[it's a long time coming back, this response. that he offers it at all is, perhaps, something of an olive branch in itself.]
When the needs of the Scions first saw us work together, you were as a stranger to me. As likely to let a knife find itself in my back as you were to put it there yourself. Whether that was true or not, [to forestall the inevitable denial] I had no way of knowing. To me, you were a threat. The insults were but a way of measuring your character. That they have persisted after the fact is because there was no need to change.
And because I'm a bastard. [admittedly. he knows what kind of person he is.]
So what I want is of secondary importance because I've no intent of showing vulnerability to you, only to be mocked. [still sour grapes over the kitten comments yes, why do you ask.]
Were you to submit yourself to the inevitable clash, I might be able to break it further. For one who wishes to die, you're certainly dedicated to the time-consuming [and annoying af] chase.
[It’s a moment in coming back, Vassa’s plea a muted thing in his ears as the drum of his blood drowns out near all else. There is a voice in him that wants to persist- knowledge of ages past echoing through his veins and clamoring for something more- greater. A desire to press, to pull Vassa within his domain. To make him fall in line
It breaks when he opens his eyes, that whisper falling silent as Ze returns to the reality of the moment, suppressed but not forgotten. Gaze flicking down to the hand wrapped around his own, he draws his fingers back after a moment and stares at his palm- smeared at some point in a graze of blood.
He recognizes well the urge, remembering briefly the blinding light that shone in the Western Highlands. Gods, but it seems an age ago…
The problem then, Ze thinks as he raises his eyes to look up at Vassa, is that which spurned such an urge. While he can’t claim to understand much of it, he recalls well Papashan’s words; that when two souls are in contest and a victor cannot be discerned, one must claim dominance… but as insane as that might have sounded, he was certain that was unique to those bound to an oath. To paladins, of which he is almost positive Vassa is not.
So why…?
Ah, but looking up at Vassa as his gaze refocuses, Ze can tell this is neither the time or place. Something to ponder, alongside the revelation that he was never an oathbreaker, later.]
You’d have done well to let me continue. [Is all he says after a moment, burying that uneasiness with habitual calm, moving to his feet after a moment. Deliberately- insistently- he headbutts Vassa gently on the way up, but in a kinder way that is more akin to affection among their kind, though that may only sting more.] Don’t complain to me later if the job is a shoddy one.
[But as if to give Vassa the relief he desires, Ze pulls away and goes towards the sack he discarded earlier, wiping his bloodied hand clean(?) against the side of his coat before he undoes the tie and pulls the mouth open.]
Heads up. [And, as if in direct opposition to the knowledge of Vassa’s injuries, Ze pulls out an apple, and chucks it in the other’s direction, waiting to hear if it’s caught or it thuds into the wall behind him.]
[It’s a bit of a comical situation, to be sure, the sight of Ze- arrogant in spades- sitting pathetically in a heap of blankets clutching at a bucket as though his life depends on it while Lavai works his magic.
The sensation is an odd one at first and a little more than uncomfortable. Like an infected, seeping wound pricked with a hot knife to bleed out the taint- sharp pain followed by much needed relief. The ache lingers still- a throbbing behind the eyes and a loathing for the light- but he at least no longer feels the need to cling to the bucket so tightly. After all, what are spirits if not a poison?
When Lavai finishes, that spinning orb swirling elegantly in his hand as he shoots Ze a glance, the Miqo’te cannot help but give him quirked brow in response. Always did wonder how those things work.]
I’d not get too close, all the same. [He thinks of an insult- a barb- anything to imply he’s his usual self but… well, he’s an ass but not an ungrateful one. So-] My thanks. [Is what he gets out instead, voice sounding only marginally better than that of a drowning toad as he reaches for the glass of water he sees on the tray and sets about downing it in a single go- moderation be damned. (No lessons having been learnt, evidently.)] And here you would have been well within your rights to rub it in.
