silvertonguedgod:

galacticmotive:

#Well I never thought I’d see the day #Nearly 70 followers on an OC blog #Hello all and good to see you

((

Okay so real talk time now my darling followers

Tea is Ink’s specialty, and he’s probably got the most impressive stock of koala tea in the multiverse.

The fact that he only has 70 followers is a goddamn travesty.))

[[Casual promotions ensues!]]

A hardcover notebook sits open on a desk. Visible on the pages are signatures.

• Sakura Tama is written in large, clumsy block print.
• Loki is written in a sharp and spidery but immaculate runic hand, and appeared less than ten minutes after he and Sakura had parted
  
• Koishe is written in stiff, book-print writing. The etching is deep set and dark.
• Kichuna S. is scratched in with sharp strokes
• Mius is signed in flowing cursive.
• Dominic Dawnwalker is printed using a Chancery Hand style of print, the letters taking on a slightly green tint.
  
• Dimitri Dawnwalker must have been signed in the middle of the night with a regal print that appears somewhat faded - no one really knows when exactly that signature got there, though.
  
• Tiran Solfae is signed in slanted, tight lettering.
• Cecelia Wells is written in an elegantly thin scrawl, sans serif with sharp edges.
  
• Pitch Black is written quickly with the darkest ink. Its shape is unimportant, since the ink itself has swallowed the signature as well as part of the page in a hissing cloud.
• Tai Gambol is written on the next open space, in an artfully scruffy scrawl. Studying it would suggest the name had always been written there.
  
• Arelas’ name is signed on the right: אָרלש
• Ramura Leiflein has silently been added in a lazy, familiar, paperwork-dulled signature born of thousands of reports filed.
• Jervis Tetch has signed his name in an overly flourished, ornate and calligraphic script, dotting the ‘i’ with a tiny top hat.
• The scratches indicate that something incredibly long was written, but the ink from the intangible foreign characters coalessed into a single, three letter word in Old English so pristine it might has well of been printed:  Sai
• Honey is written in Koishe’s handwriting.
• Iris McDougal has been signed carefully in a mostly-neat, occasionally faltering script.
• An Inkblot has dripped onto the page, tangling and curling into an impossibly intricate spiderweb that - for some reason - does not bleed through to the other side of the paper.
• Miriam Abberley is written in pretty cursive handwriting.
• Javilynn Leiflein is written in a quick, severe, precise hand.
• Katherine Mary Rascal has been added to the collection with impeccable, practiced penmanship that is older than the journals themselves.
• Caelar Juregar Ixen is written in a runic lettering that few would know, and beneath it is a more common spelling in flowing simplified calligraphy.

(Source: ectopicfantast, via drunkenspacewolf)

drunkenspacewolf:

ectopicfantast:

“It has to do with Ink.” Koishe taps the gem at his throat. A brief flash appears, and he’s holding a small journal book. “Ink has been keeping her alive for some time; she is aged far beyond what normal dragons ought to live up to. Due to circumstances, he can no longer support her life, and she will die of old age…”

“…Unless enough people deem her important enough to continue living. The more important she is to us all, the more we wish for her to survive, the more likely she will.” He offers the book out to Caelar.

“Will you join us?”

He hears the proposal as the servant returns with a wooden box etched in gold. Eyes narrow lightly and hesitation crosses him as he hears of all the details.

Trouble openly crosses his features with brows knit in uncertainty, thinking over just what he is signing.

“You are asking a very steep thing of me Koishe…” he takes the journal and looks it over curiously, seeing the names written. “For a Guardian knows the cycle of life and death most intimately. To prolong that cycled by any means is…frowned upon.” 

“But…” he reached into the box and took out a fiery orange feather that seemed to smolder very lightly, and opened an inkwell. The gold tip sipped of the black ink and he signed his name in runic characters of his native language, with strong strokes and graceful angles.

Then wrote his name in common, a plain intricate script that was elegant yet quaint. “I will make an exception for Lady Daine. She is your wife.” a stoic look of cold emotionless void was seen before he forced a small smile.

“And I would do anything to protect my wife were I in your position. And hope that others would aid me in the same.” Caelar closed the journal and handed it back to him.

“The Gods and Elements be on your side in your endeavors, Koishe.” closing inkwell and setting quill back in the casing, he sent the servant off. “If there is nothing more for us to discuss, I would wish you farewell.”

Koishe’s expression remained still and unmoving, listening intently. His brow creases with growing worry at Caelar’s words… Only to settle back in relief. A smile of his own takes his face. “… Thank you, Caelar.”

He takes back the book with both hands, and a bow of his head. “Thank you, once more. If you were to mention concern to anyone else in your kingdom, that too would be of aid. I understand that she briefly … visited this realm, as a political figure? Either way, even if you say nothing more, I appreciate your aid.”

“Do take care Caelar, remember that we are always present in Gotham, if needed be.”

drunkenspacewolf:

ectopicfantast:

His brow raises at Caelar’s sight. He looks the room over, for a moment just letting the scene sink in…

He can’t help the flashbacks to his days in training as a Knight, the days in which he met with other kings such as this…

He bows his head to Caelar. “An emergency request, but luckily, aid is easy enough. I may be able to stay long enough for tea, I had promised—” he hesitates, “— I had promised I would return home in an hour or two at most.”

