#Glimmergris

[mightymizora]

Ok last one but! EXTREMELY their vibe! Girl you are going to knock him over, think of his poor knees.

[mightymizora]

Sometimes you have to use all of your 8 str to pick up your tiny wife.

Thank you @pitzypitzy for this utterly adorable art of Gale of Waterdeep and The Great Glimmergris!

[mightymizora]

What a joy it is, he thinks, to simply wake up in the morning. To feel sore limbs and sweat, to crave food, to feel heat beside him. To be mortal. To be happy. To be in love.

I commissioned the wonderful fellow deep gnome enthusiast @feymaid and just look how utterly adorable it turned out! Thank you again, it's so lovely!

[mightymizora]

"I don't want to write our love as a tragedy."

I commissioned the absolutely wonderful @airenfolio to draw this idea for Gale and Glimmergris and oh my, I am so in love with the result! I am truly obsessed with how he draws Gale and the whole process was wonderful, please consider commissioning!

[mightymizora]

Has this already been posted? Yes. Am I also capturing it? Also yes. Gale kiss with short characters in the epilogue, beloved.

[mightymizora]

Practised Hands

He may have a practised tongue, but she’s a multi-instrumentalist

Gale gets fingered, that’s it, send tweet

“We have cake tasting at noon.”

“That’s two hours yet.”

She is tangled up in the bed sheets as he looks across, her head buried in three layers of pillows. They are neither of them good at mornings, but she is particularly keen to not leave their bed. 

“And then the stationers to talk through the calligraphy,” he continues, pulling one of the pillows from under her head to an annoyed groan. “And then onto the theatre.”

“We’re not due to see anything, are we?”

“I’ve arranged for some musicians to audition for us.”

“Gale, no-”

“They’re passing through from Neverwinter, it’s one of the only days they have available”

“We’re not doing this. We’re not having auditions to play at our wedding.”

“I just want it to be perfect .”

He sits up and squeezes the bridge of his nose. There is so much to do; every task seems to create a dozen more things, and he can’t get her to do anything at all. Or at least, he can’t get her to take it seriously, and there’s so little time and-

“Come on,” she says to him, finally pulling herself up to look at him. “Lie down. You need to relax.”

“There isn’t time to-”

“There’s two hours. Come on. Lie back down.”

He knows better than to argue. One thing he has already come to terms with in this relationship, in what he hopes will grow into a long and happy marriage, is that it does not matter how well he speaks, how well crafted his argument may be; if she is set to an idea then that is the end of it. With a sigh he shuffles back onto his stomach, pressing his head back into the pillow.

“You’re getting a massage,” she says to him, kissing him softly on his crown.

Read it on Ao3

[mightymizora]

She smiles, a wide, toothy smile, and he knows this part is where she will shine. As she channels the beauty of the music she plays, so too does she pull together the harmony of magic. The Weave floods to them, a wave crashing through the moment as she is lit by soft purple light. It is the feeling of walking into a room just after a person with the scent of them on the air filling your lungs, or sitting in a warmed chair, or tracing your fingertips over the residue of a kiss. She looks at him, the Weave reflected in the deep blue of her eyes, the light dancing in the grey of her skin, her scars, making her seem almost new. “This is beautiful, Gale. Truly. What a gift.” “How does it feel?” "It feels..."

You know I love a character when I commission @needlesslycryptic to draw them! Thank you for capturing Glimmergris so perfectly - I knew you would get her!

Quote is from the ongoing Galefic, Breath and Rosewater.

[mightymizora]

Firelight (Tav/Gale)

(E rating, strap sucking fun)

Read on Ao3

“Gods, you look so beautiful.”

He picked this one out himself in Aurora’s, an adorable and quaint little shop that they had frequented a couple of times since she moved in. He’d got that look in his eyes the moment he saw it, a soft glazed expression and a faint blush at the top of his cheeks as his eyes darted over to her and she knew he was imagining what she would look like in it.

