@vigilans stepped into the sun: “ look at me. you’re gonna be okay. “
it’s all too much, he doesn’t remember seeking the wolf out, doesn’t know how he made it to the room. the grinning mask of the fox dangles by frayed red ties. it should have been easy, a normal hit, grab something to give to the villagers, get out–
but he’d been set up, soldiers had been in wait. he should have listened to the instinct that told him a catch like this was too good.
it felt like the rug had been pulled out from under him, he’d gotten away but he still felt like there was a weight on his chest, keeping him from breathing. He’d been close enough to see the guards eyes– it was certain they’d seen his. how many people around here could boast the same startling mix of blue & green.
idiot fox, you can’t outsmart the hunters anymore.
he hears Yuri talking to him, but it sounds distorted, far away, like voices heard through a wall. Suddenly the mask is gone, delayed reactions has his eyes lifting from the floor, watching mechanically as the wolf sets the mask carefully on the end of the bed, never going more than an arm’s reach away.
why did he come to yuri? he’d been on his own to deal with these feelings before.
the inn is shaking– no, it’s just Vivian who’s shaking, violently, shallow breaths turning to sobs. Yuri is there in an instant, arms around his shoulders, pulling him in. there’s a weight against his leg, a familiar sound telling him Repede had joined too– not a dog no, but a beloved companion none the less. vivian doesn’t know how long it takes for the shaking to subside, yuri doesn’t say anything to coax him into speaking, just lets him come back slowly.
Finally the fox’s sobs turn to hiccups, and he pulls away, scrubbing gloved hands over his face. he’s still in the loose clothes he uses for when he’s going on a raid, his head still feels like he’s underwater, but it’s less like he’s drowning now.
he knows why he came to Yuri– he knew. the wolf understood.
“ look at me. you’re gonna be okay. “ yuri says, a hand coming first to rest atop Vivian’s head before shifting instead to lay on a shoulder, grip firm, steady. reassuring. Yuri believes in him, understands that he falters, that he stumbles, but that he will dust himself off & continue on.
vivian lets out a sigh, the tension in his shoulders releasing, but he doesn’t shrink in on himself; he raises his head. he still has work to do before the night is over, he can’t rest now. Yuri knows that too, he sees it in the way Yuri gives him the smallest of smiles, a nod towards where mask lay on the bed.
“ i’ll see you for our sparring match, yeah. ” it’s all the fox says in response, fastening the mask back into place, orange curls tucked carefully back & pinned under the veil attached to the grinning face of wood.
@dolcetters stepped into the sun:
what is a sound you absolutely can’t stand?
IC Q & A WITH THE CURIOUS // ALWAYS ACCEPTING.
the questions have been easy enough to answer, but she hesitates on this one, her eyes becoming distant. sounds that annoyed her? oh there were plenty of them, but most she could still tolerate.
was there a sound she truly couldn’t stand?
yes, curiosity whispers in the depths of her mind; you remember. you know. the sound of a weapon being sharpened.
she’s never experienced fear before, hadn’t experienced it since. She’s shaking now, the memory plays out unbidden. it had been her first experience seeing the horrors humans could commit, how some enjoyed it. she hadn’t known.
the scene won’t stop, the details are fuzzier now, but that sound is clear, it lives in her memory. she clears her throat, blinking her eyes in quick succession as if that will banish it– it won’t, she knows.
“ train whistles. ” it’s the first thing she latches onto when searching for a response, anything but the one that plays in her mind on loop. a record stuck going round & round with only a portion producing sound. “ so many are high pitched, they really set my teeth on edge. ” she lies, wonders when she’d gotten so used to telling them.
probably around the time she’d begun to hate the sound of weapons being sharpened. it’s such a distinct sound, so unlike any other. it makes her stomach clench, but that’s silly isn’t it? she’s not human, dolls don’t have a need for fear, right?
that’s what she kept telling herself, anyway.
“ can’t stand train whistles, yeah. that’s why i avoid the stations. ”
@hylian-champion stepped into the sun: I know there’s like a ton of great songs coming from OoT but does Sheik ever doodle around and come up with original music too? c:
ASK ABOUT THE BOY / ALWAYS ACCEPTING.
