* 𝑰𝑵𝑻𝑹𝑶𝑫𝑼𝑪𝑰𝑵𝑮 ; — 𝘛𝘏𝘈𝘙𝘐𝘖𝘕 𝘛𝘏𝘖𝘙𝘕𝘌𝘏𝘌𝘓𝘔. ⇩ ᴛʜᴇ sᴛᴀɢʙᴏʀɴᴇ / ᴅᴇᴍɪ-ɢᴏᴅ ᴏꜰ ᴡᴀʀ. #𝑶𝑪 | #𝑴𝑽𝑹𝑷 detailed | literate | mature Ｎ　Ｓ　Ｆ　Ｗ #вєℓℓαтяιχ * ღ & ↻

… 𝑞𝑢𝑖𝑒𝑡 ??? the hell is this shit ???

“ … There is more to this life than to let 𝑎𝑛𝑔𝑒𝑟 rob you of moments such as those. The truest ℎonor you serve, is the one to yourself. When you accept that, you will find meaning beyond measure in what you feel. And you’ll 𝑟𝑒𝑓𝑖𝑛𝑒 your own resilience.”

perhaps ones internally she hadn’t come to question yet, or ones that constantly lingered on her conscious —— though a man of 𝒎𝒂𝒏𝒚 skills, mind reading was ( not ) one of them. in all honesty, he didn’t expect to actually prove to be a 𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟 with his mere words.

“When was the 𝑙𝑎𝑠𝑡 time when you last felt… ( 𝒇𝒓𝒆𝒆 )?” he answers her questions with a single one of his own — letting the amalgamation of her woes compile into a placement that could find its expression ; even among allowing her to accept the ( full ) of risks.

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You 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒚 believe accepting that will bring you ( any ) relief? 𝑁𝑜… I think— You just 𝐮𝐬𝐞 it to make 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 ‘ᴡᴀʀs’ easier to live with.”

jaw clenches faintly, gritting for a moment as exhale leaves through nostrils strained ; shaking his the excess of the anger surfacing like the ( oldest ) of scars splitting open once more. “Problem hasn’t been us being enemies, 𝑦𝑜𝑢 decided that’s all we’re allowed to be.

firmly making point to drag his attention upon the gaze of someone he once ( embraced ) rather then keep 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 ; a 𝗳𝘂𝗿𝘆 showing in the way fist clenched idly at his waist showed tremor. “Do you 𝙠𝙣𝙤𝙬 how I really got out of that hell you threw me in? 𝐼 𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐄.”

and still 𝙙𝙖𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜 enough to show it rather than ( say ) it where words seemed so… ‘futile’ to suggest. “This— 𝙡𝙞𝙚… to say you were 𝗱𝗲𝘀𝘁𝗶𝗻𝗲𝗱 for this load of shite is what 𝘧𝘶𝘤𝘬𝘪𝘯’ irks me. No ( choice ) 𝙗𝙪𝙩 to accept that? 𝘊‘mon… look at me.”

before we 𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧 drew breath.” this impulsive scoff escapes his shifting brims, lacking cruelty yet encompassing the ‘tiredness’ of the energy to 𝘢𝘳𝘨𝘶𝘦 this — ringed hand rises to steady the other’s ; keeping it at the ( center ) of him. reckless to insist, +

despite the incessant urges to runs blindly like a raging lunatic into 𝑚𝑜𝑠𝑡 unknown scenarios ; yet even 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞… it was 𝑠𝑡𝑟𝑎𝑛𝑔𝑒 to speak though words left with a murmured layer of extensive weight. “You speak of 𝑟oles— as if they were chains… +

ochres dropped in the way acknowledgement formed into reflective mannerisms, letting gaze trace the outline of calian’s hand as the current ‘mockery’ fizzled into a nothingness that… 𝑠𝑡𝑖𝑙𝑙 held a heavy pain at ℎis shadowed edges. he ( tried ) to understand, +

hand felt against his sternum, breath nearly heaving halted for a moment and let his anger ( seethe ) in the shared silence —— the trail of his words like a blade seeped deep between a pair of ribs ; 𝑠tinging, and yet somehow superficial.

fingers pinch to nose’s broad bridge in the slightest manner crooked from prior punches taken, finding cheshire grin blooming delightly at that. “𝘈𝘺𝘦— that I 𝒄𝒂𝒏 notice. And 𝒹o take that as a compliment, my lady. Mᴏsᴛ lords tend to leave me bored by their bravado.”

“I figure— why 𝓌aste both of our 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦? Quite a hot commodity 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 shite is, yet these arsehole’s 𝓅iss it all away.” hues rolling, as if the prospect of nobility alongside their qualms was ‘already’ summoning a headache of godly proportions.

“Unless, you came to 𝒶sk something of me — or try and 𝓉ake it for yourself. Which… I’ll admit, 𝑎𝑚𝑢𝑠𝑒𝑠 me. It 𝒶lways has, though of course— I enjoy a 𝓈urprise of this measure.”

“𝑊𝑒𝑙𝑙 then— and what fortunes have you hoped to have found ℎᴇʀᴇ?” leaning languidly forward, the depth of him nearly crept into the corners of the dim-lit celebration — this 𝓈ʜᴀᴅᴏᴡ of himself feeding in a malevolent manner, chuckling the weight of his grin aside.

antlered head cants ever faint, hues skimming over the tinges of prowess lingering back from his company ; tone curiously edged with a demeanor more sharpened —— as if making a means to laboriously conjure his words.

portion of him amused, though his eyes express the vivid delight — relishing the faint fragments of his memory to serve best ; bowing respectfully more so to the Mistress. “Sure your fiery companions serve more than mere deterrents, hopefully the woods can offer a bit of rest.”