#ic // sasume
Note
🍾 + what would make you happy? for sasume!!
Send 🍾 + a question for my muse to answer your question while drunk. / Accepting! // @tvrningout
A sound erupts from her throat, clattering back and forth as it spills out. It could almost be called laughter, if she was still the sort of person for that. Instead it rattles out, past the bars of her teeth.
"Used to think it was, you know," she flips her hand around vaguely, as if gesturing to a broad idea and dismissing it as minuscule all at once. "Marriage. Romance."
Another laugh rips out, as hollow as her empty chance. "But it has to be possible in order for it to be able to make me happy, right?"
She could try for it, sure, but to actually get it? If she was really, really lucky, she could get a political-esque marriage where she was just another high-value body to warm the bed of someone who could be a half-decent friend as they found actual love in an affair. More realistically, she'd just wind up a neglected trophy wife who was supposed to speak less than an actual trophy when she wasn't be neglected.
And to be actually realistic? She wouldn't get any romance at all, nevermind anything close to marriage. Maybe she'd get left at the altar.
"Or kids, I guess," she grows somber instead of bitter, face falling. She'd always loved the idea of having kids, being a mother. Knows she could do it herself if needed, but... Children were too important to have just because she wanted to, least of all when their only parent had such a (technically) dangerous job. "But that wouldn't be fair."
No one deserved to have her as a mother, or even just a wife.
And as far as what she deserves...
Her eyes water over again, filling with tears. She finishes off her drink and buries her face in folded arms, struggling to even find the words. To even find the idea.
She doesn't even deserve to live. To ask for anything more than that...? To think of even getting anything more than that...?
Her throat grows hot and she bites on the inside of lips to try and keep from crying.
"I just want to be loved," she blurts out, vision blurring as the tears pour down her face. "I just—"
She chokes on it, on the pipe dream, on the want.
And she cries.
"I want a home."
#tvrningout#prompt responses //#ic // sasume#about // sasume#asks //#asks // sasume#oh :))) haha :)))))#tfw sa avoids SubstancesTM bc she doesnt trust herself and . shes not entirely wrong sdghsdghsghsgh#alcohol //#ask to tag //#either it makes it turbo puppy or turbo teary if not Both so um .#smth smth and the difference btwn Being love and FEELING loved#and smth smth how if she doesnt even think to hope for smth than that means 'less' disappointment ???????????#lays on the floor abt her.#i did not include it in the post bc of prose flow or w/e but:#a HOME not just a house :'))) somewhere where she has support and love and community and not just knows it but FEELS it yk#somewhere she can return to thats Hers and not just someplace where shes just a guest#(pay no attention to how she has an egregiously impossible time even considering the idea of her NOT un-belonging somewhere)#(nevermind in an as permanent n 'important' role as Home/Family Member yk........ :')) )
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“plots please” + sasume :>
@futurefind | plots please | accepting!
okay so starting off with sasume’s demon verse!! i have this lil group of demons ( sei, kaiya, and chinatsu ) who also managed to break out of muzan’s hold on them, and i think it’d be fun for sasume to encounter them! maybe they all run into each other while hunting down the same demon? and there’s a bit of a misunderstanding in which they’re fighting each other before they realize oh... we’re on the same side-- but i think sasume’s personality would be fun to pair with all three of them bc sei and chinatsu themselves can be sassy, though sei is generally quieter and more aloof than chinatsu who will happily poke and prod at someone to keep herself entertained. then there’s kaiya who is the peacekeeper and glue of the group :’ ) she’s a very soft and compassionate person, so while sasume may not initially like kaiya’s caretaker qualities, i think there’s potential for a sweet and wholesome friendship there!
