• Nimrondell

Independent OC • Selective & Semi-Private • Multi-Verse & Ship 

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I miss Nim but I don’t even know where to start anymore. Most everyone is gone here.... maybe i should just wipe her clean and start over...

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ugh... I come back and my complete theme is gone! I worked so hard on it and it’s just gone! Y_Y Guess i’ll go dash only and use google docs.

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@ravcnhaircd​

  𝖙𝖗𝖚𝖘𝖙  —  while his guest’s immediate health and well-being come first, of course, there will be questions to answer, like it or not.  and though rhys does not particularly look forward to the likely upsetting tale that has driven this young woman from her court and into his guest room, it’s a necessity.  he will not pry, however;  that isn’t who he is.  he can only hope she’ll trust him with some measure of the truth.  and so, he proceeds slowly, making certain that she knows here, in his care, she’s safe.  his eyes flick back to the tray at her question, asked cautiously.  and he looks quite pleased with himself as he turns back to her, a small honey pot in hand.  “ here.  anything else? ”  the words are soft, the question genuine.  and at her next request, his head dips, a faint huff of a laugh leaving him.  “ ah, my apologies…  it’s rhysand. ”  he replies, hoping that’s enough to pin him as the high lord of the night court.  his eyes meet hers again, then, though only for a moment. she seems contemplative, glancing away. when she looks back, her words are expected.  i cannot go back.  “ of course. ”  he replies, gently.  and he means it;  he has no wish to throw her back into hell again.  but, before he can continue, she seems to spasm, shift.  a moment later, she’s winged before him.  peregryn…  eyes wide, surprised, he sharply inhales a breath.  he’ll need to send for another healer.  she’s still wounded yet.  “ there’s no need to hide from our healers.  you’re safe.  i promise.  i’ll have one sent to see about your wings as soon as i can. ”

   For so long she’d been hiding her wings, so long that for short moments in time she almost forgot she possessed them at all. It was the one thing that her father would never tarnish, the one thing she had managed to keep to herself. Having had to expose that secret to a stranger made her feel more than uneasy and quite frankly upset. It wasn’t his fault but she couldn’t repress how she felt. “It’s not about being safe” she muttered having managed to catch most of his words, “it’s about having something to yourself.”

   The pain had for the time being kept her mind from the name he’d given but as she settled back into the pillows behind her, it began to sink in. “Rhysand” she muttered more to herself than directing it toward him. Her eyes were looking at the blankets adorning her frame but were focused on nothing. Then it clicked instantly and her gaze shot up wide and alert, “you’re the High Lord of the Night Court.” All the stories she’d heard, all the rumors, all the talk, it had said that this particular Lord was devilish and cruel. That his court was like hell on earth and that those caught in his clutches rarely escaped.

   Nim felt a spark of fear flood her body at the thought of being a prisoner here, to be locked away in the darkness and tortured for pleasure. Fighting against that fear was rational thought, he’d done nothing to harm her. In fact he’d been nothing but kind since the moment she awoke and this room again seemed nothing like a dungeon. Would he play with is prey before killing it? The kind face before her didn’t scream I’LL RIP YOU TO SHREDS, in fact his face said more on the lines of ‘here’s a warmer blanket and can I do anything more to help.’

   “Why” she questioned, “why are you helping me? Your reputation would have me stung up and burned. Yet you come to my bedside and you offer me tea and see that healers repair my wounds. You are not the High Lord of the Night Court that I know.” Perhaps, it seemed everyone had secrets of their own they wished to keep hidden from the outside world. For a moment she waited, assuming that the room was as silent as her head. The softness of his eyes and the way he let them scan her form made her realize that he was holding back. “If you wish to ask things of me then ask Lord. I know you must have questions and you would be a fool not too. Do not hold back simply because I am not fully myself. I am more than capable of answering anything that you may wish of me. It is the last I can do for your kindness, as odd as it may seem to me at this moment.”

