Alty

First a Servant, then a Seamstress, then a Traitor to her lands. Alty has always been many things, and her ancestors have seen that. Now she is cast out in a land far from her own, and she must claw her way towards her destiny. 

[altyofruin]

modithorson‌:

“Looks are second to strength. True, it looks nicer. But it doesn’t always hold up unless it has magic embedded into it.” Modi countered. He had to remind himself of her former profession. She designed clothes. Looks had a higher priority over practicality. Something that Modi would have to constantly remind her of. 

“Aye, everyone is different. Perhaps when we make it to the elves, they’ll be able to make you leather armor that will withstand the harshest of blows.” He smiled as she ate what he had given her. They were another day away from the closest town before they could replenish their supplies. 

She frowned. As much as vanity was her hubris, she’d studied strategy and command far more than the types of armor. Some traces of armor had made their way into court fashions--maille accents on clothes, leather breastplates atop silk robes--but little else of proper armor. Alty’d tried so hard to ignore the soldiers and instead study the political goings-on within court, and now it had opened a flaw in the fabric of her understanding. 

“Or maille? I suppose it would be fairly light, and a decent defense from most hacks and slashes.” The dalydri looked towards the god. “I think that’s what Deanne wears; maille with a coat of lamellar over it.” If it was what the commander of her enemies armies wore, it had to be good defense. 

[altyofruin]

📖

Alty’s hands hovered over the hem of her cloak, fingertips just brushing the paper she had slipped within the fold of linen months before. The proof of her heritage, and a stronger claim to the throne than her cousin ever had. Weather-worn, through miles of road and mountain, she had born the truth on her shoulders, the parchment folded just over her breast.

Now, as she looked towards the Frenchwoman, regent of Scotland, her hands shook. This was not a story she wanted to tell. It wasn’t hers to tell, really, but one of her grandmother’s, and then of her father’s. They had held onto the past strong enough to hone her into what she’d become, even if it was not conscious. “I...” Alty started, before shaking her head to start again, “My esteemed lady, I have come a long way to this land, one that is the opposite of my own, to tell a story.” With the grace of her station (the one she’d been raised with, not the royal one she’d found so long ago), she curtsied, silk pooling on the floor. Somehow, even after such a long time, her clothes still held on to their fine past. 

“Long ago, there was a queen. Her lands were large, prone to fracturing as loyalties changed, but she did her best to maintain the unity of her homeland, much like the Frankish kingdoms of ages past.” Alves, she hoped that she’d made the right reference to this region’s history. “When at last, her homeland was fully united, she wrote to one of her children, leaving the kingdom to them, but a plot snuffed out the life of this queen before it was sent. Instead, her youngest laid claim to the throne, as she was the only one considered legitimate to the people.” Alty paused for breath, looking up at Marie. “But the truth, that letter, survived.” 

[altyofruin]

allmostpast‌:

     He watched as she buried herself into her horse, shivering, and urging his own steed forward with an encouraging pat.  Stéphane was still trying to grow accustomed of this world, so different from his own.  So open, as if he were still in the French countryside, but full of unexpected surprises.  The people here were different, powerful in a way he'd never known.  All of his power came from making people fear him, honor him so they may acquire the necessities he owned like grain and meat for food.  They had something otherworldly, something out of the classic stories he'd read as a child, but still different. 

     “I’ve always heard that mountains were for reaching to the heavens, and the caves were for hiding from whatever came down from them,” he drew his horse closer to hers while undoing the lace on his cape with one hand.  He draped the furs over her shoulders, gaze drifting towards cracks along the mountains here and there.  “An entrance to the village?  I doubt the talking trees or people living in stone need it anymore.  Imagine all the jewels in there that I could bring back to France.”

That was the one thing that made them different: she had been raised among the fantastical, while Stéphane had not. Instead, he’d had to learn how to become powerful without the powers granted by spirits and gods. Sure, her mind had been honed into something befitting a spymaster’s by her father, but Stéphane knew how to make people follow him in more useful ways. Faith was not as strong an incentive as fear and money. While the dalydri did not have magic in the common sense, not like the Jexsi or the Huld, she’d been able to rely on changing her skin to get her so far. 

