random names made using markov gen fed with a lot of tolkienesque names and words in different languages he invented; 444 names
by the way you should visit @444names if you like this content
Aaraglesna Adslas Agaldë Agduca Aiweth Alcwil Aldenn Aldowmaglór Althor Amelas Anakey Andshalchil Andung Anelmonion Anewhand Anthûn Arayinelen Ardaravi Argorchalin Argoth Aringfindur Arvestefind Atcherb Auglan Auhúrin Auhúriode Awnfanduir Azagli Baglûnarat Baladall Balaidor Balionyahant Banermoregon Baraglor Bargli Barket Bartin Batorsh Baugley Beldarthor Beline Beoparin Berfly Berheaglúth Biryathornir Blagry Blarafor Blocthalla Blophil Blothing Blugalo Blugazmor Boacilcat Boadorn Bofuil Borimborgon Borondile Bothracitows Bragloth Bragontiong Braphar Brayfis Bredebor Bredendover Briondant Briondovene Brionnorna Bromenwë Bucamhog Buzgûl Bórithil Bórwale Caladild Caldoroolg Canglee Catart Celing Celiver Celmir Ceminyn Cerund Cesgand Chandómirin Chielindanor Chilgeorcer Cilessaras Cipeckalduf Codhells Codrethmo Colperessë Condridre Conduril Conighâd Corgondinnel Cracitë Cranarvir Crater Curbar Curgolo Cushaegundir Círionin Daikey Dandeen Deaphiliket Dermollar Dillart Dindille Doheet Dorguan Draith Dridharwenel Duidelu Duildo Dáintsquee Déawingwet Egolphana Egoseechidh Eilthoplamen Eldamp Elemerhil Elesth Elestron Elfalathéod Elfist Elkwhalirië Elodroa Elrodil Elumpin Erundë Esgathéod Esnazarat Essall Estatartohel Esterkû Ethéod Evingwir Eärnat Eärnel Eärwing Faiton Faullocond Felbaloonor Felron Fendicar Fenefly Fingriën Finketlegole Finnat Fisheas Fishor Fishruf Fistermel Follondshail Foolion Foroos Frerimlird Fréalper Fëansir Galamildan Galant Galmamron Galorm Gantinn Gaspant Gelethron Gerina Ghtaith Giacil Gianthorn Giaring Giarolë Glalfind Glessharven Gliantath Glimothelly Glondoronke Glómin Glúvamin Goishindumar Goldalmoosai Goldamrondur Golduckand Golodran Gophancan Gorlaclamit Gothidroth Griaramrog Grimbor Grimrosh Groppe Gríane Guangbil Guantar Gwaitery Gwatatin Gweapion Gwennesnat Gwifeleg Gwindil Hagatant Haglórantor Hagroug Haleng Hamrodhilin Hanagriniele Hanaket Hangraningon Harging Heasheethor Henter Herpong Herron Hiriannog Hiribo Huolór Huroth Hyenthili Hámrows Húrzumagar Iderflion Idhery Ilúthámrath Imladorn Imperonwë Imprion Inagûl Iormtom Ishalion Iveredberwin Ivrodran Jacarthorgon Jaghor Kallacalde Khânben Kiwenol Kiwine Kíliandur Kúvand Kúvillar Lacarven Lacillug Ladang Laffar Laffastien Lafolfin Laildog Larlanglo Legalmanaith Lessal Lhailin Lhundir Lobjecthe Lorthros Lottârin Loungmanden Luiliondil Mablugamin Mabwennyë Magazôr Maghtatto Magliond Maithéod¹ Malasp Maldir Maledhiduray Malthwor Mamron Mandirdil Maraithorn Marand Marómito Meargol Mehtaithan Melaguan Meleckwhark Minest Minweas Miriel Miring Morethil Mothor Mounnain Nagoro Narienda Narsoron Nereidhil Nerret Niandar Nianel Niangor Nigelin Ninelo Nipmund Nocton Norgult Námraphi Nûzumoundor Orlion Ortholóm Osaigerear Ounduruse Pachancat Palcola Palfly Palionk Pantindick Parahovesth Paratar Parouse Pecthed Phagoos Pighâd Pireforn Pladamen Plagos Plumant Poishrong Pornhamuch Prantangwing Prante Pregolfal Prileaddagor Pythalf Pythroundred Quingorgo Quinzin Radorn Rahaldar Ravegnosse Redhiper Rimaerma Rinalrow Roddaglind Roddalchin Rodilin Roseas Rórimfin Sadelinzin Saiglebrin Sauglisher Seader Shadfin Shalam Shaldark Shalliandush Sharine Sheldur Silrog Singbordiri Sloungele Slugloonwë Smoselm Sméagavi Snacil Snakey Snasar Sninzimë Squilimir Squinca Squiril Sterfisin Stomeas Stoutath Streness Stumandishar Sumagûl Sumaugal Swaitbard Swaticirm Taraing Targir Tesgali Thaulane Theleambath Theret Therven Thidhil Thrambur Thwine Thámrolf Tiperion Toalain Tombel Torben Torthrórin Toutahedhel Tularmwhado Tundow Tuoldë Turind Twinwë Tyraglon Túrinurusk Ufernsil Ugamith Uidger Ulaccon Uledalas Ulesgaldan Ulmaglobst Ulwalan Umlikee Undilmiel Ungarth Ungbiry Unúmello Uoldir Uolendil Upightin Vaidhilmë Vailmondor Valcap Valindil Valirdtate Vallartrene Valrond Vegole Vegrauld Viatfin Vilark Vindaithil Vorike Vuladrinchal Vánargo Vánatron Waedeld Wangfis Watárimpid Werúmin Whardaca Winzimermeg Wombas Worgolse Worowfarc Wosele Ylmalbanaril Yáviene Yávion Zindilthor Éodend Éodwili Éothelmira Íriling Óinkerfil