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@wratheart​

when he was approached by one of the lords from the winter court,    tamlin felt every nerve in his body tingling for a fight.     he had never been one to turn away those in need,   not even as amarantha holds them under her wretched claw.    the summer court fae had been the ones seeking sanctuary the most in tamlin’s court,   most of them already donning injuries that will be there for life lest the pain will make them end it sooner.    but a lord of winter willing to sell a girl,   presumably his daughter?    this is a kind of evil that reminds him of his own father.     he hadn’t mourned for him that night,   nor for his brothers.     his mother had been the only one he spilled tears for.

he sent lucien to bring her while he waited in rosehall,     the other servants having received clear orders to prepare a room for nimrodell.     when lucien left,   tamlin only sunk into the work that awaited him in his study  –  plans on how to evade amarantha’s monsters,   new shelters for the refugee faeries,   strategies on how to kill the bogge and hunt the naga.     being the last of the high lords standing is a tough job,    though if it means being able to save more and more people before his own downfall,   he will do it.    many regard tamlin as the wild beast,    the feral one,    the angry creature,     though it is as much of a way to protect himself as the other high lords’ personas.    when one is in a position of power the luxury of being honest and true does not exist.    it is only lucien and the other sentries who know him better than anyone else and that is enough for tamlin.

he hears them arriving and he raises from his chair,    going down the stairs and waiting at the entrance as they come out of the carriage.    the baggage is quickly taken by the servants and dropped in nimrondell’s new room before any of them can even blink.    the high lord nods at lucien,   who only spares a knowing glance before he makes himself unseen;    a sign that his emissary has something to tell him about the newcomer.      though he is not a male of words,   tamlin approaches her and holds out a hand,    emerald eyes catching the sun behind the mask that has been cursed to remain on his face.

“   welcome,    nimrondell.    i hope the journey wasn’t terrible.   ”      a small forced smile forms on his lips,    one that lucien would laugh at.       “  a room has been prepared for you.     alis will show you the way and everything else that you need.    take your time to settle in.  ”

   Stunning silver blue eyes glimmer like frozen ice shimmering in the sunlight when she lifts her gaze to meet the High Lords. For a moment she lingers on his green, they’re deep like spring itself and of course that makes since given he’s High Lord of the Spring Court. Trailing down from his eyes she takes note of the mask and finds it odd that he adorns it. Having been hidden for most of her life from the other courts she knew nothing of their struggles nor of the evil that brooded under the mountain. Her attention drifts lower to the outstretch of his hand, his palm upward, welcoming. Tentatively she takes it in her own and steps down from the carriage, gravel crunching under the flat soles of her shoes.

   Strange that a High Lord that had paid for her would treat her with such kindness. Wasn’t sure purchased to work on his estate and in a sense be a slave to his will? “Why show so much kindness to your property” she questions turning her eyes back to his face. There is bite to her tongue as she clenches her jaw holding her head high without fear. Her father would have hit her to the ground by now for talking back with such arrogance. Despite his abuse she kept her self worth intact and would not allow anyone to take it from her. Not in the Winter Court and not here in the Spring.

   Glancing past the tall blonde she took note of the one whom had escorted her, his own mask reflecting in the sunlight. Did all of his court wear these silly masks? Would she be required to do so as well? “Why is it that you wear that silly thing” she asks gesturing to the mask upon his face. Her own face remained neutral as the blonde curls of her hair swayed gently against her back. The dress in which she wore was becoming more and more cumbersome given that it was designed for Winter. “Does this Alis happen to have an extra dress I might borrow? This one seems to be far too warm for the weather here.”

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Currently reading Throne of Glass and playing Animal Crossing. Drafts will be done at some point but today is not that day.

