★ pick someone you want to play with and put it in the subject ★ leave a pic or a prompt or w/e ★ havesomemoreideas;) ★ have fun! ★ fyi "late" doesn't exist. ★ let's go let's do the cute holiday thing
Of course - she complains about a lot of things, and being snowed in at the airport is going to naturally be near the top of her list. Her scarf falls around her neck as she places her hands on her hips, her pout obvious. There's not much use getting mad at the intercom system that made the announcement though.
[A wave of a hand! A jolly smile! A... surprisingly bare face because it looks like this Santa Claus fool apparently didn't commit the whole way to the costume. He's not even fat. What's the deal, Chiaki?
Yet despite the fact that what he's wearing is definitely just a costume, he doesn't even seem cold from the chill of winter. Rather, he's got a grin as warm as the sun and his hands wrapped around an actual giant brown sack that's hefted over his shoulder. So why did he call out to you?]
[ A flicker of lights, then a gentle sound outside the door of the bookstore - in the brief interval of Zen passing by the indoor cafe, conveying recognition with a call of Jaehee's name, they were presented with an obstacle: a barbaric wall of snow huddled against the electric sliding doors. Unfortunately, said doors repelled from the other, dusty snow and the unpleasant breeze tumbling into the building. ]
... I'm going to be left behind at this rate. [ Not that grabbing a taxi wasn't a possibility. But, he was looking forward to it - the spontaneous purchase of compiled short stories that were supposed to accompany him on his metro-ride home. However - ]
I shouldn't complain. Knowing that jerk, the weather isn't enough to give his only assistant a break. [ Tucking his novel into the pocket of his coat, he approaches the Final Boss From Hell, offering the 'wall' a imprint of his hand afterward, testing out how sturdy it is (it wasn't, thankfully). ]
Jaehee, want to try something out with me? I can't promise that it'll be fun, but it'll totally be a win/win outcome! You'll trust me, right? [ An attempt to lighten the mood with the RFA member he feels the most distant towards.......... ]
Edited (forgot the subject line smh) 2016-12-27 03:57 (UTC)
[After the fall of Insomnia, Gladio had been sure that Christmas would have been a quiet, subdued affair. All of them were being pulled in different directions, trying to save the world, riding chocobos, fishing... So when Gladio had been told an hour beforehand by a no-nonsense looking Monica that they were having a Christmas party, exchanging gifts, and having cake, Gladio knew better than to argue.
Iggy had quickly and unsurprisingly been roped into helping cook, while Prompto and Noct were on decorating duty. Gladio didn't envy them one bit, and to spare Iris from the bickering that would undoubtedly happened, he ushered his little sister out the door on the premise they would go find a tree.]
Monica is something else.
[If he sounded impressed, it was because he was. Not very many women made it into the Crownsguard, and those that did were usually tougher than the men.
Rubbing the back of his neck tiredly, he shot his sister a sideways glance.]
You know the area pretty well. Where is the best spot to find a good tree?
[ Squall reaches up to scratch the chocobo's neck, gloved fingers threading expertly between feathers without bending or pulling. The chocobo leans into the sensation, releasing a softer, far less demanding kweh, and the corner of Squall's lips twitch in a smile. Then he's back to fastening straps and adjusting fabric, making sure that the chocobo's blanket is secure. An open air stall will keep the wind and snow at bay, but when it comes to warmth, the chocobo's primary source will be its own feathers and the thick blanket covering them. Having slept under said blanket himself on more than one occasion, Squall has no doubt that the chocobo will be fine.
