Final Fantasy Rp - Tumblr Posts

Hello there! I'm back in Tumblrland with a brand new pinned post.

This blog is mostly centered upon my Original KH Trio, aptly named the Mythic Trio.

'Side' OCs: Korlath, Power-Fist, Manos, Count Dracula, Mementos, Ramses and more, perhaps…

Canons connected to Astrolon: Warrior of Light, Bahamut, King of Cornelia. MAYBE I'll add more? Who knows.

Canons connected to Kaimare: Hades, Maleficent, The Emperor, Loki, Thanos, King Magnifico, The Dark Dragon, and Darth Vader.

Canons connected to Lucilla Tepes: Jack Skellington, Sally

Laws

Muses

#mythic-trio Greetings everyone! I am called Angus, I'm 34, and on the spectrum, I'm Scottish-American and a proud writer / world-builder.

I’ve been role-playing for 13 years on both Facebook and Tumblr. I’m a huge Spyro and Ratchet & Clank fan, and trying to become a DM too of my D&D campaign(s).

This blog is D&D and Kingdom Heart centric/themed, and featuring Spyro, Princess Elyssa, and Lucilla Tepes as the main protagonists.

Affiliated with: @strcngered / @ancicntforged / @villains4hire / @the-expatriate / @rxnowned-vxmpire-hxnter

Always Accepting these RP Prompts:

Send ‘🎲’ for a starter where our muses are playing D&D together.

send an emoji and i'll tell you my opinion on...

Send One For My Muse’s Reaction To Your Muse

First Interaction Sentence Starters

First Meetings Sentence Starters

🍎 ｡:*• ─ WITCHY SENTENCE STARTERS.

More to come as I search for them.

Quick Links: Rules / About / Muses / Interest Checker / more tba later.

"You always remember your first kill."

Kaleh'a had heard that statement a hundred times, and felt like he would hear it another hundred before he ever got the chance to experience what it meant. It was something of a mantra from his mother, the white haired Miqo'te past her prime, but more the wiser for it, and guiding her son's hand in archery had proven easy enough. Even if that same son had still not felled a beast, an alert deer, or a darting rabbit. It was his greatest failure as a hunter, so far, and one that he went out every evening to try and rectify.

That day was no different.

Above him, Menphina winked down between wisps of clouds, the sky painted a vibrant hue of orange and purple as the sun dipped beneath the horizon, the last rays of warmth kissing the tip of the tree he sat crouched in. Shifting on his feet, his leather boots scraped softly against the bark, the only sound he made besides soft breaths, his bow unslung and strung, the firm wood resting against the tops of his boots as his blue eyes scanned the forest floor below. He had picked his location carefully, tracking coming naturally to the cat boy, his blonde ears flicking one way and then the next as the forest came alive. It was his goal to blend into that liveliness, to just be a part of his, to not stand out in his soft, laced, long sleeve brown shirt, to be just high enough to avoid detection by scent, and yet low enough that he wouldn't split his wool pants when he dropped down to finish his prey. His long tail flicked at the thought, carefully wrapped around his ankles, so it wouldn't hang down and alert an animal with its unconscious movements. He wanted that kill, needed it at this point, already eighteen and considered an adult, but truthfully, he didn't mind one more night of going kill-less.

He loved these nights. The calmness. The watching. The waiting. He just didn't love the strain of staying in one position for so long. His right hand left his bow string, brushing away his bangs from his eyes, their white tips--his mother's prideful voice rising in his head, "Moon kissed"--a little more evident in the moonlight starting to filter down, and he shifted again on his perch. On his back, his quiver shifted, he fur lined inside keeping the noise of his arrows to a minimum, the two gripped in his right hand parallel with the bow's curve more likely to make a sound than those resting peacefully in their home. That was all he should need anyways. Two quick draws, two quick fires, one dead meal. Then it would all be handy work, a knife, skinning and claiming his trophy, that coveted first kill.

If anything shows up, he thought dully, letting out a soft sigh, blue orbs lazily gliding along the forest floor. There was nothing there, not even a curious mouse to brush a leaf and catch his attention. It was so...quiet.

Both of his ears shot up, at attention, as his eyes stopped seeing, and instead, he focused on his hearing. When had the crickets stopped singing? The nightingales stopped warbling? When had everything around him grown so unnaturally still, like the entire forest was waiting for something...something Kaleh'a knew nothing about. He sat there, for a long, slow minute, listening, and finally, as the sun dipped below the surface of the horizon fully, he saw it. A flicker of orange in a forest of green, something as out of place as he was in the foliage, and something he knew deep down exactly what it was.

