023 » these shallow waters never met what i needed

[shiruyeh]

CALL ME OUT MEME.

♛ please refer to this list for canon muses and this list for original characters. ♛ "call" one of them out — you can do so by putting their name in the subject line of your post! ♛ this can be informal/formal/comment spam/crosscanon/shippy/smutty/whatever tickles your fancy! ♛ here are some prompts inspired by other memes! ❶ — texts from last night. ❷ — morning after. ❸ — drunk/drinking. ❹ — picture prompt. ❺ — insomnia. ❻ — sharing the same bed. ❼ — snow day. ❽ — sky gazing. ❾ — roadtrip.

Comments

[ensata]

[iris smiles and nods, slowly gathering her things, trying not to seem too rushed or hurried. pleasant dreams. the words seem to weigh heavily on her, lingering somewhere uncomfortably close to the pit of her stomach. pleasant dreams, as if she's soon to rest in peace. pleasant dreams, as though all this has been just one dream, and she's soon to move on to another one.

pleasant dreams.

when the scraps of moogle fabric and the needles and thread are all gathered up, she slides the box of cakes over to him. her insignificant thank-you. a peace offering to keep the beast sated.]

This is for you, of course...

[with everything settled and accounted for, she stands up from her seat, sneaking a glance at the baker whose pair of scissors she still has to return (the woman isn't watching them anymore, which only stokes iris's rising sense of anxiety). but even though she can't shake the feeling that danger lurks in the darkness, she still tries to look into the golden gleam of his eyes as she bids him farewell.]

...I don't know if we'll meet again, Ardyn — [she has to pause to swallow on her strangely dry mouth] — but I hope we do.

[that's good enough, right? she turns to take her leave. but, as usual, she turns back and waves.]

...Sweet dreams!

[vengefulness]

[Funnily enough, some of that sense of danger does dissipate when she makes her offering — mostly because he's had his fun. He doesn't genuinely want to frighten her for good. Better that the moment when she caught a glimpse of what's hidden inside him becomes a hazy memory, overshadowed by the rest of the pleasant conversation and the "good deeds" he's done. In a couple days no doubt she'll think of that sense of foreboding as a trick of the light, or perhaps as some premonition of the loss of her guardian.]

Good night, [he replies, waving at her in return.

By the time she turns back from returning the scissors, he'll be gone.]