yurick

[yurick]

⊰ ✧ ⊱ // second obligatory “I’m still alive” post. finals week is over, I survived and passed everything, but we’ve run into a second issue of my laptop is nearly broken and it kinda only works on flat surfaces, so I can’t sit w/ it in my lap or anything. should be getting a new one sometime next week (I’ve been saving up for a nice gaming laptop), so I will return to things as usual once that happens. so sorry to keep all my rp partners waiting! you can ask me for my discord in the meantime if you want to talk or plot anything

#⊰ ✧ ⊱ — ;; ┊ i’ll вαcк чσυ υρ ┊

[yurick]

⊰ ✧ ⊱ // still alive, just suffering through the last few weeks of the term

#i've got a few starters to write and a good chunk of drafts to finish but i won't be getting around to much until the term ends #i might work lightly on a few things but we'll see if i wait to post them or not #so sorry for the silence but if u want my discord hmu #⊰ ✧ ⊱ — ;; ┊ i’ll вαcк чσυ υρ

[yurick]

Ðαgяαи‌:

continued from here with @yurick​

If Yurick had been any more like Zael Dagran might have offered a hug, but since Yurick was Yurick and Dagran was Dagran he had opted for patting his head in an attempt to express his sympathies. The sight wasn’t pretty if anything it was unsettling and nothing Dagran wanted to rest his eyes on for long. No matter how many burnt bodies he saw they just never got any easier to look at. But while he saw no use in lingering on something they couldn’t fix no matter how badly they wanted to, Yurick was clearly more affected and needed some form or comfort. (Hypocrite the voice in his head mocked, and anxiety sneered at that thought.)

Admittedly he hadn’t thought much about the gesture, other than thinking that he shouldn’t go for a hug Dagran had acted almost absent-mindedly when he’d placed the hand on his head, gently patting it in hopes of making him feel a little better and if not that, letting him know that he wasn’t alone.

Without a word, but with an expression that clearly said he hadn’t meant to overstep his boundaries Dagran withdrew his hand, leaving his raised as he backed away a little to show that he would give him his distance now.

Dagran’s gaze wandered the village which the war had razed to the ground with a motionless face. There was nothing to do for them here, they couldn’t stay and rebuilt it. All they could do was salvage what was left and look for any survivors. When the sight made him think of Zael an old ache tugged at his heart but Dagran fought it down, just like the hot rage that coiled in his stomach because he wanted it to stay put.

Somebody had to keep a clear head and that somebody was him. “Just give a sign when you’re ready.”

               The taste in his mouth is bitter on his dry tongue as he forced back the slow-rising bile that had been building at the back of his throat, starting to clog until air stuttered in his chest and he forced himself to take a slow, deep breath. It was a hard sight to look away from, with the way their skin was crisped up, deeply blackened from whatever their original skin tone had been, and how their limbs were twisted in unnatural patterns with some entirely missing. He yearned to look away and move on, yet something kept his eye on the destruction.

              Who knew who had even started the fight this time? The longer the war raged on, the more the sides seemed to blur together. Gurak, The Empire, the people — it was all a mash of hatred and never-ending anger that just went on and on and on. What a force the fires of war could be, to cause such harm in what had probably once been a calm, peaceful town full of bright life and happy people (not that anybody ever could ever be happy in these times of constant struggle). Fire, itself, used in such a destructive force... it made him sick, sick in a sense he couldn’t shake, sick in a sense that curled around his gut and forced it up his throat and nostrils until all he could taste and smell was fire and war and burning skin and death, a red-hot death that left entire towns covered in ash and soot and death-

               Gods.

               He was going to make himself sick if he looked any longer, and what a disservice that would be to his front as an aloof character.

               Yurick stepped back, away from the broken bits of wood he had approached to peer into what had probably once been a family’s home, gaze carefully settled on the ground as he tested the weight of his tongue before he spoke.

