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War and Combat Centric Asks

♦ - What does fighting mean to your muse, and how different are they during battle?

♢ - What abilities does your muse possess that makes them an effective fighter?

♠ - What is your muse’s weapon of choice? Is it magical or mundane in nature?

♤ - Given a chance to learn and use a combat ability or magic they don’t possess, what would your muse choose?

♣ - Is your muse particularly merciless or do they leave their opponents relatively whole after a fight? Why?

♧ - Does your muse have any regrets about a battle or incident they had to fight in? Has it changed them?

♥ - Is there an opponent they’ve fought they’ve grown particularly attached to, love or hate?

♡ - If your muse were rendered unable to fight, what about them would change? Would they be able to handle it?

☊ - Give a list or description of particularly notable battles in your muse’s history. Do any stand out?

☋ - Does your muse believe in the ‘brothers and sisters of battle’ concept, growing close to their fellows, or are they distant from others?

⇖ - Is your muse attached to any particular weapon or piece of equipment they own?

⇘ - Has your muse ever used a combat vehicle or siege weapon in battle? Were they enthusiastic about it?

✓ - Has your muse ever lost anyone they cared about on the battlefield? Do they feel responsible?

✗ - Has your muse ever been a victim of friendly fire or been betrayed during a fight? How did they react?

☌ - Is your muse famous or infamous in their world for a battle or fight? Do they embrace or shy away from it?

☍ - Does your muse draw any inspirations for their combat style or spells from their past or the world they live in?

⇈ - Does your muse knowingly or unknowingly draw on any kind of power when they fight? Describe it?

⇊ - Does your muse have many scars or lasting effects from a battle? If not, do they keep any trophies or reminders?

⌤ - Is your muse uncomfortable outside of combat? Do they have problems socializing or relaxing?

™ - Do any inspirations for how your muse fights come from other media? List or describe them.

☎ - Describe your muse in RPG class or archetype terms. Do you actively push for them to be like this, or is it just a comparison point?

↫ - Is there a real life martial art or fighting style that you draw heavily on for your character?

▶ - Do you have trouble writing your muse getting injured or hurting others? Describe what process you use to deal with it.

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yall: hozier is probably galloping through the fields of ireland with fairies :)

hoizer: skipped school to smoke on the beach cause thats what irish lesbians do

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Vigil

(( @ for mentions of some lovely characters who are influencing roskva rn! @hallowedburden, @sharlayan-siren, @eyespywithmyoneeyegtfo, and @freethesee! ))

The halls of Schism echoed with the whispering of the voidsent she knew lived here. Perhaps it was the watchful eye of Yekegan’s yol outside, or perhaps it was how Roskva’s own dark eyes never closed, but she had seen naught of the fabled spirits who shared their halls with her tonight.

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“I have heard that the Domans call this… The Hanahaki Disease.” Honorable Mention: Sarangerel @ninth-threnody

Ko.fi | Deviantart | Furaffinity | Twitter | Patreon

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You are terrifying.

And strange.

And beautiful.

Something…

Not everyone knows how to love.

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Instagram: @artwoonz

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CROWDED - Ongoing from Image Comics - 1st issue out August 15th

Ten minutes in the future, the world runs on an economy of job shares and apps, including Reapr: a crowdfunding platform to fund assassinations. Charlie Ellison leads a quiet, normal life until she’s suddenly targeted by a million-dollar Reapr campaign. Hunted by all of Los Angeles, Charlie hires Vita, the lowest-rated bodyguard on the Dfend app. As the campaign picks up speed, they’ll have to figure out who wants Charlie dead before the campaign’s 30 days—or their lives—are over.

From Eisner-nominated writer Christopher Sebela (Heartthrob, We(l)come Back, Harley Quinn), Ro Stein & Ted Brandt (Captain Marvel, Raven: The Pirate Princess), Triona Farrell (Runaways, Mech Cadet Yu), and CARDINAL RAE (Bingo Love, Rose).

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Offerings

A small platter is arrayed on the dining table in the Qerel household. Atop it rest a few tinctures, a tiny clay jar of ointment, and a small satchel of loose-leaf tea. The labels are written in halting Doman, the hand of a woman who truly has to think about what she’s writing before she writes it. She seems to have tried Eorzean, judging by the scribbles in a trash can somewhere nearby, but given up. Her mastery of the Doman script is challenging enough.

A little, folded piece of paper sits at the edge of the table, and it reads:

“For Qulan, so that we may become friends in your way. Try them.”

A small vial, perhaps the length of Suvdalan’s index finger, contains a dark red oil that glimmers with flecks of a mostly crushed leaf. It is partially separated. It is labeled, “For aches and pains. Numbs and helps aetheric healing take root.”

A similarly sized vial of thick, green liquid is labeled, “For increased sensitivity to magical and physical input. Tingles.”

