#all of the details in gil's jewelry??
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Headcanon Crafts for Everyone I Missed Last Time:
Idril: a sculptor. She worked with every kind of stone imaginable, and often went looking for new material in Gondolin’s mines with Maeglin. (Look my Maeglin head canons are complicated but they should get to be friends the narrative has hurt them too much already) She actually preferred not to make elvish figures, instead focusing on strangely beautiful stone landscapes and various animal-like figures. She was actually responsible for Middle-Earth’s version of the gargoyle, having carved several to stand guard over Gondolin. Several elves swore that the statues moved, but she never addressed those rumors. She also liked to paint her work with bright colors, which would’ve been seen as odd back in Valinor, but fit right in in First Age Middle-Earth.
Maeglin: a smith, but his craft was more in-line with Avarin practice than Noldor practice; with much less focus on the idea of making gems and heavier focus on understanding natural geology and the properties of various gems and metals. He knew the mines of Gondolin better than anyone, and wrote plenty about the the earth under the earth. His work also had fairly significant Dwarfish influences. He liked to make mechanically complex pieces, with moving parts or even some internal gear work.
Finduilas: a hunter. Her and her father were both nature people, just in very different ways. She was silent, with all the grace of a dancer, and quick enough to outrun most of what she hunted. She preferred to go after more aggressive animals– wild boar, wolves, bears, even wargs– and leave the deer and rabbits be. She was born in Beleriand, and had never met the Valar, but sometimes, privately, offered up prayers to Orome. She liked to imagine she could’ve been in his hunt, if things had turned out a bit differently.
Celebrimbor: a smith, in the very traditional Noldor sense. Gemworker, specialized in jewelry, made various famously beautiful pieces, etc. Was never quite happy sticking to hairpins and necklaces. Longed to try his hand at imbuing his work with real power, but always talked himself out of it. A whole binder of concepts for works of power sat locked away in a chest in his workshop for centuries. He never talked to anyone about it. He was as ashamed of his feelings for his craft as he was of his feelings for his family. By the end of his life, he’d made peace with only one of those things.
Earendil: a mariner? Alright, he was definitely a mariner, and he loved the ship life– he even built a few boats of his own, in a similar fantastic style to Turgon’s architecture– but he also had a longstanding fascination with the natural world, and filled volumes and volumes of journals with information on various plants, animals, and minerals. But natural lore isn’t a recognized Noldor craft, since it involves learning but doesn’t really produce tangible results. Still, it was a passion he got from afternoons spent learning about geology with “Uncle Mole,” and one he shared with Elrond. Researching the beauty and wonder of nature gave Earendil something to do with his immortal life, and was a big part of the reason Elrond chose to be immortal at all.
Gil-Galad: a king. No, really, he’d been the high-king of the Noldor since he was a child, and hadn’t really had time for trivialities like “finding a life purpose” or “having fun.” He was too busy learning how to stay alive in late stage Beleriand (read: hell) and learning to rule the least cooperative group of elves imaginable. He wanted to be a painter, and while he found enough practice time to get good at his chosen craft; because of how long detailed paintings can take, he almost never had time to actually make anything. He tried not to let it bother him too much. He didn’t always succeed at that.
Elrond: in a bit of a weird spot. Elrond is most associated with lore and healing; but, as discussed, “lore” isn’t considered a craft. And, well. Healing had to be Elrond’s craft, right? He’d been doing it since he was seven, and just about the only person in Amon Ereb who could still use healing powers. And it was good work, and it was rewarding, even if it often left him feeling so burned out and worried that he forgot to eat or sleep. It took him a long time to admit to himself that healing for him was what fighting was to many other elves: a necessity. Truth be told, he’d rather be gardener, working with the earth to create a place of peace and beauty. Also, Elrond is basically a nature spirit. So. It was something he began to explore in the peace of the early Second Age. He found that his Ainuric powers had all sorts of interesting effects on plant life. He also learned how to breed new varieties of fruits, vegetables, and flowers. Still, he never really considered that it could be a proper craft for him. At least, not until he first saw the valley that would one day become Rivendell.
Headcanon Crafts for Finwe and his Children, the House of Feanor, the House of Fingolfin, and the House of Finarfin.
#silmarillion#silm headcanons#house of finwe#noldor#noldor crafts#idril#maeglin#finduilas#celebrimbor#earendil#gil galad#elrond#elrond peredhel#eldritch peredhel#I have feelings about elrond and gil galad#they had to grow up so fast#they deserve peace
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Helpless
Ship: Nyo America x Russia, slight oneside PruAme
The winter ball was not something to be missed, especially when it was being called by General Washington himself. If you were anyone of importance you were expected to be there dancing and laughing, toasting to the Sons of Liberty and the Revolution that was looming just over the horizon. It was the best way ensure everyone knew of your patriotic support.
Dresses swept across the floor, painting it a myriad of colors, as the ladies migrated together, their jewelry glistening in the candlelight while they chatted and gossiped behind their decorative fans. The men's mugs came in nonstop supplies, frothy beer spilling over the edges, until their laughter became louder than the music that was being played.
Young men and young women danced together, hoping that the partner they snagged would be the one that would eventually fill their pockets when they wed. Which was why the richest of the young ladies were the first to be approached by suitors, trying to enamor them with tells of battle and promises of success.
And in the middle of all this clamor was Amelia, who though no one knew exactly who this beautiful young lady was, her silk blue gown, pearl necklace, and diamond earrings held promises of prestige and riches.
Which was why she was unwillingly being dragged around the ballroom floor for the last three hours by boring men who talked about why she should marry them and how they could take care of her as long as she did her womanly duties in the household. What she wanted was for one of them to twist their ankle and fall face first into the buffet table.
Amelia resisted the urge to roll her eyes while her newest dance partner went into great detail about his shoe business or whatnot (she wasn't really listening and really didn't care) before excusing herself with a small smile and forced pleasantry, leaving the poor man staring after her looking slightly lost.
She decided to make herself scarce for the rest of the night, not being one to enjoy large crowds despite what some people think, and holed herself up in a cool corner, grabbing a glass of champagne.
Pretending to take a drink, she surveyed the room over the rim of the glass, trying to pick out any unusual activity. The ball was mostly for the soldiers of the Continental Army and their families, but that didn't mean a stray British spy wouldn't worm themselves into the mix.
"Oh, Amelia! Zhe awesome me has arrived!"
Amelia started at the voice and turned around quickly, only for the heel of her slipper to catch and started to fall forward. Strong arms quickly steadied her, and she was met with the cocky grin of one of her closest allies, Prussia.
"Careful there, schatz. I know it's hard not to fall for me, but please don't do it literally~" he teased, eyes twinkling in amusement.
Amelia gave a very unladylike snort and smacked his arm a little too roughly. "Flattery gets you nowhere, Gil."
Gilbert winced, rubbing his arm that was very likely to bruise. "Apparently when it comes to you. No wonder Francis and Antonio gave up on you so quickly."
Amelia flipped him off with an eye roll. "Because Spain tried to touch my boobs, so I punched him and threatened to chop France’s dick off"-Gilbert paled at that- "if he asked to bed me one more time."
"But onto more important matters," she leaned in close to Gilbert's ear so not to be heard, "have you heard from the new guy?"
“Ja, he was supposed to be coming tonight, but of course he's late," Gilbert mumbled, his joyous mood dampening. "I really don't know why you insisted on an alliance with him, he's such a lamo."
Chuckling, Amelia patted his cheek affectionately. “You know how important his support is for this revolution to work out, so stop you’re sulking and don’t run him off. Besides, everyone is a lamo compared to you, Gil.”
Gilbert caught her hand in his and leaned into the touch. "Not everyone, schatz, not you. Especially not you."
Before she could ask what exactly Prussia meant, she saw HIM.
If there was one word Amelia could use to describe him, it would be beautiful. The man looked almost regal in his full military garb, his silvery hair swept back neatly that immediately filled her with the urge to muss it up with her fingers, and cheery violet eyes that seemed to twinkle in the candlelight.
And for the first time in her life, Amelia’s whole world stopped. All she could focus on was this beautiful man that stood just feet away.
She was vaguely aware of Gilbert shuffling up to her, a scowl prevalent on his face. "I guess he finally decided to show up," he said, distaste clear in his voice. "He always come at the worst times."
Snapping out of her revelry, Amelia couldn’t help but squeal in girlish excitement. "That's Russia? That's really him?" She pushed her glass into Gilbert's hands, giving him a fleeting smile. "Wish me luck, yeah? Let’s see if I can charm him enough to sign the treaty,” she said, turning on her heel and walking away quickly.
"Wait, Amelia, I need to tell you something first..." Gilbert called after her, but she was already long gone. He cursed quietly to himself, draining the champagne glass and dropped it on the floor, watching it shatter.
~~~
Amelia smoothed down her dress, silently scolding herself for not wearing something better, not just this old blue outfit she pulled out of the back of her closet. Or maybe she was just trying to think of reasons not to confront him and risk making a fool of herself. Which was absurd, this was a military alliance, a way to secure victory against the British, that's all.
Right?
Too caught up in her musings, she didn't notice him start walking her away. Her breath caught in her throat when she realized he was looking her way, and was now walking towards her. She shook her head, and straightened her back. She needed to stop acting like a little kid and get her act together.
Amelia came up to meet him halfway, (a trait Arthur told her was not very respectable), and held her hand out the man in front of her, getting right to business.
“Thirteen Colonies, but you can call me Amelia. It is a pleasure to meet you and I hope we can agree on an alliance soon.”
Instead of shaking her hand, he took it in his hand and brushed his lips over the top of her hand. Amelia's breath caught in her throat at the feeling of his breath on her skin, and she could feel the warmth of a blush that covered her neck and cheeks.
“The pleasure is all mine, Miss Amelia. And please, call me Ivan,” he purred, making a shiver go up Amelia’s spine. His eyes traveled up towards hers, his expression both intrigued and amused. “So, this is the little vixen that has caused the uneasy whispers in Europe. You’re very small to be trying to fill such big steps.”