[In early May 1967, w]hile the Redlands trio [Mick Jagger, Keith Richards, and Robert Fraser] awaited trial, DS [Norman] Pilcher raided Brian Jones’s London flat, busting him and his friend Prince Stanislas Klossowski de Rola, the extravagantly named son of the French painter Balthus. Brian and Prince Stash, as he was known for short, were taken down to Kensington Police Station in a blaze of publicity and charged with possession of cocaine and cannabis, Jones charged additionally with possession of cocaine and methedrine. They went from the police station to the new high-rise Hilton Hotel on Park Lane, where the Stones’ new American manager Allen Klein was staying, but the hotel management made it clear that Jones and de Rola were not welcome, which is when Prince Stash took a call from Paul McCartney, whom he knew slightly.
Prince Stash explained to Paul that he and Brian couldn’t stay at the Hilton, and couldn’t go back to Brian’s flat because of the press. Brian had other places he could go, but Stash, a foreigner, didn’t know what to do. ‘I’m sending my car and driver right now. You’re packing your bags and moving into my house, and if they want to bust you again they’ll have to bust me as well,’ Paul said. So Prince Stash joined Paul and Dudley at Cavendish Avenue, running movies on Paul’s 16mm projector, taking drugs and entertaining what Stash describes as harems of girls, including a [woman] named Iggy [Evelyn Rose], while Beatles fans camped outside, periodically bursting in through the gates ‘like sort of cattle breaking through a fence’. They’d steal Paul’s laundry and empty his ashtrays—‘Did he smoke this?’—before being ejected.
[—from Fab: An Intimate Life of Paul McCartney, Howard Sounes]
got nostalgic for my first ever warriors oc... this little girlboss got promoted to a full medic after only three moons training, had an affair with the leader’s son/deputy-to-be that resulted in 6 kits, got taken by twolegs and lived as a kittypet for a while, then when she got home she was killed by a snakebite while collecting herbs. tigerleaf you will always be famous
Question for the gallery!
Was it ever actually specified that Clem and Jane's "Over a dozen jobs together, all successful" (3x11) took place over the 6 months? Or is that ONLY inference based on his "That's just in six months, imagine what a couple years would look like" (3x10) comment?
I don't know why I didn't clock it before, but I'm giffing, and in the 3x10 "Ten Months Ago" flashback, the very first thing Clem says to her is:
So clearly they've run into each other on jobs at least once before. He didn't get her name until that day ten months ago in Paris, after Dwire shot them, though.
Drabble challenge, Cemeteries of Amalo, either 33 or 61! (love, celebros)
(Omg, how did you know that sending me a Tumblr prompt is THE way to get me to write for a new fandom? Works every time, even though the words got away from me and this is far too long to be considered a drabble. Anyway, have some Thara and Iäna shenanigans. Prompt list here).
“Welcome back. Now fucking help me.”
"We beg your pardon?"
Oh, damn. "I ought to beg yours," I said, tearing my eyes away from the disaster on my office floor to fix them on the far more pleasant sight of Thara Celehar. "Cursing at a prelate. What must you think of my filthy mouth?"
