#cashdive

[uralea-blog]

my angel my baby boy my radiant light i love u so so soooo much!! i love u!!!

          after  a  battle,   a  fight   —   a  victory  treasured  within  the  army  and  the  job  of  healing  wounds  would  be  left  to  a  prince  with  a  kind  heart.   it  is  a  duty  he  would  take  pride  in.   whilst  others  would  risk  their  lives,   foleo  stays  back;   he  ensures  each  warrior  can  return  in  the  end  with  little  injury.   it  is  a  crucial  key  to  the  pyrrhic  victories  that  come  with  war.   it  is  as  vital  to  keep  signs  of  the  same  name  going.   useful,   as  he  wished  to  be  to  his  parents.   irreplaceable. 

          charlotte  comes  in  with  wounds  so  great  that  it  worries  him  intensely.   she  is  moving,   barely,   struggling  to  climb  into  the  bed  of  the  medical  bay  even  with  assistance  by  her  son’s  hands.   blood  stains  into  his  clothes   /   normally,   he  would  be  upset,   but  his  fears  and  unsteady  hands  overcame  it.   foleo  shakes  as  he  bandages  wounds,   heals  with  a  stave  to  cover  what  he  can,   works  his  hardest  so  she  may  live  another  day.   a  horror  of  war  which  even  he  couldn’t  have  expected   —   it  was  by  his  request  that  he  come.   was  he  a  fool  to?   or  was  this  his  destiny,   fate  allowing  him  to  change  the  fate  of  his  dearest  mother? 

          as  treatment  comes  to  an  end,   it’s  a  relief  that  she  would  live  another  day.   he’s  put  at  ease  as  she  lays  there,   peacefully,   a  chance  to  surely  heal  further  as  the  extent  of  his  abilities  for  the  day  couldn’t  allow  complete  erasure  of  injury.   it’s  all  he  can  do.   perhaps  it  really  would  have  been  better  for  him  to  have  stayed  in  a  deeprealm,   to  age  further  than  his  parents  and  grow  old  before  they  could  ever  hope  to  raise  him.   it’s  as  if  fate  tells  foleo  to  run  through  the  turning  in  his  stomach  and  the  tightness  in  his  throat  that  he  hadn’t  even  realized  was  there  until  he  could  relax.   almost  as  if  running  away  from  this  sight  that  he  should  be  used  to,   he  stands  abruptly  and  is  about  to  leave.   a  gentle  hand  stops  him,   grabbing  his  wrist.

          “    mother?    ”     he’d  thought  she  was  asleep   —   her  eyes  had  been  closed,   a  blanket  now  covering  her  to  prevent  the  cold;   it  was  a  hoshidan  superstition  that  if  you  slept  with  your  stomach  exposed,   you  would  wake  with  sickness.   foleo  was  stopped  in  his  tracks,   confused,   almost  fearful  of  what  she  might  say.   would  she  tell  him  to  leave?   would  she  tell  him  to  return  to  the  home  away  from  home,   where  he’d  likely  never  see  them  again?   he  trembles  in  her  grasp,   as  if  preparing  himself  for  a  negative  response,   prepared  to  be  informed  he  wasn’t  ready  and  that  he  should  keep  himself  safe  in  a  world  without  war.   he’s  prepared  when  she  beckons  him  closer  to  her  bedside... 

          but  instead,   he’s  given  a  hug  so  sweet  that  tears  kept  back  couldn’t  help  but  fall.   the  words  she  says  bring  a  piece  of  mind  that  he  hadn’t  expected  to  ever  feel  so  soon   ---   his  mother  loves  him,   sees  him  as  her  son  and  is  so  genuine  with  it  that  he  freezes  within  the  embrace.   arms  unsure  of  where  to  go,   shock  so  blatant  that  it  could  bring  worry.   it  is  a  face  of  someone  who  was  lonely  and  afraid   /   it  melts  into  sobs  and  a  return  of  familial  affection.   he  wanted  to  hear  those  words  so  bad,   to  know  that  his  parents  care  and  that  they’re  happy  that  he  was  with  them.   this  was  a  message  that  was  well - received  as  he  doesn’t  leave  her  bedside  until  he’s  certain  she’s  asleep,   holding  her  hand  and  talking  with  her  all  the  while. 

          when  she  does,   even  the  boy  couldn’t  help  but  feel  tired  from  the  stress  and  extensive  chatting.   instead,   he  lays  forward,   sleeping  on  the  stool  at  her  side  so  he’d  be  there  when  she  wakes  up.   foleo  was  thankful  for  his  mother.

[caellyx-blog]

if u and i were dating . . heh . well . lets just say horses wouldnt be called horses anymore

                              what will they be called then….

[miseyer-blog]

                    ‘    charlotte   !   CHARLOTTE   !  !  !    ’     zeres  yells  across  camp   ,   arm  raised  and  waving  with  such  intense  enthusiasm  that  it’s  near  -  worrisome   .     ‘    i  saw  ya  in  battle  today   !   that  guy  didn’t  stand  a chance   ---   y’knocked  him  out  real  good  without  a  sweat   !   how’d’ja  get  so  strong   ,   huh   !?   that  was  AWESOME   !    ’          /     @cashdive   +   call.

[zinniast-blog]

(clinks spoon)

same spoon?

            same spoon!

