paragonrogue

[paragonrogue]

I moved all my muses to a new multimuse blog: @soulsalight -- I'm still in the progress of moving stuff over but please feel free to follow if you are still interested in any of my boys!

[paragonrogue]

"Too many things..." he muttered under his breath upon the Elezen's question, but then he shook his head to clear his mind of lingering thoughts. "I am fine, Urianger." Yet, he took the coat nonetheless and pulled it on again, the familiar weight of it and residue warmth settling easily around his shoulders.

Thancred turned his head to glance up at the sky. It had become a familiar sight in these past years, and yet it still felt as foreign as it had the first day he arrived. "It is a curious thought, is it not? If our bodies are not here but back in the Source, how is it that we can get sick?"

That they could hurt, cry, bleed...

Thancred's posture hunched a little further, gaze falling to the floor. Another shake of his head followed. "Don't mind my ramblings. It's the lack of proper rest I fear." Ryne and him had just managed to shake some Eulmoran soldiers by coming here, but the constant waryness of an attack had kept Thancred awake even now. Here they were relatively safe, he knew, but still it was hard to pause and not glance over his shoulder at any given moment. Resting, it seemed, was not something he could do easily any longer.

"And what about you?" He asked in turn. "The last I checked you own a bed do you not? Surely it is more comfortable than a stack of books, even for you." There is no malice in his words, his tone purposefully light.

paragonrogue​:

@riddlemancer

While it was difficult to gauge the time of day in their current surroundings, it was indeed late. Thancred had ushered Minfilia to bed soon after supper – the girl had looked half asleep where she stood– and given how many hours they had been on the road prior to arriving at Urianger’s, Thancred knew he should have retired to is own bed as well.

There really wasn’t a reason to stay awake any longer and fatigue did claw at him with every step, and yet he still made his way upstairs on a hunch. Sure enough, there he found Urianger, asleep atop his books. Thancred sighed, although it was not out of annoyance and more of quiet concern.

He considered what he should do. The other man would likely go back to his notes should he rouse him. Thancred knew the lies one told themselves. Just one more chapter, just one more sentence; but it was so very clear that Urianger needed to rest. So, instead of wakiing him, Thancred quietly made his way over, shrugging off his coat as he did. Once stood beside the other he carefully draped the piece of clothing around Urianger’s shoulders, offering up a small defence against the chill one was bound to combat during sleep.

A long day it had been, one filled with ( pleasant ) surprise nonetheless: as he continued his research, he had guests, uninvited yet most welcome. ‘Twas luck that the Elezen’s endeavors hadn’t taken him further investigating around Il Mheg that day, so that he could receive his visitors with his utmost hospitality. 

Their reunion was cut short, however, as their arrival was late in the eve and soon thereafter, supper was served. 'Twas not their first time visiting him in his humble abode, for the pixies made a pleasant hide from prying eyes and pursuers alike. Only a handful daring to tread deeper into their domain; a fact which pleased Urianger verily, as it undoubtedly did his fellow Scion and the one in his care. 

He would offer them some privacy then and there, retreating into his own chambers to read… yet he underestimated his own exhaustion, as 'twas shortly afterwards he had succumbed to slumber. 

「Wake up! Wake up! You have to play with us!」The cheery voice indeed awoke the man; a groan left his lungs as he realized what had transpired yet again. Ah, to have the pixies wake him was likely one of his better antics, for it oft happened that he’d find himself atop the desk and the aches afterwards were his nightmare. Ere he awoke fully, he had noticed a weight 'pon his back - light, yet more than sufficient to shield him of the chill. A smile tugged as his lips as it was plain to see who he’d have to thank later. 「Not now, my friend. My guest needs to be attended to. Pray, dost thou know his wherabouts?」With ease did he reply the little pixie in Fae and soon, met with some disappointment yet an unnatural willingness to respond and help the Elezen, he soon determined his friends’ position.

“Thou art not in slumber yet? Pray tell, what dost keep thou awake, my friend?” He greeted the man as he drew closer; outside of his abode they were, not far off beneath the lit nightsky. Urianger had put on a coat of his own ere he made his way, with Thancred’s in his hand and soon to be offered back to its rightful owner. “Thou hast my gratitude, yet 'twould be amiss for thou to be sick due to mine own carelessness.” And thus, he joined his friend as he took the seat beside.

[paragonrogue]

EMOTIONAL INTIMACY & PILLOW TALK PROMPTS

❝  i’m glad i decided to stay.  ❞

❝  i’m glad you decided to stay.  ❞

❝  no one has ever made me feel the way you do.  ❞ 

❝  i’m afraid to need you.  ❞

❝  i’m happy…are you happy?  ❞

❝  i really needed this.   ❞

❝  you don’t know how long i’d been waiting for this.   ❞

❝  i haven’t been this relaxed in ages.  ❞

❝  my legs are still fucking shaking.  ❞

❝  i like you here like this.  in my bed.  ❞

❝  stay the night.  ❞

❝  can i stay the night?  ❞

❝  i feel safe with you.  ❞

❝  i think you thoroughly fucked my headache away.  ❞

❝  no don’t go yet—  just hold me for a while.  ❞

❝  i don’t think i’m ever gonna want anyone else but you.  ❞

❝  we really should have done that sooner,  huh?  ❞

❝  that was good but,  next time,  i’m on top.  ❞ 

❝  god you look good like this.  ❞

❝  i could really go for some french fries now but i don’t wanna get up.  ❞

❝  i really do love you,  ya’ know.  ❞

❝  sometimes i wish i could keep you inside me all night.  ❞  /  ❝  sometimes i wish i could just stay inside you all night.  ❞

