*NAIVE/THING @bxurbxns-blog - Tumblr Blog

*/STARTER CALL

I have like no active threads so like this post for a starter with Mads. If you’re a multi-muse feel free to leave a comment with who you want it with or I’ll just pick.

#gphq.starter

bovrbons·:

starter for @bxurbxns / source

❛ IF WE LEAVE IT BROKEN LIKE THIS between us we will grow into the break ❜

❝THEN HOW DO YOU SUGGEST we fix it?❞ Her voice hollow. It isn’t a simple solution, especially when the problem is a festering wound that neither of them asked for. ❝Everyone insists we try again. As if that will erase all the pain we e n d u r e d the first time.❞

#*{ALWAYSSPEAKLIKEALADY|INTERACTIONS}#bovrbons

rozabelikovi

bxurbxns-blog

rozabelikovi‌:

SELENA in Deus Salve o Rei (chapter 46)

#*{BURNINGTHEMEMORIES|PORTRAITS}

malcolmdarrow·:

“I’m surprised to find the gardens occupied with anything, quite frankly,” Malcolm replied, unaware that perhaps she had not expected anyone to be around, let alone close enough to hear her.

“The plague has ravaged the gardens back home,” he explained, shaking his head. “Me wife thinks it a curse from God… how terribly must we be that we must starve?”

A quiet moment passed before he realized he might not be speaking with a common woman — she seemed so at home in the Italian sun, which seemed to sear his skin if he stood in direct sunlight for too long. Then he noticed her attire and quickly realized she was not someone whom he ought to speak to freely.

“Oh… I apologize, ma’am. Ye have the healthy countenance of someone familiar with the land here.”

A FOREIGN VOICE FILLS HER EARS, and she’s forced not to flinch in surprise. Though that doesn’t stop her heart from racing or the chill that crawls up her spine. No matter how harmless the other is, she d e s p i s e s being snuck up on. With the turn of her head, dark eyes find the owner of the voice.

We’re very terrible, we all deserve it. She thinks, but the words never slip from delicate lips. Ladies do not insult others publicly. ❝ It appears that our Lord above disagrees with you. ❞

Not that she’s starving, not that any of them really are. They are not the children in the streets with dirty faced and hollow bellies. They aren’t those that can hardly move let alone sit up in their sick beds. And they are the bodies being buried beneath the Earth.

But his apology comes at a surprise, considering he thought to be so open, and now appears to regret acting that way at all. Did she appear so untrustworthy? Well, she was. ❝ You do not need to apologize. ❞ She replies with a sickly sweet smile. ❝ Many share your opinion. ❞

#*{ALWAYSSPEAKLIKEALADY|INTERACTIONS}#malcolmdarrow

whiterosesofscotland·:

Perhaps, she wasn’t paying attention, or she clearly didn’t know how to ride horses. Still, Valentina looked at her in such distaste. Sure, she was interested in gossip, but it would be tragic to hear a former princess die in such a freak accident. “You should know that riding horses with both legs on the side is just…Not custom anymore. You ride horses with your thighs…Like men.”

SHE DOESN’T HAVE THE SAME INTEREST in riding as she does with other things. Or she should say, thing. Outside of pouring over different books about plants, and staining cream skirts in the brown of the dirt--she shows little interest in anything else. But if she admits she’s a terrible rider, they whispers will be as loud as screams. Another w h i t e lie won’t hurt, will it? It isn’t as if she’ll run into many royals once they all sailed home.

❝ Well I-- ❞ She hesitates, the lie feeling foolish now that it left her tongue. ❝ I guess I forgot. ❞

#*{ALWAYSSPEAKLIKEALADY|INTERACTIONS}#whiterosesofscotland

queendorota·:

The gardens seemed to be the safe haven for most people at the castle the queen had come to realize. She wasn’t sure why, it was just where she seemed to run into the most people. Maybe it was because they were the closest thing to something like home they had - the castle was nothing like her own in Sweden, but in the gardens she could almost pretend. Her husband seemed to most definitely find more comfort in the our doors, so many it was the same for others. Either way she liked being outside the views were beautiful, and the flowers gave her something to fuss over rather than worrying about home when Erik was busy with business. The words were heard before Dorota spotted whom they had come from but a smile soon formed on her face as she spotted her fellow royal. “I’m sure the Italian’s will be able to advise where you can source some from, if not try the servants, the villiage people always have their ways.”

SARDINIA NO MATTER HOW BEAUTIFUL the garden or magnificent the views isn’t her home. It isn’t the sprawling capitol of Lisbon with buildings p i g m e n t e d every shade, or the rolling hills of the countryside covered in a sea of scented lavender. It’s as strange as France, yet not as foreboding. For France is the noose around her neck, and Sardinia is merely a stop along the way to life sentence. Even if that life sentence provides the comforts of a castle and a husband who gazed at her as if she were the sun. It was not home, nothing can ever be home.

❝ It would look beautiful amongst the other colors here, don’t you think? ❞ She slips into the facade so easily. The one where she’s ignorant and not stewing over issues that will never be solved. Here she can be an ignorant little princess rather than a scheming queen in the making. ❝ But I doubt the gardeners would listen much to a girl like me. They all believe they are the best at what they do. ❞

#*{ALWAYSSPEAKLIKEALADY|INTERACTIONS}#queendorota

oldcnburg

glasspalaceshq + textposts 1 / ??

