Ask me anything

Guild Wars 2 RP - Tarnished Coast Server
Roleplay Characters:
Eve Quinn - Human Thief
Teylan Rionne - Human Warrior
Noelle Qamar Rashid - Human Necromancer
Lawrence Kellan - Human Mesmer
Piper Laurent - Human Guardian
Mikahl Ronvarus - Human Ranger

Open to walk up or planned out RP!
Contact me in game at karlajosephine.2046
what I should be doing in GW2:leveling and progressing my character in their story
what I actually do:take excessive amounts of screenshots and spend hours obsessing over otps
1 day ago
57 notes
mapeudeciel:

chaotic-reverie:

mapeudeciel:


Elementals loomed in corners too dark to be comforting; waiting limbs of ice and rock with their non-eyes focused on the passersby. That vacant glare was enough to conjure goose-pimples even in the toughest of men and Gwen could feel every negative notion she’d ever had in their presence as if flooded and consumed. Nervous smiles and glances were plentiful, but chestnut eyes tried their darnedest to fixate on the cobblestone road at every turn. Sure, Mikhal was there to offer company and protection, but he could only do so much. He was a man and these creatures? They were on par with leviathan in the fawn’s mind.
“I told you I saw one once,” she mustered after some time; her voice barely an octave above the quietest murmur. “I saw one through my secret window. It didn’t see me, of course – I was little and I didn’t make any noise, but I saw it. It was so big and exactly how I imagined it would be. Still, I never thought they’d seem so –“ She paused for a moment, her mind desperate to catch the right word with a broken butterfly net and nerves ablaze. “- soulless up close.”
It wasn’t just the beasts that were causing unease in the pit of Gwen’s being. They just channeled a fear that was already brewing, for a little further down the road (to the left some and then the right), a true nightmare sat ready and beckoning: a dwelling. Not just any dwelling either; this domicile belonged to an aging piano instructor. Quirky fashion and salt-and-pepper hair were just a few of her attributes, but she was a good woman to those who knew her – albeit slightly crazy. Of course – there was a name she carried, an unimportant one without any flair or origin. She often forgot it unless it was spoken, and even then it jutted like a bone broken through flesh. No, her most important title came from the soft lips of a willowy brunette with more freckles than bust… ‘Mama’.


Many a twilight and dusk were spent wondering what would happen if Gwen were to make the voyage home. She’d left without a word, without a note or a missive – just disappeared into the darkness as swift as a breeze fleeing through an open window. It had taken a fortnight before the fawn even thought to write her Mama and those letters were still sparse, no matter how heartfelt. How would a true, bona fide return be treated? Would it be met with open arms or screaming loud enough to leave ears ringing for days to come? Would there even be a reaction? Perhaps her mother had been so distraught that she’d been rendered emotionless. Gwen could imagine it now; those listless, vacant eyes matching such a calm, unforgiving frown. It was a terrifying image, but there was only one way to find out the truth.
That truth was coming up quickly on the right and paces slowed as the pair reached their destination at the edge of town. Here villas commonly thought of as quaint or rustic clashed against walls of evergreen forest. Of course, only one of them had a sign which bore elaborate vermilion calligraphy. It was ominous in a way and more nerve-wracking than not, reading out ‘WALKER’S MUSIC’ for those happening by.

Brave was hardly a word to describe Mikahl.  Surely, he could feign bravery with boisterous fervor if need be, but truthfully, the man’s heart weighed heavy from underlying fear.  It anchored him from being as independent and nonchalant as his siblings; unable to he as cold and uncaring as Viktor, unable to be flightly and reckless like Eve.  This fear always stayed close to the man, padding closely behind every step and leap made.  It was the same fright that lingered within him as a child, the same trepidation rested in him as his mother was dying, and now, the same nerves he felt walking beside Gwen.
Mikahl knew Gwen was far braver than he could ever be.  She had escaped her home with a thirst to feel every single place and person she could get in contact with.  It boggled poor Mikahl that Gwen, with her insatiable hunger for adventure, chose him to hold close for comfort as they both neared the woman’s former home.  He couldn’t help but wonder how Gwen’s mother was like, if Gwen’s descriptions were correct or complete hyperbole, would she approve of the two together or dismiss him at the door… would she accept her daughter with open arms after leaving the domicile?  All of these questions made the butterflies in Mikahl’s stomach flutter in an absolute frenzy… but Mikahl held her hand tightly, offering Gwen kiss on her temple as they stood before the sign labeled ‘WALKER’S MUSIC.’
"Ya’ ready?" he said with a reassuring smile.
This time, he had to be brave for Gwen, even if he was afraid out of his wits.