“Daine is dying, and I wish to help save her. We are gathering signatures an awareness to help her live.”

His hand shifts to raise an index finger and the servant bows then sits back down, awaiting any other command gesture.

“So Daine is in danger? What could possibly pose a threat to her that would require the aid of multiple people? I figured the plane and planet you were on was somewhat…simple.” he shrugged.

“What would a signature do?” he looks curiously to Koishe then motions the servant to come closer. A whispered command and she is off at a trot to retrieve something for Caelar.

“It has to do with Ink.” Koishe taps the gem at his throat. A brief flash appears, and he’s holding a small journal book. “Ink has been keeping her alive for some time; she is aged far beyond what normal dragons ought to live up to. Due to circumstances, he can no longer support her life, and she will die of old age…”

“…Unless enough people deem her important enough to continue living. The more important she is to us all, the more we wish for her to survive, the more likely she will.” He offers the book out to Caelar.

“Will you join us?”

neighofvoid:

askcecewells:

mistermichaelis:

(Source: illuzionslightshow)

drunkenspacewolf:

ectopicfantast:

Koishe remained still and unmoving at the shining lights, and potential threat of weaponry aimed at him. He holds his ground, patient and fearless.

His expression only shifts once he hears the lock undone; with a slight turn up of his mouth.

He bows his head to the guards. “Thank you.” And steps through.

On entering this new area, he gives the hall a brief look-over. It’s all so … lavish, much to his own surprise. He clears his throat, and walks forward to the door. Wondering.

Did Caelar change, since the last he saw him? They never really spoke… He always saw him as humble, maybe even bumbling, ‘that teacher that visits’… But times have changed.

With a nervous breath, he knocks on the door.

The door was opened for Koishe, tall polished wood doors of ornate design swung inwards and led him to a wide open area that looked suited for a meeting of councils or honored guests, the first room of any castle. Two rows of flat seats adorned the floor leading up to a single one at it’s head across the room.

The veil was left up so that Koishe could plainly see Caelar who sat cross-legged upon it and regal with back straight, gaze forward and shoulders squared.

“Koishe.” Caelar addressed him from across the room. His voice harsher than their last meeting but not unwelcoming in tone.

“What brings you to my lands? Will you be staying for tea?” he’d raise a hand, middle finger and thumb touching as if ready to snap, and a servant off to the side raising silently, eyes on Caelar.

Humble was an understatement to how he was on Silverion. Here, he was leader and had to show it and show it well.

His brow raises at Caelar’s sight. He looks the room over, for a moment just letting the scene sink in…

He can’t help the flashbacks to his days in training as a Knight, the days in which he met with other kings such as this…

He bows his head to Caelar. “An emergency request, but luckily, aid is easy enough. I may be able to stay long enough for tea, I had promised—” he hesitates, “— I had promised I would return home in an hour or two at most.”

“Daine is dying, and I wish to help save her. We are gathering signatures an awareness to help her live.”

A hardcover notebook sits open on a desk. Visible on the pages are signatures.

• Sakura Tama is written in large, clumsy block print.
• Loki is written in a sharp and spidery but immaculate runic hand, and appeared less than ten minutes after he and Sakura had parted
  
• Koishe is written in stiff, book-print writing. The etching is deep set and dark.
• Kichuna S. is scratched in with sharp strokes
• Mius is signed in flowing cursive.
• Dominic Dawnwalker is printed using a Chancery Hand style of print, the letters taking on a slightly green tint.
  
• Dimitri Dawnwalker must have been signed in the middle of the night with a regal print that appears somewhat faded - no one really knows when exactly that signature got there, though.
  
• Tiran Solfae is signed in slanted, tight lettering.
• Cecelia Wells is written in an elegantly thin scrawl, sans serif with sharp edges.
  
• Pitch Black is written quickly with the darkest ink. Its shape is unimportant, since the ink itself has swallowed the signature as well as part of the page in a hissing cloud.
• Tai Gambol is written on the next open space, in an artfully scruffy scrawl. Studying it would suggest the name had always been written there.
  
• Arelas’ name is signed on the right: אָרלש
• Ramura Leiflein has silently been added in a lazy, familiar, paperwork-dulled signature born of thousands of reports filed.
• Jervis Tetch has signed his name in an overly flourished, ornate and calligraphic script, dotting the ‘i’ with a tiny top hat.
• The scratches indicate that something incredibly long was written, but the ink from the intangible foreign characters coalessed into a single, three letter word in Old English so pristine it might has well of been printed:  Sai
• Honey is written in Koishe’s handwriting.
• Iris McDougal has been signed carefully in a mostly-neat, occasionally faltering script.
• An Inkblot has dripped onto the page, tangling and curling into an impossibly intricate spiderweb that - for some reason - does not bleed through to the other side of the paper.
• Miriam Abberley is written in pretty cursive handwriting.
• Javilynn Leiflein is written in a quick, severe, precise hand.
• Katherine Mary Rascal has been added to the collection with impeccable, practiced penmanship that is older than the journals themselves.

(Source: ectopicfantast, via ringtailedrascal)