Amelia bristled and pulled her hand away. “I can assure you, sir, that I am well aware of my capabilities. This is not something I’m running into blind, and I’m not going to lose. So if you’re here just to belittle me, I will kindly ask you to leave,” she snapped, starting to regret her decision to invite him. She didn’t need another know it all telling her what she can and can’t do.
But instead of arguing, Ivan just chuckled. “I mean no offense, in fact, I admire your courage. It’s takes a strong will and heart to be able to pull off what you are doing. In fact, I admire you,” he said, with a slight tilt of his head.
Still a little ruffled, Amelia swallowed down her sharp words, and decided to stay civil. Besides, how could she say no to this man. “No offense taken. I apologize for my outburst. It wasn’t quite professional. I’m not really good at working with others, especially in matters like these,” she admitted, looking down at her shoes, slightly embarrassed.
Ivan hummed to himself, seemingly deep in thought. “Well, how about just for tonight, we will meet as friends and not political partners. So, Miss Amelia, as your friend, will you share this next dance with me?” He asked, holding out his hand expectantly.
Amelia swallowed, but placed her hand in his, admiring the way it closed around her much smaller palm. “I would like that, Mister Ivan.”
Ivan smiled and pulled them onto the dance floor, and true to his words, they talked of nothing and everything. His country and his family, dislikes and likes, and Amelia enjoyed every second of it. It was nice to be able to have a friend, and not have to worry about her allies leaving her at the drop of a pin.
Soon, the two were immersed with each other, dancing and laughing, the rest of the world fading away until it was just them left in the room. After a while, most guests were starting to leave. Some to go back home to their children, and others to deal with other ‘matters’. Usually Amelia would have been right behind them, but she could care less about anything but this moment now.
”You know, remind me of a sunflower,” Ivan said suddenly as they continued to sway together. “One that is just beginning to bloom.”
Amelia scrunched up her nose in confusion, not quite understanding. “I’m not sure what you mean by that? How am I like a sunflower?”
Ivan chuckled at her childish expression, but turned serious once more. Taking a lock of golden curls, he twisted it gently around his fingers before placing it behind her ear and continued,
“Because sunflowers are a sign of hope and resilience in my country. Even after the hardest winter freeze, they still sprout the next summer. They are dependable and strong and lovely. Such as you are.”
Amelia blushed at his words, not being able to meet his sincere expression. No one had ever complimented her like that, expressed themselves in such a gentle way without wanting something in return. She didn’t know how to react, all she knew was that her heart pounded against her chest painfully.
Not knowing what to say, she gave him a weak smile. “That’s-thank you for that,” she said sincerely. “I honestly don’t know what to say.”
”Then don’t say anything Just please continue to dance with me, my sunflower.”
~~~
Amelia sighed happily, leaning against his chest as they swayed slowly. "This was really nice, I never thought I would enjoy dancing so much. Especially with a guy," she teased, not used to being so serious. "In fact, I'm in such a state of shock, I think I just must be having a nice calming walk around my garden. But, I might get lost by myself in the dark."
Ivan's skin crinkled at the edges of his eyes, a smirk playing on his lips. "Why, Miss Amelia, it almost sounds as if you are asking me to walk you home," he said, trying to hold in his laughter.
Amelia hummed at that. "I think that is exactly what I'm trying to say, Mister Ivan. Besides, it will help you map out your new surroundings for future reference.”
Ivan leaned down slightly until their noses were touching, and tipped her chin with his finger. Blue eyes stared into violet as neither of them dared to move.
“Is that the only reason, Miss Amelia?”
Amelia's heart felt like it was beating out of her chest, but before she could say anything, an angry shout ruined the moment.
Both of them pulled away quickly, Amelia embarrassed and confused and Ivan slightly angry, and Amelia felt a pang of disappointment to see Gilbert there. And, oh boy, did he look mad.
"Amelia, it's time to go, the others are waiting for you." Amelia immediately went to argue, but he put up a hand, the unusual coldness in his eyes silencing her.
“As your commander, that is a direct order.”
There was no room left for argument after that.
He turned on Ivan next. "And you. We are in the middle of a war, there’s no room for useless flirting and talking. I don't know what games you're playing, but know that one step out of line and I'm tearing your useless little treaty into pieces, so you better watch yourself " he warned, grabbing Amelia's wrist and pulling her behind him, ignoring her loud complaints.
Ivan's eyes darkened, but he kept his strained smile. "I'll keep that in mind."
Gilbert met his gaze with equal intensity. "Yeah, you better."
Wisely ignoring that, Ivan looked back to Amelia and bowed deeply. “I enjoyed our short time together, Miss Amelia. I will see you in the morning,” he said, walking away.
“See you in the morning! I also enjoyed our time together!” Amelia called out after him. Shoulders slumping in disappointment she watched his back until he disappeared, already awaiting the morning.
Hopefully she could get him alone again.
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final part of @secretarykang's ask since gil already has drunk hcs
gilbert feinze fashion headcanons
this man is a walking fashion icon tho like srsly he looks like someone who poses for the chanel magazine
gil actually knows what style fits him and the colors that would suit him so his servants are adamant on ensuring his wardrobe is top notch as possible
in fact, there's a time when gil punished some of them for handing him clothes that are too itchy he had to struggle during meetings with other clans (he just didn't feed them blood for like uhh one week which is torture in itself)
his color palette revolves on autumn browns and nudes? he's basically like a walking maple leaf at this point
he recently found out black items don't suit him as much as people make it out to be tho he wears black mostly when he is going to war conferences
most of gil's clothes in the demon world have victorian-esque with dark academia touch to it since he's the head of the feinze clan and he has to look like royalty so he assumes the post
he's more on long coats, white dress shirts with long sleeves, dark trousers, brown boots, and ofc attention to detail like silver link cuffs and piercings (yes he never forgets his piercings)
another item that he never lives without is his wedding ring since it's the only thing he got from giselle
also carries around a golden pocket watch that he exclusively got from karlheinz (so he would know if he reversed time and did some sht he needed to cover up)
tbh gil thought of doing like a tongue and nose piercing but he just went "I don't want them anymore" bcos he found out that he would experience talking like a baby and looking like a cow
btw he owns a lot of ruby jewelry bcos they remind him of blood (after all he stopped drinking blood ever since giselle died)
when he lived in paris, he would opt for trench coats and suits that would emphasize his frame (and he realized girls really dig him in suits bcos he be walking on the streets and they just come to him bcos he looks so good)
but when he resided in japan, he believed in kimono supremacy
like what suit? he'd rather wear kimonos since they're more comfy and the sleeves are loose and he can move and about
and yes, the color palettes would vary... kinda leaning more on the warm orange and red tones. but tbh gil had a hard time looking for the perfect kimonos and yukatas that would fit him
that was until he found out abt this manga called xxxHOLIC and he got all his kimono inspirations from watanuki kimihiro (aka main character of said manga)
one might think he's a cosplaying adult especially when he walks around in kaminashi 😭😭😭
for his footwear, he owns a lot of shoes (like he doesn't only settle for the classics) but one thing he doesn't wear that much are sneakers??? and it has something to do with his adult image like basically this guy makes sure he looks adult
even said one time, "at least I don't go to Ryoutei and pretend like I'm some kind of teenage transfer student" isthisshinandcarla
he mostly wears derby and oxford dress shoes since they are easier to pair with most of his suits. but when he's wearing a kiono, he would either go for a simple geta pair or his classic black brogue boots
ofc gil is not complete without perfumes bcos this guy owns a lot since he has lived for a long time. while there are tons of perfumes that's been out in the market, he always deviates towards chanel no 5 (aka one of the most hated perfumes by many)
and yes, he knew what the original chanel no 5 smelled like, hence he found the newer ones so different than what it smelled before
it's actually frustrating how gil can pull off this perfume and smell good even tho many people say it smells like an old grandma soap
he even bought the accompanying soap and lotion like anything chanel no 5 he has (even the giant bottle)
one time devyn passed by his office and she told him he really smelled so good like wood and tea and clean soap and when she asked his perfume, gil casually pulled out the bottle much to her own horror
"Are you kidding me? That famous Chanel no. 5 is your perfume?"
"I'm not. Why are you making a face like that?"
fun fact: chanel no 5 is also giselle's perfume
#diahell#diabolik lovers#diabolik lovers headcanons#diabolik lovers oc#dl oc#dialovers oc#oc asks#oc aesthetics#oc questions#fashion headcanons#oc fashion#karlheinz#karlheinz diabolik lovers#karlheinz sakamaki#tougo sakamaki#devyn kang#kang devyn#gilbert feinze#gilbert#giselle feinze#giselle
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grissom + attire?
at some point i will probably do a full deep dive on this, but that requires a full rewatch with me like taking notes. since outside of a few key things (his baseball cap and then his sun hat) i haven't really paid too much attention to his clothing options in terms of like color and fit, textures of fabric.
however what i can say, based on things we do see and details i can remember off the top of my head. gil is a man who prefers comfort and practicality over fashion. he's not a fan of wearing suits, can't tie a bow tie, doesn't like wearing ties in general. his clothes fit him but they are super form fitting.
now this just might be because we don’t see gil a lot wearing other things outside of the csi attire. but going off vibes, gil wears a lot more earthy tones. dark blues, greens, grays, and browns. when he’s outside he always has sunglasses and a hat of some kind. (i want to say there’s a switch from when he wears the baseball cap to the sunhat, because i don’t think he goes back to wearing the baseball hat afterwards but don’t quote me on that) he’s also often seen wearing long sleeves, which leads me to believe that the lab is just cold for him all the time. he's also not a big jewelry guy however sometimes (and this is my own headcanon) he will sometimes wear his father's signet ring which was gifted to him by his mother
but unless he needs to, or is asked to, gil very rarely ventures outside of what is most comfortable for him.
#starssung#&. i just really like sharks okay :: ooc#one day there will be a full in depth post with screenshots and everything#&. gil grissom#&. gil grissom : general#&. gil grissom : headcanons
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@steeleidolon (happy birthday, Kunsel)
Today's date is significant, even if Zack has not done or said anything outwardly to acknowledge it beyond what their friends already have planned for the night outing. Not yet, at least.