It’s not something she would have chosen, but she has to admit it is a beautiful item. Expertly carved with a slight bend, there is a beautifully rendered head and a gentle carved seam of decoration that is a far cry from the makeshift stuffed leathers she has used over the years. And it’s… well. It’s quite large, at least sat flush to her narrow hips, and she can feel the weight of it in her harness as she walks over to the chair by the fire. His eyes follow her, and he comes to his knees before her as she gets comfortable on the edge of her seat.

He reaches up, fingers gently tracing her body along the edge of the simple open shirt she has left on, skirting around her waist and up to the edge of her breast before she gently takes his hand and kisses the tip of her fingers.

“You’ll need to control yourself, Gale.”

“Yes, of course. Apologies, but the way the fire is on your skin, I… I quite forget myself.”

She lifts her foot and places it on his shoulder, and he turns his head to kiss the arch of it and run his tongue along in a moment of visible hunger before sucking gently on her toe, looking at her with the reflection of the fire in his eyes.

“That tongue of yours…”

“I can’t help it.”

He kisses up her short calf, the inside of her knee, up the tenderest flesh of her thigh as she settles one knee over the leg of the chair and idly runs her hand over the beautiful artistry of her new cock, enjoying the gentle ridges, the smooth head as his mouth finds her fingers on it and starts to suck at them.

She moves her hand from his mouth into his hair and guides him.

“Maybe we should keep this on display when we’re done,” she tells him as his mouth sinks down, circling the head before bobbing down once, twice, and taking it in fully. She can feel his nose pressing against her, and can’t help but think of what it will feel like later, to have him buried in her hair after she has fucked him. “Have it where we can see it. Where I can recall how pretty you look with your mouth full.”

He moans deeply, one hand pressed into the flesh of her thigh, his thumb on the edge of her harness. She knows where his other hand is as she sees the flex in the top of his arm. It is gentle, not the quick sharp movements of him taking his own pleasure, but the erratic, unconscious push of his palm against the fabric of his trousers.

He is already so desperate.

She wraps her fingers in his hair tighter, but lets him set his own pace.

“Would you like that, my love?” she asks him as he works his mouth over her, long trails of spit gathering at the base as his mouth moves to suck at the tip. “Putting it in pride of place. Right in your eyeline in the office, so you can remember how I take my pleasure from you. Would you be able to control yourself?”

He looks up at her with soft wet eyes as his pace increases, those eyes that tell her everything she needs to know even if he cannot answer. She bucks softly as he takes her in again, smiling as he mirrors it, his hips rising to meet his hand as his moans come thick and fast.

“Could you control yourself, thinking of me fucking your mouth like this?”

Her voice sounds hard as her hand tightens in his hair, as she feels her wetness against the chair, as she watches him take it harder, tears in his eyes as he looks up at her pleading, his beautiful eyes rolling back as his thrusts against his palm stutter and she rides his face through the guttural cry that is muted by his full mouth.

He pulls off slowly, leaving a long line of spittle as he collapses against her.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles against her thigh, his eyes cloudy and glazed as he looks up at her. “I’m sorry I couldn’t-”

“No apologies,” she says as she runs her thumb against his swollen lips. “We have all day. When you’re ready, you’re going to get yourself all cleaned up for me, and then you’ll take yourself to the bedroom and be ready for me when I decide it’s time to fuck you. To stand behind you and drive you into the bed until you sob. And you’ll wait there until I am, and stay nice and still and not touch yourself. Isn’t that right?”

He nods softly, kissing the inside of her thigh so gently it makes her throb. But she is patient. It will be worth the wait, to see him come undone on her cock again at least once, to make his beautiful body tremble, blushing and goosefleshed before his tongue and hands even make it to her cunt.

“Good boy,” she tells him, and he moans softly in gratitude against her skin.

[mightymizora]

Respite

A simple bath will likely do very little in the face of the arcane hunger that is starting to consume him from the inside out. Yet again, it won’t hurt.

