I Love His Nightsoul So Much Guys 💀

Ifa watches how the outlander gently handles the baby saurian and he listens to how Kaeya speaks to the small Iktomisaurus with consideration and respect.

It pleasantly surprises the saurian vet and a small smile spreads across his dark features; Ifa knows an opportunity when he sees one. 

The Tlalocan moves in closer, offering the saurian in Kaeya's arms the cracker and he draws the needle closer to the tiny Iktomisarus' thigh. Ifa pushes back the soft dew feathers of the baby dragon and with a quick yet steady focus he administers the intramuscular injection. The Iktomisarus flaps its small wings with sad little hoos and Ifa draws the syringe back. He raises his gloved hand to the Iktomisarus' head and soothes it with a light pet and gentle smile. 

❝ There we go, all done. You're so good, little gal. ❞ Ifa discards the used syringe in it's proper sharps container and looks to Kaeya, easily impressed by how the calvary captain manages the baby saurian, but also … he talks funny. 

“The heck are you on about, bro? Chill, bro.” Cacucu squawks out bluntly, flapping his little wings by Ifa's head. 

 ❝ Yeah, man. You talk a'lotta game, but we're done yet. Think you can handle a few more. I owe you big time. ❞ Ifa chuckles with a small smile. He appreciates Kaeya's assistance. 

   ' Aye aye, Mr.-Vet-Who-Dislikes-Fooling-Around. Fine, I'll help. But you seem to have the situation under control already, ' Kaeya exhales a sigh of fake exasperation, clearly unwilling to part with his very cute, very warm hat who seems to have taken an interest in him. In fact, while well-behaved, the other Iktomisaurus seem to have noticed him, eyeing him with questions in their big eyes. But it seems like the reward is delicious crackers to munch on, so they stay well in line.

   The one in his arms, however, makes a small squeak of alarm at the sight of the syringe.

   ' Aaah, I get it. ' He's solemnly nodding at the poor baby as he presses in the blue-ish fur of his cape. ' I know, look at that. Seems like a big deal, eh? But it'll prickle for just a moment, our dear vet will make sure that it only stings for a very small time. And then... '

   Ah, look at this. Mischief written all over his face as he looks at Ifa, the cavalry captain slowly carries the now-more-agreeable saurus towards the vaccination point.

   ' ...And then, you can start haggling on how many delicious crackers you want to keep your silence. Start with two and half, and make sure to get to five to really dig the point in that you can't be easily bribed. Or, well, you can be bribed... ' He stops for a moment, considering something inane. ' But master vet is exiting this deal dry. Oh yes, he is. '

   It doesn't help that the little Iktomisaurus group are now looking directly at ifa. The babies are craving the honey-flavored sweets, bro.

ifa 'i'm a healer' de los santos

3. What are your muse’s hands like? What is the texture of their palms, how are their fingers shaped, do they clean or cut their nails?

Details of a Muse

Ifa is always wearing his gloves, not just for infection prevention, but for his safety and the safety of his patients. His gloves sorta kinda look like falconry gloves which makes sense as saurians have talons and claws.

But, he’ll remove his gloves when he’s comfortable and done with the clinic’s work or pulling out the guitar for a song. His hands for the most part are well maintained and his nails well trimmed. They’re not entirely smooth and soft, he’s still a hard working, gunslinging cowboy and occasionally gets a few blisters and calluses.

He’s ambidextrous, left hand dominant, and you’ll find more blisters/calluses inside his palm there. 

It seems almost strange for Ifa to have a moment of repose. The trauma of the abyssal war still weighing down on The Tlalocan, the face of every injured saurians he's healed and lost still fresh in his mind. It feels wrong for the vet ( and fills his heart with guilt ) to sit at the edge of his clinic, feet dangling off the cliffside, and sharing the gorgeous sunset in the company of a friendly outlander. 

❝ Mondstadt?! Aw, dude, you're way far from home. ❞ Ifa stares into his cup of Xocoatl. He's brought one for Kaeya and a plate for cookies to share between them.  

❝ Land of freedom, right? Man, that's like the total opposite. Nation of war and competition here. What's it like, dude? Mondstadt? ❞

@ifadoc: you can stay here, if you don't want to go home. ( for kaeya; inbox call )

the warmth of natlan mixing with his own issues was making it hard for kaeya during his time in the nation of war. slumped outside of the vet's place, he looked up at him and sighed a bit as he shrugged a little bit.