It always starts with an idea.
His ideas are never fully formed from the get go, taking on shape as time and circumstance guide him towards the right moment.
Okay, he isn’t not so much waiting for a nebulous ‘right moment’ in this case considering he’s had the date highlighted on his calendar app for practically as long as they’ve known each other, but that’s the general gist of it.
In the rare moments where Kunsel was occupied but Zack was not; that had been the time to conduct his research in secrecy. Saving gil was the easy part in all this. His drawings may have been a bit crude, his attempts at a description may have been eyebrow raising, but he was earnest and persistent no matter how many parlors turned him away.
Last week, and not a moment too soon, he finally found someone willing to sit down with him long enough to put together a general picture of what earrings he needed to get.
--
The Clandestine Rabbit had seen many an odd client in Haley’s many years working here, but never one with such an unusually simple, albeit particular request. He’d been going about it all the wrong way, of course. She could not tell from a drawing alone what sort of piercings a person might have worn. No matter how detailed or passionately of a description of ear scarring Zack could deliver after visuals failed, it took her several minutes of talking the young man down to convince him that he needed to rethink his approach to his little problem. Coaxing out the story behind the giftee in question put them on the right track.
“You said he’s from Cosmo?” Haley asked, seeking final confirmation with eye contact as she tucked a choppy lock of black hair behind her ear and reached up above her head to pull a navy binder labeled ‘Excerpts from Intersection of Anthropology and Jewelry’ in silver by a felt-tipped marker off a black, spray-painted bookshelf plastered on all sides with all sorts of stickers and decals. Tracking from left to right as she scans the contents, Haley flipped through a few plastic-sleeved scans in the binder before leaning down and pushing it across the glossy, faux marble coffee table. “Personally, if you guys are as close as you say you are, I don’t think he’ll care if they’re not exactly the same as the ones he used to have.”
Zack’s nose scrunched minutely at the advice, but the way his lips twisted to one side showed he was giving her suggestion serious thought. Looking down at the black and white spread of photos and illustrations of peoples from Cosmo Canyon, Zack traced his fingers lightly over the image of a woven mat and the items arranged on top of it. A small clay bowl held precious stones and metals that have been shaped into wearable jewelry. Dried plant stems and delicate, angle-point needles, carved from various natural materials like wood or possibly bone, are laid adjacent.
"Yeah...okay," Zack decided, looking clear-eyed and resolute. "Can I book an appointment for two on the twentieth sometime in the evening? I can put down a deposit and everything. And…If you have similar ones like these–" he pointed to a few simple designs charted out on a magnified view of the pictured bowls' contents "-- I'd love to purchase them for my friend."
--
Since then, the week passed by at what felt like an agonizing pace.
Essai and Sebastian have a self-satisfied, knowing look about them as Zack casually posits an evening walk over to check out Sector One's Night Market after dinner. Where the Clandestine Rabbit is conveniently situated against the backdrop of colorful and ephemeral canopies, of course. The crowd parts around them like a moving river as they discuss their plans.
"Sorry, Zack. Seb and I are accounted for for the rest of tonight. We've got service tech duty in the garage in the morning so we need to go wrestle Roche for the toolkits. You and Kunsel have fun though!" Essai reaches over to playfully ruffle Zack's hair before he turns to drag Sebastian off down the street with him. No chance given for Zack to even get a word in edgewise, though he does glower at his friends’ backsides with a stuck out tongue as they go. Well, that’s fine. It probably works out better this way.
They start off in the opposite direction under a sea of neon lights. Zack stretches out his arms, then crosses them behind his head as he steps out in front of Kunsel and keeps pace in reverse with an easy grin.
"Okay, okay. But I've been thinking. I wanted to get both ears pierced."
Planet, does he look nervous? Why does he feel so nervous? He's been planning this for ages.
Maybe it's too obvious what he's planning.
No backing out now.
"There's a tattoo and piercing parlor right out by that stall we always grab taiyaki from and I figure we could check it out while we're there."
#a week early!!#ill tag this later when i get home lol#steeleidolon#all of your edges fit right into mine -- steeleidolon.#kunsel.#[ μ ] – εγλ 1992 - 0000.
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Tag Game To Better Know You! Send this to people you’d like to know better!
tagged by @doomspiral ty love
What book are you currently reading?
Graywaren and Six of Crows are first on the roster for over Christmas break. fingers crossed i’m not illiterate now cause it’s been awhile.
What’s your favorite movie you saw in theaters this year?
Bad Guys! It was so cute!! 10/10.
What do you usually wear?
Browns, navy blues, and lots of pastels. 90% of the time it’s jeans and a tiny shirt + button up, or a sweater. Plus gold and amethyst jewelry.
How tall are you?
5’3
What’s your Star Sign? Do you share a birthday with a celebrity or a historical event?
Pisces!! Lots actually. Ranging from Constantine (yeah that one), to John Steinbeck, to the beloved Josh Groban.
Do you go by your name or a nickname?
I go by my name, which is technically a nickname itself, but I’ve always wished I was actually named the full version. It’s prettier imo.
Did you grow up to become what you wanted to be when you were a child?
Currently in the process, full steam ahead :3
Are you in a relationship? If not, who is your crush if you have one?
No :’) I had a big crush but a week ago i found out she has a girlfriend. Common L.
What’s something you’re good at vs. something you’re bad at?
I’m good at being aware of my emotions and talking about them. I’m bad at telling time.
Dogs or cats?
Dogs
If you draw/write, or create in any way, what’s your favorite picture/favorite line/favorite etc. from something you created this year?
Toss-up between the lietcan honeymoon piece, this outfit meme with gil, and tbh my ruscan playlist. very proud of it.
What’s something you would like to create content for?
I rly wish I would create Glee content, but I just don’t have enough fixation on it so it gets pushed to the end of the queue.
What’s something you’re currently obsessed with?
Hyperfixation aside, rewatching all my favorite old movies from my childhood. What’s up doc, Singing in the rain, Roman holiday, My fair lady, Pollyanna, Chitty chitty bang bang, etc. Later on The sure thing and Crazy moon (11/10s please fucking watch these.) My dad raised me with good taste 😌
What’s something you were excited about that turned out to be disappointing this year?
Thanksgiving break, I was a “victorian child on their literal deathbed” brand of ill.
What’s a hidden talent of yours?
Not so hidden but I play the flute, going on 9 years. More unexpected? I’m really fucken good at maths, just comes naturally.
Are you religious?
Yes for sure, but God and I are kinda “on a break” at the moment.
What’s something you wish to have at this moment?
One of those tiny electric erasers they use for drafting detailing?? I’m pushing thru my drawing final and that would be so useful rn :’)
IM TAGGING. @pendragonsgallery @ashafox @maplebier @samrut @compass-still-spinning
#i love these it’s so fun#tag game#this is kinda a nice year in review as well#rosza rambles#putting this under#my art#as well
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Do you thing Ardyn still has stuff in his armiger from Aera and Gil? (or maybe even Somnus) My friend suggested "A Second Chance at Family" to me and I just started and came to the part with the cooler and baby bottle and it got me thinking about what else he might have stored in there. Did Aera put her robes and jewelry in the armiger? Does he still have a hairbrush and bedroll that belong to Gil? A mortar and pestle Somnus gave him before he left home. Also do you think time passes in the armiger? or would it keep things perfectly preserved?
Sorry this is late! This is a sideblog and this got buried under asks from other blogs. -sheepish-
Man. Feels train here, wow, I was not prepared for this, I really wasn't. I hope you still see this somehow - let me know! - but, working backwards: time stops in the armiger, or at least slows to a crawl. You definitely don't want to put anyone living into it, because the jolt between living-stasis-living again would probably cause some sort of massive shock reaction that would not end well. But it keeps 'things' preserved nicely, to be sure. Neither rot nor rust will be found in its confines.
I'm going to say it's highly likely that he kept things for Gilgamesh, the way Noctis did for his retinue - namely weapons - and probably has things of Aera's, even if only things that she'd accidentally left behind when they parted - maybe hair ribbons or jewelry or even a cloak or nightgown.
There is a heartbreaking chance it still smells like her.
As for Somnus, I'm going to say he definitely hung on to presents from his brother at the time. A particularly easy to enchant mythril dagger? A carving of Etro's symbol, which would one day become Lucis' sigil? Perhaps the garments of a proper white mage - heavy white cotton with triangles of blood red around the sleeve cuffs and the bottom of the robe.
"Wear something that suits your path, brother," Somnus had said.
"You know, strategically speaking one aims for the healers first," Gilgamesh added, perhaps genuinely concerned and perhaps to be contrary. He and Somnus hadn't seen eye to eye for some time and neither of them was willing to tell him why.
"They're in for an ugly surprise if they try to take our firebrand out," Somnus said, and for a moment it was like no time had passed at all, the smile warm and fond.
"I'd be honored," Ardyn had said, and meant it at the time.
Little had he known what would happen when Gilgamesh confessed of the killings his brother had commanded.
Never could he have imagined that Somnus would do more than argue, would turn on him completely.
Would be out for his blood, and take it.
I might have to address this properly in the fic, but for now have a lil snip. Thank you. This was a heartbreaking but wonderful detail to contemplate.
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Squeenix why do u do dis to me D:
Someone tell the lalafells that there's an untapped market to be had! Level 35-48 jewelry is the latest trend!
A once in a lifetime gil-gathering endeaver for your local, aspiring venture capitalist!!!!
.... in other news, I've been prepping myself for jewelery-crafting shenangians, which means clearing out my inventory LOL
But I got too invested and this time I took the time to research alot of the stuff that I've been hanging onto, and it turns out they're really easy to get later if i really wanted them back.
Most of it was either crafting materials (i thought they were turn-in tokens bc they looked special) or they were things that were fairly inexpensive to buy off other people if I wamted to do that in the future. I'd kept alot of things bc I wasn't as familiar with the UI/the game as i am now back when I tried downsizing in the past. Like I'd hold onto alot of junk bc for example, I'd research about this cool shiny item. and it'd start out so innocently lol.