now for sasume’s regular demon slayer verse!! i did place mizu on my secret muse list, but i think maybe i’d like to pull her out for sasume bc she’s once again a softer muse who might pair nicely with sasume’s rougher exterior. despite being a capable slayer, mizu can still be a little naive and easily discouraged/bogged down at times, especially the longer she’s away from her adoptive father yubari. so maybe sasume feels the need to look after her, if that seems ic for her? also!! mizu is a water breather, and it might be kinda cool if sasume were to become a bit of a mentor to her and show her some ice breathing forms? if that’s a dynamic you’d be interested in! and of course through mizu, sasume may end up meeting yubari bc he’s gonna want to check up on mizu whenever he can uvu they might be a lil funny to write since yu is pretty big on formalities and respect and all that jazz while sasume struggles with that stuff :’ )
once again, pulling from my secret muse list bc why not uvu if sasume’s the daughter of a former hashira, it’s possible she might be a lil familiar with some of the other hashira, so!! maybe she’s somewhat acquainted with tengen already when they get paired up for a mission! considering his personality, i just think it’d be fun to watch them both mess with each other :’ ) and ofc see how sasume handles being around suma who is very friendly and loud and has a habit of crying too often!
#futurefind#thanks for sending this in and hopefully one of these ideas sounds good but!! no worries if they aren't your cup of tea!!#we can always come up with something else <3#feel free to message me about any of these if you want!#get ready to ramble | ooc
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@blue-hound
She’s surprised, and yet she absolutely isn’t—one day with the shithead that he spent half of which unconscious and if she knows one thing about Cú Chulainn, it’s that he can give her recklessness a run for its money.
“Here,” Sasume scowls at him, dropping a large bundle at the Lancer’s bedside with numerous held-back retorts on her tongue. “Blue and white, like you asked. Had to throw in blacks and dark browns, but still,” she blows air out of her nose. “Two outfits, and there’s a heavy coat underneath.”
Now don’t fucking leave without clothes like it’s a fucking beach, she could say, or just about anything else regarding the apparent need to fucking babysit him.
But Dogma not so subtly judging them from the corner of the Warmhouse has her swallowing back most of her words; he (probably) has no idea what happened, after all, and she’ll be damned if she’s the one who gives him reason to ask.
Especially since hearing of Cú’s idiocy would likely have Dogma quipping about hers, and fuck if she doesn’t need that spread.
So she ignores the priest for now, instead tugging the privacy curtain around Cu’s bed out a little over halfway; if he doesn’t want to change right now, fine, but she’d rather he stay fucking covered if he does.
“Just make sure you put something on before you leave again.”
#blue hound#blue hound / recuperation#alrosary#alrosary / recuperation#in action / ic#my tendency to overshoot reply length IN GENERAL + /two/ muses to acknowledge aka Ah.....#I am going to write So Much ;;;;;;;;; |'D#so yes hdfshjdfshdfs o7#cu Back Again cuz Giant Fucking Wound (that she may or may not need to rebandage by now LMFAO)#sasume clearly ready to get back to nursing him....#but literal Father does not approve :'D#jhdfdg g OD rest in rip like All of Them#just @ alrosary (or dm the post to him if you cant) in your reply and bam!! 3-person thread There We Go
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@alrosary
Okay, okay—
Awkwaaaaaaaaaaaard.
It’s hard to feel like she’s not being scrutinized with the way he’s looking at the runestone he’s holding by his fingertips like it’s a pile of shit ready to grow shark teeth and bite his hand off.
Ugh. Of course it’s some anti-Pagan jerk who retrieves the rune she dropped.
Rea sticks her hand out, idly noting the single line carved into the stone’s crystalline surface marks it as one of her isa—ice—runes; they might not have her Od in them anymore (or at least, not that she can sense), but they’re all still hers.
Her heart is already starting to stutter in her chest but she presses her lips into a firm line and her pale gaze stays hard; thankfully, even when embarrassed, her voice still comes out firm if not outright brash when she’s irate.
She moves her pale hand pointedly. “That’s mine.”