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@ravcnhaircd

𝖓𝖎𝖒  —  it’s not a name he’s heard before, though that’s exactly what he had expected.  thus, he nods at her words, quiet, thoughtful, as he takes them in.  he doesn’t want to judge by looks alone.  no, he wants to hear it from her, her court of origin.   she’s high fae, of course;  of that, he has no doubt.  but, if she’s winter’s child  ( as he expects she is )  he’ll have questions.   is she simply a runaway or is something darker stirring from within?  he nods to her request.  a dislike of tea isn’t terribly uncommon.  a moment later, someone arrives with the tea tray.  he takes it off their hands, quietly requesting privacy.  he pours the water, plain, before he adds his own leaves to steep, sending a rich scent into the air.   gracefully, he moves to her side, offering her the cup.  “ with lemon. ”  he notes, just as she’d indicated.  “ you’re a long way from home, nim. ”  he begins, his tone almost warning. “ but, you’ll remain my guest until you’re well enough to travel.  take as long as you need recovering;  we have the room. ”  he isn’t a monster, after all.  and he can spare it, a little hospitality.  “ my third found you unconscious in the pass toward thesan’s court…  in case you’re curious as to how you arrived here. ”  instead of home, to winter…  his words imply.  he isn’t about to spur on a trivial war between courts.  but, if she’s running from something, someone, for the moment, he’ll see that she’s perfectly safe here.

   Nim’s fingers wrap around the cup her eyes looking at the water the smell of lemon filing her nose. “Do you by chance have honey?” Her eyes lift a slight expression of guilt at having not asked sooner. At his assumption her eyes cast down momentarily before quickly lifting to pay attention. Life would be so much easier if she didn’t have to read a persons lips. Still this was the hand she was dealt and nothing would change that. “I appreciate your kindness, though I still do not know your name?” Unconscious, so that’s how she’d come to be here in the Night Court rather than the court she’d intended. But as she looked about the room she found it light, nothing like the stories she’d been told since she was a child. It didn’t make sense. With a deep breath she turns back, “I can not go back.” If she were to travel she would find a way back to her mother, back home, somewhere she should have never left. Shifting she tried to lift herself into a more sitting position and cried out without warning. The wings that had once been hidden from sight now appear, the white fathers are stained red in spots. She’d planned not to reveal such things to strangers but the pain had made her loose hold.

[qveenofwinter]

Lagertha in Vikings 4x19 | On the Eve

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@ravcnhaircd

𝖖𝖚𝖊𝖘𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓𝖘  —  he expects her to have them, of course, along with a sharp pang of fear due to what he assumes she’s been through.  it takes courage to cross over any court border.  and to head for the night court, not knowing the truth of its high lord, what he might do…  the woman before him is either foolish or desperate.  and he’ll find out soon enough which, he’s willing to bet.  but, he won’t invade her mind, won’t press her…  at least not yet.  still, they are on the cusp of war and, now that she’s here, she could pose a threat.  he must tread forward with caution.  and his eyes narrow, fixing to hers.  he aims to be stern, but not threaten.  she’s had enough of that.  “ you are within the borders of the night court. ”  he answers, plainly.  for now, he won’t tell her anything else.  she’ll figure it out eventually, though.  there’s light here.  this isn’t the hewn city;  it’s somewhere else.  he remains still, focused, keeps a safe distance as he takes a chair a good distance from her bed.  “ as for my name, i haven’t been given yours yet. ”  he notices, then, the slight grimace that moves across her face as she shifts.  she’s still healing.  of course.  and so, softer, he adds.  “ relax.  i’m not here to interrogate you. ”  he is, though, to some degree.  “ i’ve already sent for some tea.

   Had she taken a wrong turn in the dark? She’d not meant to pass into the Night Court, simply to escape into Dawn or Day. It would have been easy to hide amongst the people of Dawn as the wings she concealed were very much like that of the Peregryn. Her gaze falls to the blankets covering her body as she’s suddenly lost in thought. It’s the movement of the chair that pulls her attention back to his, only to just grasp the words his mouth had spoken. She’d missed the first half but being use to such things it was simple enough to catch the ending and understand what it was he wanted.

   Nim is about to her part her lips in response but pauses at the mention of tea. Her nose wrinkles of its own accord as her lips press together. The gesture is welcomed but the choice in beverage is one she has despised since her youth. “Just water with lemon would be nice” she suggests gently trying not to disrespect the kindness he’s shown. “As for my name” again she pauses her brows knitting together as she wonders if she should give the truth or hide it behind a lie. Maris would not come this far to retrieve her, that would be utterly foolish and a harm to himself. “My name is Nim” she finally announces, figuring it would do no harm to give him the truth. It was after all not her full name and her father was simply a High Fae, not the Lord of Winter. No one would know her.