Gwen didn’t really answer the question, treating it as rhetoric rather than an actual inquiry. Her reply was made instead as her steady feet found the three cracked stones that sat to serve as her childhood home’s walkway. It was a diminutive trail leading to a doorframe that was by no means grand or extravagant. If anything, it was average and yet in the same instance – it was terrifying. Breath, previously shaky, was now held still, bound by monstrous butterflies as they devoured every bit of the woman that they could. And yet – despite this, she found her fist, having formed and traveled on its own whim, rapping lightly against the somewhat tarnished wood. The moment of truth was here and it was met instantly with an asphyxiating nothing.
That silence was terrible, the wait excruciating. Eyes glued to the door as the fawn half-hoped that her knock was left unanswered. Uncertainty made its move, complimenting the atmosphere and hanging around like a pendulum until Gwen couldn’t take it anymore. She turned suddenly, anxious features finding Mikhal’s calm façade.
“Maybe we should –“ The words were sliced cleanly, amputated mid-sentence as the rattling of the door-handle resonated through the air. Lips moved as if trying to speak, but the rest of the statement had been lost to the oblivion. The door would groan open and someone would answer, all while her gaze – her paralyzingly frightened, wide-eyed gaze – never left his.
“Oh, you must be the Olsons,” the foreign voice chimed with fervor. “I am Mrs. Pintervink, the estate manager, and you’re a tad early, but that’s no problem at all. Why don’t you come into the kitchen for some tea? The Rylers are here already. We’re just waiting on The Gruebers and then we’ll start the viewing. How does that sound?”
All at once, Gwen’s distraught expression was dropped; eyebrows instead knitting together as she slowly turned to face the pleasantly plump saleswoman. “The Olsons? Mrs. Pintervink,” she whispered, her voice only raising as the next few words left her soft-spoken mouth: “Where’s Mrs. Walker?”

Mikahl obediently followed Gwen, staying half a step behind the willowy woman.  His eyes quietly trailed the scenery— the broken stones of the walkway, the facade of the house, Gwen’s seemingly slow paced footsteps. 
He let himself linger in the silence; words could do little to alleviate the pressure of the situation.  The soft knocks against the door seemed to echo in Mikahl’s mind, his eyes watching the tiny fist rap against the door.  She turned back, Gwen’s gaze fixed on his as she began to talk.  The door creaked open, but Mikahl kept his eyes on the woman.
As Gwen turned, Mikahl released his sight from her, staring back at the estate manager.
"Where’s Mrs. Walker?" the small voice questioned.
"Fuck…" was the only thought that echoed through his mind.

mapeudeciel:

chaotic-reverie:

mapeudeciel:

Elementals loomed in corners too dark to be comforting; waiting limbs of ice and rock with their non-eyes focused on the passersby. That vacant glare was enough to conjure goose-pimples even in the toughest of men and Gwen could feel every negative notion she’d ever had in their presence as if flooded and consumed. Nervous smiles and glances were plentiful, but chestnut eyes tried their darnedest to fixate on the cobblestone road at every turn. Sure, Mikhal was there to offer company and protection, but he could only do so much. He was a man and these creatures? They were on par with leviathan in the fawn’s mind.


“I told you I saw one once,” she mustered after some time; her voice barely an octave above the quietest murmur. “I saw one through my secret window. It didn’t see me, of course – I was little and I didn’t make any noise, but I saw it. It was so big and exactly how I imagined it would be. Still, I never thought they’d seem so –“ She paused for a moment, her mind desperate to catch the right word with a broken butterfly net and nerves ablaze. “- soulless up close.”


It wasn’t just the beasts that were causing unease in the pit of Gwen’s being. They just channeled a fear that was already brewing, for a little further down the road (to the left some and then the right), a true nightmare sat ready and beckoning: a dwelling. Not just any dwelling either; this domicile belonged to an aging piano instructor. Quirky fashion and salt-and-pepper hair were just a few of her attributes, but she was a good woman to those who knew her – albeit slightly crazy. Of course – there was a name she carried, an unimportant one without any flair or origin. She often forgot it unless it was spoken, and even then it jutted like a bone broken through flesh. No, her most important title came from the soft lips of a willowy brunette with more freckles than bust… ‘Mama’.

