Greenie: Your muse becomes very mischievous for (Anon specifies time)
Slammer: Your muse has a very short temper...and when they snap they start breaking things. This lasts for 6 hours.
Hider: Your muse now thinks they are playing a game of hide and seek with everyone. They will hide from everyone and when found they will run away to another hiding spot for 6 hours.
Gobber: Your muse will try to eat every bit of food they see... they can't get full... This lasts for (Anon specifies time)
Sneaker: Your muse will now try to surprise everyone they meet in order to get a startled reaction and after that they will try startle them, again and again in various ways. This will last till (Anon specifies time)
Creeper: Your muse now will hide from everyone they meet and then hug them non stop when they notice someone... The only problem... your muse won't let go of the person they're hugging. This lasts for 8 hours.
Boos: Your muse now has to come up with a Boo related pun in their ask box for 24 hours.
King Boo: Your muse now has the ability to create illusions...They can put people in them and have full control over everything...They can use it as much as they want... But everytime they put someone in an illusion they start to slowly, slowly lose their sanity. This lasts till (Anon specifies time)
Mario: Oh no! Your muse has turned into a painting! Your muse can still see everything around them and can still use a phone (If they possess one) But someone else has to free them from this prison. Lasts till the muse is freed.
I SEE THAT YOU’VE TAKEN A LIKING TO MY MUSIC
Yes. Researching music is something that I like to do in my spare time! IF YOU’D LIKE, I CAN MAKE YOU A YUAN PLAYLIST?
THIS BLOG IS AT 505 FOLLOWERS
OH MY GOODNESS. THAT’S HALF A THOUSAND…(APPROXIMATELY) I…I DON’T KNOW WHAT TO SAY.
But seriously guys, thank you all so much for following me after so long. It really means a lot despite my…slowness and what not.
sdfnrekjnhtrh
not good with long thank yous.
please know that it really really means a lot. like really really
i just..ergmlkhtrth
SO HOW SHOULD WE CELEBRATE?! LEAVE SOMETHING IN THE ASK BOX, YEAH?!
iniquitousideals needs to inquire something.dwarven-vow needs to inquire something.revereignition needs to inquire something.holysong needs to inquire something.flowering-mizuho needs to inquire something.wittyresponsecoming needs to inquire something.materialblades needs to inquire something.thepimpplan needs to inquire something.aspiringknight needs to inquire something.promisemaker needs to inquire something.ladygrune needs to inquire something.
“Ah, hello. I hadn’t noticed you were there. Did you need something of me?”
Lloyd had entered the familiar doors of the Iselia’s school in hopes of running into a certain half-elf teacher…the only half-elf teacher. The school hours had been over, but he decided it’d be nice to visit the place anyway. For sentimental reasons.
The sound of his boots on the wooden floor had overwhelmed him with a rather large feeling of nostalgia. He could remember running through these halls whenever he was late to class, praying to some higher being that the Professor would miss when she threw her piece of chalk.
He laughed at the memories, but to be honest, they weren’t at all pleasant. (Those things would leave marks!)
He popped his head into the classroom and found her, wrapped in whatever it was that she was doing. She didn’t even notice him walk in!
“And you scolded me for not paying attention,” Lloyd teased, walking into the classroom. He approached her with a huge grin on his face. Nothing made him happier than seeing an old friend.
“It’s been a while.”
“Bear with it, I’m almost done,” Lloyd replied gently, despite her protest. He had only gotten through the first few inches of the injury; it was far from enough. “Just a little longer.”
Though, to see Hisca in such agony…it definitely made it difficult to continue. He tightened his grip around her arm to restrict her movement and moved to finish disinfecting the wound, working diligently to get the whole thing over with. He didn’t want her to suffer more than she had to.
It took a while to finish, but it didn’t take nearly as long as when she did the same for him (he didn’t know if it was because she was better at it or the gash was just bigger…or both).
“There,” he announced, wiping the sweat off of his brow, releasing her arm at last. “I’m not any good at stitching or healing artes, so this is the best I can do.” He paused for a moment. “…I’m sorry about earlier. I shouldn’t have yelled at you like that. I just let my emotions get the best of me and I just…I’m sorry.”
He suddenly was reminded of a certain blonde angel who had said her fair share of apologies…and then some.
Lloyd didn’t stop, only held tighter. Trapped her there, because if she wrenched away she’d only hurt herself. Hisca stopped moving, nearly stopped breathing, and had to look at Lloyd’s hand to reassure herself he was holding with fingers and not fangs. She had half a mind to try to shove him off, shove him back, get him away; but she couldn’t hurt Lloyd. She’d already put him through hell today, there was no need to do it a second time.
He wasn’t hurting her because he wanted to, after all. Lambert might not have been purposeful, either, but that was a thought Hisca cut off before it could flourish. This was different. It was necessary.
Hisca rested her forehead against her free hand, palm pressed against her eye. She stayed like that and breathed quickly through her mouth, enduring, since that was the best thing she could come up with.
When Lloyd’s grip sprang open, Hisca was so shocked she almost fell backwards. The tension she’d built up was enough to make her jolt a bit, pulling all the way free with friction. In an instant, she held her arm against her chest where it was safe and watched Lloyd with wide-eyes.
He was speaking, his tone subdued and laced with something melancholy. It took Hisca longer than it should have to process his words — she absorbed his apology like a sponge and found she had no idea what to do with it.
She was sorry too, she knew, but she couldn’t seem to form the words. Words felt heavy on her tongue; she’d was clumsy with them like this. Actions spoke louder, it was said, so Hisca reached out with her free hand and settled her palm atop Lloyd’s knee, leaning heavily.
