Yanadere

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To Hold Back The Dark

People are still alive? jkjk I can conjure up a reply some time today when I have time

New Horizons (BunniesofDoomxHyliaIncarnate)

bumping!

A Veil of Lies

"Oh, I'm alright, thank you." Eryn inclined his head slightly toward Azariah. His hand found the other’s arm, giving it a gentle squeeze as they both turned their attention to his sister. A smile tugged at his lips at the proud warmth in Azariah’s voice, the way he spoke of her as though she were his own child. It was disarmingly endearing.

While the blanket was being arranged, Eryn claimed the task of observing their surroundings.

The countryside spread out in a gentle sprawl of green, dappled with wildflowers that tilted lazily toward the sun. Grasses bowed in the breeze, their whisper mingling with the distant chirrup of birds hidden in the hedgerows. Butterflies drifted like flecks of paint on the air, while bees hummed industriously among blossoms. A narrow path meandered through it all, worn smooth by shepherds and townsfolk alike. Its earthen track was framed with moss and clover, softened where nature pressed close but never overtook it. The road did not feel abandoned but cherished — a ribbon of earth leading travelers onward through a land that breathed peace.

Eryn let himself breathe too, though the corset clamped his ribs like a vise. He settled onto the blanket, choosing shade for his shoulders but sunlight for his legs. For a fleeting moment, he longed to sprawl out, to soak in the warmth, but proper ladies did not sprawl. With a stifled huff, he crossed his ankles neatly and folded his hands, listening as Azariah spoke fondly of his family.

Envy pricked at his sides. Azariah’s closeness with his kin was something Eryn had never known; his own ties to father and stepmother were more strained than his corset’s laces. Still, he nodded along, tucking away details as each family member was introduced — though he couldn’t help an amused wince at mention of the crotchety grandfather who delighted in meddling.

When Orianne approached with a platter, Eryn perked instantly at the sight of fresh vegetables. His mouth watered as she drew nearer, though a brush to his arm pulled him back from his hungry reverie. He smiled sheepishly and nodded.

"Oh yes, I’m not too picky. I’ll take whatever you give me. Though, I do like a good white."

Without thinking, he returned the touch to Azariah’s leg with the back of his hand.

If Azariah was salivating over meat, Eryn was no better with greens. He plucked a small carrot and popped it into his mouth — only to freeze as Orianne introduced herself. Mortification prickled as he chewed hastily, forcing down the bite before bowing his head.

"I do remember you," he said earnestly. "I was just telling Azariah how alike you looked at the ceremony. You were wonderful."

Given a plate, Eryn served himself modest portions of broccoli, cauliflower, and salad, leaving space for the meat Azariah promised to fetch.

When Orianne asked after him, he blinked, caught off guard. He considered honesty — and decided on it. Far better than he could have imagined, though he reminded himself there was still an end goal to all this. He couldn’t let comfort lure him too deep.

"Your brother has been very kind to me so far," he said softly, nudging a carrot across his plate with his fork. "We’ve not had much time together, but he does his best to make me feel welcome and looked after. It’s… very refreshing."

His gaze drifted toward Azariah, a smile flickering before caution tugged it back down. He turned instead to Orianne, his voice quiet but steady.

"I couldn’t ask for a better match from Liraen herself."

New Horizons (BunniesofDoomxHyliaIncarnate)

Adelia blinked at him, forcing her features into something neutral and steady, but her mind raced too quickly to pin down a convincing excuse. She wasn’t supposed to say things like that. Not as her.

For half a heartbeat, she thought of laughing it off, teasing him, twisting it into some jest about sleepwalking or his own dreams. But the way he was staring at her as if he could peel back her armor and see the girl beneath—it made her chest tighten. "You misheard me,” she said at last and too quickly, the words tumbling with a stiffness that betrayed her. She bent to scoop up one of his fallen bundles, grateful to busy her hands with something, anything. “You’re overtired, Princess. Been listening to merchants haggle for hours. It’s enough to drive anyone half-mad.”

Her voice tried for cool, practiced calm, but her pulse thudded hot against her throat. Her fingers tightened around the parcel she had lifted, knuckles whitening beneath the leather of her gloves. The weight was insignificant compared to the pressure of his eyes on her. She didn’t even have to look up to feel it, the way he bore down on her with that sharp, questioning gaze. "We should get your things inside and prepare you for dinner."