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ok here’s the deal people. I’m cleaning out this blog and practically starting new. The few people i’ve reached out too will remain on the follow list, the rest will not. All posts will be deleted, this includes old threads and what not. I made Nim mostly Tolkien based but I will most likely be moving that to only a verse rather than the base of the complete character as my focus has changed. Feel free to reach out to me to start new threads and interactions if desired. :D

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what is your plant personality?

Chamomile   Easy-going, friendly and well liked, you’ve got a gentle and sweet nature and a calming presence that puts others at ease. Your sensitivity to others may cause you to take on too much of other people’s feelings, though, and you may even be prone to worry.

Echinacea   A protector. With an amazing blend of optimism, nurturing and goodwill, you lend your strength and energy to those in need. Your seemingly infinite goodwill and boundless supportive energy make you the one people turn to when times are tough. Your greatest strength is, of course, also one of your weaknesses, especially if you neglect to take care of yourself. At times like these, it’s a good idea to take a step back and focus some of that protective energy on yourself.

Nettle   Truly a nurturing and supportive friend, you’re the kind of person that just isn’t for everyone. But those who take the time are rewarded with your gentle disposition, and the kind of friendship that does a person good no matter the difficulty they’re facing. When out of balance, you can become more prickly than supportive or nurturing, though—a sign that you need to shower yourself with the same kind of nurturing you so freely give to others.

TAGGED BY: @vezely (thank you for including me.) TAGGING: @ravcnhaircd, @wratheart, @eversolo, @ramblingsofamoonwatcher, @rhaegxr, @vaedar, @burkhanlig, and anyone else who finds this and wants too.

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@ravcnhaircd

𝖒𝖔𝖗  —  she had been the one to find her, a stranger on the brink of exhaustion on the border between dawn and night.  she did not need to ask if the woman needed help;  some things, she just knew.  mor could just tell.  and he knew it.  and so, the woman had been brought to velaris, winnowed in and given sanctuary, a place to rest.  she’d slept nearly two days, uninterrupted.  it went without saying:  she’d been through hell.  her cuts and bruises had been tended, but…  what had driven her to travel alone troubled each of them more than anyone would willingly admit.  and so, once she’d awoken, rhys had taken it upon himself to question her himself, see that his guest was alright, see what her presence here meant.  a gentle knock on the door prefaced his entry.  and he found her as expected, settled in bed.  she still looked exhausted, but he’d, at least, try to get some answers, ones without having to enter into her head.  “ you’re awake. ”  he began, eyeing her briefly before bowing his head.  “ i apologize for interrupting your rest.  how are you feeling? ”  he asks.  and the questions are genuine.  she is, after all, his guest.

   The room was light and airy when Nima had awoken, relieved to find herself alone. Though that relief was short lived as reality dawned, she knew not where she was or whom had brought her. Had Maris captured her? Fingers curled against the bedding in preparation to escape when the door began to open. Cold blue’s shot in the direction of the changing light only to see a male stepping just inside the doorway. It was not Maris, nor was it any fae she recognized, she did however note that he was NOT from the Winter Court. His attire, that she recognized, it was that of the Night Court. Panic began to well within her, she’d heard stories of the Night Court and the Court of Nightmares.

   Instinctively Nima pushed her thin frame further up the bed, her eyes fixated now on the male before her. Briefly she pulls her eyes away to look the room over further, planning an escape if needed. Once done she pulls her attention back to the male before her, his face looks kind, soft even but the Court of Nightmares are known for their deception and trickery. His lips move and she watches intently, forming silent words within her mind, he’s apologizing? Confusion spreads across her pale face, her brows knitting together as his question registers. There is a quietness between them before finally she speaks, “where am I?” Her voice is muted, not as clear as most but is understandable. The question she poses in return is simple, the answer should be just as easily conjured. “Who are you” she adds while taking a deep breath and wincing at the pressure against her ribs.