“S’fine,” she managed after a moment, wincing at the pain-tinged slur her words were reduced to. Her voice didn’t sound like her own. There was nothing ‘fine’ about their situation. But she didn’t want Lloyd to sound so sad and she didn’t want him to look like he had an invisible weight bowing his battered back.
“I…” Hisca sighed, ribcage shuddering on the exhale. ‘Sorry’ should have been an easy word to say. The ‘S’ would scrape out against chapped lips and the rest of the word would creak through too, but she should’ve been able to say it.
“I’m tired.”
And as soon as she said that, she wished she hadn’t, because sleep meant dreams and dreams meant she was going to have to spill everything.
Lloyd looked her straight in the eyes. The look on his face read something along the lines of ‘Hisca, I know you’re just trying to dodge me’. She was like an open book. There was something that she wasn’t telling him and he knew it, but whether or not she would tell him was not his choice. Instead, he went along with her convenient subject change.
“Right,” he agreed, as he stood upwards. He attempted to stretch, but he remembered that the stitches would undo themselves if he wasn’t careful. “It’s late and we had one hell of a day. Let’s get some rest.” He lumbered over to his bed, sat on it, let out a yawn, and laid his head on the pillow.
He turned his head to the side, so that he was facing her.
“Thanks again,” Lloyd said warmly. “I owe you one.” With that, he turned back over and fell asleep a few moments later.
Things between the two remained…incredibly awkward, but hopefully it would clear up come the next morning. However, little did he know, things would ‘clear up’ a little sooner.
He watched the color drain from her face and something told him it wasn’t from the blood loss.
“What’s the big deal? Just give me your arm. I’ll be careful, I promise.”
She awkwardly fumbled her words. What in the world had gotten into her? All he was going to do was properly treat the wound, like she did for him. He owed her that much.
Carefully, he took her arm and examined the damage. He slightly frowned, it was a lot worse than he imagined. It seemed if the gash were any deeper, he probably would have seen the white of the bone.
Mimicking Hisca, he took a clean wash cloth and soaked it in warm, soapy water and brought it to her arm. Diligently, he scrubbed away the dried blood and ash that had caked itself onto her skin until all that was left to deal with was the open wound.
But something out of the ordinary caught his eye.
On her forearm were something that resembled…bite marks. It wasn’t a new wound, that much was clear. None of the knights had weapons that could make such a pattern on her skin and it didn’t look like it was a burn either. However, it was because of those things that it reopened once again.
“Hisca…” Lloyd almost whispered, his brown eyes coming up to her’s, though, they had failed to make contact. Her eyes were elsewhere. They wanted to look at anything but the arm he was holding. Could it be that this was the reason she was acting so strange earlier?
He’d save that for later. He had to disinfect her arm as soon as possible.
“I’m going to use the antiseptic now.” He said, switching out the cloth. Without another word, he went straight to work, trying as best he could to copy what she had done for him.
Hisca didn’t have a way to tell Lloyd it was a big deal, so she took a breath and held it.
And held it.
Her eyes flickered up to Lloyd, down to his hands, and across her forearm. Hisca watched, reassuring herself that she was fine and a soapy cloth was about as far from a demon dog you could get. She barely noticed Lloyd’s soft utterance of her name; she was afraid if she opened her mouth to talk, she’d scream instead. The first step of the process was over quickly enough, and with minimal discomfort.
The antiseptic however, was something of a different caliber. When Lloyd reached for that, Hisca closed her fist tight and went rigid all over. Her tired muscles froze; she barely blinked.
The antiseptic smell seemed so much stronger when it was directed towards her; the scent seared up her nose as it seared away infection on her arm. It was strong and sharp as it bit into her skin, the feeling like tiny teeth.
Hisca tried to head off that train of thought, but the notion was enough to make her jerk her arm in Lloyd’s grip. The needle-like pain in her arm was too vivid a feeling; her pulse skyrocketed and her vision fuzzed for a fraction of a second. It was too much; she thought she might be sick.
“That’s enough, Lloyd,” she said, and tasted the lie as it rolled off her tongue. She spoke what felt like loudly. “That’s fine. I’ll be fine; you can stop.”
Hisca’s shoulders dropped forward; she braced her free elbow against her thigh and let her head drop against her palm. Cold sweat broke across the back of her neck and her forehead.
This was what she got for being a haphazard brigade leader; they’d gotten lucky, she was beginning to think. They were lucky to escape with cuts and scrapes and burns. They still had their limbs and their lives, but only just.
“Lloyd,” Hisca’s voice was breathy and weak. It was the best she could manage, and she hoped he’d understand.
“Bear with it, I’m almost done,” Lloyd replied gently, despite her protest. He had only gotten through the first few inches of the injury; it was far from enough. “Just a little longer.”
Though, to see Hisca in such agony…it definitely made it difficult to continue. He tightened his grip around her arm to restrict her movement and moved to finish disinfecting the wound, working diligently to get the whole thing over with. He didn’t want her to suffer more than she had to.
It took a while to finish, but it didn’t take nearly as long as when she did the same for him (he didn’t know if it was because she was better at it or the gash was just bigger…or both).
“There,” he announced, wiping the sweat off of his brow, releasing her arm at last. “I’m not any good at stitching or healing artes, so this is the best I can do.” He paused for a moment. “…I’m sorry about earlier. I shouldn’t have yelled at you like that. I just let my emotions get the best of me and I just…I’m sorry.”
He suddenly was reminded of a certain blonde angel who had said her fair share of apologies…and then some.