#alrosary#alrosary / one#wistful moments / ic#on one hand: SHE ISNT SASUME (N LOWKEY TRIGGERED BY A PRIEST EXISTING)#on the other hand: SHE IS /REA/ (AND HAS NO CLUE HOW TO 'NORMAL' EVEN IN... NORMAL INTERACTIONS. LMAO.)#....also no i rlly do have No Idea w this LMAO#he finds a suspiciously pretty lil rock#that rea prolly dropped while fiddling or smth or smth
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muse name: Sasume Oshima
trial number: 1
trial task: In this world of white, the snow remembers your footsteps. Is this what you want? Is this where your wish will take you, further and further? You must remember yourself as you continue forward.
The Fields of Theama call for you. In their crystal city of ice, the reflections of things familiar and unfamiliar will rise to greet you like an old friend. Venture inwards and listen to your soul. You must brave the maze and return with something from your own world. Reach into the looking glass, abandoning riches and temptations. What you pull out will be your own, and only your own.
link to trial thread: thread / thread tag
item or power?: eidolon item; if at all possible, a dream-catcher or similar charm, to ward off nightmares and allow for peaceful sleep
requested affinity: light
requested element: wind
requested item/power: n/a, due to requesting an eidolon item rather than a pre-existing one
(however, if the requested item of a dream-catcher/nightmare-protection ward/charm isn’t possible—the first unlock of Shizen’s powers, if only with an altered secondary element of wind instead of water/ice?)
In this land of ice and snow and sorrow, you have prevailed.
It is one step. Take care to remember that the path you take has an ending beyond your vision.
Pray before the statue of Her Lady within Her holy abode and reminisce about what you desire. The glass shines.
You have gained an ornate dream catcher, hung from your next with a sweet smelling twine… May their strings net you a restful sleep.
May Diaidem bless you.
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"..."
Kubrik staring at being booped.
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[ let go ] after holding onto receiver's hand for a while, sender finally, reluctantly releases their grip ( for sa from cyrillo bc obviously i wanna bite my fist and cry ASDFGH )
PROMPTS FOR HANDS & TOUCH / accepting // @tvrningout
Silence has long since been as familiar as a second skin — even if, nowadays, it's not near as solitary as it once was. She can't remember the last time she had to try and find work, whether it was for coin or helping out the free army with training or first aid or labor. And with that network comes familiarity, and she pretends none of them know her beyond nameless muscle brought in by Sir Cyrillo de Bortoli.
Which. If that isn't a whole other can of worms she avoids thinking about. For gods-knows way too many reasons. Sooner or later, she's sure, the free army will no longer have any purpose (for better or for worse), disband, and Cyrillo will see her off with a Thanks for everything, have a good rest-of-your-life, see you never.
But for now, it's... something. Something nice, she dare say, to have something to come back to that's not drifting endlessly between jobs and the latest inn room she's left all-but-abandoned.
(Oh fucking hell, she actually uses Cyrillo's room more than her own, doesn't she? Eugh. Here's hoping she never actually says that to him or else he'll sic Kaiya on her. Possibly indefinitely. Eugh.)
She pretends idling away near him with books is for nothing more than the combined practicality of having better literacy (technically true), resting between jobs (utter bullshit), and being on-call for anything he may need her for (actually true).
So she doesn't even comment when he ushers her over and does little more than take her hand. Not with a fever or a passion, or to pull her into such things, just... to linger. Silently.
His hands are warm, even through their gloves, because he always is. (Maybe she should notice it, more, that he runs cooler than her, or maybe she runs so cold and lonely his vampirism makes little difference.)
And then someone's in the door asking after her. She doesn't remember exactly what, just that it's something casual enough she could ignore if she wanted to— or at least readily put off. It goes in one ear and out the other, because—
"Cyrillo?" she asks, frowning at him. Doesn't even think to be embarrassed about using his first name as casually as this, as unfamiliar as it is, watching his face carefully. He seems worried, but not in the active, nipping-at-the-heels anxiety kind of army logistics or unknown enemy plots.
Instead he seems... forlorn, and a more-than-small part of her wishes she could know why.
