Whats Your Characters Favorite Kink? (both)

🍉 What’s your character’s favorite kink? (both)

Bryn: He seems slightly surprised by the question, but after a moment he chuckles. "Well, a rather personal question, but you did ask nicely so..."

He takes a drink of water, preparing for a day of travel, before he answers with no hesitation. "Dominance. I enjoy taking, and being, the dominant one. It's sweeter if my partner fights back a little. I will preface that with this though: I will never do something I haven't discussed with my partner before hand. Communication is beyond important if you are going to take control. Verbal and non-verbal." He takes another long drink, and when he sets the water glass down, his cheeks are slightly red.

"I...also have heightened senses from combat and...well, the point is that sensations and playing with them can be a huge turn on. Whether it is directed towards me or towards my partner depends, but sensual touches, or the deprivation of one sense to heighten another... All on the table."

Kaleh'a: "Oh wow! Someone has never asked me that before!" His tail flicks excitedly, and he scoots up slightly in his chair. "I'm a switch, I like to be dominated or dominate, so I have a few kinks, you might call them! One that goes both is voyeurism. Not in the 'fully in public' kind, but that sensation of 'we could be caught if we aren't careful'?" He shivers, and his tail curls up behind him, his ears standing at attention. "Heh, well, it adds a bit of extra spice to the interaction!"

Leaning back, he casually continues with, "Also, I grew up around bows, bow strings, and tying knots. I guess at some point it hit me I could use it for more than just tying up animals I had hunted, and it could be used for more intimate matters! It's a bit of power play, and I don't mind getting tied up, but there is something about putting that trust into someone else's hands to take care of you while you can't react... It's nice to know you have someone you can trust that deeply.

"Both of those, of course, need communication!" He laughed and glanced over at the stoic soldier. "I'm going to echo him, I ask before, during, and after to make sure my partner is okay. I'm not going to shy away from my likes! But I won't force them on someone either. So communication people!"

MUSE IS UNDER TRUTH SERUM FOR ONE HOUR. ASK ME ANYTHING. NOTHING IS OFF LIMITS AND EVERYTHING MUST BE ANSWERED. GO!

He raised a hand, smiling at her as he swore solemnly, "I, Kaleh'a Quickdraw, promise to not get injured due to an addle-brained idea of high risk and no reward." He lowered his hand, glancing around for a moment, and noticed the Grand Marshal was missing, along with a few other high ranking members, and he let out a thoughtful hum, walking around the awning area, looking for them, and finding just the normal staff. The wounded, at least those that could walk, were already leaving, returning to homes or beds to rest and recover, and the archer realized the Marshals must have gone to survey the aftermath of the skirmish.

Which gave him a terrible idea that he accidentally voiced aloud. "I wonder if we could see where the attack was, get an idea what happened..." He said it absently, and a passing Twin Adder stopped, looked at Kaleh'a, recognized him, and replied as if he had asked them specifically.

"I would check in Larkscall, east of the Sylphgate. I heard something happened by Castrum Dryadis." Before Kaleh'a was even finished turning towards them to thank the young soldier, they were off, carrying a bundle of blankets for the infirmary, and leaving the archer shifting his hat on his head.

"Well," he murmured, his tail flicking behind him, "I might go take a look."

He wasn't purposely excluding Cyra, but he also felt like she wouldn't want to go, turning towards her again with every intention to dismiss himself and head for the area described.

He was quick to reply, and though she knew the apology wasn't necessary, it was the appropriate response. It's what people expected. Anger was an emotion that made people uncomfortable, even if it may have been justified, and hers was a never-ending ocean of it. It was more than she wanted to share. Even a single mote of lava could cause irreparable damage were it to touch the flesh. Cyra wanted to avoid lashing out without reason. Kaleh'a, at the very least, didn't deserve to become the target.

So the rage had been tucked away. Forced behind a door that had already been bending at the hinges behind the pressure that laid just on the other side. Deep breaths helped quell the quivering fury as it pounded on that cage. Now was not the time or place.

"So long as your wounds are not a result of some addle-brained idea with high risk and no reward, I would consider yourself safe should you require my services as a White Mage." The smile that tugged at her lips was gentle, but it wasn't genuine. The humor was there, but it was saturated with emotion.

REBLOG IF YOU ACTUALLY READ TAGS

reblog this post to remind the person you reblogged it from that they’re valued and loved and seen

He was moving fast, quick, small conversations when warranted, taking care of resetting bones, wrapping injuries, even picking up a needle to sew together the worse cuts or holes. His hands were bloody after almost every patient, and someone, seeing the work he was doing, had begun to bring him bowls of water. He had graciously accepted, washing his hands between patients, using fresh water and bandages to wipe away blood from open wounds, all the while his easy smile never leaving his face, even as heat pressed in from the bodies, the groans of pain sometimes rose to new levels, and his fingers grew tired from stitching and wrapping.