He was already moving before he could fully think it through, bow slung into his quiver, hands grabbing the branch below him, swinging down to the forest floor, smoothly rolling and bouncing out of it as he started running towards the oddity he had spotted, perhaps the most dangerous thing in a forest.

Fire.

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

Kaleh'a knew the layout of the surrounding area well, and it was only three minutes before he reached a small, well used road that cut through the forest, about where he had estimated the orange glow of early embers lay. He wasn't sure if he should be proud he was right, or worried, perhaps even fearful as he took in the scene. A carriage sat in the middle of the road, overturned and the lantern in the front broken, burning oil licking at the dry wood as someone pounded on the broken door from the inside, the twisted frame jamming it shut. He could see that all, about thirty yards away, clear as day as his eyes adjusted to the dim light, scanning the surroundings for danger. He found a hint of it only ten yards in front of him.

In the road, the carriage driver lay, and just from the glance Kaleh'a took, he knew the man was dead. His legs...his legs were no longer joined with his body. And his chest...

The archer felt like he was going to puke as staggered out of the tree line, his gaze flicking away from the man as he took a deep breath, the sound of someone yelling catching his attention, his eyes alighting on a, thankfully, alive and well dressed knight. His armor was dented, right in the center of the chest plate, but he was up, waving his sword, and staring down--

"Never hunt a red eye."

Red eyes. Angry, blazing, red eyes. The pierced the soul with hatred as the beast stomped a hoof, the boar staring down the frantically waving guard, not a drop of sympathy in it's gaze as it shook it's head. A tusk, easily twice the length of Kaleh'a's torso, curved from it's lips, the other, shorter tusk chopped off halfway, but already the full one had blood dripping from it, a tattered remnant of a guard's clothing hanging from the tip. The wound on the fallen driver's chest, the force he had to have taken... Bile rose in his mouth as Kaleh'a pushed forward, his body recoiling inside as he reached back and pulled out his bow, yelling out as the boar stomped it's front hoof again,

"The carriage! Get behind it!"

The guard, surprised to hear a voice turned, eyes widening as he saw the archer knocking an arrow and aiming it right at the creature easily twice his size, recognizing the wisdom of those words as he took a step towards the only barrier he could put between himself and the monster. But his armor was heavy, his chest was on fire, and his movements were slow, slow enough for the boar to begin it's charge.

Thundering footsteps were met with a twang of a bow string, an iron tipped arrow singing through the air and smacking wetly into the beast's neck, a grunting snort and toss of its head the only sign it had felt the sting of the archer's shot before it was upon the guard, but the arrow saved the guard a gruesome impalement. The toss of the monster's head was enough to turn aside it's tusk, the goring instrument glancing along the guard's side as he screamed in fear and pain, sending the armored man spinning to the ground, but out of harms way. A heavy thud followed, and a shrill shriek rose from the carriage, whoever was within it feeling the jolt and hearing the splinter of wood as the beast turned the carriage rack on the back to splinters. The passenger hold held up, the beast squealed angrily, and those beady red eyes turned towards the last known offender.

"Never hunt a red eye."

Kaleh'a understood why now. The shot he had landed should have ended the threat, on any normal boar he was sure it would have. But this...this monstrosity was another thing entirely. He cursed under his breath, a second arrow knocked, drawn, and released before the beast could fully face him, the second arrow striking just as true, square between and slightly above the eyes. It froze for a second, as if confused, or hopefully, wounded, but dread crept through Kaleh'a as he saw those red eyes narrow, focus, and pin him.

Fear like nothing he had ever felt stilled his arms, his hands, his feet. It left him frozen, rooted, a dead man. No! Move! Do not freeze! He had to move, his life depended on it.

The boar's left front hoof scraped the dirt angrily, beady eyes fixed on its target.

Familiarity. That was what made an archer dangerous. Knowing their bow, their arrows, their draw speed and turning each motion into a smooth and sure flow. Muscle memory propelled his arm, up and back, hand closing around three arrows, two transferred to his bow hand, the third knocked on the string.

The boar's left foot dug again at the dirt, and with a squeal it charged.

It was enough to shock the Miqo'te's system, get him moving, a rapid full draw and release, his left arm stinging as the bow string snapped along it, no guard there for the young archer. The second arrow was knocked before the beast made it five yards, fifteen left between him and death, the steel tip joining it's earlier brother between the eyes, sinking a few inches into flesh, but nothing more. The second draw and fire was quicker, accurate, true as the last, slamming into the beast to the left of the other two, turning its head into a pincushion of three arrow shafts, but none of the heads biting deep enough. Ten yards.