               ❝ Whatever. Let’s move on.  ❞

#//hrRHJS the emotions i get thinking about dagran just having to force all that down #you don't have to hide it all dagran #being a merc aint easy when you have to constantly witness the effects of the war #thighhighsandgoldeneyes #⊰ ✧ ⊱ — ;; ┊ ν; α вяυтαl jσυяиεч ┊

[yurick]

#⊰ ✧ ⊱ — ;; тнε ωнιтε киιgнт

[yurick]

GET TO KNOW ME

rules:  tag  people  you’d  like  to  get  to  know  better tagged by: @ofseances tagging: @thighhighsandgoldeneyes, @countarganan, @truesxnity, & feel free to steal as well

who are you: theoretically my name is erin favorite colour: dark green (foresty~emerald greens are a fave) & black. also really into silver-grey colours too top 3 favorite ships: oh man hmm well yurick/therius is always Up There in my top ships & I also really love prompto/noctis (promptis) from ffxv and john/arthur from red dead redemption 2 lipstick or chapstick: I am a chapstick FIEND seriously this stuff is like crack to me it’s kind of concerning last song/piece: you by keaton henson because I’m listening to cole’s klave playlist w/ them last movie: ant-man and the wasp so now I’m FINALLY caught up with the mcu. I watched captain marvel on tuesday and it was 10/10. I really want to rewatch spider-man homecoming because I’d die for peter parker currently reading: the second book in the last herald-mage trilogy which would beee magic’s promise? the book’s on pause rn because class has stared back up but I’m a pretty avid reader (or at least I claim to be) and I’m trying to get back into the swing of things when I can. it takes me only a day or two to read large books (I read at a concerning speed) so when I do decide to read it happens Fast. I’m also reading the keeper of the lost cities series and various fanfics like everyone else what celebrity are you most like?: no fucking clue but I’ve been told I kinda look like brigitte from overwatch. not a celebrity but I don’t play by the rules, meme what fictional character are you most like?: Highkey max caulfield (also kinda look like her too) from life is strange & a bit like aloy from horizon zero dawn

#⊰ ✧ ⊱ — ;; ┊ I’ll вαcк чσυ υρ ┊ #//sorry if i keep tagging u in this stuff if u don't like it just let me know!

[yurick]

Mitch Albom, The Five People You Meet in Heaven

#⊰ ✧ ⊱ — ;; ┊ ιи мч тнσυgнтѕ υитιl тнε νεяч εиd ┊

[yurick]

  continued from here with @ofseances

?

  klaus blinks. under any other circumstance, this would be a perfectly ordinary thing   to have happen to him. malfunctioning lighter, no lighter at all, or someone’s just   feeling particularly friendly  —  whatever it is, when someone does the favour of   lighting his cigarettes for him, the general response is to thank them and move on,   perhaps enjoy a companionable smoke. thing is  —  most people don’t do it with a   snap of their fingers alone.

         ❝     holy shit!     ❞

  alright, so it’s not a particularly dignified reaction, but since when has klaus ever   aimed for dignified? fingers curl around the other’s wrist, vice-like, as he studies   the hand caught within his grasp, as though answers would be clearly visible to   widened eyes. was this one of the forty-three? simple sleight-of-hand?

         ❝     how’d you do that? hey, uh  —     ❞

  he extinguishes the burning tip of the joint against the wall, holding it out to the   other once more, gaze bright and anticipatory.

         ❝     do it again.     ❞

               It’s a simple and fast sleight of hand. Usually taken as the click of a lighter turning on or snapping open, rarely anyone thought to question the noise or the motion until their cigarette has already been lit and his hand has been safely tucked away in his pocket, unable to leave anyone questioning the gesture. Perhaps he’s not particularly careful with hiding what he’d dubbed ‘magic’, but it’s not like he’d go around showcasing off his burning talents. There had yet to be an instance where he was caught in the act — that was, until now.

               The stranger’s grip had been snappy like a viper, quick to wrap his fingers around Yurick’s wrist, which had already begun to move to slide into his pocket as the situation would usually go. It wasn’t particularly tight (non-threatening, he’d say), just a simple, fanatical curiosity about what had just taken place, what happened to make the cigarette light so smoothly without the usual contraption. A well placed inquisitiveness, but Yurick wasn’t particularly up for answering questions about his fire.

               A blank (no, it was not a panicked look) stare found its way to the stranger blankly, uncertain what to say, how to explain what  — really, how was he supposed to answer how he did it? it was second nature  — had just happened. Luckily, the stranger saved him from the lapse into an awkward silence, because he was already moving to snub out the burning tip (really? he just lit that), and hold it back out with an anticipation so eager that Yurick almost felt bad for not wanting to, and yet, he moved to ignite it again anyway.

              Without the need to replicate the noise of a lighter, the flame came forth with a small wave of his fingers curling in, fire hovering just between the tip of his index finger and his thumb, before he gestured the small flame to the cylinder in the stranger’s grasp, relighting it once again.

