Shepherdiing:

shepherdiing:

Sorey knew the oddness of the situation, he wasn’t going to sit there and deny that this was… wrong on quite a few levels. To think the shepherd would be brushing a hellion’s hair of all things, it was downright ludicrous. A circumstance that shouldn’t be and yet here they were. He was gentle as he could be, brow knit in careful concentration as he worked through knots. The fox-man’s muscles went stiff and the shepherd could feel the pulse beat of malevolence right on his chest. Creeping up his throat.

❛ I’m sure another shepherd would come along in that worst case scenario. ❜ Was it truly alright for him to associate with Lunarre like this? As if they were friends — companions? Hardly so, their very roles were against each other, but Sorey was not so easily dissuaded.

❛ You’re always free to leave, you know. I won’t stop you if you feel like you need to, but I also think that given enough time I can help you with… you know. The whole hellion thing. Just look at you, you’re not trying to chew my face off! I’d already call that an improvement. ❜ Though Lunarre may not be able to see it Sorey was grinning, waving the brush about for emphasis before returning it to the mane of hair.

The notion of leaving the group gnawed at Lunarre like the teeth of leeches and he could not dislodge them. It was clear to him now; leaving was no longer an option to consider, though it rightfully existed.

“No,” he said, more forcibly than he had intended. Calming himself, he continued: “I don’t want to leave. I can’t. I can’t be alone again - not like this, not with these thoughts...” Lunarre hugged his body, sickened by his own vulnerability but desperate to push down his own pulsing malevolence. 

“They’ll eat me alive.”

The offer of help stopped his descent, and Lunarre could suddenly feel the ground underneath him, the breeze and sun on his skin, the sound of the brush raking through his hair. It was a shock, like waking from a nightmare, but Lunarre could listen to Sorey’s words well enough.

Even now, the kid’s boundless capacity for forgiveness and empathy baffled Lunarre. He could hardly imagine a future in which this would ever stop being the case. But in moments like this Lunarre could almost believe in something intangible, that which Sorey and his friends fought for.

No, he wanted to believe in it, because somewhere lay the peace and contentment Lunarre yearned for, deep in his corrupted heart, where he knew that his strength was not the answer he sought, but only the undoing of it. The family and companionship that had so far eluded him suddenly didn’t seem so far away. It terrified and exhilarated the hellion in equal measure.

Even someone like me... even weak, could I...?

Lunarre’s reverie was broken by Sorey’s joke, and the hellion spluttered a laugh. With nothing in place to hold back, his lips curled into a smile. So the kid got his sense of humour. Lunarre was the last person who would have guessed. 

The grip of his uncertainty, shame and fear loosened, and the intensity of his malevolence ebbed along with it.

Without thinking, Lunarre turned around and put a hand on the boy’s head and patted it.

“You’re good kid.”

Send my muse love letters on anon. Bonus points if you drop a hint on who sent it.

nebu-hii-ejamu:

A seraph about Sorey’s physical age glanced out the window, sporting a shiny silver regalia with the ancient crest on it and light blond hair tipped with silver at the ends. He also had an eerie holy glow about him. “Ladylake…. There was a time where this land belonged to the ancient Midgand empire. Humans walked the streets with ancient seraphim, called malakhim at the time, fearing malevolence and turning to the Shepherd of the time…”

He turned to face Lunarre. “So, you’ve come. I bid you greetings, young hellion.”

“Save the pleasantries,” Lunarre spat. “I don’t care about any of that ancient crap.” 

This resonance emitting from the cherubic seraph was unlike anything he had ever felt before. It was immense. It was sickening, so much that it took all Lunarre’s concentration to speak without ejecting bile.

Was this a big mistake?

“What do you want from me? Why bring me here?”

Put ☎ in my ask for your muses info in my muses phone:

NAME:

RINGTONE: 

PICTURE: 

LAST TEXT RECEIVED: 

LAST TEXT SENT: 

“Oh come on, don’t be such a baby, it’s fine! See, I solved your problem for you. If you want I can do the same with the other shrimp.”

snickering-kitsune:

Lunarre, who was sitting beside Sorey eating his own lunch, took the shrimp from the boy’s fingers and bit off the tiny crustacean’s head with his teeth. He then handed it back to Sorey.

“There ya go. No face.”

❛ On second thought, I’ve lost my appetite. ❜

he’s traumatized.

nebu-hii-ejamu:

“Indeed. You failed spectacularly. But still you live on. Surely there is a reason you keep living despite these failures. Let’s say our predicaments are the same. I, myself, failed monumentally and I long for fulfillment. With the shepherd and his little dragon gone, I see an opportunity for both of us to get what we want. Again, I must request your presence in Ladylake so that we may meet face to face.”

Lunarre grit his teeth. The disembodied voice was right - in spite of everything that had happened, he was still living; still selfishly clinging onto the unfulfilled desires left in him. All the people he had known from that time were either dead or seraphim, and wholly oblivious to his continued existence. They owed him nothing, and vice versa.

What had he to lose?

Cursing under his breath, the hellion turned on his heel and began to walk back  the way he had came.

~~~

Ladylake had changed relatively little in the time since the previous Shepherd had faced off against the then Lord of Calamity, Heldalf. The famed waterwheel was still turning, its cobbled streets as lively as ever, and its shopping district, though altered in content and design, were as busy as they were when Lunarre was stealing from them.

It was almost surreal, being back. Of course, no-one recognised him as he picked his way through the crowds, but that was fine. Natural, considering the circumstances. 

Of course, some buildings had come and gone and others had crumbled into disrepair, abandoned by their previous owners. One such building was Bartlow’s mansion. 

Creeping inside - an easy feat, thanks to the sorry state of the old front door - Lunarre looked around for the owner of the voice he had heard.

“I know you’re here. Show yourself!”