He does ! Music is one of the few ‘non essential’ skills / hobbies Sheik keeps no matter the verse ! He’s got a preference for a pan flute over harp, but he’s versed in both.
it’s not unusual to find him playing around with original compositions in what downtime he has, usually when he’s tucked away in the stables with his mare ( Eira ).
he rarely plays original compositions for others, as he creates them mostly for himself / does not bother to write them down or remember them for long.
@wyrdify stepped into the light: “You know that you can just ask me to reach things for you, right?”
Keira hums, doing a little hop to get down off stool that allowed her access to the higher cabinets. much safer than the cabinets themselves, and less risk for her to get ‘stuck’ as she had before.
“ i do know, but i don’t want you to think i only keep you around to reach things. ” her reply is quick, stated simply as she comes to stand before Roy. She smiles up at him, before brows draw down. “ and in any case, you were napping when i came in here, i thought you should get more rest while you could. ” she worries for him, she knows him to be a capable man, and yet he seemed to ignore his own health more often than not.
humans were surprisingly stubborn creatures, weren’t they?
@apogeaned stepped into the sun: ‘there will always be another day’
The sun will rise again. spring will come. time & time & time again, they persevere no matter what the world throws at them.
she just wished it didn’t have such good aim.
Carver had gotten sick, a rarity really; Carver was more injury prone of the bunch, but rarely got sick… But where one child got sick, that inevitably meant Waylan would too.
Carver got better so quick, barely a day of a fever, and then he was up & helping with the homestead again– but Waylan, oh she winced at the memory of his wheezing cough as her mother wiped sweat from his brow once again.
Wayu felt helpless.
It was market day, Waylan’s favorite day; merchants and tradesmen pulled out their best wares to show, and he’d spend his hard earned coin ( and sometimes some of Wayu’s ) to buy a new picture book or bit of wood to carve.
She fiddles with her coinpurse, looking anywhere but her father. her eyes burned, must be a bit of dust in them. So many in the village whispered behind their hands at the attachment she had to her twin, the protectiveness she’d always shown. fussing with his clothes & quick to grab him if he wandered too far– that was her job, to keep him safe, and never let anyone realize that he had the touch of magic. He didn’t leave the house if one of them wasn’t with him.
Malcolm’s hand is gentle at her cheek, a quiet hum encouraging her to look up even as he wiped at the frustrated tears that left tracks through the fine coating of dust & dirt on his eldest child’s face.
“ there will always be another day, bug– But i know your brother wouldn’t want you to miss the market just because he’s sick. ” she knows he’s right, in that way he always seems to be. He shoos her off towards where carver waits at the bottom of the hill. She hesitates, but goes finally.
She buys a pretty glass bauble that looks like a bird, and leaves it on waylan’s pillow– sneaking it there when she thinks her parents aren’t watching, since she wasn’t supposed to be around when Waylan was resting.
@dolcetters stepped into the sun: // my favorite muse is, obviously, keira, because not only are they just a super cool spin/concept on the idea of a homunculus but also their interactions with dol ALWAYS delight me and make me smile and i’m so grateful to have this lil siblingship between the two of them. ;-; they both need and deserve some security and love, and someone who understands the non-humanity of it all.
listen, listen, i love this & i love our beans. seriously, these siblings deserve security and love, and yknow, maybe to not have to be on the run, but it’s fine, they can be non human outcasts together!!!
@dolcetters stepped into the sun: what’s your favorite meal out of the three mains? breakfast, lunch or dinner?
Q&A WITH KEIRA / ALWAYS ACCEPTING.
favorite meal out of the three mains? she cringes a bit at the question, picking nervously at the hem of her vest. is that a loose button? she’ll have to repair that later. can’t look out of place, no no.
Pretend, paint a mask on your face, wear it until you forget it.
she clears her throat, another learned behavior ( if it was learned, why did it feel like something was stuck in her throat whenever someone asked her basic questions any ordinary person should be able to answer easily? ). she hums to cover it, latching to the first answer she could;
“ Breakfast is my favorite, best way to start the day off on the right foot, don’t you think? ”
deflect, that’s what she’s good at. they didn’t need to know food was tasteless, that eating did nothing but remind her that no matter how she pretended, she wasn’t mortal, she wasn’t human.
@dolcetters stepped into the sun: is there anything you collect or horde like some kind of ancient dragon?
