moonlit-beginnings
Lost To The Moons
Khajiit / Werewolf / Amnesiac
118 posts
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(( sorry for being away for a while, im two weeks away from going home so my anxiety's like
brrrrrrrrt ))
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(( like for a starter! specify whomst! i'll write in the morning! ))
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Send a 🎧 and I will put my music on shuffle, then write a starter based on a lyric from the first song that plays
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(( I'm sorry for seeming so desperate for interactions guys, lmao. i'm just dreading going home in a few weeks. back to your regularly scheduled programming! ))
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The young woman couldn't help but be distracted by the wistful atmosphere that the two shared; perhaps caused by a mutual experience.
Conversation wasn't her forte, however, and after a few moments of silence, she could only mutter -
"So, uh, are you a runaway as well, den?"
Her eyes swivelled around excitedly whenever there was movement in the brush, but she was consistently disappointed by birds taking flight or pouncing upon insects.
Runaways (Closed RP w/ vampiric-bite)
( cont. )
Megan nodded almost instantly at the question. She was both curious about if what she had seen was real, and worried about the elk's safety if it wasn't a figment of her imagination.
"Dis way, den," she whispered in hurried excitement; following the direction she saw the elk run toward. It was further into the forest, at least; away from the No Man's Land.
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Megan wasn't sure what to say.
The grubby teenager bit into her only slightly moldy sandwich and squinted at the man as he spoke. She chewed, trying not to think about the odd taste in the back of her mouth, and then swallowed.
"Oi've never been to one," she eventually confessed. "Is it a good laugh? D'ye know one that would take quarters as payment?"
There was a pause as she realized something, and she almost coughed up the bread again while correcting herself. "Actually, Blind Terry reckons he can see the future an' wotnot, but oi t'ink he's just off his meds. Oi doubt he counts; his prediction of me "turning into a chee-wa-wa" prob'ly don't 'old much water."
She squinted at the crossing lights as they threatened to change and allow the man to cross the street. She wanted to know more, and to prod him with questions. Maybe she would follow him until he grew annoyed and shooed her away.
open ( mutuals only ! )
“Psychics and seers are… interesting. There’s something to them. Learning to sort the wisdom from the bullshit can be some work and…” Back of neck was scratched in silence, “not all of them are worth listening to. But, they’re all good fun if you ask me.”
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(( you ever send an ask/submit and you're like
what if they don't like it???? ))
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She was slightly startled that the Dremora had bothered coming back; her gaze snapped from the warm fire towards the doorframe. Megan was no longer shivering, but she still looked miserable and hungry.
Her hands snatched the candy and fruit almost automatically; the girl almost ravenously consuming her treats as though she were a wild animal. When hunger no longer clouded her mood, she came off as a rather bright child.
A polite smile crossed her face as she muttered a pleasant "t'ank you," though it faltered slightly at the question. Once again, the handy finger counting technique returned - this time without tears - and Megan eventually nodded.
"Abou' t'ree long sleeps," she concluded. Now that she wasn't miserable, her voice had the cawing tones of a crow. "Dere was an awful storm of sorts, so I had tuh hide in here. Wha' abou' you? Are you hidin' from a storm, too?"
⌊✖⌋— | ic |
Quietly takes your sweet roll…
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[ ❌ ] is there something your muse struggles with that they might never overcome? what is it? why do they have so much trouble with it? (For both!)
M'nari
She's always going to struggle with nightmares - the poor cat's had a lot of traumas, and even though she doesn't consciously remember them, it's been enough to leave a subconscious print. Her nightmares are abstract and she can't make sense of them, but they're persistent.
Megan
In her Skyrim verse, she'll always struggle with letting herself touch people. The death of her father has left a lingering guilt, and she fears the day that The Serpent will come overhead and bless her with the poison that will kill anyone she comes in contact with.
In the Modern day, however, Megan doesn't struggle with anything that some therapy, medication and kindness can't ease. It's just a matter of getting her that help.
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👪💛 for mnari, and ⚰️🐺 for megan c:
👪 what is your muse’s relationship with their parents like? was it always this way?
M'nari doesn't remember her parents, unfortunately! She doesn't remember most things - but before she arrived in Skyrim, became a werewolf and then, later down the line, forgot everything; she was actually beloved by her family and loved them in turn. Rumour has it that her brother is still looking for her, years after the fact.