He didn't know who was screaming, wasn't even aware it was his lips parted in that terrifying caterwaul as he drew back the third arrow, the beast's breath hot as it closed within five yards, three, two--

That last arrow sang as it left his bow, a tune he had never heard before as bow string propelled it forward, wooden shaft scraping along wooden guide, metal tip gleaming as the carriage seat caught fire and flared to life. Maybe it was luck. Maybe it was skill. Either way, the arrow found something besides tough, thick skin.

The beast's eye gave easily to the force of the arrow tip, collapsing and welcoming it into its home, the shaft following at speed as blood gushed around it. The arrow continued onward, discontent with its initial findings, travelling deeper, deeper than any arrow before it had landed. That beady red eyes was replaced in seconds with a three feathered flight, the knocking notch and its supporting feathers the only thing visible of the arrow, the second eye falling as lifeless as the other now was.

Legs crumpled, the dead weight too much to support as the beast belly flopped to the earth, sliding without so much as a sound those last two yards, tusk sliding clear of its target, the short nose of the monster stopping right at Kaleh'a's boots, snot dripping from it as the archer stared down at it in shock. No breaths lifted the thing's chest. No heart still beat in it. Only black and red ichor leaked from its eye, the killing blow, as the archer tried and failed to comprehend what had just happened.

His mouth was slightly agape, his heart hammering in his chest as adrenaline coursed through his body, his tail twitching and flicking behind him as he tried to catch his breath, throat raw for some reason. He had imagined his first kill a hundred times, fired a thousand arrows for that very purpose. It was always an animal, unaware, clean and fast, no chance to run, or hide, or spoil the hunt. It had never crossed his mind that it would be this, staring down a boar, a red eyed boar, charging him, shooting like his life depended on it--because his life depended on it, and dropping a monster that had taken a life already. He had never imagined--

The boar twitched, a phantom twitch, muscles relaxing, and the Miqo'te leapt a solid yard straight up, hissing wildly as his tail shot out and bristled, an arrow just appearing in his hand as he loosed it point blank as soon as his feet touched the ground, right into the beast's head again as he hissed again. But it was already dead, the arrow seeming to stick out of its target oddly, as if to ask "why did you do that?" He took a slow, deep, shuddering breath and let his shoulders relax, lowering his bow as he breathed out, taking in another breath...why did he smell...smoke?

"Oh. Oh shit! The carriage!"

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

It was much easier to break into the carriage than out, a shrilly trilling woman dressed in expensive, but not haughty clothes pulled out first by Kaleh'a, before an equally well dressed man he could only assume was the woman's husband followed, only needing the faintest attempt at help before he just hauled himself out. The woman was staring at the beast, rooted at the spot she had jumped down to from the overturned carriage, a mere seven or so yards from the front of the carriage, as her husband set about throwing dirt on the fire, Kaleh'a quickly joining him, then giving up, kicking the weakened driver's seat a few times, dislodging the flaming bench, and kicking it away from the rest of the carriage. It only took the two men a minute to put the flat piece of wood out that way, before both, and then a third in the form of a hobbling soldier, put out the lantern and lingering oil flame. Slowly, all three turned tired, and beaten, faces towards the beast.

"Our driver, Reyn." The nobleman turned a hopeful gaze towards Kaleh'a, and he just shook his head, unwilling to speak what he had seen, what had become of the man, gesturing to the noblewoman.

"You should keep her towards the back of the carriage. That way she won't see--"

"Is it dead?"

The soft voice that cut off the young archer grabbed both their attention, Kaleh'a taking a moment to answer as he saw what looked like overwhelming awe on the woman's face. "Yes. It's dead."

"And you killed it?" Her husband was at her side in a moment, murmuring softly to her as he turned her towards the carriage, guiding her towards the back of it, but her words still reached Kaleh'a where he stood. "How...how do you kill something like that?"

His tail flicked, and he slowly lifted his hands, as if realizing for the first time that yes, he had killed it. He had killed his first prey. He had done it, and as he stared at his hands, he noticed they were shaking slightly, as if her words confirming it made it real.

"It gets...easier." The raspy breath beside the cat boy nearly sent him jumping again, until he saw armor, a now sheathed sword, and a guard looking a good bit worse for wear, although incredibly standing and standing well. "You saved us."

Kaleh'a could only stare at the guard, dumbstruck, and a little confused, meeting his hazel eyes for a moment before realizing what the guard was hinting at, the archer's eyes widening as he shook his head. "I don't expect a reward!"

"But you deserve one." The guard reached out, grabbed Kaleh'a's left hand, pulling it up and pressing a small, but heavy bag of coins into it, giving the archer a stern look. "Don't try to give it back. You did a good thing. That money is nothing compared to our lives." The sad glance towards Reyn's body had the Miqo'te's ears wilting, his mouth opening and closing, trying to work the words out of his mouth, the money feeling heavier in his hand.