From the blush climbing to the tips of his ears, I imagined his thoughts strayed in the same direction mine did. Filthy mouth indeed, Iäna, I could almost hear him say, 'tis thy mind that needs cleaning. I'd startled him into formality, though, and would have to work for the privilege of intimacies, spoken or otherwise.
"I thought you were Thoramis," I explained. "He left to fetch tea, but in truth I think he wished to distance himself from...all of this." I offered a sweeping gesture to encompass all of it: the scattered papers, the ink spots on my favorite shirt, my snappish mood. I had perhaps shouted a bit more than was reasonable when the incident occurred, and did not blame anyone for wishing to stay away.
Thara stepped closer. "What happened? Did inspiration strike?" I supposed the chaos in front of me could look like the throes of creative genius, if one looked at it from a certain angle. Sheets of paper covered in writing fanned out from where I knelt. I'd gathered them into loose piles, but the process of sorting them out had only made the mess more pronounced.
I sighed. "Something more sinister, I'm afraid. The window was not as firmly latched as I could have wished, and now a breeze has made a shambles of my new opera."
“Oh dear.” He surveyed the scene anew. “I don’t suppose you numbered the pages?”
“Nothing so convenient.” I hadn’t even made a clean copy yet.
“And your pen lacked the decency to leave a distinctive blot behind.” He picked his way through the farthest-flung pages, occasionally pausing to pick one up, and lowered himself to the floor across from me. “We’ll have to do this the old-fashioned way.”
“We?” Now I was the one surprised, and warmed by a kinder emotion than my previous anger. “Thank thee, Thara, truly, but,” I hesitated, seeing his color rise again. I’d dropped into the intimate form of speech without meaning to; so much for my delicate dance around his feelings. “But canst not read music, canst thou? And know’st not what order the story goes in.”
Undeterred, Thara spread his handful of pages in a clear space. “Then you’ll have to tell me about it as we go, and check the musical notation yourself. Now,” he held a page out to me, “who is this ‘Tamoro’ and why is her heart ‘broken beyond mending’?”
And so I found myself spending the evening on the floor of my office, regaling Thara with the tale of a doomed love affair between a noblewoman and her father’s bodyguard while the two of us attempted to piece my opera back together. He gave the task the same attention and care he showed in his witnessing: insightful questions, delicate hands smoothing a creased corner. I found my own attention wandering more than once, watching him. Even so, what had seemed an insurmountable task gradually shaped itself into a manageable one.
“Thou’rt a wonder,” I told him, as he set the last page of Act Two in place.
“Me?” Thara shook his head. “I’m not the one who wrote an opera!”
“No, but shouldst give thyself credit for saving one. Or at least its composer’s composure.” Oh, that was a good line. I made a note to save it for a future opera, then returned to the matter at hand. “Truly, Thara. Allow me to thank thee for all thy help. Art hungry?” The hour had grown late, but the Torivontaram would still be open. Or any number of places; it mattered not where we went, only that I not let this time with my prickly prelate pass sooner than it must.
Presumest much, Iäna. Canst lay no claim to him, however much thou desirest. This time it was my own good sense talking.
Unaware of my selfish wishes, Thara considered. “I…could eat,” he ventured, “but you don’t have to—”
“I want to,” I said, impulsively reaching across the space between us to lay a hand on top of his. He froze, and I did too; my large hand over his smaller one, resting on the stack of paper that represented our evening’s work. There was something poetic in that, but I lacked the presence of mind to put words to it. “Please,” I whispered, “Thou didst not have to help me either, but didst anyway. At least let me feed thee.” Even if that is all thou wilt allow me to do for thee, when thou deservest everything. I left those words unspoken, but he must have read some of them anyway. As I waited for his answer, his ears turned pink, gaze still locked on our hands.
“All right,” he said at last, voice so low I almost missed it. “Take me to dinner. After telling me an entire opera, you must be hungry and thirsty as well.” He slid his hand from under mine and stood, then reached out to help me to my feet. “And…Iäna?”
“Yes?” He hadn’t let go of my hands. I wasn’t going to let go either, though I surely should.