               ❝ I won’t do it a third time. ❞

#⊰ ✧ ⊱ — ;; ┊ ν; υиdεтεямιиεd ┊ #ofseances #//i see we both have a length issue #that being we can't stop making things long. #i love klaus' excitement... cute #yurick's mentally going 'shit.'

[yurick]

⊰ ✧ ⊱ // forgot to bold/italicize a few things on the about yurick meme but I have since fixed them if anyone is curious to look

#⊰ ✧ ⊱ — ;; ┊ I’ll вαcк чσυ υρ #tbd #//mostly just needed to bold the fact that he has a physical disability because. half blind and all. did you know i'm a certified dumbass? #but I added a few other things for clarification

[yurick]

?:

Almost didn’t survive what? A bomb strapped to his neck. Stab wounds to his torso. Countless bullets fired his way. Jeremiah was confident there was nothing he could not weather. Though that did little to settle his mind in his first stirring moments. His mind reeled with uncertainty and questions. As the fog clouding his mind began to clear, the Unknown before him became the centre of his focus.

Ghostly pale eyes winced painfully as Jeremiah shot up from where he lay, though he made no sound to make known his weakness. Deftly, the scalpel slid from his sleeve and flipped open–an extension of himself pressed to the Unknown’s throat. “Who are you? Where I am? What have you done to me?” The words spat cold and accusatory with venom. With those like Strange lurking in the shadows, nobody was to be trusted–no matter how innocent their appearance.

               The cold touch of the sudden scalpel pressed into his pale throat, but it had yet to draw any blood- the other before him was threatening him with a warning for information, no plan to kill as of yet. Its sharp curvature restricted much movement from his throat, but he could still speak without risk of digging it into his skin, less he move his head much while he did so.

              With a lack of fear in his calm expression, he seemed to be taking the other man in, studying his mistrustful gaze. Innocent could be one way to describe Yurick's appearance. He was certainly on the younger side of adulthood, skin still soft from youth and, despite its silver colour, his hair was thick, different sections drawn back into braids, but his eyes implied a different story; a cool, hardened gaze of icy blue examined the person before him, unafraid of his accusatory words no matter the harsh implications that lay behind the questions. The innocence of youth certainly did not lay with him anymore.

              ❝ You know, most people say ‘thank you’ after saving someone’s life. But I guess you’re not the type. ❞

#⊰ ✧ ⊱ — ;; ┊ ν; υиdεтεямιиεd ┊ #truesxnity #//kieran!! our first thread!! KIERAN!!!!

[yurick]

FIVE SENSES  AESTHETICS.

bold what applies to your muse  /  repost, don’t reblog!

Yurick

tagged by: @countarganan & @thighhighsandgoldeneyes

tagging:  @vengeantsoul, @ofseances, @misfitted, @harlequxn, @truesxnity, & anyone else who wants to steal it!

𝐒𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓.     SMALL TOWNS.  BIG CITIES.   SIX THIRTY CURFEWS.   LIGHTS THAT TAKE THE PLACE OF STARS.  BLANKET NESTS.   LIGHT THROUGH THE BLINDS AS A WAKEUP CALL. FOUND FAMILY.  FINDING A SINGLE STAR IN THE MIDDLE OF NEW YORK CITY. WINDOW SHOPPING.  WATCHING SOMETHING TERRIBLE AND ENJOYING IT.   GROWING NUMB TO THE SIGHT OF INJUSTICE. WILTED FLOWERS.  FADED CARICATURES.  BRIGHT, BOLD COLOURS.

𝐒𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃.   CRICKETS AND LIGHTNING BUGS.  CAR ENGINES AND A/C UNITS.   A PHONE CALL TO MOM/DAD.   LAUGHING WITH FRIENDS.   JOKES THAT ARE SO BAD YOU HAVE TO LAUGH. THE CLICKING OF COMPUTER KEYS.   NOISE CANCELLING HEADPHONES.   DEAFENING GUNFIRE.  THE SOUND OF SILENCE. MUFFLED MUSIC FROM ANOTHER ROOM. DRUMMING FINGERTIPS ON A TABLE.  CLICKING OF PENS.   LISTENING TO A CLOCK AND SWEARING THE TICKS GET SLOWER.   RINGING IN THE EARS.  THE VOICE OF SOMEONE YOU LOVE. PITCH SHIFTED SONGS.