I'd be like,
"oh I can use this to craft neat gear! Well I'll hold onto it bc i want to do that soon"
but then itd quickly spiral into
"oh, well I need a master crafting tome of X level, and to get that I need to collect these things. Okay that's doable. But wait, to do THAT, I first need to level up these 2 jobs so i can craft/gather the ingredients, alright.. (goes to level up the jobs) ...oh. i don't even have access to the zone that I need to collect those materials in, so then ACTUALLY I need to do the MSQ up to THIS point. Damn, thats kinda devastating bc I just spent all this time leveling lmao. Well, I got this far and i dont want to just toss these items, so ill just hang onto them for now
And then eventually I forgot about the details related to those items, but I remember how let down I felt while dealing with them so i just put it off and eventually they blurred into the clutter of the other stuff going on in my inv/I got invested into other goals lol
But now I've gotten better at asking the right things like "is this item rare? Where is it dropped? What is it used for, is it for crafting or a token or smth else? Also, does an NPC vendor ask for this in return for something cool? Could i buy this item on the MB later on?"
Whereas before, I'd just be like "okay. what can i use this for?? " And then I wouldn't see any crafting use for it, so I'd just toss it, and then 10 mins later id go to Mor Dhona and realize DANG IT was a TOKEN, i coulda traded that for smth interesting!! And it seems like a PITA for me to get again 😭 .....so thus began my hoarding :)
can't regret what you don't discard! lmfaooo
Also said screw it and sold off most of my food bc I realized by the time I worked thru all those edibles, id probably have a sub and would be able to buy HQ food really easily. Like, I'd been holding onto the food from when I had brute-force-leveled CUL to 50, and I'm still gonna have like ~200 hours worth of exp lmao.
I also actually, seriously reviewed the differences in food stats for once in my life (this deserves so much praise tbh bc I do not care for their details as long as I'm getting the exp buff lmao) and realized my level 15 HQ food is useless to hang onto bc my lvl 40 normal foods are still way better, and all this other info that's probably common knowledge lmao (and ik i CAN get more efficient with this if I prioritized food with stats that align with which jobs I'm gonna main for now but um. this is far as I care to go into the weeds with food details for now lmaooo like... no. stop thats too much to worry abt for me 😭😂😂 i mean like, i know (i think i know?) Strength and determination for tank, spell speed/piety for casters, skill speed for dps bc it just sounds like it makes sense lol. So like ill half-assedly try and pick the best stat buff food but its not really smth tht im overly concerned abt atm tbh. Maybe later at a higher level but for now everything seems to be okay without needing to suffer over the details)
So I sold off a buncha stuff off to an NPC and now i have a whole page and a half of space. I'm so excited!
I also reviewed the clutter in my chocobo sidebags and finally traded in the ancient gear drops to Rowena and sold off some faded maps that i realized are really common and can get again later lol
I'd have more space but i think I can use those few items up in the short term so it's just a waiting game for moar space uwu
But, yeah!!
✨️ A page and a half of inventory!! ✨️
I haven't had this much space ever since probably the MIDDLE of doing the main 2.0 MSQ!! xD
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poster analysis (unhinged)
I’m splitting these images up into vague catagories based on my ASSUMPTIONS of races and origins SO!
The Numenorean section. Lets go through them from the top left to bottom right;
- This guy’s Ar-Pharazon. I hate it, because he looks fucking great, the green of his sleeve with the fish scales marked in gold and the islamic style gauntlets and the golden sun motif... literally impeccable fashion and it’s just so delightful to see so much colour everywhere it’s assuaged a lot of my fears but golden armour with golden sun has to be Ar-Pharazon :(
- Now this fellow, I am actually still very curious about, the printed fabric is what made me put him into the numenorean camp. Also the red fabric in the left looks to me like it comes from the next costume along, but other than also just loving this look, especially the orange silk sleeves, I couldn’t place this fellow. Suggestions of him being Elros have been going around but I’m assuming all these are main characters and I’m still utterly confused about why a show about the OTHER rings of power has a main plotline in Numenor to begin with but whatever.
- I’m going to guess this lady is the Isildur’s sister we’ve been hearing about. The embossed book with the waves has potent ‘chronicler of the disaster’ vibes, perhaps with an emphasis for some visions of the future? Even this single colour simple dress is more exciting a costume design to me than anything I expected, the deep red/orange is very lovely, the rope very cool and the black pearls on the sleeves slap.
- Next line and this is Miriel, which makes me now pretty certain Maxine Cunliffe is going to play Miriel. The fish scale mail is beautiful and the way she’s cupping one of the white flowers of Nimloth ;;;n;;; very prominent sense of her trying to preserve numenor etc etc. Very sad. Very cool.
- So here this I am assuming is Elendil. A little confused about why he’s holding the rod of the king, (rod of the king also fucking slaps, wings marking kingship etc) but being associated with the kingship whilst also obviously being dressed quite plainly says Elendil to me.
- And I’m pretty sure this last fellow is Isildur. Others have suggested Cirdan which is still possible but a young fellow with similar motifs as the other numenoreans and hefting rope in preparation... for... sailing? Seems like Isildur to me. I... guess they did have to make him younger than he is supposed to be, but then again the timeline with this show is absolutely bananas to me, I’m now so sure they must be hopping about.
DWARVES! We’re supposed to be getting Durin in this show and if that’s the case then this first red haired fellow is a little disappointing. BUT the red painted scalemail still looks gorgeous. Worryingly, a translation of the runes on his hammer (into english not khuzdul strangely) sEEMS to say ‘awaken sleeping demon’ which is... so exhausting AND INSANE! When the balrog only awakened like 500 years ish before the end of the THIRD AGE. So either their timeline editting is going to make me tear my hair out or we’re dancing around timelines.
THIS LADY THO... absolutely obsessed, I’m really hoping the gold dust on the fingers of them both is more a fashion statement than some antisemetic greed for gold moral hint but the triangle jewelry, the flowing silk looking dress, the jewel studded bracelets, I’m in love. AND this has to mean we really are gonna see Khazad Dum at it’s height and I really wont survive that. God.
Elfses.
- So this first fellow... now... I have been creeking back and forth on him, Celebrimbor or Gil Galad? Now, the two possibly three stars pinned to the fabric really FEEL like silmarils right? And the rings all have a kind of uniqueness to them, not precisely all of a common theme, one of them feels dwarven, all of which points to Celebrimbor. HOWEVER. Celebrimbor, as the name suggests, was fond of silver not gold, which would make this immensely gaudy fashion odd. Can’t really trust the show runners to go into that detail, but also! The star pins could just be stars! Especially because it looks like there are pearl sewn cirith runes on his sleeve that MIGHT spell out Elb, ie Elbereth. And I would call Gil Galad the more star aligned religious one. Still, whatever, I love this, the noldoring gold aesthetic I’ve been missing.
- This is Galadriel, I have no proof it is about the vibes. The armour is boring but the Telperion and Laurelin merged dagger is quite cool.
- Elrond possibly? I have put him here because Elrond apparently loves crushed velvet and such but I’m still not sure about this one. It honestly could also be Ar-Pharazon or another Numenorean. The lettering on the scroll apparently mentions something about ‘looking from the south’ and ‘king’s sky’, I think there’s a quenyan month of the year named king’s something? But I wasn’t sure about that and I am doing none-research for this.
HOBBITS!! I do like the concept of making small things large to make their hands look small, a neat trick. Admittedly I don’t have much to say about these, the costumes look good for nomadic harfoots and stoors and I’m very into this plaited horse hair (?) rope for a burlap sack. This staff contraption has what looks to me like a wolf claw but big (again to make Lenny Henry’s hands look small) but in general! Cool intriguing.
??? Evil?? So we have who I assume is our season one villain on the right, our ‘Adar’ who’s leading a gang of orcs and is also somehow one of Galadriel’s brothers which is a concept I find insane but only in a funny way because I dont care about elves. If they make Aegnor or Orodreth evil I would just laugh.
On the left tho?? He’s really only here because the swords look so similar. I mean do we have Turin’s evil talking sword? This broken one looks like it’s made out of obsidian more than metal. But the baskets are similar and such so.
Miscellaneous! Just a group of whatever the fucks.
Admittedly though, starting from the top left again, I am going out on a limb and saying these first two are connected. This is purely because the segmented belts are the same, but essentially I think these are Balchoth/Wainriders/people from the Sea of Rhun. The horse is worrying, (after shadow of wardor’s timeline nonsense with the rohirrim I’m suspicious) but on the sword the horse motif has a sea serpent’s tail which feels more Sea of Rhun to me and Wains are driven by horses SO! Ugh I love this blue and gold fellow though, the circles and the colours and the patterns! Impeccable taste. Little worried he’ll eventually become the witch king. We’ll see.
- Next fellow with the map! Looks very cool and the map itself has pictographic writing I dont recognise. Or I assume it’s a map! It has that vibe but perhaps not. The fellow has a style that I am tentatively calling part of PERHAPS a section of characters who are indigenous to middle earth, perhaps ancient dunlendings or mountain men from gondor etc.
- Next one with the apple is gandalf, regrettably, but at this point pretty sure if rumours are true we’re going to see gandalf arriving in a meteor. Hilarious also.
- Not THIS... this fellow I’m intrigued by. He also worries me, but I am intrigued. This bark based armour with a kind of green man motif is beautiful. Big theorising here, but if we’re seeing numenorean deforestation, then it would make sense for us to see people allying with the Ents in defending the forest. That would be... SO MISERABLE to see and nigh on impossible to do sensitively since canonically... the numenoreans fully do win but! hhh We will see.
- And finally! I have no idea who this woman is but I love her. The mixed fabrics are so interesting, I have no idea where she would be placed, perhaps alongside the indigenous people but I’m excited all the same. Initilly I thought she was a hobbit but they’ve done nothing to make her seem smaller and also her clothes are more complex than those other images.
