Eryn-Ara

"Such is the nature of evil. In time all foul things come forth." Semi-Selective / Indie Thranduil. Multi-Ship + Multi-Verse. 21+ mun

[eryn-ara-blog]

//Meant to do replies and threads, but spent my time at the ER instead. Needless to say, very exhausted, so after sometime and tea, I'll get do doing those. Apologies

[celestinez]

Thranduil by FangWangLlin

[eryn-ara-blog]

//Home today so now I can get replies and fresh threads done~

[eryn-ara-blog]

dragcnslayr replied to your post:❖ - but also throws this at you -

[ i’ve just kind of read this all day, enjoying it over and over and over again ! ]

//Ahh!!! I’m so glad you enjoy it!!! Was concerned you may not >_<

[fiiresache]

eryn-ara

‘you wear a fine mask                  lord of roots and dirt

                 but even the most elegant of lies                  is naked here.

                                who burned you, i wonder?’

[eryn-ara-blog]

No winds or power, chants or desire, could make frozen bones thaw against the chill of caution. Tartly does a pointed chin turn, refusal to acknowledge the gaze of another beneath his opinionated standing rolled vision to welcome darkness behind pale lids; The Elvenking represents the very image of tranquility upon the stranger. 

From where, when, or how this being decided to show their visage to the Woodland Realm’s king remains a mystery, it certainly is not enough for warm greetings to be addressed--not when this creature has such gall to raise secretive knowledge of personal matters openly.

                    “You speak of lies and nudity as one whom preaches truths and sermons, yet I wonder what grains or credit are your worth, he with no name. What is your business with this king?”

[thranduilings]

“He is one of those legendary warriors still living in Middle-earth. He fought in the Great Alliance, he fought alongside his father who was another great, great warrior. He is a great Elf, in a long, long, magnificent tradition of Elves.” - Lee Pace (x) (x)

[eryn-ara-blog]

//Feels like I know Tom Hiddleston’s face on an intimate level now...Still painting~

[eryn-ara-blog]

//TBH got online to write, but too far gone in the trash zone, so I’m painting on a gift and doodling trash. Will probably write later if I get out of the trash

[nyrnernil-deactivated20151219]

               THANK YOU;   for the great  experience  i’ve made here thus far,                     for writing with me   &  putting  up  with this unnerving bundle that’s                     my muse, for your  kindness   &      especially  for sticking  around! i                     could write a long text   but  i  won’t  because  barely  anyone  reads                     intros anymore   &   you know anyway that i love you~

                                       ♔ GIVEAWAY ♔

                   2 winners will receive a bunch of stuff; including 50 icons of their fc,                    a signature for rp posts,  on/off banners,  one mobile header  &  a                    theme background  for  any  of  their blogs  +  a  promotional post!                     (  sorry i can not offer  themes  for i can’t code any on my own  u.u  )

             ✗ RULES                                   ✗ DETAILS

                   must  be  following  me                             we don’t have to be mutuals                    must be a roleplay blog                             reblog as often as you wish                    reblogs count only                                     ENDS: 1st of July

                                            theme bg examples:  x  x  x                            icons:

[eryn-ara-blog]

❖ - but also throws this at you -

Bard became a puzzle to the Elvenking. A man in the prime of life who is handsome, with a fine head of brown hair and the deepest, darkest, most brilliant pair of copper coloured eyes. Ones that he resented in the close way which they were kept upon his person, and the inflexible supervision exercised over them; a pot of honey to buzzing bees. Any human woman would be proud to have such a man as her husband, yet his time had been taken with duty and the king, and any means of courtship had been elusive to time, unless done beyond their extensive talks. The bowman’s selection of the king’s time was, in its way, complimentary, even though he knew it was taken for the sake of knowledge into territory unknown; as a king and a guest of the Woodland Realm. 

                      “Bard”

Truly it became suffocating to be around the human. 

Each scratch in his lungs needing immediate attention. Had he noticed? The way he would grasp his neck in intervals, hoping it would alleviate or soothe the pain. Or better, would more wine drown the heated ache in his gut? To chill his veins and seize the harsh beats of his heart. Thranduil was sure with every encounter, surely his body would betray him and every treacherous act would alarm and ring bells like that in his home town, catching Bard’s attention undeniably. 