[ It's only after he's ensured the chocobo's comfort for the night that Squall looks to his own. An inn — small, but with a crackling fire visible through a window — is what initially drew his attention to this town. And that's his destination as he heads back into the snow, shoulders raised and chin tucked into the fur along his collar to protect his face from flurries. The jingling of his many belts is oddly amplified to his ears, but maybe that's because few others are out crunching through the fresh powder. ]
[ caesar has no timeframe for when cherche will come back.
surely there had been several paths laid out for him since cherche had left for the war across ylisse. though he had promised, there was nothing binding him into waiting for her. she might understand if caesar had fallen for someone else—a maiden within the village boundaries, a traveler, a woman he had met on a trek outside of his town. cherche was not the only woman (or man) in the world, and caesar was still human, perfectly capable of developing and offering his affections elsewhere.
it was even true that since caesar had fallen for cherche, he might have become even more favored by the women within the village. cherche's stay had wrought new changes within him. he had developed a more humble and hardworking nature. he fought longer, harder battles. he became more self-sufficient, tending his own gardens and animals with the help of few farmhands, working for the benefit of his hometown and sometimes others. he became less of a chauvinistic womanizer and more of a capable, reliable warrior, more than suitable for building a wholesome, stable home with.
still, he would not relent. no matter what pretty faces passed him, anyone could see that his eyes were always elsewhere, looking for cherry streams of hair wrapped neatly in a kerchief. even after what seems like the climax of the war against the Risen—the sky dark for (what they guessed might be) days, the attacks more rampant, the town on the defense rather than the attack—caesar still waits. he understands the risks. his bloodline might sputter out into nothing. cherche might as well be dead. still, he waits for her when the sun finally rises and the town begins rebuilding itself.
today seems no different than the others. caesar is stationed in one of the village's courthouses, working with other councilors over plans to rebuild one of their lost armories. one of the younger soldiers enters and gently interrupts, stating to caesar with an apology that a red-haired woman arrived in town and has been asking for him by name. she was last seen at the tavern that caesar had seen her before she left him for the war. caesar passes along his work to the men in a hurry; they all stammer and scramble to grab his sleeve, but he already escapes out the door and into the town.
he has to calm himself as he enters the tavern again. he's older, more grizzled now; he's heard remarks on how he had retained his features well, but there are signs of aging, more scars, a little more exhaustion. he's changed, he's stronger, surely, but even if she remembers him, would she still love him as he is, the way she claimed to before? he has to keep cool.
he searches through the crowd of people, craning his neck to see over the top of the small crowd. he greets back whoever calls out to him, but they leave him be when they notice how distracted he's become. with little luck, he finally calls out in the crowd: ]
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yama!! THE CLASSICS
[Complain a little louder, Lili.
Of course - she complains about a lot of things, and being snowed in at the airport is going to naturally be near the top of her list. Her scarf falls around her neck as she places her hands on her hips, her pout obvious. There's not much use getting mad at the intercom system that made the announcement though.
But still, she's grumbling quietly to herself.]
They can't expect us to sleep here.
[those chairs aren't even comfortable??]
idk whoever I APOLOGIZE IN ADVANCE
[A wave of a hand! A jolly smile! A... surprisingly bare face because it looks like this Santa Claus fool apparently didn't commit the whole way to the costume. He's not even fat. What's the deal, Chiaki?
Yet despite the fact that what he's wearing is definitely just a costume, he doesn't even seem cold from the chill of winter. Rather, he's got a grin as warm as the sun and his hands wrapped around an actual giant brown sack that's hefted over his shoulder. So why did he call out to you?]
Did you already receive a gift this year?
[HE'S ON A MISSION.]
i apologize too
i'm laughing help akaashi
his life is suffering
i admit i'm not going to make it any better
(no subject)
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1/2
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
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jaehee ; let me know if i ought to change anything!
... I'm going to be left behind at this rate. [ Not that grabbing a taxi wasn't a possibility. But, he was looking forward to it - the spontaneous purchase of compiled short stories that were supposed to accompany him on his metro-ride home. However - ]
I shouldn't complain. Knowing that jerk, the weather isn't enough to give his only assistant a break. [ Tucking his novel into the pocket of his coat, he approaches the Final Boss From Hell, offering the 'wall' a imprint of his hand afterward, testing out how sturdy it is (it wasn't, thankfully). ]
Jaehee, want to try something out with me? I can't promise that it'll be fun, but it'll totally be a win/win outcome! You'll trust me, right? [ An attempt to lighten the mood with the RFA member he feels the most distant towards.......... ]
looks good to me!