New Horizons (BunniesofDoomxHyliaIncarnate)

Adelia had only meant to play the part of a lady knight. Keep close, offer protection, look the part of the dutiful knight escorting their royal charge and that had been the original plan. But..She hadn’t expected to care for Eliot. At least, not like this. Like they had known each other for years and somehow feelings were threatening to bubble. She had only known him for a short few hours! But watching Eliot struggle under the mountain of merchant gifts, watching him sheepishly apologize to the older woman with no free hand for her offering, something deep in her foreign and familiar all at once twinged at her heartstrings.

Maybe it was the role she was meant to play. Maybe it was just easier to fall into it than resist it now. She fell into step beside him without needing to think about it. Once, she’d walked beside him to maintain the illusion of protection. To keep appearances. But now it felt like muscle memory. It felt natural.

The path back to the castle stretched before them, winding like a ribbon of sunlight through the bustling market. Eliot’s laughter still lingered in the air, warm and genuine as he adjusted the bundle in his arms for the third or fourth time. She could hear the murmur of the crowd beginning to fade behind them, replaced by the soft rustle of leaves and the distant clatter of hooves on stone.

Adelia walked just half a step ahead of him, her gaze flitting over the edges of roofs and treetops. Ever the watchful knight—though more out of habit now than obligation. Her arms ached from the load, but she didn’t complain. This body was stronger than hers ever was. It carried the weight easily. It was a strange thing, how natural this all felt now. The weight of armor that no longer felt foreign. The rhythm of walking beside him, always matching his step. The way his voice had started to settle in her head like a tune she’d always known. “I hope I remember a little bit of this when I wake up,” she said suddenly, the words tumbling out before she could catch them.

Adelia laughed, brushing a lock of windblown hair behind her ear as if it were nothing. “Telling you I saw a Princess Eliot in my dream is going to make you laugh, I just know it.” She glanced away quickly, busying herself with adjusting the leather strap of the parcel slung over her shoulder. “Ah..Never mind. Ignore me,” she said with a breath of a laugh. “That sun’s baking my brain. I’m clearly hallucinating from too much charm and not enough water.” But honestly? She didn’t want to forget. Not the market, not the laughter, especially not the way his arm had hooked around hers when that noble had gotten too close. Was there a way to commit an entire dream to memory?

A Veil of Lies

He had prepared for a husband who would leer, or gloat, or seek to prove something behind closed doors. Instead, Azariah had offered him a cloak folded with care and words tempered with consideration. It threw him off-balance, as did the roguish smile and the unspoken permission to rest. How many times had he been told to harden himself, to expect cruelty and manipulation in courtship especially in political marriage that he knew would be shortly lived?

Yet here he was, presented with something bordering on..kindness.

He accepted the cloak silently, folding it beneath his head as he shifted to lean into Azariah’s side. With his gloves tucked away, he let his hands fall idle in his lap, but it was Azariah’s fingertips, gentle and curious against his own, that made his breath catch. He hadn’t expected to be touched like that—slow, reverent, like he was something worth unraveling. It was a dangerous kind of attention, the kind that threatened to see too much. That threatened to make him want more.

A part of him panicked. The soft pad of Azariah’s thumb against his knuckles made him feel exposed. Vulnerable. And yet he didn’t pull away. Azariah must’ve sensed something shift. He pulled back with an easy smile, apologetic and teasing all at once. Eryndor let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, trying to mask it as a sigh of tiredness.

He didn’t speak, only gave a small nod as he allowed his body to soften further into the bench seat. He rested his head lightly where the cloak had been placed, letting the warmth of Azariah beside him settle like a protective weight. There was no spell to keep him safe here. No blade hidden under his skirts(though that was a good idea for later if he was separated from his husband for longer than necessary). Just trust and a tenuous, frightening bond he hadn’t asked for.

Still, he let sleep take him.