"I'm sorry...I didn't get here sooner."

"Don't be. There was nothing you could do." The guard shook his head, and slowly sank back against the carriage, sitting with a groan as he gestured towards the beast. "Came out of the forest on our side, gored the poor fool before he could even react, and tipped our carriage. Honestly...I thought we were done until you came along."

"I saw the fire." He didn't know why he felt like he had to say it, but it just made sense to say it, motioning to where he had come from. "The sun had already set, I knew it had to be a fire."

The guard gave the young man another look, a long one, before he remarked, "You know this area well."

"I do."

"Anywhere we could stay?" A simple question, and one Kaleh'a should have thought of, especially while still holding their money. He rapidly pocketed it, nodding as the bag of gold found its home against his chest, turning towards the road.

"Yes! My town, I'm sure we could find a place for you. It's about..." He glanced around, checking their surroundings, and the position of the moon, before confirming, "no more than twenty minutes walk."

The guard chuckled, and gestured towards the road. "We won't have to walk."

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

When Kaleh'a saw the flicker of torches in front of his town's gate, he knew his absence had not gone unnoticed. The town of only thirty some-odd people meant everyone knew everyone, and when one went missing, everyone went looking. Instead of having to venture out into the dark, they were instead met by the Miqo'te archer leading two horses, a nobleman and his wife on one, and a guard in silver armor on the other. It was a white haired Miqo'te female who broke the line first, letting out a wail as she ran towards her son, hugging him as he laughed, Kaleh'a happily returning his mother's hug before she broke their embrace to look him over.

"What were you thinking?! Staying out this late. You know what lurks in this fore--"

"Mom, please." He chuckled and nodded to their guests, already the townsfolk helping them down and asking if they were okay. "They needed help, I gave it."

His mother's eyes narrowed, taking in the guard's dented armor, and his ragged appearance. "Help, help with what?"

Abruptly, a cry of surprise went up, and the townsfolk shifted, flowed, and then pressed towards the dark, shadowy object behind the horses, what they had dragged the entire way back to the town. His mother didn't need to look closer, her night vision giving her all the view she needed, eyes going wide as she saw the arrows sticking from its head, turning slowly back to her son as he gave her a tired smile.

"You were right, mom. You never forget your first kill."

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

He never spent a cent of that money. Even to this day he carries it with him. The bag has changed, a padded one to muffle the sound of clinking coin, but he never forgot. The money became a reminder, of why he hunted, what he hunted, and for who he hunted. He hunted to protect. He hunted the monsters of the world. And he hunted for those who couldn't. And with every step, and every draw, and every soft shift of those coins, he'd always remember that first kill, and the path it set him on.

Cold

It was one of the few things Brynhorn Fiske hated, but found himself in more often than not. Laying belly down in snow would do that to you, and of course, he was doing just that, sighting down the sights of his rifle as he breathed slowly, evenly, watching as far below him on the mountain, Garlean soldiers passed through a small mountain pass. He tracked the first soldier, his head appearing in his sights, a tiny little black dot, as his finger slowly shifted from the trigger guard, resting against the trigger, taking a slow breath, letting it out even slower...

"Boo!"

Bryn felt his eyes narrow, slowly turning his head to stare at the ashen haired joker as the Hyur assassin snickered next to him, the sniper slowly removing his finger from the trigger. "You are lucky I have good trigger discipline," the soldier growled out, his voice deep and rich for his age, the thirty four year old Sergeant pushing up onto his elbows and disrupting a few small pebbles of soft snow.

"We would have been fine," Thancred chuckled out, "the sound wouldn't have reached them from here."

Bryn shifted his gun, rising to his knees as he shouldered the pine wood rifle and sighed, the younger man still very much a silver tongued tease. "You're right, but they would have noticed their Lieutenant dropping dead at the head of the line."

Thancred actually looked mildly concerned at that statement, looking down towards the mountain pass, and then back at the all white clad soldier, before nervously saying, "You couldn't hit that...right?" Bryn just gave him a stare, his silver eyes gleaming as he repositioned the hat on his head, the snow dusted linen hiding his short cropped black hair as he turned and began to trudge through the snow towards the next lookout, Thancred following along behind him and calling out, "Right!?"