💛 how empathetic is your muse? how compassionate are they? is this something people expect from them, or are people surprised when they find out how compassionate or empathetic they actually are?
Despite the wolf spirit egging her on to attack everyone and everything, she's a remarkably friendly werewolf - or at least tries to be. M'nari has always been pretty good about picking up moods and appealing to others' emotions. It's surprised a few people how kind she is, even when they've wronged her.
⚰️ what are your muse’s greatest regrets? what would flash before their eyes when they’re on their deathbed?
In her Skyrim verse, Megan's biggest regret is killing her father. It wasn't intentional, of course, but it'll always haunt her. In the Modern verse, her greatest mistake - in her eyes - was running away from home.
🐺 does your muse like solitude? do they prefer it to being around others? how easily does your muse get lonely?
Megan is remarkably lonely, in both verses. Her isolation is unintentional in Skyrim, and she greatly resents her scenario. Though it's more intended in the Modern verse, she still finds herself wishing she would just let her guard down and allow herself to have friends. But she could never do that.
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Her soaked, reddened, puffy face peered out at the Dremora between her fingers; curious as to what the beast was doing. She hiccuped somewhat, then gasped as she watched the fire crackle to life. Magic was always a wonderous thing to witness.
Megan huffed out a trembling breath, trying to say something- but only making a strangled, wet gurgle. She stood up from her mattress and awkwardly stumbled toward the fire; staring into it in miserable silence as the being leaves.
Was it actually going to come back? Part of her didn't know, and another part didn't care. She would survive, somehow.
⌊✖⌋— | ic |
Quietly takes your sweet roll…
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PROMPTS I’D LIKE TO RECEIVE, PART 1.
⤿ headcanon memes; comfort character edition!
tw: death, family, religion.
send in a symbol and i’ll answer the corresponding question about my muse!
[ 🧱 ] how would you describe your muses’ morality? what are their core values?
[ 🌎 ] are there any aus you have for your muse? what are they like, and how is your muse different in them?
[ 😱 ] does your muse have any specific fears? where did those fears come from?
[ 🤝 ] how does your muse approach intimacy? are they hesitant, or do they like it? what types of intimacy do they like and dislike? (ex. physical intimacy, sexual intimacy, emotional intimacy, etc.)
[ 👪 ] what is your muse’s relationship with their parents like? was it always this way?
[ 💍 ] does your muse have a “type” of people that they prefer to enter relationships with? is their type generally compatible with them, or does the dynamic tend to be toxic?
[ 🏆 ] is your muse multitalented? what are their hobbies, and why did they pick up these hobbies? if they don’t have hobbies, why don’t they?
[ 🐱 ] does your muse have pets? did they have pets as a child? how do they feel about animals?
[ ❌ ] is there something your muse struggles with that they might never overcome? what is it? why do they have so much trouble with it?
[ ✨ ] what aesthetics or symbols do you reference when writing your muse? are these backed up by canon, if your muse comes from a canon? is there any specific relevance to these choices?
[ 🌱 ] what themes are relevant to your muse?
[ 💀 ] has your muse gone through anything traumatic? if so, how has this trauma affected them?
[ 💛 ] how empathetic is your muse? how compassionate are they? is this something people expect from them, or are people surprised when they find out how compassionate or empathetic they actually are?
[ 👗 ] what is your muse’s fashion sense like? are they able to dress the way they want to? what would they wear in an ideal world?
[ 🔮 ] what is your muse’s relationship with religion and spirituality? were they raised in a certain religion? have they stuck with the same set of spiritual beliefs all their life, or have they changed over time? are they settled in their spirituality now?
[ 🤷♀️ ] how does your muse approach strangers? how does this compare to how they interact with close friends or lovers?
[ 🎵 ] is there a specific song or songs you associate with your muse? why is that?
[ 💸 ] if your muse had no shortage of money, what would they buy?
[ 🐺 ] does your muse like solitude? do they prefer it to being around others? how easily does your muse get lonely?
[ ⚰️ ] what are your muse’s greatest regrets? what would flash before their eyes when they’re on their deathbed?
[ 🧸 ] does your muse keep anything sentimental? if so, what do they keep and why?
[ 🙏 ] what does your muse need? this can be something material or something abstract.
[ 📚 ] what books does your muse have on their bookshelf? what books would they like to have? if your muse isn’t an avid reader, is there anything they collect or might like to collect?