❝  are you feeling okay?  ❞

❝  fuck,  i’m never gonna get over you.  ❞

❝  i’ll get a shower started for us.  ❞

❝  you’ve ruined me for anyone else.  ❞

❝  just stay still and let me hold you a while.  ❞

❝  are you falling asleep?  ❞

❝  i don’t think you know just how much i care for you. ❞

❝  i can’t help it,  i feel so sleepy and cozy now.  ❞

❝  are you hungry? i’m hungry— i’ll order us something.  ❞

❝  are you crying?  ❞ 

❝  i’m okay,  just overwhelmed.  in a good way.  ❞

❝  it’s been a long time since i’ve been with someone like this.  ❞

❝  i’m really glad it was with you.  ❞

❝  it wasn’t just about needing someone tonight.  it was you i needed.  ❞

❝  thank you for always being so gentle with me.  ❞

❝  you always touch me just the right way.  ❞

❝  do you even realize what you do to me?  ❞

SCENARIOS

[ CLEAN ]  for sender to clean up receiver in the shower after sex. 

[ CLEANED ] for receiver to clean up sender in the shower after sex. 

[ REFLECT ]  for a drabble about receiver pondering their feelings while sender falls asleep in their arms after sex. 

[ TRACE ]  for sender to gently trace patterns along receiver’s skin as they relax after sex. 

[ TRACED ]  for receiver to gently trace patterns along sender’s skin as they relax after sex. 

[ CARESS ]  for sender to pepper kisses along receiver’s body after sex.   

[ CARESSED ]  for receiver to pepper kisses along sender’s body after sex.

[ TEARS ]  for sender to hold receiver while they cry after sex.

[ TEARING ] for receiver to hold sender while they cry after sex. 

[ EMBRACE ]  for sender to cling to receiver right after they’ve finished and just hold them while they recover. 

[ EMBRACED ]  for receiver to cling to sender right after they’ve finished and just hold them while they recover. 

[ TELL ]  for sender to open up about something to receiver after sex. 

[ TOLD ]  for receiver to open up about something to sender after sex. 

[ CONFESS ]  for sender to declare their feelings for receiver after sex (feel free to add dialogue when sending). 

[ CONFESSED ]  for receiver to declare their feelings to sender after sex. 

[paragonrogue]

send  an emoji  for  a  starter  based  on  the  trope.

tw:  dark  themes  present  ( blood,  death  etc )

“  my  muse  ”  is  the  muse  of  person  receiving  the  meme.  “  your  muse  ”  is  the  muse  of  the  person  sending  the  meme.

🛏️  -  a  starter  where  our  muses  have  to  share  one  bed.

💍  -  a  starter  where  our  muses  are  enemies  forced  to  marry.

⚔️  -  a  starter  where  our  muses  are  fighting  and  my  muse  admits  their  feelings  for  yours.  (  add  + reverse  for  your  muse  to  admit  their  feelings )

😴  -  a  starter  where  my  muse  is  comforting  your  muse  after  a  nightmare.  ( add  + reverse  for  your  muse  to  comfort  mine )

🤕  -  a  starter  where  my  muse  is  patching  up  your  muse’s  injuries.  ( add  + reverse  for  your  muse  to  be  patching  up  my  muse’s  injuries. )

🥂  -  a  starter  where  my  muse  drunkenly  confesses  their  true  feelings  about  your  muse  to  them.

💭  -  a  starter  where  my  muse  chooses  to  give  up  their  memories  of  your  muse  to  save  them.  ( add  + reverse  for  your  muse  to  give  up  their  memories  to  save  mine )

🥊  -  a  starter  where  my  muse  pins  yours  whilst  sparring.  ( add  + reverse  for  your  muse  to  pin  mine )

🛡️  -  a  starter  where  my  muse  protects  yours  from  a  fight.  ( add  + reverse  for  your  muse  to  protect  mine. )

🩸  -  a  starter  where  my  muse  is  injured  and  yours  demands  to  know  who  hurt  them.  ( add  + reverse  for  your  muse  to  be  injured )

💋  -  a  starter  where  our  muses  have  to  kiss  to  maintain  their  cover.

🧑‍🤝‍🧑 -  a  starter  where  our  muses  are  fake  dating.

🤐  -  a  starter  where  our  muses  have  to  pretend  they’re  not  dating.

🤯  -  a  starter  where  my  muse  recognises  yours  from  a  past  life,  but  your  muse  does  not  remember  them.

☠️  -  a  starter  where  my  muse  admits  their  true  feelings  for  your  muse  after  believing  they’re  about  to  die,  but  they  survive.  (  add + reverse  for  your  muse  to  admit  their  feelings  to  mine )

🔪  -  a  starter  where  my  muse  kills  to  protect  your  muse.  ( add + reverse  for  your  muse  to  kill  to  protect  mine )

💔  -  a  starter  where  my  muse  breaks  your  muse’s  heart  to  save  them.  ( add  + reverse  for  your  muse  to  break  my  muse’s  heart )

🌪️  -  a  starter  where  our  muses  are  trapped  together  during  a  storm.