︻デ═一・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Bryn was back in the snow, belly down, the angle of the slope steep enough to give him a natural angle down towards the pass, nearly fully covered by snow now that they were closer, his rifle sticking out from it and angled down towards the next section of the pass. Nearby, Thancred tossed a knife up into the air, catching it blade first, and repeating, the Sergeant mildly annoyed at him. He would have told him to stop, if the sun was out, but the day was blissfully cloudy. Correction, it was bitterly cloudy. It made the snow an extra few degrees cooler, and that just added to the soldier's mounting annoyance. He wasn't used to all of this sneaking around, waiting, and watching, more a man of action with his militant background, but after joining the cloak and dagger operation out of Limsa Lominsa, he had adapted, quickly. It wasn't his preferred method of engagement, but he could be deadly at the long ranges the organization wanted him to observe from.

He let out a slow breath, watching the pass, the slow progression of the Garlean soldiers, not even bothering with the sights this time as his finger rested on the trigger guard. The snow had fallen thick the evening before, and it was showing, the foot soldiers slogging through the soft powder as their black armor stuck out like beetles on paper, the sniper thanking the guild for providing him with a white coat, white shirt, and white pants, even a pair of leather boots with white fur sewn over the brown material. It kept him camouflaged, even better than Thancred's white and black coat.

"What's your camouflage again?" The question was mumbled, the Sergeant's cheek pressed to the butt of his rifle as he glanced at the younger, but senior in the guild, rogue. It actually got the spy to stop tossing his knife, look at Bryn, and then raise his arms as if it was self explanatory.

"A rock!"

"Rock's don't move."

"You are zero fun."

"I thought this wasn't supposed to be fun."

Thancred narrowed his gaze, and then let out a grumbling curse. "I preferred my last detail. No one to babysit, and plenty of beautiful women to court~" Bryn actually groaned, and Thancred laughed at the sound, returning to tossing his knife as the soldier shifted slightly, looking back down his rifle at--

"Hey. Where's the patrol?"

Thancred stopped tossing the knife, looking down towards the mountain pass, as Bryn rose to one knee, sighting down his rifle and slowly scanning, the rogue crouching down as he too looked for any trace. "How the...there is nowhere else to go but...wait..."

He tapped Bryn's shoulder, pointing, and the older soldier shifted his sight line to where he was directed, closing one eye as he took in what his eagle eyed leader had.

"A door? Metal... Huh, magitek I think. See a keypad."

"You can see that?"

Bryn just nodded, continuing on with his explanation as he looked slightly to the left. "Single guard, blends in well with the rocks and door. Still stupid to wear black in snow."

"When do they not wear all black?" Thancred drawled out, sitting back in the snow. "Well, we have the location of the secret Castrum! I think we've seen enough."

Bryn had to agree, rising to his feet and stamping them slightly, getting the blood flowing as he shifted his gun onto his shoulder, lifting his gloved hands and blowing on them before answering. "Plenty. Let's head back and--"

The crack of the rifle rang out, and Bryn staggered back, slamming back into the snow as pain blossomed in his side, laying on his back, nearly starting to slide down the steep mountain peak, he saw for the first time the Garlean scout who had just shot him, the still smoking blade-gun pointed right at him, and the pristine white armor enough to make the soldier eat his earlier words. Already, the scout was aiming at Thancred, the rogue leaping forward, ready to close the distance as Bryn reacted on instinct.

The crack-BOOM of his rifle, brought to bear against his shoulder, sent a ball of aether spinning towards the scout, stabilized with spin and cutting through the cool air. The poor sap didn't stand a chance, Bryn's older, less advanced rifle far more accurate thanks to familiarity and old, lost technology, the concentrated ball of death slamming through the visor of the scout and snuffing out his life in an instant.

Bryn lowered his rifle slowly, already panting as pain began to truly radiate from his wound, blood seeping into the snow under him and staining his coat a rich, vibrant red. The crumpled Garlean began to slide down the mountain, his armor dragging him along, as below an alarm sounded and soldiers began to pour from the door. The rogue was at Bryn's side in a moment, handing him a fistful of bandages that the sniper pressed to his wound, hissing in pain before making a move to get to his feet.

"You can't--"

"I can and I will." Bryn cut him off, not needing to hear that the wound was bad, or that it would slow them down. Instead, he just pressed his rifle into Thancred's hands and then pulled himself up, swaying slightly as blood slowly dripped from between his fingers and around already stained bandages. "Go. Get them the location. I'll follow."

"You're kidding!" Thancred was incredulous, his brown eyes shining with disbelief, and his mouth working open and closed, a few sounds like words leaving his lips, but he didn't get the chance to say them.

"No. Go. You're the leader, you know the mission takes precedence."

"And you're my charge!" Stubborn. Someone had mentioned that about Thancred, Bryn didn't care to remember who. He just gave the well built man a shove and growled out angrily.