[ 😍 ] does your muse believe in true love? why or why not?
[ 😇 ] what would your muse do if they became a god?
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oc aesthetic
M'nari
Late-afternoon sunlight, dragonfly wings, faint music, pineapple-flavored candy, springy green moss, a glass jar, a handful of rowan berries, a raw crystal ring, pink tea, beeswax hand cream, a blue rose petal
Megan Rourke
A cat’s whisker, a touchscreen tablet, a cinnamon latte, a window seat, a fallen yellow leaf, leather notebooks, a brown highlighter, vanilla perfume, a mint leaf, tubes of white gouache, a heart-shaped waffle, a Totoro figurine
tagged by: @svndrenched
tagging: anyone!
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Oh, here we go, Megan thought to herself. She strained to avoid rolling her eyes as the being mused over her age - the tears drying up rather rapidly, with help from the girl's subtle itches of her face.
Then - then it offered her food. Food and a fire.
And it kept calling her 'little one.'
Whatever frustration and insult welled up inside of her suddenly extinguished, like someone had dumped a vessel of water onto a flame. Her body lurched hungrily; a reddening spreading across her features as the waterworks rose from her gut to her head.
All she could do was nod and cover her face. She was not going to sob in front of anyone, let alone some random, kind monster. Even on her deathbed she was not going to let the ugly crying become audible.
Her body gave it away, though; shaking from every corner of her frame, Megan silently cried into her hands. Teardrops fell onto her clothes and the mattress, and every breath she took felt like searing agony as she hid the urge to scream.
⌊✖⌋— | ic |
Quietly takes your sweet roll…
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This is the only drunk doodle I got to last night before crashing
@moonlit-beginnings
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She didn't need to force the tail to wag once the bow was on the ground; her body practically shook from the relief and excitement she felt.
M'nari's eyes slowly blinked, trustfully, up at the elf; exhaustion creeping onto her slightly feline face. She wanted to speak, to say "me either" - but could only huff out a tired breath of hot air.
She glanced towards the warm fire; looking between the elf and her desire a few times, as if asking silent permission.
moonlit-beginnings:
The Khajiit held her breath as the fox continued to stare and as the Bosmer drew nearer. She found herself unwilling to move; perhaps if she pretended to be a mangy, friendly dog…
With the wolf internally gagging in disgust; M'nari let out a low whine from her throat and tentatively crept from the underbrush. Her eyes peered up at the Elf; mouth still coated in blood from a recent feast, though innocent-looking enough.
What was it dogs do? She thought, peering over her shoulder at the limp, slender tail - and began forcefully wagging it, returning her gaze to the stranger.
When there was movement and a whine the elf tensed a bit, the air seemed to grow cold around him. Getting ready to shoot if whatever it was were to be hostile… as much as he would prefer not to. Spilling blood was perhaps his least favourite of happenings- though he would do what he had to do to survive.
A wolf crawled out from beneath the brush. Not just any wolf it seemed upon further investigation; this one was far bigger and shaped a bit differently than they usually were. It seemed heftier, lengthy arms and a frame that looked to be more man than beast. Despite never seeing one in the flesh before Faendir couldn’t help but know that this was a werewolf.
The first instinct that came to mind wasn’t to shoot, it was more along the lines of fleeing in fear. He didn’t though. Instead he lowered his bow, gently placing it on the ground and holding his hands up in a passive manner. He didn’t know if these things could understand speech, didn’t know if it was a good idea to put down his weapon; what he did know is that he was a pacifist, and would choose to use soft words over aggressive actions.
“Please- I’m not going to hurt you.”
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She was embarrassed, of course, that someone of her origins would be so poor at tracking - but she did nothing except grin at the elf's enthusiasm for their adventure. Her yellow eye twitched excitedly, and with renewed vigor, she followed after her companion.
"Oi hafen't been dis far in'o the forest before," she practically whisper-shouted under her breath. "Eet's beau'ful."
Runaways (Closed RP w/ vampiric-bite)
( cont. )
Megan nodded almost instantly at the question. She was both curious about if what she had seen was real, and worried about the elk's safety if it wasn't a figment of her imagination.
"Dis way, den," she whispered in hurried excitement; following the direction she saw the elk run toward. It was further into the forest, at least; away from the No Man's Land.
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