𝐓𝐎𝐔𝐂𝐇.     BEING HELD CLOSE DURING A LONG NIGHT.   FLEETING REASSURANCES. HOLDING HANDS WHEN YOU’RE SCARED.   BRUSHING FINGERS THROUGH STRANDS OF HAIR. FRESHLY DRIED CLOTHES.  BRUISES ON YOUR KNUCKLES. SILK AND SATIN.   YOUR FAVOURITE PET’S FUR OR FEATHER.  WRINGING YOUR HANDS ANXIOUSLY.   SNUGGLES.  COMFORTERS IN THE DEAD OF WINTER.   NAILS AGAINST SKIN. COLD METAL. LEATHER IN SUMMER.

𝐓𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄. COFFEE IN THE MORNING. TEA IN THE EVENING.   BUBBLEGUM THAT LOST ITS FLAVOUR.  ALCOHOL BURNING THE BACK OF YOUR THROAT.   HOMEMADE COOKING.   BLOOD IN YOUR MOUTH.  STALE AIR.   MINT.  FRESH VEGETABLES.  THE PROCESSED TASTE OF CITRUS CANDY.  THE FIRST MEAL YOU COOK BY YOURSELF THAT TASTES GOOD.  FOREIGN SWEETS. FAST FOOD. BITTERSWEET. SOUR.  SPICY. SWEET.   BITTER. TOO MUCH SALT ON FRIES.

𝐒𝐌𝐄𝐋𝐋.   MORNING GLORIES AND HONEYSUCKLES.   FRESHLY CUT GRASS.   HOT CHOCOLATE IN THE MIDDLE OF WINTER.   NAIL POLISH.   HOSPITAL ROOMS.  SMOKE. HAIR SPRAY.   YOUR FAVORITE SHAMPOO/CONDITIONER.   THE SCENT OF HOME.    PERFUME. COLOGNE.   MINT.   SOMETHING BURNING.   WET DOGS.   COPPER.   METAL.   LEATHER.  UNEMPTIED ASHTRAYS.  SOMETHING FAMILIAR YET DIFFERENT. CAMPFIRES.

#⊰ ✧ ⊱ — ;; ┊ иσт яεαllч ѕσмεтнιиg I тαlк αвσυт ┊ #//this one was really fun i liked it #for reference- the touch section takes a looot of work for yurick to get comfortable with. it takes him a long time to be comfortable around #anyone but he does enjoy those things

[yurick]

                                         each of you needs to be willing to die 

                                       anything less… && you’re already dead

#⊰ ✧ ⊱ — ;; ┊ ιи мч тнσυgнтѕ υитιl тнε νεяч εиd ┊

[yurick]

I didn’t want to become a knight to create more sadness and suffering. All I ever wanted, was the strength to protect the people I care about…”

#⊰ ✧ ⊱ — ;; тнε συтѕιdεя’ѕ нεαят

[yurick]

Vααтι:

“Oy. Look. I’m not going to die from a flesh wound. So when I say it’s just a scratch, it’s just a scratch. A big… gaping… scratch…” Vaati would press the fabric of his cape against the wound with a grimace. “We need to keep moving.” Of course, had Vaati been honest about the wound, different action could have been taken.

               Most people wouldn’t describe a scratch as ‘big’ and ‘gaping’, so Yurick had to bite back his remark of ‘bullshit’ when he heard the words come from Vaati’s mouth.

               The job wasn’t supposed to go like this. Simple and sweet, maybe with a touch of excitement thrown in, that being the reason only he was tasked with protecting the other man, but nothing like the overwhelming rush of bandits that had come at them. Yurick could hold his own, and it seemed his client could to some extent (ignoring the injury he currently suffered now), but the wave of new coming attackers resulted in the action of flight. Some would consider it cowardice, but he prefer to be alive than killed by something like a bandit.

               ❝ I’m being paid to protect you, which includes keeping you alive. It won’t take long for me to fix it if you’re fine with a new scar. ❞

#windstorm-mage #⊰ ✧ ⊱ — ;; ┊ ν; υиdεтεямιиεd ┊

[yurick]

Bold what applies. Italicise what somewhat or sometimes applies.