"And I'm saying go! I've survived worse, now let me do what I'm trained to do, and go!" Thancred hesitated, then tried to hand back the rifle he still clutched, Bryn waving him off with a quick, "I'll be better without it," only then turning and starting to make a rapid, half sliding half running descent down the mountain, angling away from the Garlean forces trying to pick their way up it. Bryn watched him go, making sure he didn't turn back, before he too turned and headed along the mountain ridge, but going up and away from the approaching forces.

He knew he had a long few days ahead of him as every step barked with pain in his side.

︻デ═一・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Three days later, when Bryn walked over the threshold of the guild in Old Sharlayan, the whispers began. Thancred had returned only the day before, begging that a search party be mounted, but finding no one willing to search for a body. Not a single one of the unsavory bunch expected him to crawl through the door, but to walk through it? Tattered white clothes stained red with blood? He shocked them all.

For a long week, some swore they had seen claw marks in his clothes. Others said they saw a healed bullet wound on his left side. Others whispered his eyes glowed unnaturally. But no matter what was said, his name was whispered nearly reverently, and an old moniker made a resurgence from his military days.

"Silver Wolf."

He never told anyone what happened up on that mountain. Not even Thancred. All he would say was that he hid, and waited until the danger passed.

And that he hated the cold.

He let out a little sigh of relief at her apparent disinterest at getting slightly bloodied, even if it was after a slightly long pause. He did, for a moment, wonder if he was about to receive the business end of her staff when she reached out for it, especially with her other hand on the knife at her waist, but her words, the shrug, and her relaxed posture convinced him otherwise. His easy, happy smile returned to his face as he gave her a soft nod and winked.

"Happy to have helped! Given your confidence though, perhaps I should have left them to you?" His tail flicked at his jest, his eyes thought anything but still, slowly taking her in again as she had just moments ago. Fur. Across her cheeks and neck. Light and barely noticeable, but there. It wasn't totally unheard of among the more tribal Miqo'te, and he supposed he shouldn't be so surprised or intrigued by it, but he was, at least more respectfully this time, keeping his gaze short and respectful as he listened to her voice, taking it in and memorizing it. It wasn't an odd thing for him, so focused on sound in his line of work, he would more often than not recognize someone by their voice before even seeing them. In this case, he noted the slight hesitance, the almost stiff tone, as if rehearsed or thought out, and simply watched her as she brushed off her clothes.

"I'm glad to hear you are unharmed, I was afraid when I heard the challenge I would find an unfortunate sight of another victim." Unable to stop the laugh that bubbled up as she mentioned the dangers of brambles, he could only shake his head as he chuckled. "Careful, I hear those brambles can be deadly, sneaking up and taking out your fingers before you even have a chance!"

Still chuckling, he gave her another look, and realized as he met her eyes that she too carried the telltale signs of a Moon Keeper, his surprise flickering over his face for a moment, before he gave her a curious look. He hummed thoughtfully to himself and remarked off hand. "You're a ways out here, without a guard or help. I'm guessing you're familiar with a blade as familiar as you are with a plant, yet I haven't seen you around before."

For a moment, he opened his mouth, about to ask her who she was, and then laughed, realizing he had not even introduced himself yet after leaping in and disturbing her day. His flipped his bow back onto his back, resting with his quiver, before placing a hand on his chest, over his heart, palm flat, and bowed at the waist with practiced ease. "I am Kaleh'a Quickdraw, an archer currently employed by the Twin Adders to hunt down the beast I just felled. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance!"

In less than a minute, the encounter was over.

The excitement that swelled in her chest had quickly deflated once the rest of the beast's flock had run off. Her preparations for a fight were quickly tossed to the side, and what she would have considered good fun was bleeding into the earth at her feet. Her frustration was clear, but more so at the fact that she was upset that she hadn't heard the hunter bounding over behind her. It was clear that she had let some of her skills learned at the castrum atrophy since her change of career. Violence always seemed to bring that sickening animalistic instinct back to the surface. The thrill of battle was a note only ever plucked by necessity, but stuffing the need back down under the other aspects of her being was difficult.

The short coat of fur on her skin prickled as she calmed herself. While the adrenaline rush she was expecting had still flooded her system, she had to keep her wits about her now that she had company. It was a shame that her privacy had come to a close, but she wouldn't forget her lessons. After all, she still needed the practice being sociable, and what better a subject to work with than a fellow Miqo'te? She heard stories about the reputation the Moon Keepers had made of themselves in the Twelveswood, but truly meeting one in broad daylight was a real treat.