"i don't want to be a burden, i know your nation's only just finished an abyssal war. i'm just a simple traveller here, but... it'll be a long walk back to mondstadt in this weather and time so.. i won't say no."

do you ever think about how cacucu was an outlier among qucusaurus for his different appearance and was shunned, bullied, and pecked at, and do you think about also how ororon is 'the weirdo' of the masters of the night wind clan, shunned and abandoned, used in some ritual that didn't work and abandoned again like ... these are Ifa's friends, his bros, the shunned weirdos i just-

›        FIRST   TOUCH   PROMPTS       →     receiver   to   sender   (pt.   2)    …   espionage   /   spy   /   romance   inspired.

brushing     hair     behind     their     ear

hands     grazing     while     reaching     for     the     same     object

catching     them     by     the     waist

sliding   a   hand   over   their   holster   while   checking   for   weapons

tending   to   a   gunshot   wound   in   silence

brushing   fingers   over   their   pulse   to   check   they’re   alive

pinning   them   against   the   wall   to   keep   quiet

wiping   blood   or   sweat   from   their   brow

gripping   their   hand   tight   during   an   interrogation

pulling   them   behind   cover   with   a   firm   grasp

lifting   their   chin   to   check   for   signs   of   life

steadying   them   after   a   sudden   explosion   or   attack

wrapping   a   scarf   or   cloth   around   their   neck   for   disguise

touching   their   lips   to   silence   them

brushing   past   them   in   disguise,   pretending   not   to   know   them

adjusting   their   cufflink   or   watch   mid-mission

helping   them   out   of   a   tactical   vest

gripping   their   wrist   before   they   walk   into   danger

holding   their   face   after   a   close   call

brushing   dirt   or   ash   from   their   cheek   gently

sneaking   a   hand   under   the   table   to   reassure

linking   arms   to   pass   as   a   couple

tracing   a   fresh   scar   with   careful   fingers

pulling   them   close   while   hiding   in   shadows

fixing   their   earpiece,   lips   inches   apart

pushing   hair   away   to   whisper   a   secret

pressing   a   hand   to   their   chest   to   feel   their   heartbeat

zipping   up   their   suit   slowly,   lingering   at   the   collar

wiping   a   cut   on   their   cheek   with   a   thumb

lacing   fingers   together   before   parting   ways

touching   their   face   to   make   sure   they’re   real

grabbing   the   back   of   their   shirt   to   stop   them

brushing   a   hidden   note   into   their   hand

tapping   their   knee   under   the   table   for   reassurance

laying   a   head   on   their   shoulder   after   a   long   mission

cupping   their   jaw   while   patching   them   up

gripping   their   coat   lapel   to   make   a   point

letting   their   fingers   linger   after   handing   over   intel

holding   their   gaze   while   adjusting   their   glasses

brushing   off   shards   of   glass   from   their   back

wrapping   arms   around   them   after   a   near-death   moment

trailing   fingers   down   their   spine   to   check   for   wounds

sliding   their   hand   over   theirs   in   a   tense   car   ride

resting   a   hand   on   their   thigh   mid-interrogation

pulling   a   splinter   or   wire   from   their   skin

grazing   their   fingers   while   sharing   a   burner   phone

tilting   their   chin   up   with   two   fingers   to   meet   their   eyes

tugging   gently   on   their   jacket   to   stop   them   from   leaving

laying   a   hand   over   their   heart   after   a   confession

smoothing   their   collar   after   a   close   encounter

letting   their   fingers   linger   on   a   fresh   bruise

catching   their   wrist   as   they   reach   for   their   gun

leaning   forehead   to   forehead   behind   enemy   lines

pressing   a   palm   to   their   back   before   a   mission

brushing   off   flecks   of   blood   after   a   takedown

squeezing   their   hand   before   going   separate   ways

resting   a   palm   on   their   chest   during   a   rare   moment   of   quiet

helping   them   out   of   a   disguise,   brushing   hands   often

letting   their   hand   hover   before   finally   touching

appreciation post for Ifa’s orange little half bow 🥰

"Alright, little dudes, gather round — time for a tune."

Details Of A Muse

What does your muse usually smell like? Do they use colognes, body sprays or perfumes? Are they clean-smelling, or dirty?

What are your muse’s eyes like? What shape and colour are they, how long are their eyelashes? What are the qualities of their eyebrows?

What are your muse’s hands like? What is the texture of their palms, how are their fingers shaped, do they clean or cut their nails?

What is your muse’s torso area like? How wide are their shoulders, how large is their chest, do they have notable abs or a tummy?

What is your muse’s nose like? Is it large, small, button-shaped, or crooked? Are their nostrils large or small?

Does your muse have any scars? What are their qualities, how do they feel to touch, where did they come from? Are they permanent, or will they fade?

How tall is your muse and how much do they weigh? Are they built, muscular, fat, or skinny? Do they have much control over how they appear?

What features does your muse share with their parents? Have they inherited anything prominent or notable, like hair colour?

What are your muse’s arms like? Do they have muscles or prominent veins, are they missing a limb?

What are your muse’s legs like? Do they have thick thighs or short calves, are they missing a limb?

Does your muse have any tattoos or marks? What do they look like, where are they positioned, what is the story behind them?

What is your muse’s smile like? How full are their lips, are their teeth crooked or straight? Does their smile reach their eyes?

What is your muse’s hair like? Is it thick, thin, wavy, curly? How does it feel to touch, and do they like having it pet?

Does your muse have a lot of body / facial hair? Where is it prominent, how does it feel? Do they shave?

Does your muse have any birthmarks, stretch marks, freckles, or moles? Where are they?

What kind of make-up does your muse wear? Do they have a common theme or favourite brand? Does it change for different occasions?

What kind of clothes does your muse like to wear? What colours and styles do they prefer? Can you provide a real-world example or equivalent? 

Does your muse have any strange features or characteristics? Something in particular that might be unusual?