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
sorry for the delay!!
no worries! you're good!!
nanako or any purse owner i am game
nanako?!?
cole kim!!
mERI XMAS HAPPY HOLidAYS!!!
idk my sis iris
Iggy had quickly and unsurprisingly been roped into helping cook, while Prompto and Noct were on decorating duty. Gladio didn't envy them one bit, and to spare Iris from the bickering that would undoubtedly happened, he ushered his little sister out the door on the premise they would go find a tree.]
Monica is something else.
[If he sounded impressed, it was because he was. Not very many women made it into the Crownsguard, and those that did were usually tougher than the men.
Rubbing the back of his neck tiredly, he shot his sister a sideways glance.]
You know the area pretty well. Where is the best spot to find a good tree?
iris.... (or anyone really i'm good)
[ Squall reaches up to scratch the chocobo's neck, gloved fingers threading expertly between feathers without bending or pulling. The chocobo leans into the sensation, releasing a softer, far less demanding kweh, and the corner of Squall's lips twitch in a smile. Then he's back to fastening straps and adjusting fabric, making sure that the chocobo's blanket is secure. An open air stall will keep the wind and snow at bay, but when it comes to warmth, the chocobo's primary source will be its own feathers and the thick blanket covering them. Having slept under said blanket himself on more than one occasion, Squall has no doubt that the chocobo will be fine.
[ It's only after he's ensured the chocobo's comfort for the night that Squall looks to his own. An inn — small, but with a crackling fire visible through a window — is what initially drew his attention to this town. And that's his destination as he heads back into the snow, shoulders raised and chin tucked into the fur along his collar to protect his face from flurries. The jingling of his many belts is oddly amplified to his ears, but maybe that's because few others are out crunching through the fresh powder. ]
u know who
surely there had been several paths laid out for him since cherche had left for the war across ylisse. though he had promised, there was nothing binding him into waiting for her. she might understand if caesar had fallen for someone else—a maiden within the village boundaries, a traveler, a woman he had met on a trek outside of his town. cherche was not the only woman (or man) in the world, and caesar was still human, perfectly capable of developing and offering his affections elsewhere.
it was even true that since caesar had fallen for cherche, he might have become even more favored by the women within the village. cherche's stay had wrought new changes within him. he had developed a more humble and hardworking nature. he fought longer, harder battles. he became more self-sufficient, tending his own gardens and animals with the help of few farmhands, working for the benefit of his hometown and sometimes others. he became less of a chauvinistic womanizer and more of a capable, reliable warrior, more than suitable for building a wholesome, stable home with.
still, he would not relent. no matter what pretty faces passed him, anyone could see that his eyes were always elsewhere, looking for cherry streams of hair wrapped neatly in a kerchief. even after what seems like the climax of the war against the Risen—the sky dark for (what they guessed might be) days, the attacks more rampant, the town on the defense rather than the attack—caesar still waits. he understands the risks. his bloodline might sputter out into nothing. cherche might as well be dead. still, he waits for her when the sun finally rises and the town begins rebuilding itself.
today seems no different than the others. caesar is stationed in one of the village's courthouses, working with other councilors over plans to rebuild one of their lost armories. one of the younger soldiers enters and gently interrupts, stating to caesar with an apology that a red-haired woman arrived in town and has been asking for him by name. she was last seen at the tavern that caesar had seen her before she left him for the war. caesar passes along his work to the men in a hurry; they all stammer and scramble to grab his sleeve, but he already escapes out the door and into the town.
he has to calm himself as he enters the tavern again. he's older, more grizzled now; he's heard remarks on how he had retained his features well, but there are signs of aging, more scars, a little more exhaustion. he's changed, he's stronger, surely, but even if she remembers him, would she still love him as he is, the way she claimed to before? he has to keep cool.
he searches through the crowd of people, craning his neck to see over the top of the small crowd. he greets back whoever calls out to him, but they leave him be when they notice how distracted he's become. with little luck, he finally calls out in the crowd: ]
Cherche?