Q&A WITH KEIRA ( ALWAYS ACCEPTING ).
hoarding… like some ancient… dragon? was there something like that? the first thing to come to mind was knowledge, but that wasn’t really a collection of a thing, was it?
she puzzles over this question for a few minutes– one could say she collected books, but as soon as she finished reading them, she returned them or sold them. again, not a collection made.
digging around in her suitcase, she hums for a moment before producing a carefully wrapped bundle, setting it on the table.
“there’s these, i think they count– I get one from every place i go to.” Keira hesitates for a moment before unwrapping the mysterious bundle; postcards, a stack of them as thick as any chapter book she’s ever read. the cards at the bottom of the stack have worn edges & seem very old indeed, while those close to the top are shiny & new.
“ I think my favorite one though, is the one i got from Rush Valley… it’s like, no matter where i go, or if i never make it back to that place again, i take a piece of it with me wherever i go, y’know? ”
@autumnswordsman stepped into the sun: “The sun isn’t rising anytime soon, you know.”
LATE NIGHT WANDERINGS / ACCEPTING.
the beach always reminds andesha of his mother; she’d always insisted on coming out during the cold months, when others would stay tucked away in their homes. andesha had taken to doing it himself now, a peace to be found in the shadow of the lighthouse.
she used to stand on the beach & tell him of shifters, great big creatures that could swallow merchant ships in one go, or little ones that might fit in the palm of your hand. she always cautioned him, her adventurous little child who came back to her with shells tucked into his pockets; “never disrespect the kings and queens of the waves, they’ll never forgive it.”
he never did learn what she meant, nor how she knew.
he doesn’t come as often anymore, never has the time during the day, yet he tries, in the winter months, bundled in layers of patched clothing. he sits, watching the horizon, tracing the stars he knows the name of, mouthing them to himself in the quiet night.
the sound of the waves fill in the silence, he doesn’t remember what his own voice sounds like anymore, he imagines it would have changed as he grew, ike that of his friends.
he’s encountered the lighthouse keeper once or twice before, always from a distance– andesha remained distant from everyone. cold-aching hands work themselves from the depths of his coat to form a proper response. slow & clumsy where usually they were adept & nimble, too fast for most to keep up with.
“ i know, but it’s not often i get a chance to see the stars anymore. ” he wonders if the other means to shoo him from the beach, or simple means to remind him that the night will only get cooler.
@deathleads stepped into the sun: The alchemist has snuck up behind the other and placed a soft looking purple petunia in the plait of her hair. “ There, it looks just lovely on you!”
preoccupied with another work in progress, Keira has left this planet, journeyed to one full of focus, hands that never tremble, ink stains on her sleeves, but never on the paper she writes upon. this book had been a bad sight when she’d bought it– tragic, how humans seemed to toss away things that were imperfect.
didn’t they realize that perfection was stagnant, unchanging, never able to change? where was the beauty in that?
green eyes lift from her work at the touch of treasured companion, blinking once-twice-thrice, back into focus, crashing back to this world keira comes– a bare hand comes up to touch the petals nestled into dark strands. she smiles brightly, letting hand drop back to rest in her lap. “truly? well i leave such things to those with more experience!”
“ a woman told me once, that purple flowers mean mystery, and enchantment– did you know that, my lady? ”
@apogeaned stepped into the sun: Nyx cups Erebus carefully in her hands. He weighs no more than perhaps a blackhole early in its life might to her. “Hello, my love.” She greets, raising her other half to her eye level. “You must have worn yourself out yesterday yelling at Lord Hades… a conversation for another time.” with the warning of a later conversation Nyx presses a kiss to Erebus’ head and tucked him away on her shoulder where he could doze under the curve of her shoulder plate.
it’s always a rough transition, one would think that dear Erebus would have learned his limits by now, yet here he is stuck– little more than a ball of darkness in the hand of dear mother Night. He feels the weight of that warning, a sigh escaping the little lord of darkness; he knows it frustrates her, his eternal struggle with the Lord of the House.
He remembers a time when the gods were new, young little traitors begging for boons. he remembers an altar made of titan bones, where his mantle was more than a jeweled cape. He knows poor little Hades had not been meant for this– yet there’s still so much anger inside Erebus’ bones– bent & molded into a cage.