He dreamt of his siblings. Not the ones who lived, but the ones who didn’t. The brother whose name was no longer spoken. The sister born too early, too fragile for the world. He dreamt of the sea, of black stones beneath his feet and a tide that dragged him forward, forward, until—

A hand on his shoulder stirred him. His lashes fluttered open slowly. Eryn. Her name again. How many times could someone say it before he remembered to answer to it?

The carriage had stopped. He could feel the shift of the wheel beneath them, the breeze curling through the window and brushing over his exposed forearms. Eryndor nodded, sleep still clinging to his limbs. He pushed himself upright, brushing hair from his cheek and quickly glancing down to make sure the kohl hadn’t smeared, again.

His voice came soft, unguarded. “Thank you for the cloak.” He met Azariah's eyes for a moment, the corner of his eyes crinkling with a soft smile. He let his hand linger a moment longer before slipping away to step outside.

The air outside the carriage was mild, laced with a grassy scent from the nearby field, the sun a gentle weight against his shoulders. Eryndor stepped out with practiced grace, skirts gathered lightly in one hand, the other resting along the edge of the doorframe. The shift in temperature was a small relief after the closeness of the carriage. Still, he lingered near it rather than stepping too far.

He left his gloves behind, deliberately forgotten on the bench where he’d sat. It wasn’t a statement, exactly, more a quiet rebellion. The fabric had started to feel suffocating, not just in texture but in what it represented. Eryndor had worn gloves every day since his arrival in Delicana, had allowed them to become part of the illusion. But perhaps, if Azariah was going to touch his hands like that.. perhaps it didn’t matter so much if they were seen.

He stood still by the carriage steps, hands folded gently in front of him, posture straight, calm. A painted lady waiting for her cue. He had no desire to wander or make conversation with the small number of retainers who’d already begun to unpack food and supplies from a secondary cart. Let the others do as they pleased. He waited.

Waited for him.

Eryndor wouldn’t admit how often his gaze flicked toward the carriage door, how carefully he listened for footsteps. It was ridiculous. They had barely spent a full day as husband and wife. This—whatever this was—was likely temporary. It had to be.

Still, something warm coiled in his chest when he finally caught sight of him.

But it was not Azariah who drew his focus next, it was the woman standing nearby, conversing with a servant in relaxed tones, her hands moving animatedly as she spoke.

And her face, that was what drew his attention. Strong brow, clever eyes, the same dark lashes and bone structure as her brother. It clicked into place before Eryndor was even aware he was speaking. “Is she your sister?” he asked, the words quiet as a breeze, his head tilted toward the young woman. He glanced sidelong at Azariah, noting again the shared lines of their jaw, the familiar way they moved both proud and self-assured, though the sister carried it with a softer kind of dignity.

“She performed Solvya’s Oath during our wedding,” Eryndor added, turning his eyes back toward Orianne now that the memory had settled fully into place. “I thought she looked familiar. Though I suppose I was..distracted.” He didn’t say nervous, or terrified, or reeling. But that had been the truth of it. The ceremony had been beautiful, yes, but also binding. Sacred. A ritual that changed everything.

He wet his lips and folded his arms, slender fingers curling lightly around his elbows. “She looked steady, then. And kind. You must be proud.” The last part wasn’t performative. It was quiet and sincere. The sort of thing one might say to keep the conversation polite, but Eryn meant it, and that surprised him too.

He didn’t ask if Azariah had other siblings. He didn’t press, but a part of him, that same flickering ember that dared to feel safe in a borrowed cloak, burned softly with the desire to know. To belong. To matter, even if only briefly.

To Hold Back The Dark

Oooooooooooo

To Hold Back The Dark

. . . ╰──╮Kaiji Serelith╭──╯ . . .

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Location: Dogfall Interactions: @OliveYou

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There was a moment when Kaiji saw the light return to Hwei’s eyes, and for the first time tonight, he frowned. The muttered command had sunk into the monk’s soul like a fang into flesh, and for a breath, it had nearly taken. Kaiji had seen it before, mighty warriors crumble beneath their own memories, paralyzed by the voice that knew where to cut deepest. But not this one.

The warmth shifted. No, rather, ignited. From stillness, from weakness, came fury.