#lotronprime#The Rings of Power#text post#erran vs lotronprime#:))))) and there you have it proof of how normal I've been
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“You’ve been talking on and on about how much you want this specific object, and one day i'm at the store and they're selling it and i don't think twice about buying it”
Christmas present maybe but Druig is too shy to give it to the reader so he just leaves it as a mystery but she finds out it was from him and is soft that he paid so much attention to her 😭😭😭
Druig x Reader
✧.*Companion piece/sequel to Team Effort ✧.*
WC: 769
A/N: I totally was going to do the Christmas theme and then I remembered a detail in Team Effort that fit the prompt! I hope you don't mind and I will do a Christmas one later! Enjoy :)
The sun was finally beginning to set, the golden glow cascading on the jewelry in front of you "You know I could find this cheaper at the stall next door," you tell the old man with a squint of your eyes. He grumbles at you and folds his burly arms over his white robes.
"But his stuff has a lower quality," he retorts, matching your determined expression. "And don't think I've forgotten about the bracelet your friend wanted," he wags his finger at you, "I needed that sale. You want the necklace? pay my price."
You scrunched your face and looked at the gold chain necklace with an amethyst center in your hand. You've wanted it for weeks now ever since you and Sersi saw it. You pondered for a moment then a presence behind you brought you out of your thoughts, "Is he bothering you?" Druig asks, placing his hands on the sides of your waist. Head slightly cocked to the side as he glared at the man.
You shake your head, "No, just business." Druig peered over your shoulder, his eyes catching the necklace in your hand. It was similar to the one Sprite was going on about a few weeks ago. He noticed the loving gaze you had at you looked at it, the way your fingers delicately grazed the stone, and how long you tried to barter with the man. "It's too high a price," you finally said. Druig's face fell for a brief moment, he was confused.
The salesman snatched the necklace with the amethyst stone from your hand and grumbled under his breath. You huffed at his behavior and walked away from the stall, eyes adjusting to the new darkness "Why didn't you buy it, my love?" Druig asks you, walking a few paces behind.
"It was too expensive, Dru. I couldn't justify it." He could sense the disappointment in your voice. He raised an eyebrow and turned his head back towards the market. You rarely bought anything for yourself in all the time you'd been on earth, maybe something small here and there but it was all practical... nothing just for fun. He got an idea.
"There's a fight breaking out, I have to go stop it," he announces quickly, heading back. You turn and call out to him, "just go back to the Domo, I'll be fine!" He shouted. You frown as you watch him hurry off, clutching his robes so he didn't fall on the rocks.
Thankfully Gilgamesh cooked that night, which meant satisfied stomachs and no burnt meals. "I could've made this better," Kingo taunts from the end of the long table, mouth stuffed with Gil's cooking. Everyone groaned and rolled their eyes at his comment. Gil laughed loudly and slammed his hand on the table in amusement.
"Only in your dreams!" He laughed.
You turn around in your seat when a tap on your shoulder alerts you, "Druig! You missed dinner. Was everything ok?" you gasp as you look him up and down. All he did was smirk and take in the chaos at the table.
"Everything's fine. Come on, there's something I want to show you...they won't miss us." You reluctantly agree and step away from the table unnoticed. Druig takes you by the hand, his other tucked behind his back.
The laughter could be heard from the hallway, you smiled at their joy. "What happened out there?" you ask him. Druig puts both hands behind his back and smiles knowingly.
"There wasn't a fight, Y/N," he admits.
"Then what did you do the whole time?" you question, slight irritation rising in your voice. His smirk grows wider, walking slowly to you, closing the small gap.
"I bought the woman I love a necklace," he tells you. There was a small sliver of doubt that crossed your mind. You'd heard that before but it was just the small Eternal playing a sick joke. To be sure, you raise your hand and place it on the side of his face. He didn't disappear in front of you, it was him in the flesh. You broke out into a smile and retracted your hand as he showed you the necklace in his palm. "Let me," he says, taking the necklace in both hands and placing it around your neck.
His face was so close to yours as he clasped it into place, the warmth of his breath mixed with yours. You clasp the amethyst with your hands and tilt your chin up to kiss him softly on the lips, "Thank you, my love" you whisper as you pull away.
#druig x reader#druig x you#druig x fem!reader#druig imagine#druig blurb#druig fanfic#barry keoghan#eternals imagine#eternals#eternals fanfic
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Hello! Hope you're having a wonderful day. I have a request, if that's okay with you. Can I have a soulmate AU 1#? The one about the craving? With Rufus? I was thinking, Rufus with a poor soulmate who craves the expensive foods he eats but doesn't have the money to buy them and sometimes doesn't even know what she's craving because it probably doesn't exist where she lives. I'm sorry if it's too detailed. It's okay if you don't want to do it. Thank you for taking the time to read this.
Here you go! I hope you enjoy! Tell me if you liked it and if not, what I can improve on! Thanks for requesting, hon! ♡
THE FIRST TIME IT HAPPENED, you were sitting in Seventh Heaven and trying to ignore the excited chatter and boisterous energy around you. You had just ordered what would be your meal for the night and the next morning─it was all you could afford, given your meager salary as a scrap collector. Tifa had given you a hefty discount, since you helped her out a lot by finding spare parts and fitting them to the building when she needed it, but you sometimes suspected it was out of pity.
Your dinner─a plate consisting of two pork chops, rice, and a small salad─had cost you twenty gil. In the eyes of some, that was cheap, practically a penny out of their pockets; but for you, that was half your salary gone, and you rationed out the rest through cheaply packaged ramen that ran for one gil at the market. You weren't very healthy as a result, but Tifa did her best to meet at least some of your body's nutritional requirements with what you could afford to buy. She had even slipped you a free slice of pie and a beer, said it was on her for helping out with watching Marlene, and disappeared before you could argue.
When you couldn't afford even ramen, you bought food replacement tablets. They were cheaper than even those packets of noodles, could be gotten anywhere, and worked well enough to keep your appetite low as long as you didn't burn off too many calories working. Compared to you, Tifa and her group were well off, and they bought more food than they could handle. They didn't even box the rest up; Tifa would, though, and stow it away for later for them. It made you angry, and a little jealous.
So when you had gotten the barest sip of your beer and tasted the most exquisite flavors you had ever been privy to in your entire life, you felt your mind go white trying to catch up with it. You had never tasted this before, whatever it was─it was strong, and tasted like pizza smelled, but it was… off, more potent.
Your sister, before she married and moved topside, had told you about this; that people, when they were a certain age, tasted what their soulmate was eating. She also had said sometimes people have threads, others have telepathic thoughts, and even names on their arms. There was no real rhyme or reason to it, she told you, but it helped narrow down the selection pool to general salaries. Whatever that meant.
The taste still lingering in your mouth, you looked down at your pork chops in disappointment, knowing you would not get the same satisfaction out of your food. You ate with a mechanical slowness, forcing yourself to appreciate what you got and to savor it. The beer and pie was only a little satisfying, mostly to your sweet tooth, but as you were walking to the bar to pay Tifa, the taste changed. Your soulmate was taking dessert, it seemed, because all you could taste was the cloying sweetness of strawberries and sugar, something tart or somewhat bitter.
Your stomach felt very, very empty.
You paid Tifa and she rung up your receipt.
"How was the pie?" She asked, her eyes bright. Keen on conversation. "Did you like it? You were pretty slow tonight."
"I'm sorry." You took the receipt from her and stuffed it down your bra with a sigh, too lazy to flip open the button lapel at your breast. "I just got my first… soulmate taste thing. Whatever you call it. I wish I could have enjoyed it more, to be honest."
"Really?" Tifa motioned for you to sit down. Clearly you weren't going anywhere until she got all of the details out of you, haven't experienced it herself yet. "Tell me all about it and I won't get offended."
"I'll take that," you laughed. Your stomach clenched uncomfortably, tasting the delicious dessert your soulmate was having but confused when nothing came down. "I don't know about the main course, but the dessert had fresh strawberries… I remember those from when my mom would steal them from up topside. Sugar. Something bitter, but with its own sweetness. I've only ever eaten ramen and your food my whole life so I can't say what it was."
You hadn't noticed that Cloud had taken a seat one over from you until he spoke.
"That sounds like the Soireé up top." When you blinked at the long absent merc with confusion, he elaborated grudgingly,"A lot of Shinra execs would eat it. It's a dessert. Strawberries and blueberries. I overheard a conversation about it. Sounds like what you were describing."
"Oh, so they must have money, then, to eat topside," Tifa gasped. "I wonder who it could be!"
"I don't know." You shrugged and rubbed your stomach, grimacing at the twang of pain. "Well, I'll head on home now. Thanks for the pie, Tifa. Just call if you need anything."
"Sure thing, [Name]! Get home safe."
For the next five years, you suffered with your soulmate's eating habits, and over time, you got good at determining when they ate. Their favorite food seemed to be some kind of soup that had very little flavor, but their palette was large and vast. They ate three times a day, ate a snack inbetween, or drank some gods awful concoction of chocolate and bitter powder that you couldn't stand and took days to get out of your mouth.
In those five years, you had gone from lowly scrap collector to the illustrious Madame M's secretary and student. She boarded you and fed you extremely better food than you had ever eaten before, supplied you with a far more generous salary because she liked you and treated you like a daughter, and even helped you get healthy and into physical shape.
You could massage someone's hand like nobody's business, or even do the poor man's massage, but what you really specialized in was a unique method of acupuncture that stimulated relaxation and blood flow. Madame M had deemed you successful enough to take your own clients, but refused to let you take hers; you had to gather your own.
So topside you went, clothed in traditional garb as she had told you, with your hair pinned up and decorated with jewels from Madame M's prized collection. She had given them to you with a proud smile, along with some rather serious looking adoption papers that would allow her to become your official mother. Even at twenty-nine years old you had cried like a baby and hugged her. She didn't even tut like she normally would and hug you back.
But as soon as you were topside, you couldn't resist it.
You tracked down the restaurant that sold the Soireé.