He keeps chaos within his breast, and it takes a toll. he thinks Hades knows this better than Nyx does– has seen the glint of understanding in rare moments of peace. they’ll never speak of it.
tucked away safely, erebus is relieved to be in this form; he’ll bring her no trouble with the lord of the house like this– or at least, no more than usual. he’ll be back to a proper form in time, and the cycle will repeat until it is time for him to once again play part of warden.
“ he’s an ungrateful child, and i have little clue what you see in him. ”
@cavaliiere stepped into the sun: “ Could I interest you in a cup of coffee? A gesture of thanks for helping me with my sister’s birthday present. ”
he’s a good sort of person, keira had already decided; a kind brother who cared about the interests of his sister, about the opinion of a book store attendant– she had met her fair share of people over the years, so she liked to think herself a decent judge of character, where instincts came into play.
she is surprised, to see him approach her again! she blinks, entirely caught off guard for a moment– how odd she must look, staring at him like an owl– but she snaps herself out of it, offering him a smile.
“ coffee, hm? ” Keira muses, eyeing him over. “I’d love to, if you’re willing– or have the time, to wait for me to finish putting these books where they belong.” she gestures to the small stack of volumes sitting on the counter– it won’t take long, and she finds herself energized at the thought of getting out of the shop for a bit.
@wyrdify stepped into the sun: 😚 Kiss my muse on the cheek
they’ve been at this for a bit now, their back & forth– it’s easy, and gentle, something that sits in her chest & makes her feel warm. She’s teaching him a new recipe, finding comfort in working with her hands, teaching– she’s mentioned once or twice to Roy, about becoming a tutor– he’s been supportive of her goals to buy the bookstore from the owner.
She thinks maybe her simple dreams are comforting to him, refreshing when he lives in a world of politics & intrigue. she worries for him, about the way sometimes his eyes are distant, haunted. She never asks, just draws him back to the now with silly stories, gentle touches.
she’s seen her share of haunted people.
“– then you let it come to a boil, put a lid on it, and let it sit a bit to thicken. it’s a simple soup, but it’s filling.” she concludes, setting the lid on the pot & moving to wipe her hands. Roy’s been quiet today, so she’s filled the silence with tales of odd requests she’s gotten at the store, new book binding techniques she learned from her last trip.
she’s startled when he leans down to kiss her cheek, and she curses herself for it– for how she blushed & stuttered over her words.
Keira can’t however, curse him for it entirely, not when he smiles & it’s like a shot to her heart. “ you think you’re so clever– don’t get fresh with the cook, good sir! ”
he gets a lighthearted swat with the towel in her hands, for his troubles, but it makes the kitchen feel a bit more like a home.
@dolcetters stepped into the sun: 🙄 Roll their eyes at my muse
if you asked Keira what drew her to Dol, she’d have a hard time putting it into words; he wasn’t the easiest person to get along with, but there was a certain sense of kinship towards him, on her end. She forgot how lonely she was, around him– even if they just sat in silence.
this was not one of those times, however; she doesn’t really remember the full course of things, how it had turned into a game of seeing who could move what… They hadn’t really talked about it, but keira knew he had already figured out something about her was different. she’d stop really hiding it pretty quickly– and really, she’d always been a little odd.
“ that’s it, i give, you win, i don’t wanna try to move anything anymore, i’ve learned my lesson.” curiosity had grown bored with this game, and she could practically feel the force of his eyeroll from where he sat.
“ will you help me reach the bowls so i can make some cookies? i don’t wanna get stuck on the counter.” the unspoken ‘again’ rings clear. funny how much she liked to bake, when she really didn’t eat any of it.
it still tasted like nothing to her, but the act of making things soothed an ache she couldn’t name.
“ stop laughing at me, you’re not much taller than me! ” it only seemed to make him laugh more.
@cromwellharvests stepped into the sun: [ smile ] for your muse to smile at mine from across the room
NONVERBAL V1 / ACCEPTING.
they’d been working amidst the shelves of the dusty little bookshop for hours now; people had come & gone looking for the Alchemist to get her consultation, while Keira had worked at collecting the research materials they had made a list of– others Keira thought might help too, were set aside in a neat stack.
Keira had long since finished, sitting at the table in the front area with the notes of her creation spread out; old, weathered pages with fading ink that she was diligently copying into a carefully bound book of her own hand; the front page read ‘the fairy house, a fairy tale by Li Wei’; notes hidden in the depths of a child’s story, how utterly fitting.