[he resents that zenos makes it sound as if that moment should have meant anything to him. resents the implication it was the loss of something grand warranting forgiveness rather than yet one more death in a long list of them. resents that it did. that it was. that it left him all too keenly aware of a growing maw within his chest. dissatisfaction. apathy. a frenzied peak tapering away in the aftermath leaving emptiness.
his tomestone suffers for the irritation, gripped tight in his hand.]
I do not question why you did it, only that you did. As always and as it has ever been, this "friendship" of yours is for your satisfaction, not mine.
[His expression turns somber at the reminder of what it was he meant to do the eve before. Nothing so grim as to require a blade or the like, but enough to grind away at a stone of guilt within his chest. He had meant to...
And had drank himself silly trying to find the courage to do it. A poor comedy, but a comedy nonetheless.]
...It can wait. [He replies after a moment, exhaling softly. He's confident Sidurgu won't push the matter any further- it's not in either of their natures to pry too deeply- but he cannot help the coil of uncertainty that winds about his chest all the same. It's impossible, after all, to not know that his feelings towards the Pillars- towards House Fortemps- is complicated. Not after that spectacular debacle of his soul crystal shattering straight down the middle on their last foray right outside its steps.
Even now, after everything in Gyr Abania, it is not a conversation he is ready to have with others.]
What were you doing awake at this hour anyway? [The turn in conversation is, perhaps, a blatant one as he shuffles alongside the Xaela, trying to find his footing and succeeding only partially. While he's not swayed yet from leaving as soon as able, still not wanting to concern Rielle unnecessarily (and certainly not over a bout of drunken idiocy,) he cannot deny the temptation to stay is there, lingering in the back of his mind. A temptation bolstered by both the desire to delay the inevitable and to spend a little time catching up with those whom he would readily consider close as family.]
[When the proposal of political marriage had first emerged at the negotiations table, many within the Alliance had thought it a poorly timed joke. Some mismatched sense of humor ill-befitting the somber atmosphere. But no, Maxima had insisted, evidently the offer had been all too serious and had therefore prompted an equally serious response in turn- however scrambled it might be.
The question then, of course, was of who they might offer to such a union- nevermind their lack of understanding of to whom amongst the Garlean royal family the union might be.
Nanamo had come up in passing- as quickly suggested and dismissed for the look upon Raubahn's face. It was a foolish thing to even think, really, for Ul'dah would not relinquish their beloved Sultana to anyone and it was nonsensical to offer a ruler in any regard. Lyse had also been mentioned, though she had swiftly denounced the very notion- claiming she would send the bloody bastard flying as soon as he attempted to place hands upon her. She could also, they had felt, not be spared from the efforts of rebuilding Ala Mhigo. (A paltry excuse, perhaps, but offered with the same amount of dignity one would expect from such a seasoned diplomat as Kan-e-Senna in the spirit of allowing Lyse to save face.) Hien had offered himself- bemused and joking- and Yugiri had nearly grown white hairs on the spot. Aymeric had also tentatively offered his candidacy- claiming to be no true leader of Ishgard and merely a representative of the House of Lords. Merlwyb had swiftly negated the possibility- citing that Aymeric's removal would surely see a regression in Ishgard's open borders policies and sow the seeds of discord as effectively were any of them to wed.
Suggestions thusly made and each calmly refuted left unanswered the question of Who would be a fitting representative of the Eorzean Alliance? That it must needs be someone with enough influence to show they were sincere in their efforts towards the union but not so influential as to potentially cripple a City State went unsaid, but seemingly there were none fit to fill the role.
None, save, perhaps one. And as the silence grew, awkward and uncomfortable with every passing second as those present refused to even so much as glance in his direction, it was Ze who finally broke the tentative silence with a sigh weary enough in its resignation to already herald the obvious conclusion. Nobody had wanted to say it- to offer up their Champion once more like bait upon the platter- and so he said it for them.
(Fray shriekedhis disapproval.)
When protests rose up- as inevitably for himself as they had any other suggestion- he merely proclaimed that should it indeed turn out to be a trap intended to force the Alliance's hand- there would be none better equipped than he fight to their way out their way out from the heart of Garlemald. (And, more quietly to himself, he added that if he should fail it would only mean the loss of an adventurer.)