💰  -  a  starter  where  my  muse  has  to  seduce  yours  for  information.  ( add  + reverse  for  your  muse  to  try  to  seduce  mine )

✋   -  a  starter  where  my  muse  traces  your  muse’s  scars.  ( add  + reverse  for  your  muse  to  trace  my  muse’s  scars )

🫂  -  a  starter  where  my  muse  runs  to  embrace  yours  after  winning  a  battle.  ( add  + reverse  for  your  muse  to  embrace  mine )

👗  -  a  starter  where  my  muse  helps  yours  get  ready  for  a  fancy  event  [ eg.  fixing  their  tie,  zipping  their  dress ]  ( add  + reverse  for  your  muse  to  help  mine  get  ready )

[paragonrogue]

With his vision blurring fiercely Thancred isn't able to take in much of the remainder of the fight. All of his remaining strength -- of which there isn't much -- is used to keep himself standing and conscious.

Mayhap he has overdone it just a tad. But the thought does little to help. He feels himself slipping and then falling, he braces for impact on the ground but instead finds himself being held up by the arms he belatedly realizes must belong to the Ishgardian knight.

He blinks a few times, forcing his eyes to focus, but all he sees for a moment is a blurr of chainmail and then when he tilts his head back to look up he sees mostly blue. Weird. He could have sworn the sky was overhung with clouds of grey but a second ago.

"...wah?" He asks intelligently, having heard but not properly processed the other man's words just yet. But then the world suddenly tilts on its axis and he finds himself being picked up like the very damsel in distress he had compared himself to earlier, and seemingly without effort on the knight's part, too.

"He could have let me keep some of my dignity at least." Thancred thinks, or mumbles. He isn't certain, for the next thing he knows is that his head grows heavy and tilts to the side against the Elezen's shoulder. Darkness claims him almost immediately after and he goes entirely limb in the stranger's arms. It's a blessing really, to him at least. This way he doesn't have to endure anymore of the pain pulsing through his body.

paragonrogue​:

With the Ixal’s attention properly taken off of him and directed at the Elezen and his chocobo instead, Thancred gains a moment to come back to his feet. He does so with far less grace than usual, but the adrenaline coarsing through him makes it ever easier to ignore the discomfort that comes with his wound.

Be it pride or sense of duty that spurred him to quickly grasp his remaining knife from where it fell into the snow, but as long as he could stand he would do his part.

The rogue takes a steadying breath, trying to focus. As it stands they are outnumbered, and something needs to happen to balance the scales.

Thancred focuses inward, hoping he will have enough time to execute one – if not the most – reckless skill he possesses. It is nowhere near as impressive as some spells he has seen Shtola or Urianger perform over the years, from the outside there is merely a faint shift in the air around him before he vanishes from sight entirely.

Taken at face value it is not all that different from a skill the rogues of Limsa Lominsa learn to perform, the difference being that the latter is but a mere play with the opponents senses, a shade would linger, allowing others to still perceive him to some degree, but this one on the other hand would leave him invisible. The perfect deception.

Every sound seemed dulled, every motion slowed. His heartbeat thundered in his ears and he could feel his body fade the longer he remained in this state. Severing one’s connection to the aether that kept them alive came at a price after all.

Thancred makes it’s way across the battlefield, ignoring those opponents in the front the knight and his chocobo have handled and focussing his attention on the Ixal further back. A conjurer and a thaumaturge. There is also the one with the lance who still has the rogue’s knife lodged in its shoulder.

Thancred moves toward it, reaching out his free hand to rip the knife out of the leathery skin. Then, having noted the defensive approach of the Elezen, he turns his hand to have the hilt face the Ixal’s temple and brings it down hard.

The lancer drops.

Thancred moves on to the conjurer. His vision is already blurring, and even breathing feels like a chore. He has but a few seconds left before he will drop. He knows, but still he presses on.

The conjurer is dealt with in much the same matter. The only trace of the rogue’s movement the droplets of blood that stemmed from his arm. His attacks only left the Thaumaturge standing, and he hopes the knight and his companion are able to deal with the rest.

He moves again. His legs like led, his head swimming and throbbing with pain. He can feel blood dripping from his nose, but still he continues on.

Now standing behind the third Ixal, Thancred raises his hands once more, the knives shaking alongside his hands. The deception drops. He reappears with a loud gasp as his lungs finally draw in a proper gulp of air. He sees the Ixal turn despite his blurring vision, but it is too late. The blow to it’s head hits hard and it, too, falls onto the frozen ground.

“Your… turn…” Thancred heaves, just loud enough for the Elezen to hear as he turns his attention back to him. The statement would have been accompanied by a challenging smirk but as it is he has hardly enough energy to keep himself upright. In its entirety all this transpires in a matter of seconds, but it leaves him winded in the same way hours of combat would have.

so focused on formulating the quickest way to take the three ixali closest to him  ━ bearing the biggest immediate threat ━ down,  haurchefant takes little note of the wounded rogue behind him,  trusting darling to warn him if aught changes.  fortunately,  it seems like most of the beastmen seem to have turned their focus on him as well rather than their initial prey  ━ the ixali stillbeak that took the brunt of darling’s talons back on its feet with help from the conjurer further in the back. 

it is the wildtalons he needs take out fastest,  however;  the curved scimitars at their side glinting dangerously in the low sun as they make to circle him. one of them seems younger,  more agitated in its impatience  ━ the first strike made easily blocked by his sword, even as he moves his shield to protect his back in case the second tries the same.