BODY   /   long legs. short legs. average legs. slender thighs. thick thighs. muscular thighs. skinny arms. soft arms. toned arms. muscular arms. toned stomach. flat stomach. flabby stomach. soft stomach. six pack. beer belly. lean frame. slender frame. muscular frame. voluptuous frame. petite frame. lanky frame. short nails. average-length nails. long nails. manicured nails. painted nails. dirty nails. small waist. thick waist. narrow hips. average hips. wide hips. big feet. average feet. small feet. soft feet. slender feet. calloused feet. calloused hands. soft hands. big hands. average hands. small hands. long fingers. short fingers. average fingers. broad shoulders. underweight. average weight. overweight.

HEIGHT   /   shorter than 140 cm. 141 cm to 150 cm. 151 cm to 160 cm. 161 cm to 170 cm. 171 cm to 180 cm. 181 cm to 190 cm. 191 cm to 2 m. Taller than 2 m.

SKIN    / pale. fair. rosy. olive. dark. tanned. blotchy. smooth. acne. dry. greasy. freckled. scarred.

EYES /   small. large. average. grey. brown. black. blue. red. green. gold amber. hazel. violet. doe-eyed. almond. close-set. wide-set. squinty. monolid. heavy eyelids. upturned. down turned.

HAIR /   thin. thick. fine. normal. greasy. dry. soft. shiny. scruffy. frizzy. curly. wild. unruly. straight. smooth. wavy. floppy. cropped. pixie-cut. short. shoulder length. back length. waist length. floor length. buzz cut. bald. jaw length. vermilion. mohawk. white. silver/grey. platinum blonde. golden blonde. dirty blonde. ombre. light brown. mouse brown. chestnut brown. golden brown. chocolate brown. dark brown. jet black. ginger. auburn. dyed red. dyed any “ unnatural color ”. streaked. thin eyebrows. average eyebrows. thick eyebrows.

TATTOOS  &  PIERCINGS /   full sleeve. quarter sleeve. thigh tattoo. shin tattoo. wrist tattoo. lower back tattoo. hand / finger tattoo. foot tattoo. neck tattoo. face tattoo. chest tattoo. one tattoo. a few here and there. multiple. no tattoo. monroe piercing. nose piercing. septum.nipple piercing(s). genital piercing(s). industrial piercings. earlobe piercing. prince albert piercing. eyebrow piercing(s). tongue piercing. lip piercing(s). tragus piercing. angel bites. labret. stretches out ears. navel piercing. inverse navel piercing. cheek piercing(s). smiley. nape piercing(s). no piercings.

COSMETICS /   light eyeliner. heavy eyeliner. cat eyes. mascara. fake eyelashes. matte lipstick. regular lipstick. lip gloss. lip balm. red lips. pink lips. dark lips. bronzer. highlighter. eye shadow. neutral eye shadow. smoky eyes. colorful eye shadow. blush. lip liner. light contouring. heavy contouring. powder. matte foundation. shiny foundation. concealer. wears make up regularly. wears makeup from time to time. rarely wears make-up. never wears makeup.

SCENT   /   floral. fruity. perfumes. aftershave. cocoa. moisturizer. natural soap. shampoo. cigarettes. leather. sweat. food. incense. marijuana. cologne. whiskey. wine. fried food. blood. fire. metal. rain. grass. ocean. autumn leaves. baked bread. freshly baked cookies. smoke. campfire. lavender. trees. pumpkin pie. musk. rose. gingerbread. peppermint. oak. honey. lemon. vanilla. coffee cake. mint. rawhide. chemicals.

CLOTHES   / jeans. tight pants. over knee socks. tights. yoga pants. pencil skirt. tight skirt. loose skirt. tight / formfitting dress. cardigans. blouse. button up shirt. band t-shirt. sports t-shirt. sweatpants. tank top. cut off t-shirt. designer. high street. online stores. thrift. lingerie. long skirt. miniskirt. maxi dress. sun dress. tie. tuxedo. cocktail dress. high slit dress / skirt. t-shirt. loose clothing. tight clothing. jean shorts. sweater. sweater vest. khaki pants. suit. hoodie. harem pants. basketball shorts. boxers. briefs. boxer-briefs. hot pants. hipster panties. bra. sports bra. crop top. corset. ballerina skirt. leotard. polka dot. stripes. glitter. silk. lace. leather. velvet. chemise. patterns. florals. neon colors. pastels. plaid. black. dark colors. fur. faux fur.

SHOES   /   sneakers. slip-ons. flats. slippers. sandals. high heels. kitten heels. ankle boots. combat boots. boots. cowboy boots. knee-high. platforms. stripper heels. bare feet. loafers.

tagged by: @ofseances tagging: @vengeantsoul @countarganan @thighhighsandgoldeneyes & anyone else who wants to steal!