+
When Rufus woke up tasting strawberries and blueberries in his mouth, he sat ramrod straight in his chair. At his feet, Darkstar whined and nudged his knee, but he ignored it and focused more intently on the flavors playing on his tongue.
It was the unique taste of a Soireé.
Over the years, he had tasted many things, things that he had looked up and found belonged to the slummers, then the middle class elite, or the oriental flavors of Wall Market cuisines. None of it had ever come close to touching the foods that he ate or the indulgences he found himself to favor, but this was the first time he had ever tasted something so expensive from his soulmate.
A slummer no more, it seemed.
He raised an eyebrow and hit a number on a rotary phone his father insisted on keeping. "Tseng."
"Yes, Mister President?"
"Find out who's eating a Soireé at Vallei Astra."
Tseng was very, very quiet for a few moments. He wisely didn't question it. "Yes sir. I'll be back with you in a moment."
+
She sat on the back patio facing a genuine ray of sunshine. The manager had escorted him to her with a sickly smile, sweating bullets, and mumbled under his breath the entire time while he did. Rufus had quickly made him leave once he got sight of his target.
She wore the oriental styles of the Wall Market; a black kimono, a dark purple obi, and brilliant red and white cranes and dragonflies sewn into it with a careful hand. A very expensive piece of silk indeed. She wore true jewels in her hair, a far cry from a slummer's jewelry, and from behind, wore her hair in a high bun with some strands left to dangle around her shoulders.
He had seen Madame M once, when she answered a personal call for his father. She had left the building in a rage, but he had heard her yelling at him when the massage had been finished. Her obi har been untied when she left. Rufus could only assume his father had been attempting to make her his mistress.
This girl, her student, was bound to be a spitfire.
He straightened his tie and stepped outside. A pair of cool, calm [color] eyes turned and regarded him, a plucked eyebrow raised, as if asking who dared to interrupt her dessert. Even sitting, she looked down her nose at him.
Oh, yes, he would enjoy every part of this… Starting with those eyes.
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LFRP: Omori Kaya
THE BASICS
Full name: Omori Kaya
Pronunciation: Oh-Moh-Ree Kay-Uh (Omori is her surname, Kaya is her given name)
Nicknames: n/a
Height: 5'6" (quite tall for a midlander hyur)
Age: “A lady never reveals her age.” (adult)
Nameday: 32nd Sun of the 3rd Astral Moon
Languages: Doman, Common
Occupation: Not getting caught.
Current Residence: "Traveling abroad.“ (Basically living a tourist’s life in Eorzea, hoping to never be called out as the fraud she is. She’ll spend time as someone’s guest here, staying in a hotel elsewhere the next month, etc…)
Relationship Status: While she has never actually been married, the identity of the woman she pretends to be is a young widow and heiress. (Single)
PHYSICAL CHARACTERISTICS
Hair color: Black
Eye color: Pale, silvery grey
Skin tone: Fair
Body type: Slender, athletic but not in an obvious way.
Scars: none
Accent: Doman
Posture
Poised, athletic– though she’s no master shinobi, she is her mother’s daughter. Her training began at the age of four, and it’s still evident in the way she moves, observes, and behaves. Others who have trained would likely notice it easily. She carries herself with quiet dignity, and moves (or refuses to) deliberately, as if she expects each action to be read for significance, and takes great care not to reveal too much unintentionally. Though, in the very rare instances when she lets down her guard, this facade can fade away, revealing that she’s still a girl who can be amused, and charmed, and is easily mesmerized by beautiful places and things.
Accessories
She’s almost never seen without jewelry, though all of it is merely decorative– the trappings of the life she’s stepped into. None of it is personal, or carries meaning beyond appearing as she’s expected to.
Apparel
Her taste ranges from the classically dramatic to the outright exotic- not out of a sense of vanity, but in an appreciation of what is more or less wearable art. She most frequently wears black and white, though she also favors blue and occasionally red. In keeping with her heritage, she tends toward modesty in her dress. Of course, most of these clothes once belonged to a woman whose identity she has stolen, and she’s begun to add Eorzean fashions to her wardrobe to stand out less. The more she blends in, the fewer questions about her past she needs to dodge...
CHILDHOOD
Place of Birth: Doma
Siblings: none she knows of
Parents: The samurai Masanari and an Imperial Shadow named Harue, though Kaya has never known her biological father, as she was still less than a year old when he disappeared.
Upbringing: Raised initially by her mother, and later trained by grandmother once her affinity for magic became apparent. (More details can be found in her character history.)
PERSONAL
Personality
Outwardly, she is polite and mysterious, with a demeanor ranging from businesslike toward strangers, to an unexpected sort of mischievous and rebellious streak around the rare soul she’s begun to feel comfortable around. She’s evasive and distant. She rarely connects with others easily, which leads to most people assuming she’s either very shy, or rather snobbish, at first impression. She doesn’t trust easily, isn’t prone to showing any emotion in public if she can avoid it, and is often the one who, from an outward appearance, seems to be just another quiet wallflower enjoying the view.
Beneath the surface, however, she feels everything perhaps far too much, watches everyone with the wariness of someone who knows all too well what people are capable of, and deeply craves the connections to others she doesn’t seem to be able to form easily. She’s always searching for the few who can see the world the way she does- as something equally beautiful as it is deadly, meant to be lived in, not just endured. She’s a powder keg of passions always kept under a tight lid, hidden away for safe keeping.
Still, she is difficult to anger, and it’s a cold anger when it happens. She knows that engaging in violence and revealing her training would likely break character entirely, and being discovered as a fraud wouldn’t end well for her. As a result, she’ll try to think her way out of any situation, instead.
Motivations/Goals
If asked what she wants more than anything else in the world, she’d probably say to be able to do what she wanted, not what she was told, or allowed, or expected to. She craves freedom in all its definitions, but nearly always denies it to herself out of fear or pragmatism. While playing the role of a young, noble heiress she feels the restraints of her gilded cage all too keenly. She must behave in the way one raised to the role would be expected to. As a result, she finds small ways to rebel that aren’t likely to be noticed. Her fierce and defiant nature, thus repressed, will see her doing seemingly pointless things like rearranging the furniture in hotel rooms, stealing small items she could easily afford, or finding ways to secretly get even with those who have behaved poorly.
Financial Status
Ostensibly wealthy, though not one gil of it was ever truly hers. Still, she feels no guilt in obtaining the Omori family’s accounts considering they would have otherwise been seized by the Garlean government following Lord Omori’s assassination.
She has been quietly seeking a way to invest ‘her’ money in a way that would divorce it from her stolen inheritance, make it more truly hers, and greatly reduce the risk of losing everything should her false identity be uncovered.
Weapons
While she was raised to the blade and bow for most of her childhood, she hides her training and doesn’t carry a weapon openly, if at all. If cornered and forced to defend herself, she’d mostly likely attempt to disarm an opponent and steal theirs, or improvise.
Vices
Seemingly none, as she has striven to present herself as a woman of proper graces. However, she is prone to self-indulgence and spending far too much gil merely because she can, which she considers a vice in herself and tries to resist.
Likes
People who are intelligent, interesting, vibrantly passionate and alive. Watching people do things that require specialized skill, especially combat training or constructing something.
Constructive debate and interesting challenge. Trying/learning new things.
Music, dancing. She’s often wished she could play an instrument, but has never learned to.
Nature, gardens, fireflies, birds, waterfalls, the ocean/seaside. Traveling to anywhere with a spectacular view or vibrant culture. Learning about said cultures.
Exotic spiced foods or just about anything she hasn’t tasted before that doesn’t look absolutely disgusting. Tea. Fruits, chocolate, and spiced cider or tea. Have I mentioned tea?
Unusual crystals and/or gemstones. While she’s generally unfazed by wealth or status, she appears to be positively mesmerized by sparklies.
Dislikes
Politics, rumor mongering, cattiness, insults, and general poor behavior.
People who think getting drunk is the best kind of fun to be had.
Addictive drugs, and those who sell them.
Being forced to do anything, feeling not in control over her own life.
Overly objectifying unwanted attention, awkward social situations/obligations/expectations.
Being cold, biting insects.
Hobbies
Reading, especially the arcane.
Learning the history of different places and cultures.
Collecting small, easily transportable items (generally clothing or jewelry) in local styles from each new place she visits.
Pets: None, currently. She once had a magpie as a pet when she was younger, and maintains a fondness for birds of all kinds.
RP HOOKS
She’s looking (quietly) for a way to launder, er... invest her money to gradually eliminate the need to rely on her stolen identity and foreign contacts for access to funds. Have an opportunity?
A trusted lady’s maid, retainer, or guard type to help her maintain appearances.
It’s possible that someone from her past in Doma might recognize her, or perhaps have known the real Omori Kaya.
The woman she is impersonating is an ill-fit for her. She is fierce, independent, and rebellious... the exact opposite of the demure and soft character her stolen identity demands. But, her mother risked everything to secure her new identity, and she won’t cast it off unless forced to. Still, she isn’t perfect. Someone could catch her in a mistake, and become curious...
The Lady Omori Kaya appears elegant, mysterious, ...and wealthy. Potential suitors aren’t unlikely. (Romance is an option, though she’ll be hard to pin down at first, for obvious reasons.)
She has a (stolen) soulstone in her possession, and has been working to unlock its secrets.
Open to brainstorming other connections, past associations, or jumping into -your- existing plot!
OOC
I make my own schedule. I can be available pretty much any time from 8 am to 9pm CST. Sadly, I can rarely do late nights because I need to do that sleeping thing.
OOC communication is a priority for me.
I have been RPing for 20+ years. I am comfortable with both in game or Discord RP, and anything from short, quick posts to multi para. I do this because I enjoy writing!
I am not interested in random ERP outside of a long-term character interaction. I do love writing ships as long as there's strong chemistry between the characters, and both the character and the writer of said character are mature adults. However,I will not consider ships with alt or AU characters, as this is my one and only RP character. (No multi-shipping.)