She brushes his bangs to the side with her fingertips, presses the backs of her fingers to his forehead. Can vampires fall ill? She isn't sure, doesn't even think that's what this is, but it gives her an excuse for this sort of contact all the same.
"What's wrong?" and before he can dismiss her, "Something's bothering you."
#tvrningout#tvrningout: cyrillo#ic // sasume#prompt responses //#oh haha :'))))#v: dorverold#smth smth n how the intersection of These TwoTM and fwb status means adorkable uncertainty wrt emotions/intimacy Outside the bedroom n such#bonus points if shes been injured offscreen bc yea safe to presume shes always got Smth on her and/or risk of More yk
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" at least i have you to look after me, eh? " from cyrillo for sa :’ ))
“𝘪𝘯 𝘢𝘯 𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘰𝘧 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥” 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘮𝘱𝘵𝘴. / accepting // @tvrningout
She sees red— literally— and her mind goes white. She focuses on what's important— what actually matters— and squashes everything else— the worry, the panic, the terror, the urge to cry and scream and throw up, the ghosts suddenly suffocating her— into a far off corner of her mind so she can get to work.
She doesn't remember much after that, but also remembers every breath with an eye-seering clarity. The reek of blood. How he was colder than he should've been. Crimson embedding itself in the cracks of her skin, under her nails. Every single stitch and plaster and bruise and scrape.
How she can't close her eyes, for even a blink, lest she see the life drain from his. Keeps checking and double checking and triple checking his face to make sure it isn't so, no matter how briefly.
After an eternity, after a blink of an eye, she's done.
She excuses herself to the bathroom (she thinks she says to clean up), and regrets it immediately. It hits her like a horsekick to the chest, she can't breathe she can't breathe she can't breathe— and she barely keeps herself from sending her fist through the mirror (and, changes are, into the wall behind it). She hates looking at herself, on a good day, and now—
Now she'd failed. Again. There's blood on her hands and it's not hers, because it's never hers. It's all for her but it's not hers, and it should be hers, it should've always been hers, the blood on her clothes and the eyes going lifeless. Why isn't it hers?!
Why is she—
She shoves the wind back into her lungs like gathering broken glass with naked hands, and pulls herself back outside. She doesn't think she actually got to cleaning. She just knows seeing Cyrillo again, like this, rips her heart out of her chest. But him still being here, gaze alive, lets it continue to beat — no matter how atrocious and gorey of a thing it is. That she is.
Sasume feels about as old as Cyrillo presumably is, maybe older, but without any immortality or undeath to keep her going. Like a puppet with its strings cut and joints rotted and clogged still trying to drag itself through its cues as if there's any audience left.
She sits at his bedside again, silently. Doesn't remember doing it. Can only stare at the spark in his eyes until she's seeing through them, seeing nothing at all, as if pretending to keep him out of her nightmares could ever keep him from joining the graveyard at her feet, pumping through her veins. Keeping her alive, no matter what she says or wishes or wills otherwise — because she's never had a choice.
" — at least i have you to look after me, eh? "
And she wheezes, chest crushing in on her ribs and heart and soul so suddenly and so fiercely once more that the world starts to spin. Heat floods her skin even as her blood runs ice cold, and acid creeps up her chest. Her vision blurs, and she isn't sure if the world is shaking or if her bones are.
"Don't—" she chokes on a sob, wetness leaking out of her eyes, and presses the hand she'd been gripping tight against her forehead instead of her own. She gasps, a keening, pathetic thing, and sees more than feels the tears pouring out.
It's not fair, she thinks, both distantly and as deafening as a thunderclap. She's not sure if she means this, or all the bodies piled up in her heart. If it's his being hurt, or that she's not hurt, or that taking all the gods damned blades and bites and bruises in the world can't spare those closest to her even a single one— no matter how much she wants otherwise.