#//hate the fact that i had to bold COWBOY BOOTS gdi yurick your boots are totally cowboy style. #⊰ ✧ ⊱ — ;; ┊ иσт яεαllч ѕσмεтнιиg I тαlк αвσυт ┊ #hope it's alright if i tagged you!

[yurick]

countarganan and @yurick? a match made in heaven

#//for a minute i didn't know memories was a thing and i was like HOW THE HELL DOES THIS HAVE SO MANY NOTES #⊰ ✧ ⊱ — ;; ┊ I’ll вαcк чσυ υρ ┊ #countarganan

[yurick]

#⊰ ✧ ⊱ — ;; тнε ƒσяεѕт нεαlεя

[yurick]

Cσυит Aяgαиαи·:

“Yurick! That’s a wonderful name.” The Countess of Melodia beamed at him, and Arganan wondered how Yurick wasn’t dying of the pure radiance of Tahirah’s smile. “It’s very nice to meet you, too.” She looked to her dancers, thanking them and calling them off, and in an instant, they vanished. Arganan suspected that the dancers probably had teleportation charms on them, or magic themselves, to do such a thing.

“Working for Count Arganan, huh?” A man with brown hair tied back in a ponytail and darker skin came over to Tahirah’s side, grinning at Yurick. “Nice.” His red shirt contrasted with his black pants and shoes.

“Oh, Nuriel,” A man with blond hair currently let loose approached them as well, wearing a white tunic and blue trousers with boots. “Let’s get back to the matter at hand?”

“Alright, Arlyn…”

“I’ll have my servants show you to your rooms.” Arganan managed, looking to the Coutness and her two advisors/ bodyguards. 

Tahirah grinned back at him this time. “Thank you! We appreciate your hospitality…”

The Count ordered a few servants to take Tahirah and her two bodyguards/advisors to their rooms, before Jirall spoke up, staring.

“She…isn’t going to have more of those numbers, is she?”

The Count looked to him. “Lord Jirall, I make no promises regarding that.”

The younger man groaned, but soon sauntered off. Arganan looked briefly in the direction of where Tahirah and her servants were going.

“OHMYGOODNESS CALISTA!” He heard Tahirah half-shout with joy, the gasping of Calista and potentially a few other servants being heard from down the hall. “IT’S BEEN SO LONG SINCE WE LAST SAW YOU!”

Arganan almost laughed. Countess Tahirah was a strange individual, as well as her advisors and bodyguards, he knew, but also had this kindness that either threw one off forever or was (arguably) endearing. Strange, he supposed, but good. 

               ❝Thank you?❞

               There wasn’t anything special about his name as far as he knew; he didn’t even know what it meant. It was difficult to mask how put off he was by this Countess. She seemed so bright and kind in comparison to everyone else, noble or not. Unsettling, really, to come across someone who seemed to happy in the darkness of their current world state. None of the mercenaries had the pep in their step like she did. Syrenne was a spitfire, certainly, and Lowell a charmer, but they weren’t outwardly bright like the Countess appeared to be. 

               His focus shifted to the man who stepped up to the Countess’s side as he was addressed yet again. Yurick had expected, hoped, to be ignored by all the newly approaching people, preferring to stick the sides and observe (and what a sight this would’ve been to observe from a perspective that wasn’t constantly being... butted into). Count Arganan seemed a more likely target for their attentions, but a new face must have been why they were so drawn to him like moths to an awkward, quiet flame in their presence.

               Nuriel’s comment of nice seemed to suggest a number of things that Yurick wasn’t prepared to pick up on. Was it of pride for working for the ruler of an island, or was it more sarcastic, like Yurick didn’t know what he was getting into? Not that it mattered much, it was Dagran who had chosen the job.

               A small relief swept over him as all the newcomers prepared to make their leave, the claustrophobic sense of being crowded around by too many people beginning to drift from his heightened senses. He hadn’t felt any danger with his magic, but being the asocial individual he was, the discomfort of being introduced and talking to so many people all at the same time was, in an understatement, overwhelming.

               Yurick looked to the Count, uncertain whether he should take his leave now or be dismissed.

#//tahirah is a lot for him #⊰ ✧ ⊱ — ;; ┊ ν; I cαи нαиdlε мчѕεlƒ ┊ #countarganan