touch-starvation needs to be written with emphasis on the starving part. you are hungry to be touched. so hungry that even the very taste of it makes you nauseous. it has been long since anything has ever touched you, ever fed you - that your body has grown more used to that gnawing emptiness more than anything else. it's better for you to be held, to eat but it makes you sick to try. you know
Sol Regem having his wings healed by primal magic using a rare seed that brings light and life then going on to kill innocent civilians
Vs Soren having his lungs healed by dark magic using the blood and death of a rare magical creature then going on to become a protector of the innocent
It’s sad how much of what is taught in school is useless to over 99% of the population.
There are literally math concepts taught in high school and middle school that are only used in extremely specialized fields or that are even so outdated they aren’t used anymore!
Suzanne Collins number one Maysilee Donner defender
the levels of deranged evan has reached just to not be gaslit on this cursed ass tv world... not on prime time baby
eeaaaa
"Split Lip" some watercolor sketchbook play. prints for July over on patreon
-
portfolio | shop | patreon
u know what makes me cry..... that one van gogh quote about life changing for the better..... “many people seem to think it foolish, even superstitious, to believe that the world could still change for the better. and it is true that in winter it is sometimes so bitingly cold that one is tempted to say, ‘what do i care if there is a summer; its warmth is no help to me now.’ yes, evil often seems to surpass good. but then, in spite of us, and without our permission, there comes at last an end to the bitter frosts. one morning the wind turns, and there is a thaw. and so i must still have hope.” yeah..... Crying....
In which Soren feels like he's breaking @sorinethemastermind This is payback for putting the whump into fluffcember Listen to Minor Fable by Luis Berra for extra immersion
Soren was tired. That was the one thing he had been sure of for a long time.
Nothing else had been solid enough recently, more like a raging river. But now it was still, and he still wasn’t sure what was what.
A lot of Katolis was still staying at the camp outside the Banther Lodge, and Callum and Ez were leaving tomorrow, but for now, they were all staying in New Lux Aurea.
Soren had a tent to himself, which seemed like the manor of tents. It was quite large, and tall enough for him to be able to stand up straight in without his head hitting the top. There was a cot, elevated off the ground, a small desk with a chair, and a tall mirror on the desk, leaning against the canvas of the wall.
I should probably check on my cuts. He thought. He could feel the dried blood crusting around the cut near his jaw and the one on the side of his nose. Either was likely to scar, but he wasn’t completely sure.
He walked up to the mirror, looking at his reflection. A bit of blood was clinging to his hair, which was easy enough to pick out. There was another small cut severing his eyebrow, which was less of a new cut and more of the split of an old one, from the fall of Katolis.
That one was definately going to scar.
Stupid rock.
His mind wandered, which was dangerous nowadays. He had a habit of wandering back to moments he shouldn’t be lingering on, and this time was no different.
“Take my heart.” He had said to Viren.
“Soren, I- You know I can’t do that.” Viren’s eyes were… afraid.
Soren didn’t remember ever seeing him afraid until then.
“You have to do it. You’ve been fine with doing it my whole life, just do it!” His grip tightened on the relic staff. “Why can’t you do it when it matters?!”
Soren glanced back into the mirror, but didn’t see himself.
Instead, he saw Viren’s reflection staring back at him, in the same clothes he was wearing when he casted the Hearts of Cinder spell. His eyes were dark voids, with streams of red pouring down his face from them.
“Soren,” His voice was warped beyond recognition, barely recognizable. “You are me. You will always have my blood flowing through your veins, and nothing you can do can or will ever change that.” His face turned into a sneer. “I should’ve taken your heart when I had the cha-”
Soren’s fist collided with the mirror, splitting it into dozens and dozens of pieces. A sharp pain split through his hand as he staggered back. His blue eyes looked back at him in the broken pieces of mirror, split over and over and over again.
His hand throbbed profusely, and looking down at it, he watched rivers of blood spill from his knuckles. Small shards of glass stuck out from the tender skin, coated in the dark red.
He didn’t even notice that he was crying until he felt his tears land on his hand, causing the cuts to sting.
Soren sat on the cot, curling inward whilst still holding his left hand out, so as to not jostle the glass wedged into it. Hot tears streamed down his face, but he couldn’t tell if it was from the pain or from what he saw.
It might have been from both.
“Soren?” He heard a muffled voice from outside the tent.
Corvus.
“Yeah- uh, yeah come in.” He quickly wiped the tears off his face with the palm of his right hand. The last rays of daylight streamed into the tent as Corvus stepped in through the tent flap, and Soren could see his eyes darting around, taking in each bit of information that stuck out to him.
He also noticed his eyes go from the shattered mirror to his hand, still bleeding and dripping blood onto the ground.
Instead of asking the expected questions like What happened? and “Are you okay?”, he asked something else.
“Do you want help?”
Soren looked back at him, seeing the worried crease between his eyebrows before silently nodding. He didn’t trust his voice at the moment.
Corvus sat down silently beside him, removing his bag from his shoulder and opening it. Soren’s gaze followed him, watching him pull out a roll of gauze and tweezers before gently taking his hand.
He turned his head away before Corvus started pulling the glass out, biting his inner cheek hard enough that it bled, filling his mouth with the metallic taste of blood. He hadn’t said anything then, either.
Soren had counted about four pieces of glass before the pulling stopped. He had thought there was a lot more than that.
It had felt like it before the pulling, too.
He felt Corvus start to wrap his knuckles with the gauze after. Every touch was gentle, like a stream of water being poured over a blazing fire, calming the nerves in his hand.
Corvus always seemed to have that effect on him, somehow. Soren could never figure out how or why, though.
“Do you want to talk about it?” Corvus asked him, breaking the silence after he had tied off the gauze, wrapping around his wrist.
Soren shook his head, before leaning his head against Corvus’ shoulder. He didn’t even want to think about it, but the image of Viren looking back at him in the mirror, with a soulless void filling his eyes, was ingrained into his mind. Every time he closed his eyes, even for a moment, he saw it.
I should’ve taken your heart when I had the chance.
“Can you stay here tonight?” His voice was raw. He hated how the words made him sound like a child. But part of him knew he might not make it through the night if he was left alone.
Corvus nodded, and Soren felt him wrap an arm around his shoulders.
He felt like heated glass most of his life; bending and molding with everything that hit him.
But the glass had cooled now.
And he felt, if something else came swinging…
He’d shatter into a million pieces.
Today hasn't been very good. Reblog to cover prev in blankets and tell them everything is going to be okay and they're loved.