from somewhere to his left,  he hears darling whistle in sudden alarm.  though at first he thinks it a sign for him,  ‘tis not until it is somehow repeated by the stillbeak that he chances a look away  ━

only to see two of the three ranged foes unconscious in the snow, the rogue seemingly appearing out of thin air behind the third to take him down as well.  though the challenging words thrown his way shake him from his surprise  ━ he has worked with rogues before,  but none that he knows can disappear completely like this hyur just did  ━ whatever amazement he feels is dampened by a sharp concern:  if aught,  the male looks even worse now than he did afore,  pale and unsteady,  wounded arm now hanging completely limp. 

well, that will not do.  stranger or not,  haurchefant has no intentions of losing his charge to his own apparent recklessness ( impressive as it is ); especially not if said recklessness may have tilted the odds distinctively in his favor. 

besides, he quite dearly wishes to know what business a rogue with such skills and an archon brand on his neck had sneaking around on ixali territory  ━ especially if that action could threaten the tenuous balance they’d struck with the beastmen. 

first thing’s first  ━  taking advantage of the confusion, he turns to the side with a smooth movement, swiping the legs from the stillbeak out from under him as the ixali tries to charge towards the rogue anew.  in that same movement he continues, bringing his shield up to bash it against the wildtalon’s sternum positioned behind him, stunning it in its surprise.  a glint from the corner of his eyes has him adjust swiftly,  the scimitar of the first harmlessly glancing off his armor and with another swift turn,  he catches that one in the temple with the flat of his sword.

he stays not to watch it crumple, instead moving swiftly towards the rogue in order to catch him ere the hyur’s drops through his knees.  he is barely conscious, haurchefant notes, though the hyur’s gaze still meets his own, the hint of a smirk visible ‘neath the strain. the corners of his mouth twitch, almost unbidden; reluctant amusement glinting in his blue hues.  once a rogue  ━

“ my apologies for what needs be done, “ he says then without preamble, sweeping the arm not wound around his back under the crook of his knees to lift him off his feet. 

[paragonrogue]

Thancred had offered, so now it was time to make good on his word. He took another sip from his tea, leaving it half finished before he got up from his seat. He passed Aymeric by and patted him lightly on the shoulder in passing. "Come on, lets start with a change of scenery."

The rogue wasn't entirely sure on where he was going with his idea of a distraction, but at the very least the earlier trip through the manor had left him with a basic idea of the layout. He had glimpsed a lounge down the hall and what he thinks to be a orchestrion. Mayhap some music would help to turn Aymeric's attention away from the storm.

If not, at the very least the couches in that room would be more comfortable than the chairs they had sat on previously and if Thancred understood one thing, it was that Aymeric needed comfort.

Thancred's bare feet patted with quiet sound along the flooring, it was cold to the touch but bearable at least, not as biting on his skin as he had feared. While walking, his eyes strayed around the interior of the estate once more, committing more of it to memory before realizing that it wasn't necessary to inspect it in the same way he would if he was here on an assignment from the Scions, but it definitely helped in finding his way around.

It was perhaps a little presumptuous to move around the estate as freely as he did, but from what he understood the other man didn't seem to mind.

There was a brief flash of light and thunder rolled again soon after just as they reached the door Thancred had been looking for. Signalling that the worst of the storm was just about right overhead the city now. The rogue turned to look at Aymeric, his brow slightly furrowed in concern when he gauged his reaction. He instinctively reached out a hand to gently touch the other's arm. Quietly hoping he wasn't overstepping any boundary he wasn't aware of.

paragonrogue​:

He couldn’t fathom what thoughts and images played before the Lord Commander’s eyes as he fell quiet for a moment after Thancred’s words. The rogue hadn’t been here to live through Ishgard’s recent struggles; had only heard stories of yet another of the warrior of light’s herpic deeds. Ser Aymeric of course was mentioned and praisrd highly whenever the topic occured, but word on the street was that even with the war between Dravania and Ishgard ended there were people doubting the lord.

Even from a position more neutral than those directly involved Thancred understood. A thousand years of war could not easily be set aside. There would be voices that still demanded retribution, vengeance for those lost and it likely would fall to people like Aymeric to be the voice of reason for years to come.

It couldn’t be easy to be the one expected to have all the answers.

He watched Aymeric flinch violently in answer to the thundering above with no small amount of sympathy. There had to be something he could offer in return for the other’s kindness, some way of easing the discomfort brought about by the storm.

“Mayhap a distraction is in order?” He asked. “That at least I can try to provide.”

The headache that was beginning to blossom behind his eyes was one borne of tension and discomfort - Aymeric’s rather pathetically cowering state lasting some moment or so past the sounds of the thunder above ere he finally lifted his head - a look naught short of dismay upon his expression.

Towards his tea did he stare, momentarily gazing at his own reflection within the honey-toned liquid - filled with woe and further dismay simply for how he looked, how he was appearing, how he was holding himself. All cracks beneath his façade were perfectly on show, no ability to reel it all back inward present, at all; no, all had already been lay bare. 

“Distraction-?” Finally did Aymeric move his gaze to his company once more, forcing a long exhale from between his lips; “I - - I would very much appreciate that.”   

