#*sovann

[minamill]

Soft Spot bodies

[tsaritza-mika]

I'd like to think that since people are always changing, that maybe that would apply to Ascended Astarion as well.

Nothing huge or recognizable right away, but maybe after a year or two, his sharp edges soften up a little. He thanks his staff at the palace for an excepting job well done. A few of his more dramatic theatrics may make a return during one of his parties, then start coming back up a bit more because he's grown fond of them and the reactions they get from people. He gets softer with Tav/Durge because that's what he wants one day, then finds that he wishes for more of it when he gets a taste. Maybe he finds his old camp clothes in the back of his wardrobe, putting them on in a fit of errant nostalgia, and actually finds a strange sort of comfort in the familiar, worn threads.

The rush of so much power all at once during the ritual would definitely be enough to illicit the change in him that it does. But people are in constant change, and eventually I think being as cold and distant as he can be after the ritual would eventually become tiring, most especially if Tav/Durge was genuinely loving and supportive for him during their whole journey

I just really like the thought of a softer A! Astarion once the shine of the ritual has worn off

[viranas-trolls-ask]

⋆༺𓆩Sovann Umbriel Judgement𓆪༻⋆

-> A warm smile invites you to stand before the renowned jade gunslinger himself! Let's see if you capture his attention.

[sovannisarealperson]

need a handler who pretends to be my sourcemate in order to manipulate me further

[clouseplayssims]

The cool thing about pre-recording for an upcoming vacation is that I now have lots of spare time and can play Edirann & the MCC obsessively. Today we're with the Charmchi family!

[trainwreck-trolls]

Design by @clounbae

[landfilloftrash]

A bunch of aggie doodles ft. a couple of my partners joining in with contributions

[phantasmaw]

♢*   — @melodicbreeze  ​/  𝐩𝐥𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐫

  〈 ஐ* 〉┊  Vexing. That is the only word Sovann can think of to describe this particular bard's melodies. Each performance always has a way of slipping under their skin and captivating them. Like waves lapping against a rocky shore, each pluck of the lyre erodes the sharp bitterness bubbling in their veins until it's all washed away. In the absence of bitterness, yearning lingers, soft and pliable and frightening. How a simple melody strummed by a simple bard could lower their guard so effectively is entirely beyond them. That is what makes both instrument and player so vexing. And yet every night the bard has wandered out into the wilderness to play, Sovann has answered the music's beckoning call, even if only on the peripheral.

     Tonight is no different. The lyre's crystalline notes have long since coaxed them out of hiding. They lounge on their stomach atop one of the gargantuan branches reaching out from the archaic tree of Windrise. Hidden by both the dark of night and generous foliage, the displaced nightguard watches through half-lidded eyes as a cluster of fireflies waltzes to the bard's strumming. Their silvery tail twitches. The desire to hum tickles at the back of their throat, but they swallow it down. As the bard's playing slows, their eyes fall shut. Visions of glittering halls adorned with sunlit clouds float behind closed eyelids. When the breeze caresses their bare shoulder, it feels like a pair of familiar warm hands tucking them in to sleep. If they can stay like this a few moments more, then...

     The music stops. Sovann's eyes snap open. They push themself upright in time to see the bard standing. They blink in disbelief. That's it? Usually he plays at least five songs (they think; they're uncertain of when, exactly, a song begins or ends). At least long enough for the moon to rise much higher into the sky than it is now. An inexplicable burst of anger crackles down from the back of their skull and into their ribcage. It explodes against the pumping of their heart and falls into the pit of their gut, where it becomes a writhing, oily thing that steals their breath and makes a hot rash of panic sweep across their skin. Their lips curl back into a silent snarl.

      In a slash of liquid moonlight, Sovann suddenly stands in the way of the Mondstadt local. They glare down at him, eyes twin stars of molten gold that glower with discontent. One of their clawed hand brandishes their polearm. Hydro swirls in razor-sharp whirlpools at the tip of their weapon, pointed down towards the ground, but an unspoken threat nonetheless.

      "You didn't finish," they growl, low voice scratchy from disuse and roughly shaping each word in a more dated iteration of Teyvat's common language. Their gaze flashes from the lyre, to the bard's face, to the Anemo vision hanging at his hip, and then back to his lyre. The aura of the Statue of the Seven undulates in their ear. The oily feeling slithers tight around their gut. The gesture crassly with their polearm. "Every other night you play for longer. Much longer. Why didn't you finish?"

[antiinotice]

Now see them gently tormented

[minamill]

August's unique sense of humor didn't sit well with Eden or the rest of the group. Otis lost his cool, but one look from August and he couldn't stay mad for long. Sovann and Eden talked about their shared joy of cooking (well, Eden mostly tried to focus on breathing) while Talia and Otis danced the night away. August tried his usual smooth apology on Eden, but it didn't land the way he'd hoped. After an overall pleasant evening, everyone headed home and the roommates shared their impressions on the new neighbours

previous / next / beginning

bonus Talia's reaction to August's joke

[tsaritza-mika]

Unfinished WIP that I just lost steam for. Made after going with my Aunt to see Journey and Def Leppard in concert. It was badass. I think Star would like Def Leppard ❤️

[viranas-trolls-ask]

Crack Fuck, Marry, Kill for Sovann: Viktor, Teagan, and Lilvie

Well now, let’s see… I’d definitely marry Lilvie. She’s a highblood—probably sittin’ pretty in a real nice hive. Seems like she knows how to handle her finances too. And, well... she’s got a whole lotta sugar on her, if you catch my drift~ That dress sure ain’t hurtin’ neither~

I’d sure as sin fuck Teagan. I mean, do I really gotta spell that one out?

-> He whispers

Finally got a number—go on and give me a ring, darlin’~

Now, I hate to say it, but Viktor’s gettin’ the boot. I’ve been with one rainbowdrinker before, and lemme tell ya—two’s just a whole mess I ain’t lookin’ to wrangle. And marriage? Nah. You and me, we’re in the same kinda bind… 'cept yours might be a touch tighter.

[sovannisarealperson]

fall in love with me

[clouseplayssims]

Quarter day is upon us! Surprisingly a lot less flashing but a lot more hyena-fueled destruction of property. No second baby either which could be a problem - or a nice bonus for another family.

Their total income was $5,836. (I sort of forgot how I was doing this, but I believe if they go below $20K then they count their full household funds.)

Taxes - 10% of Income: $583 Rent: $3,000 Tithes - 10% of Income: $583 Fees: None

Total owed: $4,166

[trainwreck-trolls]

Your name is Deimos Raidne and you're having a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad time

Toyhouse profile here

[landfilloftrash]

I miss space campaign (and Bromeli) Tails. I miss it a lot.