Many a twilight and dusk were spent wondering what would happen if Gwen were to make the voyage home. She’d left without a word, without a note or a missive – just disappeared into the darkness as swift as a breeze fleeing through an open window. It had taken a fortnight before the fawn even thought to write her Mama and those letters were still sparse, no matter how heartfelt. How would a true, bona fide return be treated? Would it be met with open arms or screaming loud enough to leave ears ringing for days to come? Would there even be a reaction? Perhaps her mother had been so distraught that she’d been rendered emotionless. Gwen could imagine it now; those listless, vacant eyes matching such a calm, unforgiving frown. It was a terrifying image, but there was only one way to find out the truth.

That truth was coming up quickly on the right and paces slowed as the pair reached their destination at the edge of town. Here villas commonly thought of as quaint or rustic clashed against walls of evergreen forest. Of course, only one of them had a sign which bore elaborate vermilion calligraphy. It was ominous in a way and more nerve-wracking than not, reading out ‘WALKER’S MUSIC’ for those happening by.

Brave was hardly a word to describe Mikahl.  Surely, he could feign bravery with boisterous fervor if need be, but truthfully, the man’s heart weighed heavy from underlying fear.  It anchored him from being as independent and nonchalant as his siblings; unable to he as cold and uncaring as Viktor, unable to be flightly and reckless like Eve.  This fear always stayed close to the man, padding closely behind every step and leap made.  It was the same fright that lingered within him as a child, the same trepidation rested in him as his mother was dying, and now, the same nerves he felt walking beside Gwen.

Mikahl knew Gwen was far braver than he could ever be.  She had escaped her home with a thirst to feel every single place and person she could get in contact with.  It boggled poor Mikahl that Gwen, with her insatiable hunger for adventure, chose him to hold close for comfort as they both neared the woman’s former home.  He couldn’t help but wonder how Gwen’s mother was like, if Gwen’s descriptions were correct or complete hyperbole, would she approve of the two together or dismiss him at the door… would she accept her daughter with open arms after leaving the domicile?  All of these questions made the butterflies in Mikahl’s stomach flutter in an absolute frenzy… but Mikahl held her hand tightly, offering Gwen kiss on her temple as they stood before the sign labeled ‘WALKER’S MUSIC.’

"Ya’ ready?" he said with a reassuring smile.

This time, he had to be brave for Gwen, even if he was afraid out of his wits.

Gwen didn’t really answer the question, treating it as rhetoric rather than an actual inquiry. Her reply was made instead as her steady feet found the three cracked stones that sat to serve as her childhood home’s walkway. It was a diminutive trail leading to a doorframe that was by no means grand or extravagant. If anything, it was average and yet in the same instance – it was terrifying. Breath, previously shaky, was now held still, bound by monstrous butterflies as they devoured every bit of the woman that they could. And yet – despite this, she found her fist, having formed and traveled on its own whim, rapping lightly against the somewhat tarnished wood. The moment of truth was here and it was met instantly with an asphyxiating nothing.

That silence was terrible, the wait excruciating. Eyes glued to the door as the fawn half-hoped that her knock was left unanswered. Uncertainty made its move, complimenting the atmosphere and hanging around like a pendulum until Gwen couldn’t take it anymore. She turned suddenly, anxious features finding Mikhal’s calm façade.

“Maybe we should –“ The words were sliced cleanly, amputated mid-sentence as the rattling of the door-handle resonated through the air. Lips moved as if trying to speak, but the rest of the statement had been lost to the oblivion. The door would groan open and someone would answer, all while her gaze – her paralyzingly frightened, wide-eyed gaze – never left his.

“Oh, you must be the Olsons,” the foreign voice chimed with fervor. “I am Mrs. Pintervink, the estate manager, and you’re a tad early, but that’s no problem at all. Why don’t you come into the kitchen for some tea? The Rylers are here already. We’re just waiting on The Gruebers and then we’ll start the viewing. How does that sound?”

All at once, Gwen’s distraught expression was dropped; eyebrows instead knitting together as she slowly turned to face the pleasantly plump saleswoman. “The Olsons? Mrs. Pintervink,” she whispered, her voice only raising as the next few words left her soft-spoken mouth: “Where’s Mrs. Walker?”

Mikahl obediently followed Gwen, staying half a step behind the willowy woman.  His eyes quietly trailed the scenery— the broken stones of the walkway, the facade of the house, Gwen’s seemingly slow paced footsteps. 

