutely 𝘱𝘢𝘤𝘬𝘦𝘥 with attending guilds. Pauldrons and swords as big as their whole body, glittering mithril work and sturdy steel, capes and furs and every species they could imagine all shoulder to shoulder trying to push through the street in both directions.

… there's no way I can get through this. :📱

𝙶𝙰𝚁𝚁𝙴𝚃𝚃 𝚄𝙽𝙳𝙴𝚁𝙵𝙾𝙾𝚃 𝚂𝙰𝙸𝙳: There's probably more people here than our whole town! 𝙼𝙴𝙻 𝙲𝙾𝙿𝙿𝙴𝚁𝚂𝙲𝙰𝙻𝙴 𝚂𝙰𝙸𝙳: should we come get you? :( it's so busy, we kept getting separated!

-> Lyric stares at the message on their phone, and then lifts their head again, looking for any kind of quick way through or around the crowd. They were only vaguely sure of the direction they were going in to start with. ——their nose wrinkles as they raise their gaze higher, watching a few sneaky Felinids climb a lamppost for a higher view. One perches up on top and then does a daring hop to a sturdy signpost across from it. Then grabs a window ledge, up onto a porch, and from there up onto the flat top of a business. … it'll take them forever to get here. What's more, if they get separated it'll delay their check in time even further.

… no, it's fine. I've got it. :📱

-> Lyric pulls tight the shoelaces on their boots and secures their bag's clips to keep it closed.

I'll take the roofs. :📱

#🌙 you're the first starlight reborn through the night ( main. )#* drabbles.#uhhh how else to mark this.#* headcanon.#storyline content!#Ill be crossposting these from twitter and bluesky btw #probably queue them up lol #oooooo dogma does story writing ooooo

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lunarscaled · 5 days ago

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I have a lot of ask responses and drafts I want to reply to and I'm sorry for the delay, I've just been dealing w a variety of health stuff for like a month straight. it feels like when one thing ends something else starts and im never quite "regular" which sucks! and it really impedes my ability to write at my desk like I want. 😞

#* ooc.#* tbd.

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lunarscaled · 5 days ago

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ㅤㅤㅤㅤUNPROMPTED | ACCEPTING | @lunarscaled WHISPERED ...

It's inevitable they should get hurt at some point. Nothing goes through life without becoming injured; nothing sheds it's skin without bleeding some.

There palms are scored and bloodied from a rock's edge in one of the long hallways in a ruined palace, caged to only exploring inside of Las Noches. They can't hide when it runs down their hands and stains their sleeves, or the froze up way they seem to hold themselves, leaving smears of blood over the limestone.

They don't cry like children should. It's a strange behavior.

ㅤ ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤThis place, was not made for those soft of skin.

Hands of iron, pallid, chilly, take theirs. There are no tears ; no softened sobs, or tremble to them. It makes him wonder, if only idle, brief, what sort of life was lived before they were found by him. Not that he, was any sort of caretaker.

Eyes drift, to jagged stone, and any FOOL with a tea-spoon of functional braincells could parcel, just what had happened. Docile fingers peel bloodied sleeves up, and his approach is somewhat more ... methodical. There was nothing to tourniquet, but his pristine uniform is ripped, nonetheless. Were he able to see just how deep, these gashes were, he could move from that point, on what treatment was required.

❝ ... I've told you to take care, here, ❞ He scolds, voices' edge less sharp than it had been, in the past. ❝ With Las Noches like this, others that are desperate will see you more as a MEAL, than a person, Lyric. ❞

Cloth is gentle over deep cuts, his sigh a somewhat exasperated one. There was no anger, toward them, no ill will ; of course not. It wasn't their fault, that they were in a place far than intended for them. Soft of flesh, too easy to bleed.

❝ ... Come. I kept first aid in my palace, in the event the infirmary wasn't an option. ❞

#⭐ everybody wants to hear about the big mistakes. everybody wants a piece of your heart ( tozasemurcielago. )#⋇ WITH THEIR CAVIAR AND DEAD CIGARS THE AIR WAS SAUNA HOT: BLEACH / BURN THE WITCH

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lunarscaled · 5 days ago

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𝙼𝙰𝙻𝙻𝙾𝚁𝚈 𝙵𝙰𝙻𝙺𝚂 𝚂𝙰𝙸𝙳: Are you on your way here??? 𝙼𝙰𝙻𝙻𝙾𝚁𝚈 𝙵𝙰𝙻𝙺𝚂 𝚂𝙰𝙸𝙳: It's been like 30 minutes.

I said I was coming. 💢 Do you know how long the security line is right now at the depot? :📱

𝙼𝙴𝙻 𝙲𝙾𝙿𝙿𝙴𝚁𝚂𝙲𝙰𝙻𝙴 𝚂𝙰𝙸𝙳: should we check in without you??? :(

Do NOT check in without me. I'm the one who made the reservation! :📱 Sit down and wait 15 more minutes in the lobby. You already checked in at the gate, they know we're here. :📱

Don't go around telling anyone that. It'll put a target on our back. :📱

𝚇𝙸 𝚂𝙰𝙸𝙳: … it's crowded…

& fighting instinct.

❝Please present a copy of your ID, Guild Registration Permit, and your Tourney Invitation.❞

Magic identification, then. To make sure they're not forgeries.

-> They hear someone snicker behind them. They hear someone mumbling on their left. They feel eyes on the back of their head like hot irons.

I'm getting on the tram, be there soon. It took a long time for the line to move. :📱

Everyone sits shoulder to shoulder and then some.

… there's no way I can get through this. :📱

… no, it's fine. I've got it. :📱

-> Lyric pulls tight the shoelaces on their boots and secures their bag's clips to keep it closed.

I'll take the roofs. :📱

#🌙 you're the first starlight reborn through the night ( main. )#* drabbles.#uhhh how else to mark this.#* headcanon.#idk! like!#storyline content!

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