brows furrowing, visibly immersed
in own pursuits, the mage———killer’s head lifted only to .̲.̲.̲ oh. 𝒉er.
lilac tinted eyes lowering to look at the potion, one requested no doubt, an own complexion was yet quick to darken in ›
the elf steps through the doorway, a potion clearly in her hands.
❝ emmrich said you needed... ❞
oh .ᐣ and she just stands there, potion still in hand.
❝ ... am i interrupting .ᐣ ❞
visible disdain ; of course she
would have to interrupt his session.
“ you already have, haven’t you ? ” , moving from the bed, yellowed scroll left behind, not that he had been able to decipher much to begin with, ›
https://t.co/2wJNOQRvuK do you ever think about
how fenris’ lyrium markings cause him continuous∕chronic pain to a point of overstimulation that being touched makes him straight up snap,, cause i do
﹙ a love story ... ?
he can’t say he’s all too familiar with those.
nonetheless, a room was entered at last ; gaze moving from her to the book. ﹚ are they already theatrically confessing ? ﹙ a quip, amusedly spoken. ﹚
hold weight ;
my people have been robbed of theirs. but titles ? they are not chosen but given.
as for your name, i call you whatever it is you wish to go by. ” , rare compliance ; perhaps respect.
“ choosing names based on mere
appearance ; keep that behaviour up and you may as well have the makings of a magister one day. ” ,
a blatant and dry response, carrying the sharpness of long——harboured bitterness, “ names ›