He let himself linger in the silence; words could do little to alleviate the pressure of the situation.  The soft knocks against the door seemed to echo in Mikahl’s mind, his eyes watching the tiny fist rap against the door.  She turned back, Gwen’s gaze fixed on his as she began to talk.  The door creaked open, but Mikahl kept his eyes on the woman.

As Gwen turned, Mikahl released his sight from her, staring back at the estate manager.

"Where’s Mrs. Walker?" the small voice questioned.

"Fuck…" was the only thought that echoed through his mind.

(Source: dustjacket-attic.com)

3 days ago
3,071 notes
mapeudeciel:


Elementals loomed in corners too dark to be comforting; waiting limbs of ice and rock with their non-eyes focused on the passersby. That vacant glare was enough to conjure goose-pimples even in the toughest of men and Gwen could feel every negative notion she’d ever had in their presence as if flooded and consumed. Nervous smiles and glances were plentiful, but chestnut eyes tried their darnedest to fixate on the cobblestone road at every turn. Sure, Mikhal was there to offer company and protection, but he could only do so much. He was a man and these creatures? They were on par with leviathan in the fawn’s mind.
“I told you I saw one once,” she mustered after some time; her voice barely an octave above the quietest murmur. “I saw one through my secret window. It didn’t see me, of course – I was little and I didn’t make any noise, but I saw it. It was so big and exactly how I imagined it would be. Still, I never thought they’d seem so –“ She paused for a moment, her mind desperate to catch the right word with a broken butterfly net and nerves ablaze. “- soulless up close.”
It wasn’t just the beasts that were causing unease in the pit of Gwen’s being. They just channeled a fear that was already brewing, for a little further down the road (to the left some and then the right), a true nightmare sat ready and beckoning: a dwelling. Not just any dwelling either; this domicile belonged to an aging piano instructor. Quirky fashion and salt-and-pepper hair were just a few of her attributes, but she was a good woman to those who knew her – albeit slightly crazy. Of course – there was a name she carried, an unimportant one without any flair or origin. She often forgot it unless it was spoken, and even then it jutted like a bone broken through flesh. No, her most important title came from the soft lips of a willowy brunette with more freckles than bust… ‘Mama’.


Many a twilight and dusk were spent wondering what would happen if Gwen were to make the voyage home. She’d left without a word, without a note or a missive – just disappeared into the darkness as swift as a breeze fleeing through an open window. It had taken a fortnight before the fawn even thought to write her Mama and those letters were still sparse, no matter how heartfelt. How would a true, bona fide return be treated? Would it be met with open arms or screaming loud enough to leave ears ringing for days to come? Would there even be a reaction? Perhaps her mother had been so distraught that she’d been rendered emotionless. Gwen could imagine it now; those listless, vacant eyes matching such a calm, unforgiving frown. It was a terrifying image, but there was only one way to find out the truth.
That truth was coming up quickly on the right and paces slowed as the pair reached their destination at the edge of town. Here villas commonly thought of as quaint or rustic clashed against walls of evergreen forest. Of course, only one of them had a sign which bore elaborate vermilion calligraphy. It was ominous in a way and more nerve-wracking than not, reading out ‘WALKER’S MUSIC’ for those happening by.

Brave was hardly a word to describe Mikahl.  Surely, he could feign bravery with boisterous fervor if need be, but truthfully, the man’s heart weighed heavy from underlying fear.  It anchored him from being as independent and nonchalant as his siblings; unable to he as cold and uncaring as Viktor, unable to be flightly and reckless like Eve.  This fear always stayed close to the man, padding closely behind every step and leap made.  It was the same fright that lingered within him as a child, the same trepidation rested in him as his mother was dying, and now, the same nerves he felt walking beside Gwen.
Mikahl knew Gwen was far braver than he could ever be.  She had escaped her home with a thirst to feel every single place and person she could get in contact with.  It boggled poor Mikahl that Gwen, with her insatiable hunger for adventure, chose him to hold close for comfort as they both neared the woman’s former home.  He couldn’t help but wonder how Gwen’s mother was like, if Gwen’s descriptions were correct or complete hyperbole, would she approve of the two together or dismiss him at the door… would she accept her daughter with open arms after leaving the domicile?  All of these questions made the butterflies in Mikahl’s stomach flutter in an absolute frenzy… but Mikahl held her hand tightly, offering Gwen kiss on her temple as they stood before the sign labeled ‘WALKER’S MUSIC.’
"Ya’ ready?" he said with a reassuring smile.
This time, he had to be brave for Gwen, even if he was afraid out of his wits.

mapeudeciel:

Elementals loomed in corners too dark to be comforting; waiting limbs of ice and rock with their non-eyes focused on the passersby. That vacant glare was enough to conjure goose-pimples even in the toughest of men and Gwen could feel every negative notion she’d ever had in their presence as if flooded and consumed. Nervous smiles and glances were plentiful, but chestnut eyes tried their darnedest to fixate on the cobblestone road at every turn. Sure, Mikhal was there to offer company and protection, but he could only do so much. He was a man and these creatures? They were on par with leviathan in the fawn’s mind.