"Steady, lad. You've enough notches to your belt that none here would doubt you- aye, but you're not a god." Raubahn had cautioned him, well-meaning kindness in his words.
"Yet." Hien had offered unhelpfully with a sheepish smile.
There was, of course, the small matter of his presumed murder of the crown prince, but Thancred (in an ill-mood over the whole thing) had merely pointed out that held little water since Zenos was clearly up and about. Lyse (in an equally poor mood) added that if any dared to speak ill of their suggestion upon the grounds of Ze's history considering Garlemald's own, then hang the whole thing and they could go back to the talk of war. (He was a little touched to see how many of those upon the table nodded in agreement of the latter.)
Still, as tempting as the idea was, it was the thought of countless others dying for his failure that kept him from decrying the offer in its entirety. Not, of course, that he expected that to change much if it was indeed a trap. Still, even if that were the case, this route would get him a bit closer to the possibility of a royal assassination and, truth be told, that suited his tastes far better than the dancing about in the politics of war and alliances. There was some danger with the whole plan, of course, but that was only to be expected and certainly it was no less than he might have felt in the face of a primal or surrounded by throngs of murderous wildebeests.
Furthermore, if his only true threat was Elidibus masquerading as Zenos- Ze was more than certain he would be able to handle him. No one had matched him the way the Garlean prince had and he was confident, same body or no, that the Ascian would be no different.
Small consolations, to be certain, but with the added security of an "entourage" in the form of half the Scions (with the other half serving reconnaissance,) Ze felt wholly confident in their ability to pull off this plan. Even if it never came to that- what was a marriage to an uncaring royal in the long run? Surely no well bred Garlean prince/princess would look upon a savage such as he and find him desirable. Once peace was brokered and the entire affair had grown stale, he had no doubt he would be discarded- free to return to his travels with a truce in his pocket for his troubles.
[The path is quiet despite the gentle sound of rain- uneven stone steps pattering with building puddles of no consequence. Come morning the ground will only be dampened to hint at the night's weather, gone by noon under a harsh early-summer sun.
None of which, of course, has any bearing on the situation before him.
He'd come at the behest of one rumor or another and no Estinien to accompany him this time on an ill-fated venture. Some tall tale of hidden cities and glowing, ephemeral lights that vanished when one came too close. He had chalked it up to a mirage at most and had marveled that this star still yet had surprises to reveal this close to home when it had proven true. But that was the beauty of it, was it not?
It seemed of the ancient world at a glance, prompting him to wonder if it was mere coincidence that he should encounter so many of these structures now after his time spent in the ancient world, or if they had always been there- waiting to be recognized by a wandering eye.
Unable to keep himself from it, he traced the outer walls with a gloved set of fingers, following those familiar angles while noting that these buildings did indeed seem to dim to nothingness if he ventured too close. For what reason, he had yet to fathom, but it did lend an eerie aura to the entire settlement- as though the buildings themselves were ushering the unknown wanderer away. Begone. There is no light nor refuge for you here. Like a tale murmured 'round a campfire in his youth. The notion almost made him smile as he finally withdrew his hand and continued on his walk to the apparent main-structure of the settlement. This one, much like the others, became enshrouded at the edges as he got closer, yet clung stubbornly to corporeal form despite- enough for him to push open a door much larger than himself. (One already slightly ajar, thankfully. He'd not quite forgotten his woeful attempts in the past.)
Inside- it was much as he expected. Ghostly afterimages of angular wall lights casting a warm (if flickering) glow upon sharp, perfect walls and gold glimmering engravings leading to a desk that towered above him. As he stepped inside the structure, wondering what could prompt the appearance of this city after all this time- something to do with the events of the final days, perhaps? he was startled when his next step seemed to send a ripple through the building, causing it to glow a sudden blinding white- not unlike the pillars of light when he called upon the power of Azem. And as the brightness grew and grew- until he was forced to cover his gaze for fear of going blind- all he could pray was that he hadn't entered a trap.]
You sold Estinien a dish of mushed vegetable for 1/3 of a small house. Your heart is as rotten and fetid as a dying Namazu beneath Azeyma's foot. [bro.]