Glim has a gift for Gale on their first night in the Underdark. (AKA I had a lot of feelings about Gale and chronic pain)

Read it on Ao3

“Oh, but you are clever.”

“I like it when you say that.”

She has uncovered an old tin tub under a sheet in Lenore’s quarters, with a stack of scrolls of create water carefully placed to one side. It’s full of lightly-steaming water, a scent of salt in the air. Gale breathes it in, the heaviness in his chest burning with each breath.

“I’ve been heating the metal for… well, a while now,” Glim tells him, smiling up at him with pride. “It should be a nice warmth and not a boilpot. Hopefully.”

“Have you tested it?”

“Well, I don’t know how hot you can take it.”

She walks over to the bath and looks back at him, peering over the edge. It’s almost as tall as she is, and the ripple of the candlelight hits the water and reflects a gentle glimmer across the scar on her face, lighting up her eyes as they sparkle with that kind, warm look of hers. He almost doesn’t take in what she just said.

“Me?”

“Don’t tell the others. I think Astarion would literally murder for it. But I thought it might help with everything.”

Everything, indeed. The orb cannot be sated, and there is little he can think of to do. Some magic can take the worst edge off the pain but he is exhausted, too slow to be useful in battle and a hindrance as they traverse this dangerous terrain. All of his energy is expended on magic to ensure he can even see in this damnable darkness, a problem that nobody else shares, leaving him drained to the point of feeling like his chest is caving in on itself. A simple bath will likely do very little in the face of the arcane hunger that is starting to consume him from the inside out.

Yet again, it won’t hurt.

“This is most generous. Most kind.”

“Let’s hope it does something. Clothes off then, while it’s still hot.”

He freezes. She cannot possibly think that he could do that around her? They were close, yes, but if anything that made it worse. Until he had told her the truth about his condition there had been a soft sweetness that they had shared, and he thought - well, perhaps presumed was a more apt word, given the evidence in front of him - that despite the icy shard that had driven into the warmth of their burgeoning affections for each other, that she still. Well. That perhaps, as he did, she-

“Ah,” she says with a grimace. “I forget you humans have such hang-ups around privacy. There’s not much place for it when you’re ten to a room.” She taps out a rhythm on the side of the bath as she thinks. “Well,” she says brightly after a moment, “how about I leave for a few minutes, get the last things I need, and when I return you can already be in the water? The salts have left the water quite cloudy, I’m sure it will hide whatever you feel you need to.”

“And what are your plans when you return?”

“I have an idea. To help. Indulge me?”

Her eyes are shining in that way she does when she’s been plotting. She is always so full of plans, of schemes and ideas and theories. It is what he has always adored the most in her.

“Always.”

He watches as she disappears behind the screen that divides this small corner of the room from the rest of this ruined floor. She has pulled up a small chair, he assumes for him to leave his belongings on, and has a row of neat bottles, potions and delicious smelling herbal soaps lined up on a nearby bookshelf within arms reach. There is some kind of robe, perhaps pulled from the ruined wardrobes in the other floors, and even the concession of a single candle to break through the darkness, set on the floor so as not to draw attention to the horrors lurking outside. Back in Waterdeep, before his confinement, he was a rather frequent visitor to the Temple of Beauty and took great joy in an afternoon of pleasures. Had he told her about those days? He can’t think that he has, and yet there are so many small details in how she has tried to set this up that takes him back to those easier times, despite the desolation they find themselves in.

He runs his hand through the water, testing how deeply he would need to be submerged to maintain some level of dignity. The water is a milky white, and his hand disappears into clouds before his elbow is even grazing it. Satisfied, he slips off his shoes and then his clothes, folding them on the chair before climbing in.

The water makes him gasp as he lowers himself to the bottom, and it is hotter still there. He almost has tears in his eyes as the water settles on his chest, lapping at the edges of the tub. It is a little small for him, but he is still largely covered, his knees bent to allow him to ease his shoulders down and rest the back of his head against the edge. It is lovely. It is.