[paragonrogue]

He couldn't fathom what thoughts and images played before the Lord Commander's eyes as he fell quiet for a moment after Thancred's words. The rogue hadn't been here to live through Ishgard's recent struggles; had only heard stories of yet another of the warrior of light's herpic deeds. Ser Aymeric of course was mentioned and praisrd highly whenever the topic occured, but word on the street was that even with the war between Dravania and Ishgard ended there were people doubting the lord.

Even from a position more neutral than those directly involved Thancred understood. A thousand years of war could not easily be set aside. There would be voices that still demanded retribution, vengeance for those lost and it likely would fall to people like Aymeric to be the voice of reason for years to come.

It couldn't be easy to be the one expected to have all the answers.

He watched Aymeric flinch violently in answer to the thundering above with no small amount of sympathy. There had to be something he could offer in return for the other's kindness, some way of easing the discomfort brought about by the storm.

"Mayhap a distraction is in order?" He asked. "That at least I can try to provide."

paragonrogue​:

Ever one to keep fears and worries close to his chest, the admission of such a private fear came perhaps as unexpected to himself as it did to the Lord Commander. Thancred blamed it on the comfort that came with shelter and warm clothing and most of all on the rather uncommon occurence of someone willing and determined to take care of him instead of the other way around. After the months in the wilderness spent entirely on his own it seemed he craved such gentleness more than he had been aware of.

Bizarre. A fitting description and one that Thancred met with a smile of his own, trying for what he hoped to be reassuring. “Mayhap it is precisely the grandness of our usual tasks which is the reason for our faltering when faced with lesser. We don’t expect it from smaller things, but they are often what trip us up when our guard is down.” He met Aymeric halfway to receive the cup of tea from him, fingers briefly brushing, his own only slowly but still steadily warming. Thancred then quietly followed his companion to the table.

Thancred curled his hands around the warm cup once he was seated opposite the other man and found himself staring into the liquid as he continued to speak. “I suppose it is humbling at the very least.” He offered then. “We are but mortal men after all.” His head was slightly tilted forward, previously wet strands of hair now only damp as they fell into his face.

He wasn’t following any particular train of thoughts afterwards, but his brows still furrowed as his mind wandered to the things in the more recent past. As such, Aymeric’s question took him off guard and he only belatedly moved his gaze to meet the Lord Commander’s.

“Very much so,” he said, tone lighter than before. “I would refrain from thanking you again within so short a time, but given the circumstances I really must express my gratitude once more. I might just have chosen the worst of times to strain your hospitality and you’ve offered far more than you should have.” An easy smile now pulled at the corners of his lips. “If there is anything I can do to make it up to you, please do not hesitate to ask.”

But only mortal men, indeed - and yet expected, no less, to continually pull off what could only be labelled as miracles as the world around them crumbled in one way or another. The end of the war had been one such miracle, certainly - and the new path set ahead for Ishgard another, if one  ignored the hiccups along the way; but could they continue to provide such? Or would they soon hit a wall of which would prove to be impassable? Aymeric only hoped that he could continue for as long as he could to provide for those of whom relied upon him, and he imagined it was much the same for his company.

Aymeric had placed down his teacup - mercifully - and parted his lips upon his company’s utterance and had intended to reply ere a loud clap of thunder sounded nigh directly overhead and this time there was naught upon that start that could prevent him from cowering. Hands raised to cover wars, eyes tightly closed and teeth tightly bared - a fierce tremble overtaking the entirety of his person as several further rumbles sounded overhead with a stark increase to the rain hammering windows. If only it would pass soon, he hoped - -

“Nonsense–” He breathed, gradually raising his head upward once the thunder paused, though he knew another would be close behind; unfortunately; “– It is no strain- and I have only offered what is willing. I for one would not have liked to linger in wet clothing for hours at a time; I would much rather a guest be comfortable. You are more than welcome to stay until the storm passes over, get some rest while you are able, too-” 

[paragonrogue]

[paragonrogue]

[paragonrogue]

With the Ixal's attention properly taken off of him and directed at the Elezen and his chocobo instead, Thancred gains a moment to come back to his feet. He does so with far less grace than usual, but the adrenaline coarsing through him makes it ever easier to ignore the discomfort that comes with his wound.

Be it pride or sense of duty that spurred him to quickly grasp his remaining knife from where it fell into the snow, but as long as he could stand he would do his part.

The rogue takes a steadying breath, trying to focus. As it stands they are outnumbered, and something needs to happen to balance the scales.

Thancred focusses inward, hoping he will have enough time to execute one -- if not the most -- reckless skill he possesses. It is nowhere near as impressive as some spells he has seen Shtola or Urianger perform over the years, from the outside there is merely a faint shift in the air around him before he vanishes from sight entirely.

Taken at face value it is not all that different from a skill the rogues of Limsa Lominsa learn to perform, the difference being that the latter is but a mere play with the opponents senses, a shade would linger, allowing others to still perceive him to some degree, but this one on the other hand would leave him invisible. The perfect deception.

Every sound seemed dulled, every motion slowed. His heartbeat thundered in his ears and he could feel his body fade the longer he remained in this state. Severing one's connection to the aether that kept them alive came at a price after all.

Thancred makes it's way across the battlefield, ignoring those opponents in the front the knight and his chocobo have handled and focussing his attention on the Ixal further back. A conjurer and a thaumaturge. There is also the one with the lance who still has the rogue's knife lodged in its shoulder.