And if you even so much as hint that I might fuck a Grebuloff, I will sell you out to Tataru faster then the next impending disaster to hurl itself upon the face of this star. [he might hate fish.]
1. ... [we'll have to blame the 9 tankbusters on this one.] 2. Soft in what way as he monologues the right with which he has to slaughter us? 3/4. Like as not, Emet-Selch and Lahabrea can both linger near the bottom. I care not for the theatrics nor their utter disregard towards their young. 7. Stop making of us a couple in your mind. I could barely tolerate the dastard, even before he revealed his hand. 8. no
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⤞acoldwind
[it's a long time coming back, this response. that he offers it at all is, perhaps, something of an olive branch in itself.]
When the needs of the Scions first saw us work together, you were as a stranger to me. As likely to let a knife find itself in my back as you were to put it there yourself. Whether that was true or not, [to forestall the inevitable denial] I had no way of knowing. To me, you were a threat. The insults were but a way of measuring your character. That they have persisted after the fact is because there was no need to change.
And because I'm a bastard. [admittedly. he knows what kind of person he is.]
So what I want is of secondary importance because I've no intent of showing vulnerability to you, only to be mocked. [still sour grapes over the kitten comments yes, why do you ask.]
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⤞acoldwind (pt. 2: the two towers)
It's naught you wouldn't expect and talking isn't my preference.
[but in a second text:] You helped. Truth be told, I'd rather have taken my time but the twins' timing is as calamitous as ever.
[ooc: no worries, tag what you want and feel free to drop or come back as you need. o7]
💙
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lmao the mental image tho
we've all thought it
okay i’m back
it's me. in the void.
is it cozy there? also do I owe you any other tags?
no it is damp and gross. :(
⤞trollophoroi
[please. no more floods.]
Were you to submit yourself to the inevitable clash, I might be able to break it further. For one who wishes to die, you're certainly dedicated to the time-consuming [and annoying af] chase.
are u saying u don't want to write brian's name brian over and over again
m'so tired of countin toes mang
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⤞porcelainandblood
...
I'm listening. [ze.]
captcha get rekt
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i'm not here. i've never been here. clearly.
oh a ghost! so spoopy!
⤞misaligned
[It’s a moment in coming back, Vassa’s plea a muted thing in his ears as the drum of his blood drowns out near all else. There is a voice in him that wants to persist- knowledge of ages past echoing through his veins and clamoring for something more- greater. A desire to press, to pull Vassa within his domain. To make him fall in line
It breaks when he opens his eyes, that whisper falling silent as Ze returns to the reality of the moment, suppressed but not forgotten. Gaze flicking down to the hand wrapped around his own, he draws his fingers back after a moment and stares at his palm- smeared at some point in a graze of blood.
He recognizes well the urge, remembering briefly the blinding light that shone in the Western Highlands. Gods, but it seems an age ago…
The problem then, Ze thinks as he raises his eyes to look up at Vassa, is that which spurned such an urge. While he can’t claim to understand much of it, he recalls well Papashan’s words; that when two souls are in contest and a victor cannot be discerned, one must claim dominance… but as insane as that might have sounded, he was certain that was unique to those bound to an oath. To paladins, of which he is almost positive Vassa is not.
So why…?
Ah, but looking up at Vassa as his gaze refocuses, Ze can tell this is neither the time or place. Something to ponder, alongside the revelation that he was never an oathbreaker, later.]
You’d have done well to let me continue. [Is all he says after a moment, burying that uneasiness with habitual calm, moving to his feet after a moment. Deliberately- insistently- he headbutts Vassa gently on the way up, but in a kinder way that is more akin to affection among their kind, though that may only sting more.] Don’t complain to me later if the job is a shoddy one.
[But as if to give Vassa the relief he desires, Ze pulls away and goes towards the sack he discarded earlier, wiping his bloodied hand clean(?) against the side of his coat before he undoes the tie and pulls the mouth open.]
Heads up. [And, as if in direct opposition to the knowledge of Vassa’s injuries, Ze pulls out an apple, and chucks it in the other’s direction, waiting to hear if it’s caught or it thuds into the wall behind him.]