The pain remains, however. It is both a pressure and a spark, at the same time a deep sore ache in his muscles and the weaving of electricity from his shoulder up his neck and into his eyes. It makes his fingers move slower, causing him to stumble over spellcasting that should be second-nature. It makes his feet sluggish as he walks and his words escape him as he talks. As he sinks into the water, he can feel the warmth trying to feed into him, release his tired muscles and unknot the tensions, and the orb is almost pushing back against it in defiance.

“Can I come through?”

She was so light on her feet, he could almost never track her by her footsteps. “Yes, by all means.”

She comes around the screen with a small pouch, her eyes set on it and not him, which is a slight relief. She is always so consumed by her ideas when she is excited by them.

“I noticed that when we were affected by the Sussar flowers, you were standing taller. I thought perhaps it might have had some additional benefits.” She holds up a sealed bottle with a suspension in it. “I don’t know if it holds its power this way, or how long, but I thought it might be more stable like this. It would mean we lose our magic for a short time, which I know is not comfortable… but if you’re willing?”

“You noticed such a little thing?”

“Well,” she says with a shy smile. “I make it my business to notice such things. Astarion’s hunger. Karlach’s fire. Your…”

“Condition.”

“Your pain, Gale. It’s okay to name it.”

He takes a deep breath, feeling the pressure of the orb pulling against the lateral muscles across his shoulders, making his breath hitch at the end. He tries to not think about it at all, yet alone speak about it. There is a faint sharp feeling of embarrassment about it, he realises. Perhaps he had been too forthcoming with her in the moment. She should not have to carry his burdens as well as her own.

“Well?” Glim asks. Her eyes are on him now. “What do you think? I believe after a few hours it won’t be potent anymore, so the effect should wear off in good time for when you next need to cast.”

“Go on then. You know I can never resist practical application of a sound theory.”

“Well, I’m not sure it’s sound. But it shouldn’t do any harm.”

She empties the whole bottle without ceremony, shaking it like a salt well to get every last drop in the water. There is a bloom of softly glowing blue as it works its way through the waters. Then, with a grin, she gently sprinkles a fistful of dried flowers across the surface, dropping the last with purpose by his chest.

“Do the petals do anything?”

“Oh, not at all. But they look pretty, don’t they?”

He watches her as she picks up two of the bottles of oil from the shelves and holds them up. “Sussar doesn’t have much of a scent to it, unfortunately. So. One, or two?”

She puts them in front of his nose one and then the other. The first is a bloom of lavender and some kind of sweetness he doesn’t recognise - perhaps something extracted from a deep mushroom? - and the second is a salty explosion of balsam. They lack complexity compared to his recollection of what was used in the temple, but they were surprisingly pleasant.

“The first, perhaps. It’s rather unusual. Did you blend it yourself?”

“From notes in the laboratory. Our departed wizard was a talented botanist. This seems to have been her signature.”

She holds it to her own nose and closes her eyes as she inhales deeply, letting out a hum of approval before she drops just a few drops into the water. Placing it down, she starts to roll up the sleeves of her shirt, and he finds his face flushing with heat at the sight of it. Her revealing just the slightest amount of flesh, her elbows bent as she carefully rolls her cuffs, suddenly makes him painfully aware that he is naked. And that may be nothing to her, but it is certainly something to him.

“Lay back,” she instructs him gently as she walks up to the top of the tub. “And close your eyes, please.”

