𝐌𝐈𝐃𝐀𝐃𝐎𝐋 𝐓𝐄𝐋𝐀𝐌𝐎𝐍 𝐈𝐒:
𝘍𝘪𝘦𝘳𝘺, 𝘴𝘱𝘶𝘯𝘬𝘺, 𝘭𝘰𝘶𝘥
𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘥 !
Better known as ‘𝐌𝐢𝐝,’ she has a clever mind and even more clever tinkering hands. She is the head engineer of the Hideout. Her heart is good.
#ffxvirp / #ffrp / #mvrp.
╭──╯
SHE DEVIL WITH A SMILE
SO FILLED WITH RANCOUR.
SHE’S GOING TO 𝐂𝐎𝐑𝐑𝐔𝐏𝐓!
𝑈𝑙𝑡𝑖𝑚𝑒𝑐𝑖𝑎 of 𝐹𝑖𝑛𝑎𝑙 𝐹𝑎𝑛𝑡𝑎𝑠𝑦 𝑉𝐼𝐼𝐼.
. . . . .
#mvrp *+:。.。 #ffrp *+:。.。 #ffviiirp *+:。.。
─┉┈◈◉◈┈┉
SOLO !
TO BE PRETTY && DIVINE.
𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 / tw: gore, blood,
self-mutilation and (n)sfw.
mature content all around.
𝘩𝘦𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘴𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴.
─┉┈◈◉◈┈┉
✧・゚: *✧・゚
୨⎯ A SOLO ! ⎯୧
𝐏𝐑𝐀𝐘𝐄𝐑𝐒 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓.. ࿐ྂ
Jote knows only one steady constant throughout her life.
𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠: Jote x Joshua and mature/nsfw themes. Inspired by a thread.
✧・゚: *✧・゚
✧・゚: *✧・゚
୨⎯ A SOLO ! ⎯୧
𝐅𝐋𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐒 𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐔𝐍𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐃. ࿐ྂ
Jote thinks the flames can be benevolent.
𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠: Jote x Joshua and mature themes. Some inspiration from a thread. Thank god for rp and inspo!
✧・゚: *✧・゚
︶꒦꒷ DEVOTION BLED. ꒷꒦︶
︶︶︶︶ ༉‧₊˚.
to be an undying is this: sacrifice curling within sinew betwixt bone and flesh. There is no other fate promised other than inferno and rotting decay in 𝐇͟𝐈͟𝐒͟ name. #ffrp ⁀➷ #mvrp ⁀➷ #ffxvirp.
@rosariasonly to pull it wide open.
❝Alright, I see how it is,❞ a drawl and wiggle of the eyebrows. ❝You Undying lot had me on the mind. Now. I have to gift something back!! I have just the thing, mind you—it isn’t as pretty!❞
@rosariasonly ❝Mm…❞ a hum curling free of lips, her curiosity turned upon the flowers, instead—brilliant lines of architecture forgotten. ❝—Perhaps, good luck for my hands to long at last fulfil good fortune and finish this ship, eh?!❞
A subtle pause, fingers finding a wooden drawer »
@rosariasonly curves of engines in the architecture written, she’s awfully fascinated in.
❝Magnificence waits for no one, Joshua!❞
A long pause, as a clever finger brushes against a lily: all red and pretty.
❝…Now. What’s this, then?! When did this sneak in?❞
@rosariasonly ❝No,❞ a rise of the voice with the single word; almost playful in a singsong voice—her brows painted in concentration as they pull down. Tip of fingers ghost against the blue ink writ against parchment. She does not acknowledge the petals—drowning in her own erudition. The »