The clay jar has a little scratched moon in the lid. It is labeled, “Burn ointment.” A newer addition to the label has been added: “For when someone here tries to cook.”

The tea is the last thing present. It smells of jasmine and white tea leaves, a popular blend in the Ruby Sea. A scrap of paper rests atop it, and it reads, “This is just nice. Try it with honey.”

Lastly, two small, sharp water shards rest at the center of the array, positively pulsing with latent aether.

Suvdalan is nowhere to be found.

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02. What is one of your character’s biggest insecurities? Are they able to hide it easily or can others easily exploit this weakness?

“Khan.”It had been a snap, and Yekegan felt the Coeurl’s neck tighten under her grip, feel her pulse under her fingers as she squeezed. A second, a blink, and she could feel her lips parted, teeth bared, the painful rip along her neck that signaled a loud snarl. Her stomach turned, twisted in her body with the tension the taunt brought.Khan. A Khan that leaves, a Khan that has her tribe grieve, a Khan that stumbles.C’arha stared up at her, ears pinned, face still bloody from their earlier fight, bruised, surely as Yekegan’s own was, the Ul’dahn heat beating down on both of them. Her eyes were so wide. A Khan that frightens striped Coeurls. None could touch her, none could reach her, and perhaps it was the battle that had left her rattled and open and breathing deep, but C’arha had grabbed a nerve and ripped it with a single title.She could still feel the aether coursing through her arms, feel her body flow it along, trained ease turned into overwhelming static in her head. It had been the fight, made her vulnerable.She released, bristling, swallowing, still feeling rage in her chest.“What a waste.”A waste of a Khan, a waste of stripes.

#c'arha #kingmiyo

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37. What are some of your character’s pet peeves? What are some things that annoy them or disgust them?

She’ll also lecture you if you scoot your chair across the ground, or use the nice silverware, or clink your tea cup against the saucer, or chew with your mouth open, or- Yeah.

“If your feet get anywhere near my coffee table, I’ll have you sleep in a broom closet.” Even over the din of cooking, her voice rings low but clear, drifting down the short flight of stairs. The orchestrian plays on innocently, something light, airy.  

Fractions of an ilm short, only her years of disciplined training keeps Yekegan’s heel from coming to rest. Her nose twitches, it was just a coincidence, Mia was in the kitchen and couldn’t see her. Slowly, ever so gingerly she retracts her leg, settling back into the couch to wait for Moore’s return. “You know I wouldn’t, Mia.” Just enough grumble to sound displeased by the assumption, she wasn’t dumb.  

Whatever Mia had brought her to drink is bitter, her nostrils turned up at the smell, throat burning with each swallow. Even the ice does little to make it bearable, so she abandons it on the low coffee table. Still, she muses, horrible beverages or not, it’s sort of nice to have the intense little woman do something as normal as cook for her.  

The knit of her shoulders begins to relax, lulled by the gentle embrace of the situation. Yeah, this is pretty nice. “Of course, Dear. Just like I know you’re using a coaster.”  

A bead of condensation mars dark wood, the record skips a beat, the woman groans.  

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The Qerel Den - A little piece of the steppe in Eorzea. 

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31. Would your character be the kind capable of killing? Would they enjoy killing or only use it when necessary or, perhaps, refuse to kill no matter what?

The Steppe smells of thick smoke and rust. Moving feels difficult, both because it burns, every limb burns with every twitch, and because of a thick coating of blood and armor, dried and worn and bent in ways it shouldn’t. You are Yekegan, and your fists are bruised, but no drop of blood on them is your own. The Nadaam is over, and the Qerel have not won, but the bodies that litter the floor around you speak of a victory in strength nonetheless. You hear the cries of your fellows loud in your horns, shaking you to your core, but your lips don’t curl in a smile, and there is no breath in you to join in the cheering. You hear the weeping of tribes lost, you see Xaela kneeling by broken, fallen others. You see your own, as well, a Qerel son, weeping over his mother, broken in glorious battle for their tribe, for Nhaama.They will heal from the loss. They all do.You’d mourn for all the Steppe if you could. Revel in blood, weep in it, the Steppe is cruel, harsh, as is Nhaama, and it has taught you loss and mourning, and it has taught you strength. You never wish you hadn’t, the thought doesn’t even cross your mind, there is pride to be had in the way your fists move, Nhaama has whispered blessings in your knuckles.But you weep, for them, for you, for kin lost and found, and the Qerel weep with you.

#hewwo this is late #kingmiyo

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♥ : Your muse crying about something - Yekegan and Suvdalan

(( @ for mention: @hallowedburden . ))

A cleric of the Kagon is the earthly expression of Nhaama’s will. She is dutiful, wise, and determined. She understands the workings of the world as well as she understands the inner workings of the people around her.

She does not understand herself.

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#bitch suvd cries n i cry too