Thancred moves toward it, reaching out his free hand to rip the knife out of the leathery skin. Then, having noted the defensive approach of the Elezen, he turns his hand to have the hilt face the Ixal's temple and brings it down hard.

The lancer drops.

Thancred moves on to the conjurer. His vision is already blurring, and even breathing feels like a chore. He has but a few seconds left before he will drop. He knows, but still he presses on.

The conjurer is dealt with in much the same matter. The only trace of the rogue's movement the droplets of blood that stemmed from his arm. His attacks only left the Thaumaturge standing, and he hopes the knight and his companion are able to deal with the rest.

He moves again. His legs like led, his head swimming and throbbing with pain. He can feel blood dripping from his nose, but still he continues on.

Now standing behind the third Ixal, Thancred raises his hands once more, the knives shaking alongside his hands. The deception drops. He reappears with a loud gasp as his lungs finally draw in a proper gulp of air. He sees the Ixal turn despite his blurring vision, but it is too late. The blow to it's head hits hard and it, too, falls onto the frozen ground.

"Your... turn..." Thancred heaves, just loud enough for the Elezen to hear as he turns his attention back to him. The statement would have been accompanied by a challenging smirk but as it is he has hardly enough energy to keep himself upright. In its entirety all this transpires in a matter of seconds, but it leaves him winded in the same way hours of combat would have.

paragonrogue​:

The order that is shouted at him has Thancred whip his head around, and before the words register fully in his mind his instincts have him do precisely as he is told, stumbling away from his attacker and falling backwards into the snow as he looses his balance. He hisses in pain; a hand coming up to clutch at his arm again. He dropped one knife in favor of doing so, but the other is still clutched firmly in his hand.

With eyes still wide from surprise does he then look up to the Ishgardian knight – there was no mistaking his attire – that had planted himself between him and the Ixal. “Alright’ seems too strong a word for my current state,” Thancred quips back after a moment of scrambling to regain his composure. It wasn’t the most witty of remarks, but he is in pain and also still taken aback by his role suddenly becoming that of a damsel in distress.

But with the knight’s attention momentarily on him he seemed to miss another Ixal raising his weapon to take a swing at him from the side. “Watch out!” Thancred shouts, instinct having him raise his injured arm despite the pain and throwing the remaining knife in his hand with as much might as he can muster. The blade cuts through the air with a whistle, missing his savior by little more than an ilm before it swiftly lodges itself in the Ixal’s shoulder. The beastman lets out a screech of pain in turn, momentarily stopped from attacking.

Thancred’s arm throbs from the sudden movement, and with one knife dropped somewhere in the snow and the other now burried in an opponent he is left defenseless.

It simply isn’t his day.

haurchefant barely even has time to flinch ere the knife passes, perilously close  ━ close enough he senses the displacement of air from its speedy trajectory against his skin  ━ and embeds itself into one of the ixal’s shoulder.  breath clouds the air on a sharp exhale, the beat of a few seconds passing for his heart to recover from the surprise; the look he throws the wounded hyur one of gratitude mingled with wry.  indeed, ‘twould be most prudent to deal with the hostilities first before discerning the rogue’s physical and emotional state. 

to business then. a quicksilver smile crosses his features as he turns t’ wards the remaining beastmen,  shield and sword solidly in hand.   “ do hold that thought, my friend. “  he says, the words shot over his shoulder containing level of bonhomie somewhat unbefitting the gravity of the situation;  like he was preparing for a jaunt rather than a fight.

his movements, however, are precise and expertly targeted, both sword and shield used like an extension of his body, meant to safeguard   ━  meant to incapacitate rather than to outright kill: a strategy mirrored by the black chocobo still fighting staunchly by his side, its stance defensive rather than offensive,  going as far as to shield the wounded rogue each time one of the ixal makes another attempt at a strike. 

even so,  with a group of six grown ixal against two and a half,  he knows he needs be fast ere he gets overwhelmed. 

[paragonrogue]

thancred + text posts

[paragonrogue]

[paragonrogue]

The order that is shouted at him has Thancred whip his head around, and before the words register fully in his mind his instincts have him do precisely as he is told, stumbling away from his attacker and falling backwards into the snow as he looses his balance. He hisses in pain; a hand coming up to clutch at his arm again. He dropped one knife in favor of doing so, but the other is still clutched firmly in his hand.

With eyes still wide from surprise does he then look up to the Ishgardian knight -- there was no mistaking his attire -- that had planted himself between him and the Ixal. "Alright' seems too strong a word for my current state," Thancred quips back after a moment of scrambling to regain his composure. It wasn't the most witty of remarks, but he is in pain and also still taken aback by his role suddenly becoming that of a damsel in distress.

But with the knight's attention momentarily on him he seemed to miss another Ixal raising his weapon to take a swing at him from the side. "Watch out!" Thancred shouts, instinct having him raise his injured arm despite the pain and throwing the remaining knife in his hand with as much might as he can muster. The blade cuts through the air with a whistle, missing his savior by little more than an ilm before it swiftly lodges itself in the Ixal's shoulder. The beastman lets out a screech of pain in turn, momentarily stopped from attacking.

Thancred's arm throbs from the sudden movement, and with one knife dropped somewhere in the snow and the other now burried in an opponent he is left defenseless.

It simply isn't his day.