"Don't—" she can't get anything else out. Doesn't even think there'd be a point. Even if, already, it feels like she's begging. For him to not play light, maybe, but also for the gods to maybe— maybe— show her even the slightest of favor and make it so this wasn't so. That maybe—
"I should've been there," she chokes out, nonsensically, world blurring again, pressing the back of his hand even harder against her own skin. If she gives even the slightest inch, even now, who's to say he won't slip through her fingers a final time?
"I should've...—" and finally, curled over herself like that, at Cyrillo's bedside as he warms her own damned bed, she weeps.
#tvrningout#tvrningout: cyrillo#ic // sasume#v: dorverold#prompt responses //#emeto //#panic attack //#blood mention //#disassociation //#oh dear god(s) uhhhhhhhhhh#ask to tag //#pov sa has. so much fucking Trauma 8'))) and lost loved ones 8'))))#sure SEEING him get hurt first hand would be infinitely worse but at least when shes /not/ there its easier to imagine her Stopping it yk..#ft indirect miscommunication fuel bc :'))) cyrillo thinks her isms are bc of her Duty/JobTM while shes so fucked up bc she cares abt HIM yk#also dear god lmfao bc. not only will she be biting at the bit to hyper turbo slaughter who / what ever did this to him .#liable to be uncannily temperamental/rebellious/volatile even in the field/wrt orders abt it#including risks of Fourth cropping up whether briefly or to rrod HER a la that other inverse caretake-y meme
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this has me screeching asdfg all of 'em but one block... cyrillo really is her match huh :' )
Bingo Time, Baby!! // @tvrningout
Ah.
Ah.
Sasume adamantly refuses to look at Cyrillo's face as the heat creeps up her own neck— she's already perfectly aware of how smug he can get, and the last thing she needs is to see the handsome and/or teasing smirk on his face.
"Don't even start," she says preemptively, already embarrassed enough.
"Besides," she huffs. How much is she his type— "You're still plenty talkative compared to me—"
Which. Mean's he's 100% her type. Which she already knew but—
Even more reason for him to be smug.
Her face goes red and she squirms, relenting, and puts her face in her hands with a groan.
"Shut up." she says again, whining. "I can still kick your ass—" As if she's never happy to let him win, regardless.
#tvrningout#tvrningout: cyrillo#ic // sasume#prompt responses //#v: crack#points and laughs. TSUN TSUN TSUN TS
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Twick or Tweat;w;
Do not pet the puppies. Do not pet the puppies. Do not pet nor scream over the puppies—
"I don't... have any... treats?"
Um.
"Do ice cubes work...?" Have some bowls of magic ice cubes.
#v: crack#ic // sasume#anons //#(not actually anons but i think for archival purposes personals fucking around in anon-esque style count bc both 'ooc' or w/e)#also i love how i felt eeeeeevil (j) sneaking off of movie night to check my dash#and you were ALSO sneaking off of movie night to raid my inbox LMAO#fwiendshipTM#what makes it even funnier is i didnt kno abt the gif but also. my dogs at least have always loved ice LMAO
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" . . . "
" . . . "
"I'm not wingmaning for any of you."
(Meanwhile, Mara and Rea, cackling in the bg:)
#dash commentary //#v: crack#ic // sasume#re: shoujo / harem anime discussion#lol. lmfao. SHE DOESNT KNO SHES S GRADE EDGELORD LOVE INTEREST.....................#or if nothing else option for the 'friend youd chokeslam ppl to be Able to romance/get romanced but stays purely platonic w everyone' chara#reas cackling bc shes Genre Aware n loves the romance genres incl shoujo n harem#maras cackling bc A. sa's a dumbass and B. she thinks this shit is a riot (derogatory)
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"You... destroyed the ice messenger. The ice messenger that was ordered to destroy its message if it was attacked. That ice messenger. Which you destroyed."