She observed him carefully, ignoring the dead beast at her feet and took a step to turn towards him. She noted the way he stared. As if she hadn't been self-conscious about it already. She knew she looked different, and most who met her stared in the same way he did. It's why she preferred her privacy. Cyra's eyes examined every visible ilm of him. Traveling from the clearly worn armor, to the smooth wood of his bow, the moon-kissed tips that poked out from under his hat, and the sudden shyness and shame that overcame his expression when he noticed her staring back at him.

Cyra let out a slow sigh through her nostrils, ears flicking lightly as she sorted through everything she had learned from Bryn about social graces. Better to think and be sure of your words than to speak what first comes to mind. Finally dropping her stare from his, she relaxed her posture, her palm resting on the butt of her knife at her hip, and her other hand reaching for the staff stuck into the dirt. At the mention of her sullied foot-wraps, she finally took the moment to glance down.

"It's of no consequence." She shrugged. "My thanks for saving me the trouble of having to kill it." The healer looked back at the slain beast, letting the remainder of her anticipated bloodlust drain out of her with its blood into the earth. It wouldn't do to be upset for someone doing the dirty work for her, and she reminded herself that his quick action saved her the possibility of having yet more gore-stains to scrub out of her clothes. She began dusting off the dirt and detritus that clung to her clothes after the blue-back fell forward to its fate.

"I am unharmed, save for some minor lost battles with brambles." She tried to lighten the mood, distract the hunter from his shame and hopefully keeping it casual enough to keep him from asking too many questions.

Her reaction was about the opposite of what he expected, his eyes flicking to her ears as they laid back, the motion of her tail out of the corner of his eyes, it all spoke to her...uncomfortableness. His eyes widened slightly, reeling back a step as he made a motion with his hands to apologize, realizing he might have encroached on her personal space without meaning to, his face coloring slightly as his face went from smiling, to wide eyed concern, and finally to an apologetic stare, as if trying to judge if he had offended her too much as she spoke. Thankfully, as he slowly let his hands drop slowly back to his side, her words didn't hint at too much discomfort, but her posture and reaction...the ears didn't come back up right away, and she still seemed a bit shy about having him along, her mentioning of a place earning a little "ooooo" from him.

"You have you're own place? Very nice! I'm living out of the inn in town. Always wanted my own place..." His gaze turned wistful for a moment, before refocusing on her, one ear flicking to face behind him, and stayed there as the other stayed swiveled towards her. A little smirk rose to his lips, something in her words making him smile, as he tilted his head slightly and purred out, "You assume that making sure you arrive safely at your house is not of utmost importance to me. After all, a group of distraught adventurers need your help!

"If you wouldn't mind, I would like to accompany you. I can hang back a few paces if you would prefer, or beside you." The ear facing back twitched slightly, and he shifted slightly, as if nervous, the tail feather waving in a slight breeze as Kaleh'a cleared his throat.

"Whatever you choose, I would suggest we do it quickly, because I think the brood is returning, and they don't sound pleased. I promise to not enter your house, now lets go!"

It wasn't a joke either, he could hear, just distantly, the sound of many clawed feet thudding into the ground, approaching at a pace that could only be described as rapid, and he had no intention of wasting arrows on six or seven Ziz with a vendetta against him, jumping up on the log and peering towards the noise, offering a hand to her to pull her up and over it, and hopefully away from the creatures.

Cyra had been unaware of her slight to the archer. Entirely unfamiliar with how Gridania had treated Moon Keepers, the healer was a complete stranger to it. Despite being one herself, she had no real connection to her heritage aside from dependency. Even so, her lack of experience with the real world didn't blind her from the way his voice softened afterward. She felt a sharp ache in her chest when she detected something was wrong. Her gross lack of understanding in social cues made it nigh impossible to catch her error. Perhaps this was something she needed to include in her next letter to Bryn. Most in Gridania were friendly to her, but that could have been due to the favors pulled to allow her residency and citizenship for the sake of keeping her past a secret.

Kaleh'a was quick to move between thoughts. From a slightly dejected demeanor, to an energy that lit up his very being was quite a change. The healer hadn't met someone yet who has quite such enthusiasm as he did, even between conflicting emotions. The way he stepped forward had her on edge. The friendly, yet energetic flick of his tail, had her ears angling back in discomfort. There was only one person she had ever really gotten that close with willingly, and getting comfortable around strangers would take a lot of time. Still, she knew she would need to bear it a little longer.

"I have no prior obligations to fulfill." She said slowly.

"I would need but a moment to return home to change into more appropriate attire for the services to be rendered. If you have nothing better to do, you're welcome to accompany me..." She paused, feeling a bit of shame before continuing. "Though, I must ask you to wait outside as I haven't quite finished polishing up the interior of my cabin. The walls are still in need of repair." Her face flushed.