The smallest of smiles played over his lips. “Needst not beg my pardon for thy filthy mouth. I’m rather fond of it.”
terrible arknights idea: after some "review" all forms of Nepeta cataria have been banned from being grown anywhere in rhodes island, and any instances of it will be confiscated, and sent to kalt'sit's office for proper disposal
Terrible Arknights idea #32
Here’s a pic taken with the Security camera in her office
Suggested by the user above, Feel free to send in any suggestions for terrible ideas you have￼￼
Just finished Netflix's Ragnarok & Laurits is the sweetest most precious boi that deserves all the love and attention in the world...and I can't believe I'm simping for yet another version of Loki once again there's alr currently six different lokis living in my heart now-
keep finding more lokis <3 catch em all <3
hello, hello-hello! resident lisa frank horror-show here for all your maximalist needs /hj. so sorry for all the rainbow it just makes me happy xoP
the name's mod rouge—my pronouns are they, pink, wonder, and spiral. you'll find my main at @world-executeme, and my personal edit blog at @scr3amcre4m.
more on what i can do for ya below the cut!
💎 WHAT I OFFER:
➼ icons (matching, pride, all sorts | sets of 4-6)
➼ wallpapers (phone and desktop — dimensions needed! | sets of 2)
➼ headers (sets of 2)
➼ tumblr layouts (sets of 1-2)
➼ reply icons (sets of 6)
➼ youtube playlists (selective, familiar sources only)
➼ name suggestions (sets of however many i can gather lol)
familiar stuff in bold!
➼ fnaf (+ blueycapsules, dsaf)
➼ marble hornets
➼ smile for me
➼ valve games
➼ doki doki literature club
➼ ocs (must provide images)
but i will do basically anything unless its not blacklisted :oP
➼ walten files
➼ similarly anything with blur tool distortion-based body horror
➼ hazbin hotel/helluva boss
➼ genshin impact
other stuff i probably dont remember lol
thanks for reading, hon! hope to see you around!!
i feel like klaus would begin to act out as he grew older and he’d end up getting allison involved in whatever insane idea he came up with that day, knowing that she’d never object because, while she does have the most braincells in the family, allison is also a rebellious teenager who is brimming with chaotic energy and wants nothing more than to purposely stress out their dad.
reginald, after finding out that allison and klaus stole candy from a convenience store before sneaking into an R-rated movie: why would you do this??
allison, without hesitation: i live to make you suffer
the stolls and Will must have so much shit on each other. like i imagine Will stops by the camp store for a kit kat and it’s just back and forth “i’ll tell the camp this” until one of them gives up (highly unlikely scenario) or someone else comes in and they immediately clam up to not reveal their secrets (much more likely scenario)
a random stash of names made from the dnd draconic dictionary + inheritance cycle dwarvish dictionary put into a markov name generator. 444 names.
ALSO check out @444names for more ^^
Adornis Adowyn Aerem Affild Agoaccont Amened Amor Anies Apol Araced Arelay Aren Arkving Arriking Arron Artat Arte Arthid Arûrged Assen Assers Astronly Asve Atchowry Ater Athe Auce Auds Auji Aujirth Axus Axuslannû Baest Bagianychir Bagn Bahaor Bahardem Baht Banyaka Barastans Barter Barthvír Bary Basj Bastre Beadveral Belzvorn Beow Berbith Bitrash Bleenk Bler Blesly Boragh Bour Bous Braechok Braker Bred Bres Bricklat Brot Brâthive Caerd Cang Canoath Cedge Cestravell Charale Chiempecy Chighanall Ciefeld Cith Clant Clay Comenti Commond Condrâth Consve Couslar Creker Crellind Dace Dang Daratch Dard Darfan Darzûl Dated Derda Derisk Dial Diejik Dien Diful Dish Disheatur Diskisvrek Dissag Doka Dord Dralech Draten Drative Drit Drân Dunt Dwarkesly Dwarton Dûnos Earaz Ebandûm Ecar Eciefer Ediess Eitymallim Enar Eniemeowed Enithi Enmîf Enta Enwaraz Eoghte Eors Equive Erel Ethkneed Fachth Faex Fakish Farul Fativite Feith Fergre Fexple Fighoun Files Firon Fiseemold Flithosjer Forng Foros Forv Fousen Fratiamans Freanged Frenti Frev Fross Frothe Gamln Gamund Gamuter Gater