Cirilla Addington

A monster hunter by trade // Grand Huntress of Blackwood Estate // The Broken Lady Cirilla WRA // they/she // 18+

[cirilla-witcher-addington]

16. Are you more organised or disorganised person? Or maybe you like to plan only certain aspects of your life?

A small smirk tugged at her stained lips as she folded her hands in her lap, “To be honest, when it comes to my work or important documents it’s best not to lose them due to disorganization. But everything else...” She snickered softly, strands of dark hair falling across her vision. “Let’s just say it’s a -little- chaotic. Imagine... one of those mage sanctums, all the books are ‘organized’ but to everyone else they just seem all scattered and haphazard.” One of her hands rose from her lap, the tip of her thumb coming to between her teeth. She’d absentmindedly nibble what was left of her thumb nail as she pondered her answer further, “I don’t often plan out how I live, I just... -live-.”

[rp-starters-ask-box-fillers]

Random questions for muse:

1.Would you hug a stranger? How close someone has to be to get a hug? 2. Have you tried some exotic/weird food? How was it? Would you eat it again? 3. If you had to give up one sense, which one would it be? 4. How good are you at remembering dates? What about numbers in general? 5. Do you like cold or hot weather more? Why? 6. Would you rather spend a date night somewhere quiet or in a more crowded place (e.g. club, festival, amusement park, etc.) 7. What shows your emotions more, your words or your actions? 8. Is curiosity good or bad thing in your opinion? What makes you curious? 9. Balloons or confetti? 10. Have you ever had an animal to eat from your hand? Do animals usually like you? 11. Would you rather be stranded in a huge deserted field or locked alone in a room, for following two weeks? 12. Do you prefer to sleep with socks or without them? Do you usually even wear socks? 13. Do you tend to get sick easily? If so, what do you do to prevent that? If not, what’s your secret to strong immune system? 14. What is your first language? How many languages can you speak? 15. Do you like drawing/painting? What’s your preferred art tool? 16. Are you more organised or disorganised person? Or maybe you like to plan only certain aspects of your life? 17. Would you choose a dream car or a dream house? 18. Are you the type of the person that would laugh when someone else falls? Or would you rush to help? Maybe you would just walk by without reaction? 19. How often do you travel? What you like the most about it? 20. Do like stargazing? Do you believe in shooting star wishes?

[alder-and-cedarwood]

Silence Effects  

[alder-and-cedarwood]

Tristan Petel  

[exorcist-on-paws-blog]

Reblog if I'm allowed to send you in character asks even if we have never talked before.

[de-morte]

“Your mind, my love, is a dagger, keep it sharpened.”

— Channing H.M

[arcusxx]

photography by lithaear

[cirilla-witcher-addington]

[bnmxfld]

“I’m not afraid of dying. Pieces of me die all the time.”

— Sage Francis

[davetname]

[cirilla-witcher-addington]

Freckles. That’s it, that’s the post.

[cirilla-witcher-addington]

Grimy stone walls acted as a canvas to the shadows cast by figures in firelight, a large blacksmith’s forge its medium. Amber flames popped and crackled with heat, sending out waves of warmth through the cramped workshop. Cirilla stood over an anvil just to the left of the coal forge, her long wavy hair pulled up into an untidy bun. Corded biceps flexed under the tension of the heavy hammer in her hand and with each downswing, her skin became taught. The metallic clang of steel on steel rung out through the open windows and door of the stone building, sparks flew from the metal piece in her other gloved hand. With a small grunt, Ciri moved the dimly glowing metal back into the forge, covering it with a pile of hot coals before taking a few steps back. Sweat dripped down her forehead and cheeks, a single droplet clung to the tip of her nose, shimmering with the light of the fire. A sheen of moisture covered any bare skin, highlighting the raised edges of the scars that peppered her forearms, shoulders and abdomen. Multiple bullet pockets converged on her abdomen, along with a fair few stab wounds. They were a constant reminder of her past, but one in particular always brought back sour memories - a large scar just under her sternum ovular in shape with narrowed tips, the same shape appeared to the right of her spine. Anyone could probably gather it was inflicted by a large sword, and clearly had gone the whole way through. How she was alive was beyond her...it might’ve just been better to die then if she had a choice in the matter, but her companions wanted her alive. So here she was, alive and surviving.