As the last person leaves, it seems Easy is finally allowed to rest, and as she escorts the visitor out, locking the door behind them, Keira catches her eye– And there, that smile that reminds the homunculi of summer, of the first taste of a fresh strawberry, of the feeling of sun on her skin.
“ my my, seems you’re popular today– though i can’t complain, i might even get a few new customers, judging by the sales i made today while they waited for you to be available. ”
if Easy was summer, Keira thought herself winter, not dead, not frigid, but a time of rest, of preparation for what would come again– things just below the surface.
a spirit stepped into the sun: is there a reason keira’s so short? canonly, i mean?
curious anons // always accepting.
Yes Actually; though i’m not sure if i’ll add it into the fma verse / if the logic works for that universe as well, but the short answer is– smaller form equals less materials required to create her!
the lengthy answer is that when Kaitlyn & Li Wei created her, they also had to take into account the amount of ‘magical’ energy would be required from them both, to animate her initially— a smaller form means less energy required from the two of them ( and even so, Li Wei was never able to do ‘magic’ or mana exchanges again, after Keira was animated ).
Another set of things to factor in, is that Keira’s original form was essentially a life-sized ‘doll’ created in the image of Kaitlyn, and designed to give the homunculus a ‘human-like’ appearance, as they were not sure just how the being would act / if it would be able to adjust it’s form at all.
Plus, 5′2 is not all that uncommon a height for a ‘young woman’, and Kaitlyn herself was only 5′5, at 32 ( the age she was when Keira was ‘born’ ).
A SPIRIT STEPPED INTO THE SUN: Keira? what does a monster like you, need with a human name? why pretend to be a human, everyone can see you’re different.
developmental anons??? i guess?
“nothing is born a monster; we are born from monstrous situations, from monster’s make, and yet that does not make us so… But then, what would you consider a monster? a woman who pursues knowledge without boundaries? perhaps it is the man who seeks a power he does not possess? is the child who’s cries disturb the rest of it’s mother, a monster? I think not, and yet to some, all these examples & more are monstrous.
Am I a monster, for my curiousity? for wanting to Know, to see, to touch? Should i be Chastened to keep my hands to myself? be a demure little child with my eyes rooted firmly on the ground at my feet?
Further— you dare to think i want to be like the rest; human, ‘monster’, it matters not, being different is as much a part of me as the precious stones and petals that first gave me life; I am what I am, I think Therefore I am, and all that. ”
@deathleads stepped into the sun: ♦️♦️
1. after getting to know Chrissy a bit, i have this little thing in the back of my mind that says Chrissy & Keira definitely have a standing tea-luncheon ‘date’ whenever they’re in the same place. that’s just. a thing.
2. if chrissy is otherwise occupied, Keira will absolutely just go ‘nap’ with her chimera– which essentially ends with keira staring at the ceiling while petting the floof, because sleeps is a cruel mistress who wants nothing to do with Keira.
@wyrdify stepped into the sun: ♦️♦️
KEIRA & ROY:
Keira will eventually get to the point where she’ll put the faintest touch of her perfume on the collar of Roy’s shirt– it’s not an overpowering scent to begin with, but it is something very distinctly ‘Her’– it’s a small touch, but one she thinks might help soothe him through the day, or at least give him something to think about on breaks.
JAMIE & ROY:
Even though Jamie really only encounters Roy & Riza ( specifically in regards to Roy’s car needing repaired ), he makes a point to learn about all of Team Mustang, and even asks Roy about them when they’re out & about. Jamie’s also definitely delivered ‘care packages’ from his home & kin, to Team Mustang because Mama Kaldrin is happy her ‘baby’ has ‘friends’.
@zelotae stepped into the sun: ♦️ for Desh :3c
1. Zelos is a big reason why Andesha has become less wary / aggressive towards those who use magic, specifically healing magic. Whether or not Zelos realized, or even meant to do it, he essentially showed Andesha it’s more of a tool than a weapon.
2. Part of the reason Andesha & Zelos do potentially / eventually ( depending on the verse ) ‘work well’ at least as ‘friends’, is because for all andesha is a healer, a doctor– he acknowledges that zelos is fucked up & so is he, but he’s not trying to ‘fix’ him, just like he doesn’t expect zelos to try & ‘fix’ him.