Gatisors Gavest Geaka Geij Gempana Ghte Gion Goarn Gone Goomear Goveschint Govinurt Gred Grer Grid Grik Grivelve Guart Guee Gûnt Hamesherfe Hant Haorme Heir Herantal Heriki Hlandeir Hlards Hocuration Hokar Horthnigt Hrad Hrimst Humal Huraxund Hwarik Hûtgach Hûtgart Ialls Ieuti Ifyrelous Ihknur Imse Imul Ingether Iric Irlad Irss Isseck Itheited Jerntem Jhementa Jokes Jormone Jure Jurf Jurisjmy Jurldûr Jurt Kaek Karzadearss Knist Knur Knuraint Knurgent Knurlakent Knurlank Knurld Knurû Koboathya Kobowar Korn Kosthiv Koth Lantard Laterôth Leen Levexik Levig Lignath Linge Linthym Länoubar Maess Mahrene Mang Mara March Marm Marn Mars Marve Matun Mear Meatuakepid Meimst Meld Mend Messeal Methichik Milf Mind Ming Mingnar Molin Monar Mooddle Mory Moung Mourdar Mrik Muntaill Mutic Nabomon Nannû Nestor Nierss Nisapplaxak Nors Nosjirast Nothisjikc Nurix Nzbore Nzdorth Nzmallscûd Ocuildûm Omenturn Onnû Ophendle Oppepesters Orng Oster Otendra Otorne Ounal Ourlcar Owaestunaha Paild Panok Picks Plathader Playemenwar Plen Plergrisho Pluee Plurly Poloovek Porthid Potary Potheildrin Prelzvolik Print Prodund Prone Qaled Qallschmer Qally Rahanthe Ralsch Rasome Rassin Rasve Rated Relag Reldra Rens Retivaye Rhaor Rhya Rhyvonative Rothadn Routialfin Rowryth Sage Sarrythr Saut Scrathurly Sedar Selaye Sestbearv Shing Shoschor Shrent Shuljackil Sige Sind Sirek Sjmy Sjth Slard Slaus Smathists Smati Some Sone Sortar Speaking Spearmeitix Speldran Spic Spildrânû Spowry Starg Stastbelf Stboace Steenous Stest Stnzmanten Sukrimst Suljarth Sven Swean Tansedth Thalk Thallegg Theldrim Thest Thign Thimper Thionble Thive Thmér Thrashamln Thrich Thrry Thulev Thyr Tonar Tonurgive Tooteut Torposhinge Tosh Trak Trik Trotergh Tund Tundly Tuntecin Tupic Twonbory Türke Türkhan Ught Ukrimpooton Urearux Urgiver Urly Ussagone Varman Vayess Vayet Vethol Vithosjmy Vive Volisid Vonjhaled Vorn Vosterik Vreel Vrekride Vrentuee Waesh Waessi Wanativest Warce Wards Warry Wary Waster Wathin Wharm Whaw Whefill Wheirearte Whelle Wheyethir Wild Wiss Wolfrall Wounslary Wyrm Wônoac Wônorv Wônothsth Yealsve Yought Yound Yount Yrik Zaronly
If your a weed smoker; reminder to never buy stash that gets laced with other drugs.
People are pushing that shit on here; they lace it so your hooked on it.
Major red flags.
As a proud name hoarder, here is my list of names. If you want you can pick one that you like off of the list and use that for me :D
This list is likely to change with more added. The first post is at 130 names
Edit: I have decided to bold the ones that I slightly (or really) prefer!
also took away the name "Ivy" which I had twice.
Edit: Removed qpp name to avoid the clash
4 - How to Fool the Valar into Accidentally Executing Your Ex-boyfriend: a guide by Annatar Artano Aulendil, the Maia formerly known as Mairon
He is in a dark space surrounded by lights. He tries to count them; one, three, seven, nine…
He must remember. He has to remember.
Hands like flame reach down and take a hold of him as easily as he would a hammer or a blade. “Who are you?” the voice asks in a language of sharp, piercing syllables.
He must remember. “I am Celebrimbor,” he whispers.
Voices arguing; male and female, sharp or bright or roaring in a language he only remembers from his earliest memories.
“Try again,” the first man says.
The hands holding him burn with flame, searing away a layer of recollection. There isn’t much now, and it is only with great effort that he recovers the tattered memories that remind him of who he is. There are fewer now, he is sure, but he cannot tell what is missing.
“Curufinwë Tyelperinquar Fëanaryon,” he says in the old tongue.
Flame rises around him. He tries to muster his own fire in return, but it is nothing in comparison to the conflagration around him. His is only the fire of a single spirit weighed down by great loss; his opponent is one of the great Powers of the world.
He does not answer. Maybe, if he is silent-
Flame licks at his limbs. It passes through the lie of his flesh harmlessly and scorches his spirit as easily as thought.
“I don’t know,” he says, because that is all he has left. “Who am I?”