“I told you I saw one once,” she mustered after some time; her voice barely an octave above the quietest murmur. “I saw one through my secret window. It didn’t see me, of course – I was little and I didn’t make any noise, but I saw it. It was so big and exactly how I imagined it would be. Still, I never thought they’d seem so –“ She paused for a moment, her mind desperate to catch the right word with a broken butterfly net and nerves ablaze. “- soulless up close.”


It wasn’t just the beasts that were causing unease in the pit of Gwen’s being. They just channeled a fear that was already brewing, for a little further down the road (to the left some and then the right), a true nightmare sat ready and beckoning: a dwelling. Not just any dwelling either; this domicile belonged to an aging piano instructor. Quirky fashion and salt-and-pepper hair were just a few of her attributes, but she was a good woman to those who knew her – albeit slightly crazy. Of course – there was a name she carried, an unimportant one without any flair or origin. She often forgot it unless it was spoken, and even then it jutted like a bone broken through flesh. No, her most important title came from the soft lips of a willowy brunette with more freckles than bust… ‘Mama’.

Many a twilight and dusk were spent wondering what would happen if Gwen were to make the voyage home. She’d left without a word, without a note or a missive – just disappeared into the darkness as swift as a breeze fleeing through an open window. It had taken a fortnight before the fawn even thought to write her Mama and those letters were still sparse, no matter how heartfelt. How would a true, bona fide return be treated? Would it be met with open arms or screaming loud enough to leave ears ringing for days to come? Would there even be a reaction? Perhaps her mother had been so distraught that she’d been rendered emotionless. Gwen could imagine it now; those listless, vacant eyes matching such a calm, unforgiving frown. It was a terrifying image, but there was only one way to find out the truth.

That truth was coming up quickly on the right and paces slowed as the pair reached their destination at the edge of town. Here villas commonly thought of as quaint or rustic clashed against walls of evergreen forest. Of course, only one of them had a sign which bore elaborate vermilion calligraphy. It was ominous in a way and more nerve-wracking than not, reading out ‘WALKER’S MUSIC’ for those happening by.

Brave was hardly a word to describe Mikahl.  Surely, he could feign bravery with boisterous fervor if need be, but truthfully, the man’s heart weighed heavy from underlying fear.  It anchored him from being as independent and nonchalant as his siblings; unable to he as cold and uncaring as Viktor, unable to be flightly and reckless like Eve.  This fear always stayed close to the man, padding closely behind every step and leap made.  It was the same fright that lingered within him as a child, the same trepidation rested in him as his mother was dying, and now, the same nerves he felt walking beside Gwen.

Mikahl knew Gwen was far braver than he could ever be.  She had escaped her home with a thirst to feel every single place and person she could get in contact with.  It boggled poor Mikahl that Gwen, with her insatiable hunger for adventure, chose him to hold close for comfort as they both neared the woman’s former home.  He couldn’t help but wonder how Gwen’s mother was like, if Gwen’s descriptions were correct or complete hyperbole, would she approve of the two together or dismiss him at the door… would she accept her daughter with open arms after leaving the domicile?  All of these questions made the butterflies in Mikahl’s stomach flutter in an absolute frenzy… but Mikahl held her hand tightly, offering Gwen kiss on her temple as they stood before the sign labeled ‘WALKER’S MUSIC.’

"Ya’ ready?" he said with a reassuring smile.

This time, he had to be brave for Gwen, even if he was afraid out of his wits.

(Source: dustjacket-attic.com)

1 week ago
3,071 notes
Upon reaching the ship’s bunks, Mikahl immediately tossed his shirt over his head before unbuckling his trousers.  He realized only after this action that he should probably consult Gwen."I ‘ave a li’l trouble sleepin’ when m’ body gets too hot…"  He tries to read her expression, "I can put them back on if this ain’t okay…"Mikahl, though not as muscular as his father or brother, did have a fairly impressive physique.  He was tall, so he may have looked lanky while clothed, but Gwen could now be able to see the definition of the man’s body."What side o’ the bunk ya’ wanna sleep on?" he asks with a cheeky smile, rubbing the back of his neck nervously.