#open // sasume#'poison for k//zco energy yk' :)#ic // sasume#idk what the PROS are to pseudo familiars that she herself cant sense at all once out of line of sight#but there r sm hijinks to be had abt them so :)#open //
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I'll check in on you in an hour. You'd better not have moved. for sa from kaiya!! she's stern when she needs to be and it's very cute until it's not :' )
Lack of Sleep Starters / Accepting // @tvrningout
"I can't—" her (continued, futile) protests are cut off by the shut of the door. Pressure starts to build behind her eyes before she forces it back, and she isn't sure what from. Lack of sleep? Fear of nightmares? Or just the fact she feels like a scolded child?
Sasume groans and settles in bed... after turning her back to the door and pushing her eyes wide open. Maybe if she keeps calm enough, she can leave Kaiya to presume she's napped (and is unable to sleep more) before she slips back out.
Besides, if she stays in bed for the hour, that's still technically resting...
If nothing else, if needed, Sasume can (maybe) be a little more honest if Kaiya keeps insisting after that.
But now? Now she just needs to stay awake for an hour. Doing absolutely nothing.
Eugh.
#tvrningout#tvrningout: kaiya#prompt responses //#ic // sasume#v: dorverold#sasume: suffering#smth smth either its before cyrillos stopped beating away nightmares w a broom#or she has no idea that he can do so from a distance (/ doesnt have a charm from him yet????)#hard to say since theres nebulously keeping her sleep peaceful and theres KNOWING how awful n crippling her nightmares are
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" duties can wait, " murmurs the vampire, gently pressing his lips against sa's shoulder before nestling his chin in the crook of her neck. they still lay beneath the covers of his bed, legs tangled and curled around one another; cyrillo refuses to allow the swordswoman to rise despite her squirming. " sleep a little more, cuore mio. the world will not end if you aren't there to protect it for a few more hours. "
unprompted / always accepting // @tvrningout
A vague noise rumbles out the back of her throat, and she pretends it's in protest at his words rather than contentment at the kiss and their sustained closeness.
She knows, by all rights, what she should do—pry herself away from him, maybe with an excuse about an urgent assignment she failed to mention. Or, at the very least, protest his protesting, say something about her not being a god's chosen doesn't mean she can't try anyway, as if he isn't keenly aware how little she sleeps.
And it had been a long trip, this last carousel of jobs. Longer, still, without being able to see any familiar faces, nevermind without him to bicker with or fuss over— or to lull her to sleep and stave off the nightmares.
Traveling through her nights may shave untold days off her longer journeys, but they make her feel no less alone.
But now? Now she's warm, in a way she'd thought she'd never be able to feel nor allowed to be (even ignoring the quality of his bed and plushness of his covers).
So instead of pulling away, she cuddles closer, wrapping an arm around him to tug him closer (as if that were even possible), to keep him there.
"You spoil me," she mumbles, shuffling down to bury her face in his chest. Presses a kiss there before she fully melts back into bed. "Keep it up and I'll never want to leave."
As if she didn't, already.
#tvrningout#tvrningout: cyrillo#theyre so :')))#sneefles abt them yk..........#ic // sasume#v: dorverold#congrats on the puppy wrangling sir im sure herding cats is easier
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🩹 - to trace your muse’s scars . ( for sa from cyrillo or vice versa bc i'm gonna weep no matter who's doing the tracing :' ))) )
Prompts / Always Accepting // @tvrningout
Cyrillo doesn't talk about himself. At least, as she picks up on, not really. (Because like recognizes like and she's more than familiar with obfuscation.)
But scars don't lie, as much as she wished they could, and he... well. He has far more scars than she'd've ever guessed, even if it's a while before she has the time and brain space to focus on them. She shouldn't be surprised, she knows she shouldn't — after all, being a vampire requires dying, and for him to appear so young means his end was far more likely to be violent than not.
It hurts, even if once upon a time, when they'd first met, it would've been reassuring and relieving to know they shared such things.
But they were strangers, then.
And now? Now...
It must've been centuries since he'd lived, since he'd been hurt, and still she wants to reach through time and keep him safe. It's not an usual wish of hers, that she could take the scars of others for herself so they wouldn't need to suffer them. But...