But then again, there was difference between living and surviving. And right now it felt as if she was only doing the latter.

Btw!

(( Just to let people know that Pt 3 of the Contract is indeed coming as well! Just a little one shot here of Cirilla’s blacksmithing skills, and y’know, some muscles :3 Also! An update on my RP status, I am potentially going to be coming back online into WoW in around two weeks or so - my new PC is on its way! How exciting. So if you’re running around Stormwind on WRA keep an eye out for Cirilla in game and walk up, I dare you! >:) ))

[arcusxx]

photography by Nicolas Lenatti

mystical land

[solitaria]

by Fabrizia Milia

[sad-house-of-mortality]

parfois - her thin hands

[soircieres]

‘— a death-ridden woman, haunted by dreams.’

— Arthur Miller, adapted from The Crucible

[cirilla-witcher-addington]

Nightmares

((TW // blood - nightmares))

“Does it ever stop hurting?” Vanessa murmured, glancing down at the faded picture in Ciri’s hands. “No...” A sigh slipped from her lips, “No you just make room for it.” Her ungloved hand tightened around the picture, the edge of the image crinkling under the pressure of her fingers. Vanessa moved to hug her step mother who in return went rigid, causing her to back off. “G-goodnight mother....” All Ciri could stifle was an exhausted nod. Once her daughter had retreated to her own room, Ciri set the picture on her nightstand and then put her head in her hands. The pale skin of her fingertips peeked out from behind strands of ebony hair, there was a moment of silence as a shudder ran over her shoulders. She pushed her hair back, sucking a breath through her teeth and then flopping back onto her bed. Her lashes fluttered as she shut her eyes.

Shades of crimson on white fabric flashed across her vision, then, a bloodcurdling scream. Scraps of white fabric were splayed out across the forest floor where she now found herself. The dead shells of red roses lined a path that led into the trees. Her breathing quickly grew laboured and she forced herself to stand and follow the path. She picked up pace, then broke into a sprint - stumbling over what she thought was the root of a tree. Blood speckled the skin of her bare feet and her breath hitched, but she didn’t have time to look back. The ground rumbled as a roar tore through the leaves, Ciri heaved her breaths, a burning sensation rising in her throat. Her knees buckled as she broke through the tree line, just in time to see the towering Goliath standing amidst a wedding celebration. It’s shadow fell over a woman in a wedding dress, the white fabric torn and muddied. Before it could swipe at her, another figure lurched in front. He stood over her, his arms spread to the side as he yelled. Each word he said was already imprinted into Ciri’s memory. Her eyes grew wide as she watched it happen again, the same scene that had been replaying in her head ever since. Blood smattered over the remaining white dress as he was torn apart, then carried away. All she was left with was the echo of the beast’s footsteps as it retreated, satisfied with its destruction.

Ciri’s hand trembled as she reached forwards, tears pricked at her eyes, threatening to spill over at any moment. All feeling in her legs seemed to disappear, the sensation of copper clawed at the back of her mouth. Blood. She saw the red stains all around and, combined with the taste brought reality crashing down. The vision spread out in front of her flashed to what it had been before the tragedy, then to black.

Ciri awoke abruptly, not having remembered when she drifted off. Sweat clung to her face, and arms as she laid in the fetal position. With a gag she lurched forwards and barrelled towards the door. Outside greeted her with a cold sting, she tripped down the front stairs and into the mud before letting out a hacking cough. Droplets of black blood mixed with saliva dribbled down her chin, she coughed again, covering her white blouse with reddish black splotches. “Fucking -nightmares-.” She slammed her hand into the ground, “Can’t the past just leave me be...-please-“ Her voice broke as she begged, but no one was there to listen. No one was ever there. She was alone, just like she was all those days ago...Left in the ruins of a once perfect life.

[cirilla-witcher-addington]

Red - their opinion on love

“It’s more of a distraction than anything.” She’d say blankly, flexing her fingers out in front of her. Her violet eyes scanned over each bloody scrape and smear of dirt across her knuckles as she let loose a long exhale. “It’s another variable I have to take into account. Another person I could potentially lose - so it’s best not to take up another lover.” Any emotion slowly drained from her tone, “Besides, who could ever love a monster, hm?” She’d press her lips into a thin line, shrugging and then leaning back in her seat. The last comment wasn’t said out of pity, it was because she genuinely believed it - and perhaps, was at peace with it.