Upon reaching the ship’s bunks, Mikahl immediately tossed his shirt over his head before unbuckling his trousers. He realized only after this action that he should probably consult Gwen.
"I ‘ave a li’l trouble sleepin’ when m’ body gets too hot…" He tries to read her expression, "I can put them back on if this ain’t okay…"
Mikahl, though not as muscular as his father or brother, did have a fairly impressive physique. He was tall, so he may have looked lanky while clothed, but Gwen could now be able to see the definition of the man’s body.
"What side o’ the bunk ya’ wanna sleep on?" he asks with a cheeky smile, rubbing the back of his neck nervously.

(via ignitetheliight)

1 week ago
323 notes
Darkness brewed in her heart, churning slowly and precise."Why am I still angry?"The thought echoed in her mind, as if waiting for reply.  Eve had separated herself from all her acquaintances and family in hopes to calm the fire that burned at her sanity."You’re angry that he left you.  He left you all those years ago and he’s going to leave you again…" It was almost like someone else was in her head, slowly poisoning her thoughts.  "They always leave… Don’t ever forget that."

Darkness brewed in her heart, churning slowly and precise.
"Why am I still angry?"
The thought echoed in her mind, as if waiting for reply.  Eve had separated herself from all her acquaintances and family in hopes to calm the fire that burned at her sanity.
"You’re angry that he left you.  He left you all those years ago and he’s going to leave you again…" 
It was almost like someone else was in her head, slowly poisoning her thoughts.  
"They always leave… Don’t ever forget that."

(Source: freemoon)

1 week ago
40 notes
Its name was Winter,
and it was very nice.
Then again, so was its owner.To new things, new people,
and new adventures -
both on The Kestrel and off.
Its name was Winter,
and it was very nice.
Then again, so was its owner.

To new things, new people,
and new adventures -
both on The Kestrel and off.

(via mapeudeciel)

2 weeks ago
1,291 notes
In his heart, he really hoped she was not just a one night thing.  It had been so long since he felt some kind of tangible connection with someone else.
Please, please keep her safe at sea…
She said she would write, would she really?  

In his heart, he really hoped she was not just a one night thing.  It had been so long since he felt some kind of tangible connection with someone else.

Please, please keep her safe at sea…

She said she would write, would she really?  

2 weeks ago
3 notes

I Must Confess in Threes

Blab:Three secrets I'm keeping.
Mwah:Three people I'd like to kiss.
Similar:Three members of the same sex I find attractive.
Different:Three members of the opposite sex I find attractive
Pastime:Three hobbies I have.
Doing:Three habits that I have.
Psst:Three things that I've always wanted to tell you.
Shh:Three things I wouldn't want my parents to know
Dream:Three wishes I have.
Want:Three things I would do to you if we were alone.
1 day ago
210,142 notes

Reblog this if it’s OK if I do drawings of your Character and send them to you.

queenevaine:

alistairweekend:

doppelgangercomplex:

Sometimes I feel like drawing, but I don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable if it’s not your cup of tea.

ALWAYS ALWAYS ALWAYS

I will always accept free drawings, always.  Even for practice drawings.

UM YES

(Source: doppelgangercomplex, via mapeudeciel)

1 week ago
3,773 notes

She picked it up from its shelf in the corner store and knew instantly: it was for him. It was his.

She would be a great test in patience and self restraint.  Mikahl was a man of his word, but at the end of the day, he was a man.  If given permission, he would surely be able to answer whatever questions she had in the span of one night.  He had never taken a girls innocence, not to his knowledge anyway.  This was all minor to his real goal though; Mikahl really wanted to gain her trust and eventually win her heart.

She picked it up from its shelf in the corner store and knew instantly: it was for him. It was his.

She would be a great test in patience and self restraint.  Mikahl was a man of his word, but at the end of the day, he was a man.  If given permission, he would surely be able to answer whatever questions she had in the span of one night.  He had never taken a girls innocence, not to his knowledge anyway.  This was all minor to his real goal though; Mikahl really wanted to gain her trust and eventually win her heart.

(via mapeudeciel)

1 week ago
849 notes
153 plays

estrellax:

you were the blue of the sky,
you came after the storm,
you were the switch on the wall
in the dark of the hall
I’m still fumbling for.

bright eyes - messenger bird’s song

2 weeks ago
100 notes