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falls in from the abyss
NOT IF I DO IT FIRST
⤞earthlystars
[It’s a bit of a comical situation, to be sure, the sight of Ze- arrogant in spades- sitting pathetically in a heap of blankets clutching at a bucket as though his life depends on it while Lavai works his magic.
The sensation is an odd one at first and a little more than uncomfortable. Like an infected, seeping wound pricked with a hot knife to bleed out the taint- sharp pain followed by much needed relief. The ache lingers still- a throbbing behind the eyes and a loathing for the light- but he at least no longer feels the need to cling to the bucket so tightly. After all, what are spirits if not a poison?
When Lavai finishes, that spinning orb swirling elegantly in his hand as he shoots Ze a glance, the Miqo’te cannot help but give him quirked brow in response. Always did wonder how those things work.]
I’d not get too close, all the same. [He thinks of an insult- a barb- anything to imply he’s his usual self but… well, he’s an ass but not an ungrateful one. So-] My thanks. [Is what he gets out instead, voice sounding only marginally better than that of a drowning toad as he reaches for the glass of water he sees on the tray and sets about downing it in a single go- moderation be damned. (No lessons having been learnt, evidently.)] And here you would have been well within your rights to rub it in.
And then it was my turn to enter the void BUT I AM RETURNED 8')
jokes on you my void's bigger
⤞thehuntcontinues
[he resents that zenos makes it sound as if that moment should have meant anything to him. resents the implication it was the loss of something grand warranting forgiveness rather than yet one more death in a long list of them. resents that it did. that it was. that it left him all too keenly aware of a growing maw within his chest. dissatisfaction. apathy. a frenzied peak tapering away in the aftermath leaving emptiness.
his tomestone suffers for the irritation, gripped tight in his hand.]
I do not question why you did it, only that you did. As always and as it has ever been, this "friendship" of yours is for your satisfaction, not mine.
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Who's telling the rest of the scions that Zenos's actions in Endwalker is Ze's fault?
s'fine it'll all work out in thule /handwave
⤞obsidian_heart
[His expression turns somber at the reminder of what it was he meant to do the eve before. Nothing so grim as to require a blade or the like, but enough to grind away at a stone of guilt within his chest. He had meant to...
And had drank himself silly trying to find the courage to do it. A poor comedy, but a comedy nonetheless.]
...It can wait. [He replies after a moment, exhaling softly. He's confident Sidurgu won't push the matter any further- it's not in either of their natures to pry too deeply- but he cannot help the coil of uncertainty that winds about his chest all the same. It's impossible, after all, to not know that his feelings towards the Pillars- towards House Fortemps- is complicated. Not after that spectacular debacle of his soul crystal shattering straight down the middle on their last foray right outside its steps.
Even now, after everything in Gyr Abania, it is not a conversation he is ready to have with others.]
What were you doing awake at this hour anyway? [The turn in conversation is, perhaps, a blatant one as he shuffles alongside the Xaela, trying to find his footing and succeeding only partially. While he's not swayed yet from leaving as soon as able, still not wanting to concern Rielle unnecessarily (and certainly not over a bout of drunken idiocy,) he cannot deny the temptation to stay is there, lingering in the back of his mind. A temptation bolstered by both the desire to delay the inevitable and to spend a little time catching up with those whom he would readily consider close as family.]
raises from the dead with a weakness debuff
⤞ancientspark
[When the proposal of political marriage had first emerged at the negotiations table, many within the Alliance had thought it a poorly timed joke. Some mismatched sense of humor ill-befitting the somber atmosphere. But no, Maxima had insisted, evidently the offer had been all too serious and had therefore prompted an equally serious response in turn- however scrambled it might be.
The question then, of course, was of who they might offer to such a union- nevermind their lack of understanding of to whom amongst the Garlean royal family the union might be.
