one last hope

Anonymous asked: You had no idea I had taken on the form of a dayger... for YOU xoxo

Er…

A dayger…?  What’s that?  I’ve never heard of one before.

Um.  Thanks?  I think…?

[ just a holy fool ]

proditor—dain:

Dain doesn’t care to be argumentative on this particular issue. He has the patience, yes, but it simply wouldn’t achieve anything. Being too confrontational and touchy could even make Lief suspicious, so it’s easier just to let it go. It’s easier to relax into his persona and against Lief’s warm side and become, as he so often does, 95 percent character, 5 percent actor.

“The stars?” Typical of humans to be fascinated by something so stupid. “A little, yeah. Enough to find my way around. Well… a little.”

He wouldn’t want to seem too capable; after all, he needs Lief to feel that he can’t simply leave him behind. The more responsible for him Lief feels, the more protective, the easier it will be to turn the odds in his favour should it come to that.

Yet when Lief suddenly comes out with a simple, innocent confession—that he wishes he’d known him as a child—even Dain is taken by surprise.

“Why?” he asks, and a little edge has crept into his voice in the barest break of character. “It wouldn’t have mattered.”

Again, Lief’s face leans slightly along the top of Dain’s head; pressing only a little through the sleek strands of dark and soft hair.  ”They’re… a comfort, I guess.  The stars feel like they’re watching over us.  It’s nice, when you’re wandering through the middle of nowhere.”  The poor boy doesn’t even realize that he’s going off on a dumb tangent and just lets his voice fade into a quiet sigh.

But he lifts his head to look down at him properly when he hears the faintest edge in his friend’s voice.  He smiles gently and lets his fond, blue eyes meet his in a gaze that’s far more admiring than he means it to be.  ”I know.  But… I would have liked to spend all that time with you.  Getting to know you.”  

The young swordsman swallows and looks to the side, cheeks a little flushed in color.  Yet, he finds his gloved hand reaching for his.  It hesitates, then slowly rests gentle fingers around Dain’s in a mindful grasp.  ”I… kind of agree, though.  It wouldn’t have mattered when we’re already good friends just like this.  Right?”

(Source: lief-of-del)

Anonymous asked: rose are red, violets are blue / give me the belt / or i will kill you

What a lovely— H-hey, wait a minute!

I don’t think so.  Nice try, but there’s no way your smooth-talking poetry will sway me into handing it over.  Back off!

Anonymous asked: Happy Valentine's Day, you miserable sack of human flesh who will cower miserably at my heels, begging like a pathetic dog.

…

I don’t think I want to be your Valentine.

[ just a holy fool ]

proditor—dain:

“I hope so,” he says gloomily. “If they’re not dead. Doom said he would look for them… if they weren’t in Tora, I’m sure he would have found them. Doom can find anyone.”

He would quite like to tell Lief about the times Doom has hunted down those who have wronged the Resistance like a man possessed; he’d like to tell him all about the brutality with which he’s avenged his comrades.

He’d like to tell him about the times he’s watched unseen from the edge of the campsite as that severe, callous man hides his face in his hands and curses at unseen demons, of him throwing his bloodstained gloves at the edge of the fire and muttering in his sleep (poor, crazy bastard, thinks Dain with a fond little smile; it’s a shame he’ll have to be disposed of some day). Spilling things like that isn’t exactly going to make Lief inclined to trust him, though, so he keeps his mouth shut. Then he draws back a little, scowling.

“That’s not fair! Wouldn’t you feel the same way?” Pretending to be sensitive is hard sometimes. If anyone’s ever genuinely gotten to him before, he can’t remember it. Still, he just sighs and shakes his head, staring away into the bushes. This is stupid. He half-hopes a wild animal will attack them or something to cut short the conversation; the second-hand-embarrassment is killing him.

“I… I don’t know,” he says quietly after a moment. “Only my mother was Toran, but they were both well-born, I think, before the Shadow Lord ruined… ruined everything.” He swallows. “It’s like He stole even my memories. I haven’t got a single thing to keep them alive in my mind.”

He allows himself to be envious and petty, and grips the corner of the cloak Lief’s mother gave him, wrapping it around himself tighter. “I don’t want to talk about it any more. I guess I’ll just have to wait until we get to Tora.”

“Anyone, huh?”  Lief looks to the side for a moment.  He doesn’t trust Doom to any great extent, especially with Jasmine’s all-too-evident dislike of the man.  Her instincts are usually fairly accurate about these things.  And is there even a slight… twinge of envy in the young swordsman as he realizes how fondly Dain speaks about the Resistance leader?  As he should, he figures.  Doom’s like a father to Dain, right?  Still, he falls quiet for a few moments.  It’s when his friend pulls back to scowl at him that he finally seems to be jostled from his train of thought.

He raises an eyebrow at him, having not expected for him to act so sensitive to what he’d meant to be a playful little joke.  But he knows he should have been more mindful with the subject.  Yes, he would feel the same way.  It’s not fair to judge Dain on his determination to meet with parents he hasn’t seen in years.  After all, Lief misses his own Mother and Father, who he’s only been separated from for a few months.  Sighing, he bows his head a little.  ”I didn’t mean it like that, okay?  I know why you’re so eager to get there.”  

He places a hand over where the Belt is hooked, unseen, around his waist.  There’s been a warm weight to it ever since he decided to wear it; a subtle reassurance even in the slightest of discomforts.  He looks to Dain again with concerned blue eyes and tries, very gently, to ease him closer to his side so he can hopefully find warmth and comfort here as well.  

“I’m sorry.  I didn’t mean to upset you.  We won’t talk about it.  How about…” He peers up at the sky visible through the leafy forest canopy.  ”…Hey, you know how to read the stars, right?  Isn’t that crucial to Resistance work?”  Small talk may have never been Lief’s forte, but he tries his best regardless.  ”I used to pretend I could, when I was little.  I thought it’d help me with the tricks I’d play on the Grey Guards.  Silly, right?”  He smiles weakly at him, trying to manage a lighter conversation.  But, then, there’s a pause before he says very softly, “I wish I’d known you way back then.”

(Source: lief-of-del)