She dips a small silver dish into the waters and raises it, tilting his head further back as she pours it gently over the front of his hairline. The warmth trickles over him as soft as a caress as she wets his hair, taking her time as she tilts his head to the side. She is so close to him like this, and he opens his eyes despite instruction and watches as her own eyes narrow in concentration, looking past his own eyes and to her ministrations. She is at her most beautiful like this. The thought passes over him like the sweep of water. There is a finery to her brow in concentration, her jaw flexes and it draws his eye to her strong cheekbones, to her soft, slightly open pink lips, the colour more vivid towards the pull of her mouth. The scar on her face, a sweeping web of purples and soft silver against the bluish-grey of her skin. The tiny mole on the side of her neck that he has often thought to lean over and kiss. It is but a turn of his head away from being able to do just that.

“You’re good at this, you know,” he murmurs, closing his eyes again for his own sake.

“I know. Though I wish it were for a glamorous reason.”

She runs her fingers across his temples to ensure the water has penetrated, and he cannot stop a soft moan escaping him. She laughs softly as she repeats the motion, hand over hand as she gently pulls the hair behind his ears.

“There is one thing I can do, which is a little more special. A trick from an old paramour.”

“Glim-”

“Trust me. She was excellent with her hands.”

He can smell the oil on her fingers as she places her fingers on his head, thumbs joined and fingers pressing gently into his temples. Slowly, with the strength of her practised bardic hands, she presses small circles into his skull. It is blissful… and it is familiar.

“A Sunite?”

“Indeed.” She shifts closer as she turns her hands in his hair, the movement sweeping back across his scalp in the formation of the swan, one of his very favourites. “Her name was Almeida. She was back in Neverwinter, in the temple. I taught her the lyre. She taught me some other things.”

Her fingers push down again and he doesn’t stifle his moan this time, he couldn’t if he tried. It is blissful. It is perfect.

It is very dangerous, to be this relaxed.

“What happened?” he asks her in an attempt to pull himself back. “Is she… do you still share-”

“Gods, no,” she laughs as her fingers find the back of his head and push into the top of his neck. “We had a lovely few summers. But Sune demands a certain beauty I do not possess. Or at least, that’s what I saw. It flickered out like the end of a candle. But it was something lovely, I think.”

“Well, she was a terrible fool, if that is so.”

Does she not know, he wonders, how beautiful she is? How she is different from and prettier than any other person he has seen? If things were different, if he were home and there were ways in which to show her…

“That silver tongue of yours. You can’t help but play the charmer.”

“I speak the truth. She was a fool, if she could not see your splendor.”

“You are very kind.”

They slip into silence for a little as she repeats her ministrations, the pressure in her fingers growing as she sweeps through again, and once more. He lets his eyes drift shut as he concentrates on breathing deeply, letting himself be caught up in the sensation of her work and not, for once, in his chest. She starts to hum absently; music thrums through her always, and he tries and fails to identify the song.

“I don’t think I know that one.”

“Hm?”

“The tune. I don’t know it.”

“Oh. Well, it’s new.”

“You’re composing?”

“All the time. There’s so much inspiration. So much I want to capture.”

She sweeps her fingers down one last time as her touch becomes more gentle and her hands drift away and he settles into his body again.

“Has it helped?” She asks him, coming to the side of the bath and leaning her elbow against it. “Has it helped at all?”

“Your fine company is always a balm.”

“Gale. Be serious.”

“Well.”

There is no point, he thinks, in trying to hide the truth from her. It would be a poor thing to do in the face of such generosity. “It has been lovely, and there has been some slight relief in the worst of it, to be sure. However…”

“It’s beyond the point where it can be helped at all, isn’t it?”

“I’m afraid I think it might be.”

She taps on the edge of the bath, a sharp rhythm that puts him on edge. She’s trying to think, he has seen this before. She is trying, her brow furrowed, biting her lip as her eyes fall to the floor. Slowly, the rhythm fades to nothing, and in the silence, she slowly, carefully, lays her grey hand on his.

He does not dare move.

“If you truly think it is near the end,” she says, her hand on his, “If you think it is time we… we could stay here. In this tower. The others could go on ahead. There’s plenty to read, enough food to sustain us, there’s precious little nearby that would amount to civilisation. We could stay here, and see what takes us first.”