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@wratheart

   Nima had never known her father and so she’d devised a plan to leave her home, her currently family, and her mother to seek him out. She’d been young and hadn’t thought things through, like there must have been a reason that her mother left her father in the first place. No, Nima had never imagined how cruel her father could be, not until it was too late and she was in his clutches.

   For nearly a century she’d had to endure his torture, his mind games, and his need to feel superior over her. So it was that he came to an arrangement with the High Lord of the Spring Court. That in exchange for a sum, the High Lord would take the girl and put her to work as a servant in his household. It was more a kindness on the Lord of Spring’s part given the condition in which she was born. See Nima had been born without the ability to hear, where her mother treated her no different, her father found it displeasing and shameful. To him Nima was an embarrassment and a disgrace upon his lineage. To rid himself of her and write her off had been his goal since the day she showed up on his doorstep amongst the Winter Court. Rather than send her back to her mother he found making this arrangement far more lucrative.

   The fair haired fae was handed over to Tamlin’s emissary Lucian and moved from the Winter Court to Spring. The change in weather alone was enough to cause Nima discomfort but the colors were far more inviting. Of course Nima’s father had not informed Tamlin or Lucian that his daughter was deaf. Had told the female to pay attention and read lips so they did not grow suspicious until his funds were procured. Once she was across boarders and his money was in hand he cared little if they discovered his deception.

   So it was that Nima said nothing to Lucian as they traveled across the courts. She did however kept a close eye upon his face in case he might question her or ask her to do something. Which became increasingly difficult when the red haired male turned away from her, causing her to shift in her seat to try and catch a glimpse of his lips. Perhaps, if she were lucky he would simply think she was ignoring him out of anger and spite in regards to this agreement with her father.

[alrauna]

Beth Sladden (@adventuringbeth)

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Nim’s golden hair blue freely where the braiding didn’t hold it tight to her head. The frosty breeze nipping gently at her cheeks causing them to turn a rosy red. Despite her love for her home there was a darkness looming over her now. That darkness had a name attached, Maris, one of the High Fae who’d claimed the right to wed her. Something she did not agree too, nor desire, but her family had arranged it long before her maturity.

  Delicate fingers pulled the collar of her coat closer around her neck, the fur lining the hem tickling her cheeks. For months she’d planned and today, today was the day in which to put it into action. With a small bag hanging from her shoulder she set out into the bleak forests just beyond the lake. The world was quiet as the snow drifted and clung to the tips of the trees. Peace, the peace she loved, it would be missed.

  Her escape brought her to the base of Under the Mountain, the sheer peak rose far beyond the clouds. There in the darkness was a path into Dawn’s Court. From there she would move on into Day and if she was lucky she might be able to start a new life, one on her terms. With a hesitant pause Nim turned her gaze behind her, taking one last look at the only place she’d ever called home, a place she considered safe until two years ago. With a deep breath she closed her eyes and then turned back to the mountain and took a step into the darkness.

  Conjuring a Fae light she moved along the dirt path searching for that tunnel. Her search halted suddenly as her stomach clenched at the sound of footsteps echoing. Fear, he’d come for her, followed her, come to take her back to that prison he considered life. “Nima my darling why have you come to such a dull place this evening” he mocked as a chuckle erupted in his throat. No time to loose, Nim quickened her pace stumbling as she put out the Fae light and used her instincts to navigate the darkness.

  After a time a hand reached out and dragged her off her feet, “there’s my little shadow” Maris snarled as his nails dug in squeezing her arm painfully. “Let go” Nima yelled struggling to pull free from her captor. Despite everything he held fast until she thrusted her elbow back and it made clean contact with his nose. Hissing in pain he stumbled back and Nima managed to disappear into the darkness once more. “BITCH” he growled before his footsteps came charging back toward her direction. “If I can’t have you no one will, I’ll kill you with my own hands if I must!”

@ravcnhaircd

[the-fashion-dish]

Marchesa Spring Summer 2019 RTW

[anthropologyarda]

Formal wear for Lothlorien

[drogons]

Lagertha | Vikings 5.15 [x]

[talesfromthecrypts]

The Witch: A New-England Folktale (2015) dir. Robert Eggers