I prefer a RP style that works with what is plausible within the scope of the lore. I'm open to creativity, as long as it makes sense. I prefer to stay away from void-heavy, AU, inserts from other universes, and anything involving cross-breeding with non-playable races/beings. (These are only my personal preferences, and everyone else is free to do whatever they like!)
Absolutely no: rape, harm to children, or graphic torture.
I do enjoy game content as well, and prefer company over doing so alone! I am currently sitting in my own personal FC house, but would consider joining a real FC if it makes sense for my character.
Confession: I probably spend way too much time decorating virtual houses.
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Old Traditions
AO3 Version
Relationship: WoL(Illya Skawi)/Alphinaud
Rating: PG
Summary: Alphinaud is spending a few days in Ishgard, and learns about an old, peculiar tradition he can’t help but be curious about.
Note: This is a (super late) prize for @whitherliliesbloom for winning the Wondrous Tails 2019 event--at first this was supposed to be something simple and sweet for her character Illya and Alphinaud (whom are adorable together), but one thing lead to another and now I have another fic to add to the ‘lockets as engagement rings in Ishgard’ headcanon because apparently I love it too much.
-
When Alphinaud makes the purchase, it was not fueled by plan nor far-reaching intentions. It had simply been something in just the right spot in the window to catch his eye, and furthermore something beautiful enough he thought it better suited someone else--someone whom he cared about deeply.
Suffice to say even as he held the locket in his hand and reached out to show the shopkeeper the item he had intended to purchase, it was with no greater meaning than that of a rather fanciful gift spurred only by impulse. He could already hear Tataru’s sharp chastising the moment she’d find out and realize how much he so flippantly spent on it--but it was of his own earnings, and the recipient of his own choosing.
It was beautiful, all things considered. A locket of silver, decorated with various details of twisting vines and flowers blooming around a setting of amethyst or somesuch gemstone. It glittered so vibrantly even in the dull sunlight of an overcast day in Ishgard that Alphinaud could hardly take his eyes off of it once discovered.
Though it did not compare to the beauty he oft beheld within her eyes, Alphinaud could think of only one woman who deserved such a gift. Neither could be bring himself to think about how it pleased him to think of her wearing it--something of his own effort upon her, a symbol of affection and dedication to bringing a smile onto her lips like how she brought a smile to so many others around her.
Perhaps it was from this silly, romantic notion that had left an impression upon the elder, wizened elezen woman who sold it to him. As gil exchanged hands and Alphinaud had the locket safely tucked into a small, plain-looking wooden case, he couldn’t help but notice the look in her eyes.
“Is there something the matter?” He found himself asking. “Did I not give you enough gil?”
“Oh no, there’s nothing wrong,” she said, waving a hand as if to fend off his mounting worry. “It’s not everyday a young man like yourself has his heart so set upon someone he loves.”
Between the words themselves and the tone suffused within them, Alphinaud cannot help the heat that blooms over his cheeks. He clears his throat and allows his eyes to fall downwards.
"I-...I'm afraid I don't quite understand what you mean."
He doesn't know quite why he feels embarrassed when he hardly knew the woman, nor would likely never see her again once the purchase was complete--he's not set to remain in Ishgard for more than a few suns before meeting with several Scions back in the heart of Eorzea proper. Still, Alphinaud found his gaze falling towards the trinket in his hand, heat blooming like sweet spring lilies over his cheeks.
“You are not from Ishgard then?” the shopkeep asks.
Alphinaud shakes his head, and the warm look falls ever so slightly from the woman’s expression.
“Ah, well then pay my silliness little thought. ‘Tis only something of a tradition, though most young folk nowadays don’t seem to pay it much mind.”
She hums to herself and turns away, as if to return to what she’d been doing mere minutes before.
For as easy as it could have been to simply let the topic be and scurry away with his purchase, Alphinaud's sense of curiosity vastly outweighed his sense of embarrassment. He purses his lips and clears his throat in a vaguely subtle attempt to show he was still standing there, and only then does the woman turn back around to look at him with one arched brow.
"I...don't mean to intrude further upon your time," Alphinaud says lightly. "but I find myself curious to this old tradition, if you would care to explain it."
The woman stares at him for a few moments, with the silence only broken by distant sounds of construction from direction of the firmament. Sounds of rebuilding and hope only made possible by the efforts of the same woman Alphinaud was purchasing the locket for.
Through the years of life experience seemingly etched in lines and wrinkles upon her face, a glimmer of warm amusement filled her eyes. She smiles, then steps closer to the counter, so that she could perch her elbows upon the old wood and her chin upon the heel of a palm.
"When I was but a girl, many years ago mind you, it was commonplace that a suitor would gift a locket to one they were courting."
"Courting?"
"Yes," the woman nods. "Once it was a gift of engagement. Far before my time, the lockets would be made by hand of the suitor or their family--but you can imagine for many it was easier to simply commission or purchase from a craftsman."
Alphinaud's brow furrows. He understands the words perfectly well, but it takes him a few moments for the context to sink in--why she had eyed him with such gentle amusement as he purchased the locket in the first place. He looks down to the small box in his hand, and then back up, realization at last dawning on him.
For some reason, his cheeks are burning ever hotter than before, and words that should have seemed obvious in answer yet tumble awkwardly over his lips.
"Ah, I see. An engagement of...marriage, I presume?"
The woman, whether amused by Alphinaud’s embarrassment or simply happy in his genuine interest, smiles just a little brighter.
"Of course. When my mother ran this very shop, there were young men of even the highest houses who would spend hours looking at her work to find the most suiting locket for their soon-to-be betrothed. And even before that, both my mother and grandmother were oft commissioned for their craft--such beautiful works of art made for one couple’s promise of lifelong union.”
Wizened by years of life, the woman’s soft eyes fall upon the collection of jewelry across the counter before her. And then, after a moment more, a sigh slowly escapes her lips. Alphinaud watches as soft disappointment fills where warmth had been in her eyes.
"...There is meaning to each of these pieces, you know."
As she gazes over the work before her, Alphinaud can’t help himself but to speak, as if the words take life into themselves and fall from his tongue all the same.
“And what of this one?”
Though the motion is a little jarring and it takes him several moments to do so, he opens the small box in his hand for emphasis, to reveal the glittering locket within. As he does, the shopkeeper looks at him, and the smile returns—perhaps with just a touch more mischief than before, though the young Scion is hardly able to keep his mind away from how the sentiment connects to his own feelings for the warrior he is set to gift the locket to mere days from now.
“You certainly have an eye for gems. The amethyst, set in the center and surrounded by a wreath of flowers-“ she reaches out and gently taps a gloved finger to the center of the locket. “-the one you love must be the sort who oft takes on the suffering of others as her own burden. She forges a path of goodwill, and the flowers that flourish within that path are the lives she touches with her kindness.”
As she leans back, Alphinaud can’t help but feel a little awed.
“...and how can you say all that if you don’t know her?”
Within the woman’s eyes, a glimmer of something soft. In her lips, a wry smile, one that makes her look many years before, gazing down at a young man seeking to promise his heart to the person he cares most for.
“I don’t have to know them, young sir,” she says simply. “You were the one who picked that locket from all the rest of them. And given your surprise at its meaning, it would seem your heart chose perfectly.”
Even in the sharp, cold wind of Ishgard, Alphinaud feels a genuine warmth deep within his chest, one that grows with the reminder that he would be seeing that person soon, the one for whom his heart sang. The one who truly deserved the work of art clutched within his palm, and the deep tradition behind it.
“I thank you for taking the time to explain it to me; I will properly treasure this locket, and I know the one I’m to give it to will love it all the same.”
A gentle laugh escapes from the old woman, and she reaches a hand up to gently cover her mouth.
“And might you indulge me with the name of this one so dear to you?”
Alphinaud opens his mouth to speak, but at first not a single word comes out.
So many ways to describe her; the warrior of light, the hope of Eorzea, the savior of Ishgard, Ala Mhigo and Doma alike. The one whose smile makes everyone feel at ease, the one who makes everyone feel safe—the one who, whenever she laughs, makes Alphinaud’s heart race and his thoughts hard to place.
“Her name,” he finally says, closing the locket box and gently tucking it into a pocket, and meeting the woman’s eyes. “-is Illya.”
#writing#wondrous tails prize#wondrous tails of ffxiv#its taken me 23432 years to get my ass back into writing#sfw#drabble#illya skawi#illya#alphinaud x illya#oc fic#at first this was gonna be part of the ffxivwrite2020 thing#but the idea i had for this was so specific it didn't work out tbh#if alphinaud wasn't thinking about proposing before he sure is now....#;3c
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Moonfire Faire 2020 YCHs!
How This Will Work:
Fill out the provided Google Form within the 96 hour time frame.
The form will be open from 5pm PST/8pm EST TODAY to 5pm PST/8pm EST on Monday, August 24th. If you miss that window, you miss out!
Once the submissions are closed I will tally up everyone who submitted and pick via random number generator. This way, everyone has a fair chance!
If you were not picked for the first round, don’t be discouraged! I’ll continue to randomly pick through the submissions up until I grow tired of doing YCHs.
If you cannot pay for your slot when I pick you, you forfeit your slot and it gets passed to the next person.
YCH Form: [ Form Here ]
Rules:
Each YCH will go for 4 Million Gil Donations (Crystal Only) or $40 USD!
Payment will upfront or partial. Upfront Payments must be made within 24 hours once selected. Partial Payments require 2 mil or $20 upfront and the rest once completed.
These will be worked on in-between current commissions.
There is a limit of 2 YCHs per person.
The pose will not be altered. The only thing I will change is the expression, race and the gender of the template!
DESCRIPTIONS ALONE ARE NOT ACCEPTED!
Please regard TOS for full details on refunds and payments.
Complicated characters/designs/concepts will be charged extra.
EX: Excessive gold jewelry and trinkets.
I have the right and will deny any commission I feel unfit to complete.
Thank you all for your time! \ o /
Current Queue: [ LINK ]
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Omg pls tell us more about your catboy
Ahhh okay! It’s actually been a lot of fun imagining details about him. I wasn’t expecting that hahaha ;u;
His name is Z’ahra Tanri! Seeker of the Sun, arcanist!