Most of the work that needed to be done on her new home was something she fully intended to do herself. There was nothing wrong with having some help, but this was her safe place to get away from the constant din of the public space. Having little experience in social events almost always left her exhausted and in need of isolation. Despite how much she wanted to invest in the convention of having friendships with others, the uncertainty scared her. In the back of her mind, she half hoped he wouldn't want to join her on her way back to her cabin. But, as most had quite a few curious inquiries about her history, she knew it was unlikely. Besides, his excitement in her question was a good indicator of his motivations.

13th-dragon-prince -- [Prior]

[...]Just like now, as acting on the desire to pounce upon the hunter was his instinct; Whillow had made no motion to resist it. In certain circumstance this could be a dangerous thing if a beast did not know the rules.

Cocking his head to the side, the gecko let his legs relax at the sides of Bryn’s waist, blinking at him as if trying to figure out how to translate the words in his head into the common tongue; “Mo-rr Dho-na is tired… tiring?” He chuffed, the heat from his core akin to that of a dragon’s as the air ruffled the blue collar beneath him. “Bryn is not boring.”

︻デ═一・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

The clack of teeth, the way the gecko's accent poked through as if the words were unnatural to him, and those sharp, slitted pupils reminded Bryn that Whill was every bit a beast as he was man. He watched those eyes carefully as he lowered his half raised rifle, setting it flat against the ground as he waited for an answer, instead getting...half of one.

Slow trails of claws along his coat didn't even bother the Hyur, only caught his interest momentarily before a tug at his right hand caught his attention, the tail he held shifting in his grasp as the half-dragon-lizard tried to move it, and for a moment, Bryn swore he remembered feeling a shiver go through the entire body of Whillow, right as his hand had closed around that appendage. Impossible to confirm now, but filed away, a question to ask when he wasn't holding his tail, or someone else completely.

He let it go at the second shift from it, the short, not staccato but to the point words catching the soldier's attention, the accent not too bad and easy enough to understand what the pouncer meant. "Waiting for me," he mumbled, and a part of him wanted to scowl, to scold the fellow Scion for wandering off in a dangerous land, but it seemed...laughable. He wasn't heavy atop Bryn, even if his size did not align with his weight exactly, the inset scales clearly adding more weight than the powerful muscles that rippled over his body, but the speed, strength, awareness--it rivalled Bryn's, and reminded him of another speedy fighter he had once trained. And why he had, again, likely been chosen to watch over the wily Whill.

It was during those thoughts of inset scales that he had reached up and tapped one on Whill's chest, the firm, slightly glossy addition that seemed so natural on the horned man that Bryn had hardly thought of it, catching that light, and a bit of blue shining through. Still dark, almost black, but normal akin to the sniper's shirt now that he looked. His gaze lazily trailed to Whill's face, taking in the touch of scales on his chin and cheeks, and reinforcing his opinion that "Au Ra" had to be incorrect, the greyish-blue tint of his skin so...unique that he doubted Eorzea had ever seen it before. His eyes though...

Silver eyes met silver-blue, and for a moment it was like staring in a mirror, the color so similar to his own that if you took away the reflective nature, slit pupils, and scales around them, they could have matched. Bryn recognized the playful curiosity in them, the want for adventure, the yet unbroken spirit. And in his gaze, it flickered back, something animal within him rising and flickering teasingly, as if to taunt the man laying atop him.

He almost laughed at the warm statement, the slight twitch of his lips the only hint at it, his thoughts turning to it, analyzing it, and then concluding, like a cold blooded lizard, before moving on, mildly thankful for the cleaning of his hair. Sometimes, despite the lack of personal space, Whill showed a compassion that belayed his playful nature. He was not expecting the sudden wiggle, the way the scaled man just made himself more comfortable atop him, his right hand lifting and resting on his back, scaled just like the rest of him, soft skin where he wasn't, as Bryn tracked those almond shaped slits.

Play. That's what he wanted. The taps of his claw against Bryn's lips with each word reinforced it, the "compliment" hitching an eyebrow as the Hyur held Whill's gaze, the hum felt and heard from the gecko as those words slowly digested. Mor Dhona is tiring, hm? How interesting. He wondered if anyone had taken the troublemaker exploring, or if his tasks and goals had always proven fight based, when the need arose. After it was said again, about how unboring he was, Bryn had an idea, a place to visit, and let the warrior have some real fun with his watchful eye on him, but, he wanted to make sure.

"Besides my warmth," the nestled position of the lizard man more than enough proof that he was still enjoying it, "what makes me...not boring?"