@ritterblood

He’d been careless, or mayhap just a tad too confident in his own abilities to stay hidden from view in the snowy surroundings, but the furiously bleeding cut on his arm from an earlier grazing shot of an Ixal made it clear that Thancred had, for lack of a more polite way of saying it – screwed up royally.

Fleeing like a dog with his tail between its legs had been his only option after he was made by his target. The intel he had been hoping to gain was now lost, at least until he could find another way of gathering the information the Scions so desperately needed.

Provided he made it out of here alive.

Clutching the wound with one hand to haphazardly stop the bleeding he slumped back against a barren tree that only scarcely kept him out of sight but would have to suffice for now. He had shaken his pursuers for now, or so he hoped which gave him time to breathe. The rogue looked down his arm, his sleeve in tatters and drenched in blood. But besides the pain something else immediately caught his attention. His gaze fell to the snow at his feet and his eyes widened at the clear trail of blood that would no doubt lead his enemies here. His head thumped back against the bark behind him, he hissed in pain and frustration alike, cursing himself under his breath. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

Heavy footsteps in the snow. Approaching fast from behind him.

Godsdammit all.

He let go of his injured arm and took a deep breath. Then, he grit his teeth against the pain and fished for the knives at his belt. He assumed a fighting stance. If he was to die, he’d go down fighting.

[paragonrogue]

@ritterblood

He'd been careless, or mayhap just a tad too confident in his own abilities to stay hidden from view in the snowy surroundings, but the furiously bleeding cut on his arm from an earlier grazing shot of an Ixal made it clear that Thancred had, for lack of a more polite way of saying it -- screwed up royally.

Fleeing like a dog with his tail between its legs had been his only option after he was made by his target. The intel he had been hoping to gain was now lost, at least until he could find another way of gathering the information the Scions so desperately needed.

Provided he made it out of here alive.

Clutching the wound with one hand to haphazardly stop the bleeding he slumped back against a barren tree that only scarcely kept him out of sight but would have to suffice for now. He had shaken his pursuers for now, or so he hoped which gave him time to breathe. The rogue looked down his arm, his sleeve in tatters and drenched in blood. But besides the pain something else immediately caught his attention. His gaze fell to the snow at his feet and his eyes widened at the clear trail of blood that would no doubt lead his enemies here. His head thumped back against the bark behind him, he hissed in pain and frustration alike, cursing himself under his breath. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

Heavy footsteps in the snow. Approaching fast from behind him.

Godsdammit all.

He let go of his injured arm and took a deep breath. Then, he grit his teeth against the pain and fished for the knives at his belt. He assumed a fighting stance. If he was to die, he'd go down fighting.

[paragonrogue]

[paragonrogue]

Ever one to keep fears and worries close to his chest, the admission of such a private fear came perhaps as unexpected to himself as it did to the Lord Commander. Thancred blamed it on the comfort that came with shelter and warm clothing and most of all on the rather uncommon occurence of someone willing and determined to take care of him instead of the other way around. After the months in the wilderness spent entirely on his own it seemed he craved such gentleness more than he had been aware of.

Bizarre. A fitting description and one that Thancred met with a smile of his own, trying for what he hoped to be reassuring. "Mayhap it is precisely the grandness of our usual tasks which is the reason for our faltering when faced with lesser. We don't expect it from smaller things, but they are often what trip us up when our guard is down." He met Aymeric halfway to receive the cup of tea from him, fingers briefly brushing, his own only slowly but still steadily warming. Thancred then quietly followed his companion to the table.

Thancred curled his hands around the warm cup once he was seated opposite the other man and found himself staring into the liquid as he continued to speak. "I suppose it is humbling at the very least." He offered then. "We are but mortal men after all." His head was slightly tilted forward, previously wet strands of hair now only damp as they fell into his face.

He wasn't following any particular train of thoughts afterwards, but his brows still furrowed as his mind wandered to the things in the more recent past. As such, Aymeric's question took him off guard and he only belatedly moved his gaze to meet the Lord Commander's.

"Very much so," he said, tone lighter than before. "I would refrain from thanking you again within so short a time, but given the circumstances I really must express my gratitude once more. I might just have chosen the worst of times to strain your hospitality and you've offered far more than you should have." An easy smile now pulled at the corners of his lips. "If there is anything I can do to make it up to you, please do not hesitate to ask."

paragonrogue​:

Far removed was the display from what he knew the Lord Commander to be: calm, collected and ever with an air of professionalism about him, safe for the few occasions Thancred had seen his expression brighten tremendously when speaking to the Warrior of Light.

Seeing him shaken like he was right now surprised Thancred to the point where he was only able to watch in silence as the other made his retreat. In any case, he wouldn’t have known what to say to this admission of a weakness; to the trust shown by it, so mayhap it was for the best.

Thinking, he simply returned his attention to the towel in his hand, then glanced at the clothes Ser Aymeric had prepared for him. Despite the state the storm left him in the lord remained the perfect host, and if Thancred hadn’t felt uneasy for imposing this evening already he would certainly do now.

Thancred took a deep breath which he released in equal length afterwards, then he got to undressing and drying himself. He shed the remaining clothes, dabbing the towel along his bare torso, arms and eventually his hair before moving on to step out of his wet trousers and underwear.

Once sufficiently dried off did he pull on the new trousers provided. They were warm in comparison to cold skin and soft in a way that immediately made him feel comfortable. As expected the legs were too long to properly fit him so he was forced to lean down and turn up the bottom hem a few times to be able to walk in them without stumbling.