A new voice cuts in, as mournful as a gentle rain washed over the battlefield. He thinks he should understand what she is saying. Maybe that is part of what he’s lost.
A great sense of urgency grips him. “Who am I?” he cries, even as he is terrified of the answer.
A new light flies in on spearpoint wings; a fifteenth light, less bright than the others but perfect in discipline and form. He feels a sense of great betrayal at its presence, although he does not know why.
The new light speaks; “The abhorrent one was spotted near Formenos, traveling along the Devastation of Morgoth. He wears the illusion of a silver-handed spirit; a well-crafted one. If not for the momentary passing of the holy light even I would not have seen the truth. I believe the betrayer is trying to escape through the northern expanse of the Pelóri.”
The fourteen turn their attention back to him. He is pinned down by the vastness of their gaze, a crude mean thing quivering like a speck of slime dirtying an otherwise clean floor. It triggers a great gripping horror in him, because he must remember; he must remember, but he does not know what.
“Who am I?” he asks, because there is nothing left of him and he would like to know one thing – something, anything – before the end. “Who am I?!”
And the worst part is, he does know; he is a lie, a pawn in someone else’s scheme, something that has been used and must now be discarded.
Bright hands reach for him. He cringes away, terrified but defiant-
He is in a gentle place. White flowers bloom around him in a profusion of silken petals and honey-slow perfume. Their vines climb through his veins, spreading numbness and sleep. A tall tree guards him, her long branches trailing to the ground like a living curtain. Her leaves blunt the sunlight into a gentle glow; flowers and vines climb up her mighty trunk and dot her bowed crown like a sea of tiny stars. This is a safe place.
Outside, someone is calling a name over and over again, like a refrain: Celebrimbor! Celebrimbor! Inside, it is quiet and peaceful. Nothing will ever bother him again. He needs only to close his eyes, and the garden will do the rest.
not me giving alex a complex because she was the almost-sole survivor of not one but TWO camps in the first ten years after the outbreak
Snippet of a fic (wip) inspired by this sketch of mine
De Sardet woke to the sensation of cold air invading her warm skin, a thousand needles stabbing at her as if she were the universe’s sad little pin cushion. Her breath came in short and uncontrolled gasps, heart pounding violently against the walls of her chest, threatening to burst at any second. Sweat trickled down her face and lingered on her palms. Her palms. She didn’t even notice the fresh red marks that decorated them, scars in the shape of crescent moons, bold crimson and violet. Evidence of her having plunged her nails into the soft flesh of her hands while she slept. She cared not for the fact that her hair, black as a crow’s feather, clung onto her face and made her look like a mess. Nor for the tears spilling out of her eyes, dampening her tidy white blouse. The guards stared at her, and the servants whispered, but in those moments she shut them out of her world, acting as if they were never there.
She tread barefoot through the halls of the governor's estate; hands grasping onto the walls for support, her form void of a legate’s grace and composure. It wasn’t long before she found his room, and forced open the massive, wooden doors.
“Do I not pay you guards enough to KNOCK?” A familiar, comforting voice said.
Constantin. Oh, her sweet Constantin. He was still alive.
The young governor’s eyes widened at the sight of his dear cousin. Rather, at the fact that the girl he knew his entire life to be composed, elegant, and near perfect, was at his door, panic in her eyes and dressed in a flimsy shirt and pants.
“My lucky star… is everything alright?” He said, dazed and confused. Immediately she charged at him, and wrapped her arms around him as tight as she could, taking in his form, checking to make sure he was actually there, he was real, and that her mind was not playing a sick, cruel trick on her.
“Oh, Constantin,” she said through a sob, her voice wavering and cracked. “You’re still here. You’re still alive.”
He placed his palm on the back of her head, running it down her hair in a careful and slow motion, protecting and holding the one thing he loved most in this world, as if touching her any other way would shatter and break all the stars in his galaxy.
“Of course I’m still here. I’m not going anywhere anytime soon,” he whispered. His presence was like finding the soft promise of warmth within a raging storm. It gave her strength, gave her comfort. She held onto him tighter, digging her face into his shoulder. He smelled of sweet wine and the pages of old fairytale books.
“I had the most horrid dream.” She mumbled. “You… you were dying. The malichor—you went mad looking for a cure. I…” the next sentence made her stomach churn. It was as if a rock had managed to lodge itself tighter and tighter into her throat every time she tried to utter the words. Another tear fell. He continued to hold her. “A dagger. You offered me a dagger and I watched you die,” her voice grew louder. “I held you in my arms as you disappeared.”