Kaiji’s eyes narrowed as Hwei’s body lifted, not with earthly strength but divine will. The Spirit Arms burst into being like flares in the void, radiant appendages trailing firelight. The Grim hounds barely had time to yelp before two were annihilated beneath holy fists, their bones shattering like glass, ichor sprayed across the stones.

He really is going to be a problem, Kaiji thought with sharp amusement. The kick came fast, fierce, and true. Kaiji twisted, but not to evade. He welcomed the blow. Hwei’s foot struck squarely against his chest with the full force of his conviction. Kaiji was flung backward with a grunt, body crashing against the outer stone wall of the stronghold hard enough to dent it. Dust burst outward. The chainwhip at his side hissed as it slithered free again.

From the rubble, he stood laughing. A quiet, rasping sound. “That’s better,” he breathed, eyes half-lidded, blood dribbling from the corner of his mouth. “I was worried you’d be boring.”

Ability Trigger: Serpent Shift
Kaiji’s form exploded into shadow, a coil of writhing serpents splitting from his body in all directions. Shadow-snakes, dozens of them, slipped past Hwei’s fists, weaving through gaps in the spiritual arms, darting across the battlefield toward Nova, toward the gates, toward everything sacred. But Kaiji himself reformed just a few feet behind Hwei, low to the ground, crouched like a serpent ready to strike. His chainwhip snapped out, not at Hwei, but at the sigil-engraved stone behind him.

Ouroboros Sigil Activation
Where the chain met the holy carving, darkness bled into the stone like ink in water. The Ouroboros Sigil crawled across the wall, hungry and unnatural, attempting to infect the Light’s protection with a twisting spiral of abyssal corruption. “Let’s see how long your sanctuary holds,” Kaiji purred. And then, from behind, his palm shot forward—aiming a venomous burst of corruption magic toward Hwei’s exposed side. Not deadly, not yet. Just enough to slow and to poison the fight. He didn’t need to win. He just needed time. Because now, the real battle had begun.

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─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

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Location: Stronghold of Dogfalls Interactions: @Amatiramisu @BunniesOfDoom

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The air still shimmered with remnants of her light, dust motes floating like tiny stars where the Purity Nova had scorched the ground clean. And yet, even that brilliance began to dim at the edges. A low ring echoed again through the air, this time not from above, but from within her chest. Nova’s hand flexed around the fading trail of light still coiled around her wrist as she turned her eyes to the gate.

She knew that growl. Her lips pressed together in a grim line just before he stepped into view—hulking, broad, black as midnight and twice as hateful. Algrimar. Her breath caught as the larger Grim hurled a thrashing, screeching beast at her like a stone from a catapult. With barely a thought, her hand swept up and her sigil ignited, Starlit Vow, a glyph of searing gold tracing itself into the air before her. The Grim collided with the light mid-flight and howled as it was repelled, its twisted form cracking and crumbling before it ever touched her.

Her name in his mouth made her feel unclean. “I don’t need permission,” she said quietly, eyes burning as she stepped forward through the steam rising from the broken earth. “I only need a reason.”

The second Grim came screaming down from above. It was smaller, faster, and its talons bared. She pivoted beneath it, light trailing her in a graceful arc. Her hand sliced upward and the creature's wing ignited mid-beat, sending it spiraling into the dirt where it screeched before shattering into ash.

She barely had time to recover before a presence brushed her shoulder. Colt raced past with the careless touch of a sibling’s encouragement. The punch to her shoulder drew a startled breath from her lips, but there was no time to scold, no time to ask— Algrimar roared. The flames came like a storm, like a promise of death. Her sigil had not yet faded. Nova reached both arms forward, light surging to her palms. The golden symbol burst outward in a radiant dome, wrapping around herself and the boy just as the fire collided.

BOOM.

The night lit up in violent color—orange and red licking the gold of her shield. The heat scorched her skin through the armor, and her teeth clenched against the force. Sparks danced across her cheeks. Her knees buckled slightly beneath the blast, but she held the line. Behind the shield, she growled through clenched teeth:

“You call it your domain, Algrimar.” Cracks splintered through the edge of the dome, thin spiderwebs of fading light. Her hands were trembling. “But the light does not ask your permission to rise.” And in her eyes she had no intention of falling.

To Hold Back The Dark

Im on it! Sorry it's been a rough week for me