It was a similar thing with the shirt, the sleeves were too long with the way they covered his hands up to his knuckles and even the neckline was far wider than it should be on his form, loosely hanging further to one side than the other, slightly exposing one collarbone.

He spied his form in the mirror stood in a corner of the room, but kept his glance brief as he realized how young he appeared in the too big clothes, uncertain how he felt about the sight.

With one last brush of the now dampened towel through his hair did Thancred gather up his things and leave them where Aymeric had told him.

He already felt a great deal better within the foreign yet perfectly soft garments. They smelled faintly of something flowery, probably from the wash still and spent a great deal of comfort even though he was still shivering, if slightly less so.

Absentmindedly did Thancred run his thumb over the edges of the sleeves, feeling the fabric between his fingers as he patted his way downstairs on still bare feet taking note of the different textures of carpets and flooring alike as he went.

He found the Lord Commander in the kitchen, not looking much better than he remembered from a few moments ago. Ser Aymeric seemed near ready to drop the teacup he currently held in his hand come the next clap of thunder.

Thancred leaned against the doorway with one shoulder. “I am… uneasy in complete darkness.” He offered suddenly, apropos of nothing; hopefully providing a distraction to Aymeric’s mind. “In my youth I was… caught stealing from a rather unpleasant fellow in the lower decks of Limsa Lominsa. I couldn’t have been older than five summers at the time.”

He deliberately kept his voice low and even, but his eyes were distant, remembering. “Instead of handing me over to the authorities, which in his defense, there weren’t any to speak of at the time – the port was a different place back then – the man decided to teach me a lesson by shoving me into a storage box not much bigger than I was at the time.”

He shook his head, lowering his gaze to the floor. “He left me in there for hours. I wailed and cried and begged to be let out, but to no avail. I don’t remember who let me out in the end. But what I do remember is… pure and utter darkness and the fear that came with it all.”

The story was a weakness for a weakness in a way, an equal measure of trust which the other man had bestowed upon him. “I have never been able to quite shake it. I still avoid cramped spaces as best I can to this day and I haven’t slept without at least a smidge of light from a latern or candle in years.” Looking up at his company he gave a reassuring smile. “A childish fear it may be,” he echoed Aymeric’s words from earlier. “But it is a real one nonetheless.”

Silence enshrouded Aymeric as he made his way downstairs, every step taken one of a tentative nature, fear written across every movement, every motion. Shoulders are tense, hands quick to quip up towards his ears as another clap of thunder sounded; the commander nigh crouching with utter discomfort - the anxiety thrumming through his chest enough to make him feel nauseous. 

After but a few moments, however, he made his way to the kitchen and began to brew some much needed tea; chamomile and - ah, he couldn’t remember - but he recalled the merchant saying it was wonderful with a spoonful of honey and he perfectly intended to follow such instructions. 

Unable to stop his hand from trembling, the teacup he held within was jittering about rather unevenly - his other hand poised beneath to cushion it as best as he could though it was put down entirely upon a counter top upon the arrival of his company. 

Brows so gently furrowed; the small insight into a fear in which Thancred housed was one in which he did not expect. only briefly did eyes turn to him ere returning back to pour him a cup of the tea and added a generous spoon of honey to it, too; crossing the room to offer it with a rather small but appreciative smile nonetheless. 

“Is it bizarre, isn’t it? That we are able to face certain situations that are written of only in the most extreme of novels as vast epics - - only to be undone by smaller things.” Quietly does he sit upon a chair at the table in the corner. 

He shakes his head, attempting to rid himself of thoughts of such and instead turns his attention back to Thancred; “Are you any warmer, my friend-?”

[paragonrogue]

@riddlemancer sent: [ BLANKET ]: having found the receiver either sleeping or just lying on the couch, sender gently takes a blanket and drapes it over them.

The couch wasn't nearly big nor comfortable enough to have him rest prooerly on it and under normal circumstances he would have been hardpressed to find any sleep at all, but as it turned out a maximum of three hours of sleep a night for the duration of week would leave a man utterly exhausted to the point where he was able to sleep just about anywhere.

It was lucky for Thancred that he even made it to the couch in question at all, for as soon as his mind registered that he was safe enough to allow himself to rest, his legs decided to give out from under him and he near collapsed onto the furniture.

But despite it all he was not immediately rendered unaware by his fatigue, but rather he lacked the strength to keep his eyes open. He did, however hear Urianger approach and shortly after he could feel the weight of a blanket settle over him.

He peaked out from under the arm he had thrown over his face in favor of blocking out the light from the room to look up at the Elezen, gauging his expression with what little consciousness he could muster.

Thancred's eyes were half-lidded, his brows still furrowed and his mind filled with a myriad of thoughts, although none of them seemed to form properly.

He tried for a smile, but had barely the strength to keep his eyes open. "Thank you," he muttered, but it was hardly audible with how slurred his speech was from exhaustion. Realizing this he moved his arm to be able to reach for the Elezen's hand, squeezing it in a display of gratitude. He felt his warmth under his fingertips and allowed himself to truly feel at ease for once.

Slipping off to sleep Thancred's hold loosened, but something in the back of his mind had him hold on even after he lost the fight against the fatigue. It wasn't a strong enough hold to keep the other should he choose to leave, but a connection nonetheless.

Safe.

The notion rang deeply in his mind.

Safe at last.