“Really?” She asked, before the warmth of his cloak--warmed by his skin as much as the furs--enveloped her. Her cheeks would have flushed if not for the fact that the cold had already turned them positively purple. “You have no faith in the fantastical.” Alty scoffed, “Think of them like your angels, messengers of a deity far older than this world. Though we could step inside and see what riches you could bring back to your king. We’d simply need to bring weapons--in case of any wild beasts making their home in the old cities.” 

[altyofruin]

📖 (from Stéphane)

Send a book for my muse to tell yours a story

Alty’s fingers tangled in the horse’s mane, her face close to the mare’s neck for protection from the mountain’s frigid air. Curse the Shehesi mountains, with their lying appearance. They might’ve looked like a desert, but the nights still made her long for a hot bed and meal.

“They say the dalydri settled here first,” She said, glancing over to the Frenchman. Damn him and his furs, he looked far warmer than her in this moment. Her quilted gambeson could barely keep out the cold. “Back when the world was young. That’s why the mountains are so tall, because the rock is made of their old cities. They carved their homes from stone, because in those days the trees still spoke. The huld were not at war with us...I bet one of these caves could even be an entrance–or a window.” Alty nodded her head towards the caves further up on the ridge. It’d be suicide to go inside–who knew what ancient beasts could be lurking in those forgotten shadows–but she imagined that inside the earth it would be warmer.

[monstersmemes]

Dramatic size differences in ships

Reblog if u agree

[rp-meme-glaceon]

Send “📖” to have my muse tell yours a fairytale, myth, or story!

[fuckyeahantoniathomas]

🌞

[marinawoznjuksworld]

[altyofruin]

Wow it’s been a whole-ass year I think, but I decided to come back! 

Consider this a starter call

[usercanary]

umarthelea:

Send a 👫and I’ll write four headcanons I have about our muse’s relationship

[altyofruin]

@rampxstreker || starter call

“Make one move, and I shoot.” The Dalydri threatened, already having the crossbow aimed at the stranger. Squinting, she checked her sight once again, while she slowly circled the man. “Hands up, and tell me who you are.” 

[altyofruin]

❛ i’m already under some heavy divine pressure. but i’ll try to live up to it. ❜

Alty laughed at the man, shaking her head. “Gods are terrible. Try to do this for yourself.”

[altyofruin]

belcvednanna:

“What is it?” Nanna didn’t even venture a guess, so enraptured by this curious conversation. Human beings would never cease to intrigue her, with their odd ways of viewing the world, and particularly each other. 

“Elves. But weakness is more popularly hated.” She was hardly human, despite her appearance. Those words seemed to confirm it, with her awareness. Most humans thought elves a myth. “Dalydri are strange.” 

[altyofruin]

          alright, i swear i’m going to try being more active again here, so like for a small starter! 

[altyofruin]

"What's that now? Don't like the cold?"

“No, it’s fashion…of course it’s the bloody cold!” With that cold, apparently, came the shortening of her almost eternal temper, with Alty snapping at the voice without hardly recognizing the face. “I’m from a warm land, with monsoons, and no snow! Now I have to deal with…” She motioned to the flurry of flakes around them, while bundling herself in yet another layer of blankets. At that point, she looked like a burrito atop a horse, not a would-be ruler.

@alinathelittlematchgirl

[altyofruin]

"What is that on your face?"

“Beauty. Also three days worth of travel, but mostly beauty.” The woman replied, tilting her head down to look at the other woman with a warm look. Alas, while was somewhat dusty, like old furniture, it was hardly noticeable. “Not many proper baths to be had on the road.” 

[altyofruin]

lxxptr:

“Of course you can! You just ‘poof’ out of existence, then no one will ever remember you, for you were never there.” He nodded sagely, like he knew what he was talking about. But he knew she was right, one could not just stop existing, their thread of life was already woven into the Norn’s Tapestry and would forever be there, until Ragnarök come. “Did you at least get to hit the asshole in the face?”

“No, but I stabbed him. Almost got his lungs too.” There was plenty of that night she’d enjoyed, but the feeling of driving her knife into him had been the best. Her cousin hadn’t even known who she was. “It’s a shame I didn’t get to kill him, though. He put my parents in prison.” The Dalydri shrugged, adjusting her scarf before finally tying off her work. Then violet eyes went to Loptr, filled with fire. “One day, I am going to punch him in the face before he dies.”