illie, sap sipper
she/her
27
september 23rd
snowpoint city, sinnoh
bi curious
geneticist, alchemist
head professor
you caged me and then you called me crazy; i am what i am 'cause you trained me.
TAG WITH @illeana
illeana reyes
room 93
POSTED ON Dec 15, 2021 4:19:28 GMT
[attr="class","illie"] [attr="class","illie b"] [attr="class","illie i”]little distance does little to deter either titan. they clash regardless, as if meant to dance in this odd sort of pattern they've fallen prey to. and illeana, despite looking as though she'll break beneath the slightest pressure, holds up rather well. her smile widens until it's all teeth. aggressive, daring, even, when it shouldn't be. what's more surprising, however, is the action that follows. gentle fingers reach for the bruising hand. her touch is light, airy, ethereal. and when pink mist begins to float off each digit in little coiling wisps, her eyes hold the stare. "yes, personal experience," she murmurs, tone slightly clipped. did she stutter? is it really so hard to believe she was once a chosen one? perhaps. she doesn't elaborate. no, her healing mist speaks for her in little pearly whispers of soothing comfort. and when her hand falls, purpose fulfilled, the smile tightens. it's, admittedly, due mostly to an otherwise insignificant insult. you wicked thing. meant to pierce, meant to irritate. only... it does quite the opposite. illeana reyes has been called many things but that? now that could easily make her melt into a puddle on the floor. there's a power that comes with it, as if she'd enjoy being a wicked thing to no end. and maybe, eventually, she will. for now, however, she's merely a woman with answers holding services for one that seeks them. whether it's for salvation or damnation, she makes no judgement. instead, she merely dangles information on a string. "i don't," she murmurs. the tone is firm, as if nothing remi says will shake that belief. "it's very likely something else took your brother. not his bond or his deity but another entity entirely." she'd need more intel to make a definitive hypothesis but based on her own losses, she'd wager quite a lot on the current statement. threatening influence meets marble. and where she should break, she holds steady. her chin rises and her head tilts slightly off kilter. the smile worn grows coy beneath a question she, unfortunately, loathes. "i used to," her voice drops to a whisper. "but i am no longer a chosen one." admittance tastes just as bitter as it always does.
[newclass=.illie] text-align: justify; text-transform: lowercase; font-size: 12px; [/newclass] [newclass=.illie b] color: #E37474; font-size: 13px; [/newclass] [newclass=.illie i] text-decoration: underline dotted #E37474; font-size: 13px; [/newclass]
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