Her left hand trails a feather-light touch across his abdomen, tracing along and across every scar there. Her other hand is tucked against his chest, bracing her upright, but even there her fingers ghost along the edges of the wounds gouging into his flesh above his heart.
She sighs to herself, quietly, before pressing a warm kiss to its center, lingering until she feels his magically-revived heart pulse beneath her lips.
"I'm sorry," she whispers, pulling back just enough to continue her ministrations. "You deserved better."
.
She wouldn't consider herself ticklish by any stretch of the word. Jumpy or tense, maybe, but never ticklish.
And yet, tickles is her first thought. A shiver rushes down her spine and back up into her skull, stirring her from from her half-sleep. She blinks once, trice, thrice, and shifts to look at the source.
It's Cyrillo (to be expected), focusing on her scars (not too surprising), with a touch like a ghost, as if she'd fall apart at the seems with anything firmer (baffling).
She watches as her fingertips skims along the rim of one of the gashes across her side, traces along the stretched and aged scarring of ribbed flesh at its inside, before finally following along the deep tear at its center.
Sasume makes a vague grumble in the back of her throat, confused. They're her biggest scars, sure, but it's hardly the first time he's seen them (to say the least)— to say nothing of all those or all the times they've been on display from simple sparring.
"What?" is her oh-so-clever question, barely coherent and half-asleep, dragging her own gaze up from his hand at her side to the man himself and—
Her chest squeezes like she'd been kicked in the sternum. He looks—
He looks—
Not just somber, but mournful, like he's never seen such a thing before. Like he can't imagine a world where she's been injured in such a way, even though he's never known anything less than that.
Like they're days old wounds and not over a decade.
Like it's a tragedy.
She wheezes, heart shuddering and crumbling in on itself like a house of a cards.
"What—" her voice breaks, too, and she hides her face back against his chest. She tries to laugh, tries to force one, but that, too, is pathetic and shuddering.
"What's that look for, huh...?"
It's not like anyone— not like she'd— died or anything.
#tvrningout#tvrningout: cyrillo#ic // sasume#v: dorverold#prompt responses //#both?? :') both is good#q
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" don't be stupid. you're not going anywhere. come on, back into bed… " ( from cyrillo for sa! maybe she's got quick healing but that doesn't mean she doesn't need rest uvu )
Prompts / Always Accepting // @tvrningout
"I've been in bed plenty," Sasume snipes back, (mostly) redressed and scowling at the handsome-bastard roadblock filling the doorway as she yanks her hair out from under her shirt. She knows what he means, of course, but quite simply she doesn't care.
Shoving herself to her feet makes her legs reignite with pain and tenderness, to say nothing of the ever-familiar sensation of the now-healed wounds which are all-but trying to rake in on pain debt. Most is fine, like her legs, but the worst of it (that'd always prompt her into around-the-clock use of Third in the first place) hardly feels healed at all.
(Of course, as proven when she was a kid, actually taking it easy— and not exploiting Third whenever necessary to fight off sleep— minimized the rebound. But—)
Still, she crosses her arms and glowers up at him.
"Now are you going to move or am I going to have to make you." As if she can do much of anything to intimidate him with how he's seen her in the last hour.
#tvrningout#tvrningout: cyrillo#prompt responses //#ic // sasume#v: dorverold#(ill go back n swap the tags on the old posts. after checking to make sure nothing else had au tag or smth lMAO)#ft offscreen spice bc lbh i misread the first half at first and figured . Hey :3 Multitasking#cyrillo: what if . you Relaxed ;)#sa. one relaxation(tm) later: well. great! break times over!--#cyrillo: waIT NO NOT LIKE THAT OH MY G O D S-#inb4 he keeps books at his bedside so sa has No Excuse to not let him cuddle her to sleep :v#ft a side of 'its so cute when sa tries to PRETEND to be mad as if her sword/powers dont out her sheer tsun-ness to those who kno her'
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