Nanamo had come up in passing- as quickly suggested and dismissed for the look upon Raubahn's face. It was a foolish thing to even think, really, for Ul'dah would not relinquish their beloved Sultana to anyone and it was nonsensical to offer a ruler in any regard. Lyse had also been mentioned, though she had swiftly denounced the very notion- claiming she would send the bloody bastard flying as soon as he attempted to place hands upon her. She could also, they had felt, not be spared from the efforts of rebuilding Ala Mhigo. (A paltry excuse, perhaps, but offered with the same amount of dignity one would expect from such a seasoned diplomat as Kan-e-Senna in the spirit of allowing Lyse to save face.) Hien had offered himself- bemused and joking- and Yugiri had nearly grown white hairs on the spot. Aymeric had also tentatively offered his candidacy- claiming to be no true leader of Ishgard and merely a representative of the House of Lords. Merlwyb had swiftly negated the possibility- citing that Aymeric's removal would surely see a regression in Ishgard's open borders policies and sow the seeds of discord as effectively were any of them to wed.
Suggestions thusly made and each calmly refuted left unanswered the question of Who would be a fitting representative of the Eorzean Alliance? That it must needs be someone with enough influence to show they were sincere in their efforts towards the union but not so influential as to potentially cripple a City State went unsaid, but seemingly there were none fit to fill the role.
None, save, perhaps one. And as the silence grew, awkward and uncomfortable with every passing second as those present refused to even so much as glance in his direction, it was Ze who finally broke the tentative silence with a sigh weary enough in its resignation to already herald the obvious conclusion. Nobody had wanted to say it- to offer up their Champion once more like bait upon the platter- and so he said it for them.
(Fray shrieked his disapproval.)
When protests rose up- as inevitably for himself as they had any other suggestion- he merely proclaimed that should it indeed turn out to be a trap intended to force the Alliance's hand- there would be none better equipped than he fight to their way out their way out from the heart of Garlemald. (And, more quietly to himself, he added that if he should fail it would only mean the loss of an adventurer.)
"Steady, lad. You've enough notches to your belt that none here would doubt you- aye, but you're not a god." Raubahn had cautioned him, well-meaning kindness in his words.
"Yet." Hien had offered unhelpfully with a sheepish smile.
There was, of course, the small matter of his presumed murder of the crown prince, but Thancred (in an ill-mood over the whole thing) had merely pointed out that held little water since Zenos was clearly up and about. Lyse (in an equally poor mood) added that if any dared to speak ill of their suggestion upon the grounds of Ze's history considering Garlemald's own, then hang the whole thing and they could go back to the talk of war. (He was a little touched to see how many of those upon the table nodded in agreement of the latter.)
Still, as tempting as the idea was, it was the thought of countless others dying for his failure that kept him from decrying the offer in its entirety. Not, of course, that he expected that to change much if it was indeed a trap. Still, even if that were the case, this route would get him a bit closer to the possibility of a royal assassination and, truth be told, that suited his tastes far better than the dancing about in the politics of war and alliances. There was some danger with the whole plan, of course, but that was only to be expected and certainly it was no less than he might have felt in the face of a primal or surrounded by throngs of murderous wildebeests.
Furthermore, if his only true threat was Elidibus masquerading as Zenos- Ze was more than certain he would be able to handle him. No one had matched him the way the Garlean prince had and he was confident, same body or no, that the Ascian would be no different.
Small consolations, to be certain, but with the added security of an "entourage" in the form of half the Scions (with the other half serving reconnaissance,) Ze felt wholly confident in their ability to pull off this plan. Even if it never came to that- what was a marriage to an uncaring royal in the long run? Surely no well bred Garlean prince/princess would look upon a savage such as he and find him desirable. Once peace was brokered and the entire affair had grown stale, he had no doubt he would be discarded- free to return to his travels with a truce in his pocket for his troubles.
Win-win all around, surely.]
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⤞mintdisaster
[The path is quiet despite the gentle sound of rain- uneven stone steps pattering with building puddles of no consequence. Come morning the ground will only be dampened to hint at the night's weather, gone by noon under a harsh early-summer sun.
None of which, of course, has any bearing on the situation before him.