He couldn't explain it in simple words, but this was something he was used to.

Travelling alone, injuries happened. And without a doctor or healer nearby, he had to take care of himself. He had learned from necessity the skills he used, book knowledge only getting him so far. But now, here, when it wasn't him, he felt less sure, and more connected to the injured than usual. It didn't slow him, but he showed a bit more compassion than he normally would, and the many thank you's he received was enough to keep him driving to help the next.

By the time the more minor injuries were taken care of, he was exhausted, mentally and physically, the last bowl of bloody water beside him as his hands dripped into them, finally taking up a towel and drying them, sitting back on a stool and letting out a deep breath, head pressed to the wall behind him as his ears stood flicked forward, keeping them from being crushed under his skull. He listened, thought, considered, remembering what he had seen, how he had watched Cyra heal a disembowelment, knit together flesh and bones like it was nothing, her magic incredible. She had done it again and again, and he could only imagine that the standing healer was even more tired than he was.

He turned his gaze up towards her, tilting his head to look, bearing with rolling onto his sensitive ear as his gaze flicked up and down her white garments, the rolled up sleeves, marveling at how when her aether waned, she had chosen to get her hands dirty too. He watched her standing there, pale, drained, but proud, and his tail flicked with admiration, before he rose slowly and moved to stand beside her, looking out over the injured, almost all stable enough to recover.

Slowly, he pointed, to a man he stitched up a hold through his shoulder, murmuring, "Arrow." Then to another, a ragged hole in his stomach, thinner on the back than the front. "Spear." And another, a small, profusely bleeding hole that had taken packing, pressure, and finally a few stitches. "Bullet." His hand dropped, and he looked over them all again, remembering the faces of those he had helped, their complaints, and now their bandaged bodies, breathing in slowly and letting his breath hiss through his nose. "This wasn't a Blue-Back attack..."

His eyes fell to the feather in his quiver, standing tall against the back wall, and he let his gaze travel along it, before his blue eyed gaze found hers. "Feels kind of...pointless to have hunted it down now when I could have--should have--helped with whatever battle they were in."

There was more to this than just a savage attack by a territorial beast. Some of the wounded had the brutality of a battle between men, some could have been passed off as a rampant pack...but all of them were far worse for wear. It was just a quick observation, and she made a note to speak to the Grand Marshall about it later. Healers of all skill level and profession had come to assist in the efforts, and the way they frantically flitted around the room was telling of the amount Cyra estimated they lost when returning home.

Her attention had been commanded by a weakly moaning man in the far back of the infirmary. The blanket of red that coated him and those surrounding him called to her for assistance. In a moment she was at the bedside, taking in all the gore. She only had one spell that could help, but there was a chance she might need it before long. Cyra needed to make her judgement call quickly, or the disemboweled man would surely die. She took a second to glance around the room, taking in the severity of all of the injuries with a single look.

It can be done. She reassured herself. The healer bid the others step back. She didn't want a single risk of any ounce missing her target. The stone on the staff glowed bright for a moment, magic trailed into her opened hand. The glowing ball flickered for a moment, before it burst, spinning around the dying man and disappearing into him. Benediction was one hell of a life-saver. But it's potency had to be limited due to it's incredibly high cost. Cyra had trained for this, working towards expanding her already deep well of Aether. If she was going to save everyone she could, she needed an ocean of energy housed within. The umbrella healing wind that she had cast earlier had taken just as much as this single target, and just like that she had felt the strain already.

Not all could be fully mended, but most would be brought back from the brink. If she couldn't handle the aetheric load, she had knowledge that could at least help aid in their care. The snap of a bone being shifted back into place behind her warranted a flick of the ear in it's direction. The lurch of a stomach, and the patient getting sick from the pain and the sensation caught her attention for only a second. She needed to watch carefully as her current patient's wounds had begun healing at a rapid pace. Not everything was back to normal for him, though at the very least his intestines no longer sat draped along his sides. This was manageable for the others there. She needed to move on to the next.

The work was hard, as it always was. It was hard to see people suffering at the hands of others. Some had lost fingers. A man or two missing an eye that she could not replace. All she could do was seal the wound to prevent infection. Blood loss was the most widely presented problem across the board, and all she could do was seal up a few here and there before having to rely on bandages, salves, and ointments to help with stitches and burns.

It had taken hours to get through them all. Most were not fully stable, but a majority of them would live through this. If infection didn't take them, they would continue on with their lives.

At the end of it all, Cyra had stood at the front of the room. Observing for any more urgent matters that needed to be cared for as the nurses kept up their hard work. At some point the healer had put up her staff, electing to roll up her sleeves and help without the aid of her waning Aether. She had used enough. Her already grey skin had paled in the display of effort that she had worn proudly on her face. Another job well done, but still...their suffering had been brought on by something more complex than a rampaging flock of ziz.