Black hair. Right eye is tawny, left eye is green
Gold tattoos on his cheeks and around his eyes
The fluffiest tail in all the worlds. Are there multiple worlds in this game? Whatever. He’s confident he’s got The Best Floof
His carbuncle’s name is Zephyr and he loves him very much ;u;
His partron deity is Oschon. It doesn’t matter how many times you tell him– he just can’t pronounce that name correctly
Hobbies include sleeping in the sun and reading.
Would definitely be one of those “actual books are best” people if he existed in modern times. Loves the smell of old books. Unashamedly shoves his face into them at the library and inhales loudly enough to bother everyone within a ten-foot radius.
If he sees you dog-ear a page, your life is in his hands
As much as he loves books, yes, he has smacked monsters in the face with his grimoire if they end up getting too close. He screams in anguish as he does it, though.
Also presses flowers! He collects every kind he can find. (As soon as I can afford to buy him an apartment it’s going to be full of plants hahaha)
Likes: ladybugs, fluffy animals, sunny days, traveling, tight hugs
Dislikes: chocobos (saw one kick a stablehand halfway across a farm when he was little, Spooked ever since), chocolate, rain (and WET CLOTHES FROM THE RAIN!!!!), papercuts (a constant scourge), the dark
More interested in exploring the world and seeing rare sights than he is about amassing power
Is one of those people who will use weaker armor if he likes how he looks in it better than a stronger set
Hats are always toggled to hidden mode, lads
JEWELRY. Has like 20 ear piercings. Rings, bracelets, pretty chains.
Jingles loudly when he walks hahaha
Loyal, happy-go-lucky, has good instincts in dire situations
Has been known to sulk when things don’t go his way, cranky when he hasn’t had a good nap in a while, gullible to an absurd degree for someone so learned, impulsive (don’t leave him with the gil in the marketplace)
In his defense, he DOES always look up something if he thinks it sounds too outlandish and quickly learns he needs Better Friends >:O
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WHEN: 9 December, 1979, between Dueling Club and dinner
WHERE: Transfiguration corridor
“Not looking for me, I hope.”
Marlene’s feet -- which had carried her to the empty Transfiguration corridor of their own volition, propelled by the last few scarlet threads Vivian Travers had shrouded her in -- came to an electrified halt. They might have been looking for Gilbert Selwyn, but the rest of Marlene had not been. In fact, half of her had thought he wouldn’t be there when she came looking, but the other half of her had hoped it. Being alone with Gilbert ever again was one of the last things Marlene wanted for herself, if she even wanted it at all. But now, in the wake of his voice---
Marlene kept her back to him as the panic set in, more familiar to her now than she wanted to admit, especially as she realized the power it wielded had never waned. It spanned across the wide, gaping chasm between want and need that she had always wrestled with, especially where Gilbert was concerned. As she found herself inching closer towards the latter -- and closer to the wizard who had happened upon her with loud, ferocious steps -- Marlene wondered if this thing she dreaded didn’t fall neatly into that category.
“I need to talk to you.”
Unsurprisingly, Gilbert stayed silent. But he nodded. He nodded, and then he opened the door to his favorite unused classroom with well fabricated kindness. He stepped to the side, allowing for Marlene to lead the way in before he closed it behind them.
Before she could lose the nerve, Marlene opened her mouth to speak, loose ends flying about as she searched for the precise ones that had haunted her on the way up the stairs---but the attempt proved fruitless when the lock clicked in her ears, and she was forced to confront, at long last, a face she had only seen of late in dreams and nightmares. This was the first time in months that Marlene had taken note the details of Gilbert’s face, and how they had changed from the way she remembered him. Glimpses of dark hair and cheeky smirks in the corridors had hardly made a picture, and Marlene found now that the pieces she had drawn in from memory were strangely shaped, deformed and discolored when held up for comparison. The bags that had once dangled beneath his eyes were gone now, replaced by a new breed of confidence that had changed the angles of his mouth when it was at rest. And yet, he looked the same---just as patronizing and misunderstanding as he had ever been before. Maybe even, somehow, more. Worse, Marlene dared to think as she grew brave enough to meet Gilbert's eyes. Flat, plain, monotonous eyes that had once stretched to such depths. Or had they? Marlene wondered as a dissatisfied scowl slunk its way onto her face. Maybe there had never been any real depth there to begin with; or perhaps it had always been Marlene’s, skillfully projected and refracted back at her where he lacked by the both of them. She felt especially lacking now, hollowed out and useless everywhere but the eyes that had been burdened with this new, uninviting image of an older and just as unwise Gilbert.
“I haven’t forgotten your birthday.” It was simultaneously the most and least surprising thing to come from Gilbert’s mouth. He had always managed to exist just beyond the periphery of understanding when it came to Marlene, a point only proven further when he pulled from his bag a long, thin box that boasted an obviously expensive piece of jewelry inside. He extended it, but she did not take it. Even when waved in her face, it was the dimmest of details in this vibrant nightmare of a moment. “No matter which owl I try, Brian’s not been very receptive.”
“That’s not what I’m here for.” Marlene snatched the box from between them. She turned the unopened box over in her hands, stunned into silence again by the attempt at an olive branch that felt more akin to an unpotted cactus in her fingers. But Gilbert knew that. He had to know, in some capacity, why it was she had come here, even if she was later than expected. Her anger didn’t feel so erratic and loud anymore, like it had when Vivian had first swaddled her in it; it instead rattled impatiently beneath her feet. Once her eyes had adjusted to the way the shadows that hung from Gilbert’s shoulders had shifted, Marlene still didn’t know how to begin.
“I know I said you didn’t have to say anything.” She had hoped he would at least pretend to concentrate on setting up his cauldron, the same way she hastily stuffed the gift into her bag with great intent, but the weight of Gilbert’s unoccupied gaze stayed, weighing down her every movement, coloring the anxious breath that controlled her every word. “Or even that you had to acknowledge it.” She would be glad to be home at Number 5 an hour from now, she told herself as she zipped her bag shut, freshly scrubbed clean and bundled up with thick socks and a wool blanket. “And I meant it then. I really did.” Maybe a little lighter with the truth of her tangled and torn feelings discarded from her shoulders. “But it bothers me that you didn’t.”
A far more long and treacherous silence than the others stretched beyond the time Marlene had allotted herself for this poorly budgeted interaction. Silence was unsurprising with Gilbert, but what did surprise her, once Gilbert had walked around the room only to land on the edge of the table in front of her, was his continued nonchalance, the same perfectly practiced pretending that had driven her to the brink of insanity in these lonely past months. It took, this time, the form of another long silence, and more disappointing words.
“It bothers you that I didn’t do what, exactly?”
“Don’t.” The world was suddenly crimson again, this time without Vivian’s help. But this was not so vibrant a crimson. It was dark, certainly, but not nearly so fleeting. Instead of filtering Marlene’s vision like a thin scarf around the eyes, it colored the earth at its very roots, seeping up through the quaking foundation in a toxic haze. “Of all the things to be a cunt about, Gil.” Two furious and fiery tears cropped into the corners of her eyes, sprouted not from sadness, but the irrevocable anger that longed so desperately to escape that it cracked her voice on its way to freedom. “And now you want me to be the one to say it out loud---”
“Say what?”
“The letter,” Marlene hissed back at his impatience. “The one that Rosalind found.” She watched Gilbert’s face carefully now, with no inkling of a clue as to what it would reflect back at her next. “About me being pregnant.” Unsurprisingly, Gilbert remained, again, silent. But Marlene sensed something different in this silence---a certain lack of intention, an air desire for a loud response to crack it open with, an unpreparedness that she, ironically, had not been prepared for at all. When she allowed the truth to sink in, accompanied by the memory of Rosalind’s satisfied smirk as she had slunk away that night on the beach, Marlene felt as flatly ironed out as the eyes that stared back at her.
“You didn’t know.” The twin tears in her eye slid down her cheek, taking with them every last exhausting ounce of anger that Marlene had clung to. Just as she had when she had written him in June, she clung now to the simple facts. “She found the letter,” Marlene said slowly, eyes widening with every word. “And she didn’t tell you. She didn’t tell you I was pregnant.” But it was all for naught. No words came to break the silence; no emotion colored the blank expression on his face. Even with the truth laid so largely and plainly between them at last, Gilbert gave Marlene nothing in return.
“But you took care of it, didn’t you?”
Nothing but disappointment.
“Yes, Gil.” Her teeth clenched behind the words, making it all the more impossible to get out the next, even as she deadpanned them. She thought she understood him now, after all these years. Even one drop of emotion from her now would have unleashed an unforgiving, messy flood. Maybe Gilbert was simply an old neglected dam, ready to burst at the first sign of minor disrepair. But then came the relief in Gilbert’s eyes as she uttered the words, “I took care of it.” They gave Marlene enough pause to retrace those steps. Maybe there really was nothing there to be held back.
“Good.” Good. “Great.” Great. It was the only sincere smile Gilbert had dared to give her in those moments alone. And Marlene, taking a page from his book, refracted an insincere one right back. “And you’re alright, aren’t you?”
She was---physically, at least, which was all Gilbert cared about, if he even had the sense to do that. Anything else--- Marlene was too numb now to recognize anything she might have been feeling, much less to reconcile it with him now. The blood that had beat the war drums in her ears earlier had returned, this time with a much more melancholy symphony than before. It didn’t beg her to fight anymore; perhaps because she knew now that there was nothing there for her to fight for.
“I’m alright.”
Marlene smiled through the lie; he wouldn’t know the difference. And if he did, he wouldn’t care enough to let on. “It just seemed important that you knew, is all.” And now, it just seemed silly. Like a defunct firecracker, she shot past him for the door, nodding through the echoes of whatever parting words Gilbert was offering her now. When she could stand them no longer, she slammed the door in his face, and kept walking.
#drabble.#dated. december 1979#c. gilbert selwyn#c3. vivian travers#c16. sturgis podmore#ignore the 1500 typos this has been a journey to write
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