“Glim-”

“I said I would stay with you, didn’t I? I can take care of you. I’m good at it.”

She looks at him, and he knows she is serious. “I would never ask you to.”

“I know. But how could I live with myself, knowing I’d left you to die alone?”

Her words drop down upon them and he does not know what to say. It is strange to admit, but in his thoughts of what would come should the orb take over him, his thoughts had not been of what would be left behind. He imagines himself climbing through wilderness and finding a cove, and praying one final time to his Lady as he commits himself to her care. Then, bright light, and maybe the sight of her again. That was what he had dreamed of, wasn’t it? That perhaps if he could be brave enough, humble enough, that in death he would find her forgiveness again?

Now he thinks of his mother. He has behaved wretchedly to her, carving her out of his life under the pretense of keeping her safe, which he now realises was a coward’s way out of having to explain himself and see the look on her face when she realised her son was… well. That he was a fool, and would pay the price of it. He thinks of Tara, dear Tara, who has kept him alive all of this time and who is probably frantic with worry in the tower. He thinks of his new friends, because he feels he can call them that now, Karlach at the front of his mind. He can see her face so clearly, lit up with fury at the injustice of it all.

And he sees Glim. He sees her as he sees her now, tears pricking the corner of her blue eyes, wide as the lakes of Elysium.

She looks away from him and runs her other hand through her hair. “Listen, I should let you-”

He takes her hand before she can move it away from his, pressing her fingers to her lips. He knows he shouldn’t, he knows it won’t help things, doesn’t change anything, but he does it anyway. He runs his thumbs over the callouses on her fingertips, inhales the scent of all of the herbs and flowers she has crushed to do this for him. She leans in, kisses him at the temple quickly before taking her hand away.

“The water must be getting colder without the magic. I didn’t think… I’ll leave you to enjoy it.” There is something at the corner of her voice he cannot quite place as she gathers some of the bottles and readies to leave. “There’s soaps just by you on that shelf, and be careful getting out with the oils. And don't stay too long. It’s hard to keep your sleep patterns without the sun, so you should get rest soon. When we wake…”

“When we wake, we shall carry on,” he says. “We find our way towards Moonrise, as planned.”

“Right. There’s hope, until there isn’t.”

He has heard her roll that saying around in her mouth so many times now. A Svirfneblin saying, so stark to the point of almost seeming glib. But it was true, though simple, and poetic in its honesty and clarity. He forgets sometimes about the great gulf of differences between them, of their lives and circumstances, when he sees so much of the familiar in her.

She smiles back at him one last time before departing, and he can just about hear her descending back to the basement.

He leans back and lets the water hold him for just a little while longer.

[mightymizora]

A little sliver of how Glim is with Tara perhaps? 👀

aaaaa, whoever you are, what a darling ask! Wrote this in about five minutes, ha.

Glim wakes to the feeling of something pushing at her stomach. She stirs slowly; these sheets are still so very comfortable compared to what she is used to, three layers of goosedown pillows and the gentle scent of lavender. Another push forces her eyes open.

She looks down into big, feline eyes.

"For a small-thing, you take up far too much space!" Tara hisses, rolling onto her paws from her side and flicking her wings. "This side of the bed is mine."

Glim looks over at Gale. He is snoring softly, a mess of hair and tangled sheets.

"I'm sorry, Tara. I could move over a little?"

"You splay out over the whole thing," she sulks. "I sleep by Mr Dekarios' head at this time of night. Then he turns, and I sleep by his legs. You are entirely in the way. I have been patient with a lot of your... influences, but this will not do. Not at all. I need at least eighteen hours of sleep. I'm exhausted."

"Right. I understand."

She brings her knees to her chest. Gale's bedroom in Waterdeep is intimidating; this one room is the size of the entire house her family shared in Silverymoon. It is all a bit too much, and even in this bed he feels entirely too far away.

"Well," she says quietly as Gale shifts beside her. "What can we do, then? How can I fix it?"