[embrence-blog1]

` we all got problems don’t we? ’

                                        words laced with poison, they seep into her veins & corrupt her from the inside. it’s true, honest – there was nothing of which charlotte spoke that was not true, yet there is some fear for threat, unexplainable. we all have problems … she knows this & yet something in her finds it demeaning. still, she understands. they know so little of each other, it’s only natural that no one could sympathize with flame’s burning wrath, the stench of scorched death tainting her first sight of life, the words that reject her very essence of being ; she is new now, she is reborn. no one knows of their past lives before rebirth. ignorance is bliss, surely, but there is no joy in remembrance.

the princess holds her hands to her chest, some melancholy morning sending the sun into the clouds. dew drops build trickles of water atop her armored feet & ankles. she yawns quietly, fingers stretched against her lips. early morning training, again… 

celica had mentioned something quiet, an offhand remark drowned in a sea of unintentional pity for only herself. something soon to be forgotten, something she hadn’t meant to say aloud at all. she expected the moment to pass, for time to fade as it always does, & for dawn to come & begin anew. she certainly didn’t expect for anyone to hear her, let alone respond. though, it was only natural. charlotte had been there, her sparring partner for the day, & chore-tender partner for the evening, waiting for them both to begin what they came here for. of course she’d think that celica was addressing her.

                                         ❝   y–yes… my apologies. i hadn’t meant to speak aloud.  ❞    

[velocrux-blog]

hey i won’t be super active this week because im going to anim.e e.xpo with @violescant & @cashdive ! the past week has been spent in Stressful Preparation but I’m finally loaded up and ready to take off tomorrow morning! i’ll be back later guys i hope u all have a wonderful week !

[fellegend]

SMOTHERS THE BIRTHDAY LAD IN KISSES

                           heart would soar on the wings of one thousand doves let free into a world desired & his soul would sing in matrimonial glory. the way his heart beats as she places her lips against him sends him into a flustered mess of giddy glee & he can only manage to provide information which she obviously already had.

                                           ❝   charlotte ! such is the day of a chosen one’s entrance into the new world ! you know, when my mighty birth bringer granted me access through the portal of the unknown into this world of our wildest dreams ! well  .  .  . not this w – oh ! look at the time ! well, we should be off then, shall we ?    ❞

[backwaternoble]

💚 :) just think abt it

im sold just thinking about charlotte beating up anyone who’s mean to lukas :) and both of them being their true selves around each other.... unlikely besties.........

[velocrux-blog]

` i find it hard to be myself. ’

                        ONESELF – SYNONYMOUS WITH A SILHOUETTE OF LOOKING GLASS’ REFLECTION. he knows the definition like he knows his own self ; tattered & torn, understood & haunted. he looks to her with a sight that is barely that, a vision that is blurred with darkness, only traces of light meeting face with irises. he cannot distinguish her features, so he relies on voice alone. to be oneself is an art unmastered, an art feared by many, & shunned by others. there is sympathy, empathy, that swells his chest when he hears her words. remain unchanged. remain unmoving. 

                                                it is hard – that much, he is entirely aware of.

there are bells ringing, echoing from a church in a village nearby. their noises are dulled with distance, but the wind fills their ears. he waits for it to settle as they stand in some defeated silence. it’s unusual that he might find himself actively involved, participating in a conversation with someone who has not seen the clouds of smoke that billow through his thoughts. he sits, nervousness pooling inside of him, but face is steeled. nothing can hurt him here. he moves one finger idly, unnoticeably, to feel the cloth of his gloves shift against his hand.

he cannot even show her the face that cowers beneath a mask of self desertion. 

            ❝    if you offer yourself no chance, there is no gain to your strife.   ❞    

something in him yearns to speak a language of harsh understanding. something that breathes fire & scorches the soul. he wishes to speak unto her what he wishes to hear, himself. yet, even still, fear is a plague that has corrupted his soul with tainted fingers. he will offer what more he can.

                                ❝   you cannot live your life in a selfish cowardice. 

                                             no one will recognize you, even in your death.   ❞    

HYPOCRISY -- synonymous with the devil’s tongue, a serpent draped atop shoulders’ pair.

[fellegend]

she leaned in and whispered, ` i'd like to slap that problematic toe. '

                             Owain grabbed the key to the staff washroom, where he and Charlotte superbly flocked each other for way longer than Owain was allowed on break. 

 Owain got fired, but it turned out Charlotte was a billionaire so she bought the café and made Owain the shift supervisor. 

 And they were truly happy, until Charlotte bought Owain a phoenix costume.

[fellegend]

smeck

                               one thousand angels descended could not compare to the bliss that wells within him as soft lips press upon his own – what radiant warmth that spreads across freckled cheeks, dusting his nose, his ears, his neck. he smiles into it, though it’s only for a the briefest of moments. ‘ surprise ! ’ it says to him – the kiss, that is… the kiss ? well, certainly, he supposes. there is such gentle kindness that personifies the very act of caring in his eyes, genuine comfort tangled in every trace of verdant green irises. his cheeks are still raised with lips’ corners, skyward, in the moment of solace they’d shared just previous. confident hands find her shoulders & he hums, eyes closed, face gleaming. he’s standing tall now. 

                                        ❝   your beauty is beyond comparison ! your eyes…

                                                               – brighter than the very stars themselves !  ❞