He'd come at the behest of one rumor or another and no Estinien to accompany him this time on an ill-fated venture. Some tall tale of hidden cities and glowing, ephemeral lights that vanished when one came too close. He had chalked it up to a mirage at most and had marveled that this star still yet had surprises to reveal this close to home when it had proven true. But that was the beauty of it, was it not?
It seemed of the ancient world at a glance, prompting him to wonder if it was mere coincidence that he should encounter so many of these structures now after his time spent in the ancient world, or if they had always been there- waiting to be recognized by a wandering eye.
Unable to keep himself from it, he traced the outer walls with a gloved set of fingers, following those familiar angles while noting that these buildings did indeed seem to dim to nothingness if he ventured too close. For what reason, he had yet to fathom, but it did lend an eerie aura to the entire settlement- as though the buildings themselves were ushering the unknown wanderer away. Begone. There is no light nor refuge for you here. Like a tale murmured 'round a campfire in his youth. The notion almost made him smile as he finally withdrew his hand and continued on his walk to the apparent main-structure of the settlement. This one, much like the others, became enshrouded at the edges as he got closer, yet clung stubbornly to corporeal form despite- enough for him to push open a door much larger than himself. (One already slightly ajar, thankfully. He'd not quite forgotten his woeful attempts in the past.)
Inside- it was much as he expected. Ghostly afterimages of angular wall lights casting a warm (if flickering) glow upon sharp, perfect walls and gold glimmering engravings leading to a desk that towered above him. As he stepped inside the structure, wondering what could prompt the appearance of this city after all this time- something to do with the events of the final days, perhaps? he was startled when his next step seemed to send a ripple through the building, causing it to glow a sudden blinding white- not unlike the pillars of light when he called upon the power of Azem. And as the brightness grew and grew- until he was forced to cover his gaze for fear of going blind- all he could pray was that he hadn't entered a trap.]
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⤞clutterbitch
You sold Estinien a dish of mushed vegetable for 1/3 of a small house. Your heart is as rotten and fetid as a dying Namazu beneath Azeyma's foot. [bro.]
And if you even so much as hint that I might fuck a Grebuloff, I will sell you out to Tataru faster then the next impending disaster to hurl itself upon the face of this star. [he might hate fish.]
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forgive me i am turtle
u are perfect no fretting also sorry to hit you back immediately like a goblin
you too are perfect i'm just dying irl ;3;
ahhh i'm so sorry rl should calm down >:( i will tag you back 5ever though!!
ohaithere
cannot BELIEVE that you find this wabbit tolerable when half your threads with him are drunk ones
my man have you SEEN the scions. this is par the course
which one do you think is actually the most fucked up i bet it's urianger
naked nutkin man is right there
nobody's a bigger freak than an astrology bitch in her slut era tho (stares at that shb outfit)
don't kinkshame a metrosexual
ok but what about hancock
don't. half the fandom is still reeling from how pretty he turned out
would that any one of us could be half as babygirl
yoship was so wrong for that
you can't just give a blonde man eyebags
reckless and unethical.
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⤞geriatric
You cannot be serious. No matter how you accuse me of so, I have not done near a fiftieth the amount of damage of you and yours, if even that.
All of this- all of the calamities- because you cannot relinquish the past? Because the life of those you lost is worth several eras of ours??
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i'm too sleepy to plot bc long work day lmao but i will respond tomorrow!
dun worry about it and have a good rest uwu
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it's me! dead!
wb!!! sorry he sucks ass!
it's okay it's his natural state of being
HAHA
whine whine paradise this whine whine cubus flesh that
"back in my day" ok grandpa go sit down
he can't the chairs aren't the right size
lmao truly his life is SO much suffering
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it's np at all!!!
⤞clutterbitch
1. ... [we'll have to blame the 9 tankbusters on this one.]
2. Soft in what way as he monologues the right with which he has to slaughter us?
3/4. Like as not, Emet-Selch and Lahabrea can both linger near the bottom. I care not for the theatrics nor their utter disregard towards their young.
7. Stop making of us a couple in your mind. I could barely tolerate the dastard, even before he revealed his hand.
8. no
back at it again at krispie kreme