"I have some ideas..."

The next morning, she feels a gentle shaking of her shoulder.

"Glim? Love? What are you doing here?"

"Hm? Oh. Sleeping. Still sleeping. Give me another hour-"

"But why here? Did I do something wrong?"

The edge of panic in his voice forces her eyes open. The chaise she ended up in by the window is every bit as comfy as the bed, but now she moves there is a stiffness in her neck.

"No, you didn't do anything. It's not you. It's... It's fine."

"I had hoped to wake up and hold you in my arms after our first night together here. Our first night home. That I could take you in my arms half-asleep as the light came through the windows. It was a lonely feeling, to wake up and not see you."

"I'm sorry, I didn't realise it was so important to you. I just..." She brings herself up to sitting, making sure they are quite alone. "I didn't think it was a good idea to make anything difficult. For the long run. With your family."

"My mother wasn't here, was she?"

"Your other family, Gale. Tara. She was quite adamant that I was rather in the way."

He goes to speak and stops himself, a faint blush settling on his cheeks. "Right."

"She says you have a... routine?"

"Well... Perhaps so. Perhaps there had been some comforts. But you are here now, and she must get used to it. I intend you to be here a long time. Forever, if you'll have me."

He leans in to kiss her and she lets him, wrapping her arms around him as that closeness makes her feel like this could really, truly be her home.

[mightymizora]

OC Questionnaire!

I was tagged by the wonderful @commander-krios for this fun lil thing!

tagging @razrogue @swindlefingrs @undead-potatoes @thievinghippo @shaxibis-of-starmount @smoreofbabylon and @saturdaysky if you fancy it!

NAME: Glimra Silvervein Gilbie, AKA The Great Glimmergris

NICKNAME: Glim

GENDER: woman adjacent?

STAR SIGN: I barely know my own lmao.

HEIGHT: 3ft3

ORIENTATION: Pansexual

NATIONALITY/ETHNICITY: Deep Gnome born in Silverymoon. Her family was from Blingdenstone and fled the razing of the city.

FAVORITE FRUIT: Grapes

FAVORITE SEASON: high summer

FAVORITE FLOWER: Moonflowers!

FAVORITE SCENT: Fresh sweat, rosin on a bow, a rich red wine, rosemary

COFFEE, TEA, OR HOT CHOCOLATE: Tea

AVERAGE HOURS OF SLEEP: Absolutely dreadful sleeper. About 4 hours on an average night

DOGS OR CATS: Neither, probably. She's not a big pet person. But if she had to choose, cats.

DREAM TRIP: She wants to go east, as far east as she can. She wants to explore cities like Derlusk, the city of books, and to bring back new songs and learn new instruments.

NUMBER OF BLANKETS: Minimum. She'd sleep with nothing if it didn't make others uncomfortable.

RANDOM FACT: Maybe not so random, but her mother was a semi-famous adventurer and thief called The Gemnose and had Glim in her retirement. Nobody knows who Glim’s father is because technically she doesn’t have one. Her mother swallowed a stolen ruby to keep it from getting taken when she was captured on her last job, and it was a blessed artefact from Garl Glittergold that contained a portion of him sealed away. Her body absorbed it and she got pregnant. So, technically, Glim is a demigod, though nobody really knows, and she doesn’t have any particular powers except for the innate ability to channel magic and an extraordinarily large amount of luck on her side…

[mightymizora]

Let us stay here forever, love Where the morning cannot find us Let us leave behind our bodies In the world that claims them And be more and less than what we were  Before. Let us be here beyond time, love In the memories of safety  And the moment of a kiss. In the timeless space between our lips When you were mine And I was, forever, Yours.

[mightymizora]

I make all my ocs to my own beauty standards and I think I am... correct

[mightymizora]

Doot doot more glimmergale kisses!

[mightymizora]

He is so pretty, she is so handsome

[mightymizora]

Sorry, I love her