@bovrbons / @bxurbxns / @reyfelipe / @trochechouart / @nrxmanxvs / @alasdairofhamilton /

#*{ALLTHISCLATTERBETWEENMYEARS|MUSINGS}

IT WAS SUCH A FOREIGN LAND even if was beautiful. Often she felt like cargo being hauled to different ports. From Portugal, to France, to Italy. She was barely accustomed to her new home before the announcement of their travels. But while Sardinia was beautiful with its island landscape--it wasn’t home. But then again, the empty ache in her chest was there the moment her ship departed Lisbon. But the w a r m t h of the island reminded her of home. The sun that beat down on her body when it wasn’t protected by the trees. She often found herself outside of the walls, aching to be anywhere but surrounded by strangers.

So her feet led her to the garden. Though if it was her’s she’d already have two knees in the soil tugging away at the weeds. Instead she forced herself to merely observe the different plants, wondering which she could implement to her own garden back in France.

❝ It’s a shame they don’t have lavender here. ❞ She mumbled to herself.

#gphq.starter #*{ALWAYSSPEAKLIKEALADY|INTERACTIONS}#I fail @ starters I'm sorry

whiterosesofscotland·:

“I told you to be careful and you didn’t listen!” She told the person, bending over so that she could lift the head of her companion off from the ground. Wild horses were savages–hardly trained and acted so violent. Well, the ones that surrounded them. Perhaps, they also suffered from the famine and was scared of the human population. “You could’ve gotten yourself killed! They’re unlike our trained horses!”

IT WAS SHEER CURIOSITY THAT convinced her it was smart to approach the horses. Though it wasn’t very smart at all. Had her late mother been witness to it, she’d drag her daughter by the ear back to their chambers. But that wasn’t to say the thrill wasn’t tempting all the same. Even if it could have gotten her k i l l e d . Were ladies ever allowed a bit of fun?

❝ I-- ❞ She hesitated, her dark eyes widening into saucers. ❝ I apologize. I suppose I wasn’t thinking clearly. ❞

#*{ALWAYSSPEAKLIKEALADY|INTERACTIONS}#whiterosesofscotland

regclities·:

━━━ ˊ * ★ ◟ . 𝒻𝓁𝑒𝓊𝓇 ┆ OPEN ╱ IT’S DETERMINATION THAT breaches feminine features as nimble fingers are quick to braid the strands of hair together . she doesn’t speak , instead chooses to hum a lullaby , one she often sings to the little of the palace children , unaware of the eyes that catch the pair as they sit in the garden , she had a moment of freedom , the queen a reasonable lady when it came to fleurs freedom , giving her the options to roam free & but instead she chooses to sit with the children , to read to them , to sing to them , to teach them to braid each others hair . it’s not until she’s securing the end of the braid that she feels the gaze of an onlooker , a warm smile offered . ❝ would you like to join us ? ❞ she offers without really looking away from the child that sat between her knees !

IT’S A SIGHT SHE ENVIES, though not in the way others expect. For she doesn’t wish to sit amongst the children of strangers. But the sight before her evoked the desire of the children she longed to have herself. Ones that would tug at her skirts and beg for a soft song. With curious eyes she observed the woman as she braided the young girls’ hair. Though her w a n d e r i n g eyes didn’t go unnoticed as the woman’s voice filled Madalena’s ears. An unnecessary blush filled her cheeks. There was nothing wrong with observing. She tried to tell herself, despite feeling nosy regardless. She paused, contemplating the decision. It wouldn’t kill to have a bit of fun? And the the children were too adorable to say no to.

❝ I suppose I could for a little while, if you don’t mind? ❞

#*{ALWAYSSPEAKLIKEALADY|INTERACTIONS}#regclities

#gphq.ooc #*{PAINFULREALITY|OOC}

divinityxdivine·:

Letting out a content sigh, breathing in the fresh air, the breeze blowing against her pale coloured hanbok rubbing against her skin. Letting her long black down from its bun. With that, her elbow knocked against her gayageum causing it to fall on the dirty ground. The hanbok she was wearing made it slightly difficult to reach for the instrument. Letting out a little sound, trying to reach for it.

IT WASN’T A SURPRISE THAT ANOTHER was wandering the grounds. After all the fresh air was a welcome reprieve from the crowded halls and gossip that spread throughout the castle. Too many people for her liking. But with the clang of an instrument falling to the ground, Madalena’s gaze fell on the other woman. An unfamiliar face.

Noticing the evident struggle in the other’s eye, Madalena approached. ❝ Let me help you. ❞ She bent down and reached for the instrument. ❝ It’s a little easier for me to reach the ground. ❞

#*{ALWAYSSPEAKLIKEALADY|INTERACTIONS}#divinityxdivine

(MARINA MOSCHEN, SHE/HER, FEMALE) HEAR YE, HEAR YE! Allow me to introduce MADALENA BOURBON NEE BRAGÇAN of FRANCE. The 24 year old DUCHESS is known to be GENEROUS and RESOURCEFUL, but rumors about court claim SHE can be STUBBORN and DISLOYAL when crossed. Only time will tell where their interests belong. Penned by MAR (est + 23 + she/her).