However this night specifically, when the moon bathed stretched limbs of the trees and to those whom beseech themselves upon it’s rays, did this king hold his throat attentively.  Close–Bard is so close to him–each sway of the wind sending his pale locks to brush a broad shoulder, an act unwillingly done, but one he wished to do of his own; nature is crafty to accomplish such feats. The Elvenking cannot deny that he is goodness and attention itself to he, and that he is fond of him; just as one whom idolizes a savior, he draws all sorts of life from ancient bones.

                      “Bard” his name rolled rich like the dew on a spring flower “That of which I cannot see, I feel in my heart” the back of his embellished hand delicately brushes Bard’s cheek “Allow me to demonstrate what you have undone to me”

Thranduil wanted nothing more but to drown. Succumb his will to the human, and melt himself into mortal strength. No amount of wine or spirit, could compare in taste and exhilaration, than what he currently felt with his lips tightly locked on to Bard’s. It was more than he had imagined. All those times he caught himself in dazed thoughts wondering, pondering, exactly what his kisses would be like–and they are indescribable. They are blistering and perfect, he is sure they are whispered against his lips, actively seeking for more and more; a greedy king. Intoxicating–a far better buzz than what fills his  goblet daily could do, and he is hooked, addicted! Why must he be so delicious! He must break free! and reluctantly does, but not before parting with a final peck.

[eryn-ara-blog]

❖ give me a kiss, ada~

The king’s first impulse was to not let his sentiments be known, but to keep them under observation for a time. He dismissed the bubbling thoughts of taking his son  as soon as they formed. To seal the very mouth that spewed vicious words of bane, and tactically, decisively, consume every one of them as if he were parched man begging for his thirst to be quenched. 

But even Thranduil had been so disposed, there would be difficulty about finding accommodation to quell an unhealthy darkness. 

Moreover, it was a small place they reside, or rather, the position from where the Elvenking stood next to Legolas, whom comfortably seated on his throne, parades a smug grin to his father. Here they were alone. Strict solitude from the eyes of soldiers or ears of hand maidens, his unexpected appearance had altered so much, he may have had difficulty recognizing his father. His face wore a frigid look, and his eyes had acquired a sharpness to them enough to kill a man, but at forming wrinkles at the corner of his eyes, did his mood change to amusement. 

                               “The impulse of cruelty is as violent as the impulse to love.” Thranduil purrs curling a lithe finger under a solid chin to raise Legolas’s face upwards  “If not prepared, it can take you by surprise”

Just an inch teasingly away, the king strikes, a snake sinking it’s fangs deep into the veins of it’s victim dripping numb toxins into the stream. He subdues his son’s mouth, hungrily consuming him. It’s smooth and hot, their breathes intermingle, and any chance the prince may have to say his peace, is further silenced by rough brushes of ravenous reverence upon thin lips.

A small smack echoes in the throne room. The Elvenking popped his lips free and takes a moment to eye the plump visage of his work–red and glistening–he licks his own in artisan approval. 

                                   “I do not think you were prepared”

[meme-archive]

Send me a ❖ and my muse will kiss yours

[welcomethenewage]

[eryn-ara-blog]

" After love, no one is what they were before. " ( mourning husbands idk ?? )

Occasionally, on these nocturnal rambles, did they encounter similar relations in their private lives, either by allurements or by force, each to their own they are lead far away from those around them, sucked into their own little world; at least to this king, he is directed from the point towards which he holds proceeding towards his human companion. On some evenings they last till the first streaks of the grey dawn appears and the miserable hark of reality coupled with the slight ache of a hangover heralds a new day–each wiser to the other.

Those with eyes wide and twinkling with mischief to follow silken strides, would find the behavior of the Elvenking odd, displaced, and completely unlike his nature to diverge from his obstinate behavior among other creatures than elves. Thranduil is actively seeking the pleasantries of a human king.

Yet on this evening, sitting in his gardens sharing the starlight with Bard, does a reoccurring topic arise. Though it is articulated differently than the human’s usual speech, the loss he felt must have been so great, his defeated words ushered empathic emotions of the icy king. 

                         “Love is a poison once injected, will run its course until death or immunity results. There may be remedies, things to ease and soothe the pain, but like all things experienced in life–no one is ever the same before–not after the loss of innocence, no matter how small or large.”

It’s odd, he thinks, feels, and whispers. Never would he expose a side of him thousands and thousands of years spent building thick defenses to ricochet all those painful thoughts and feelings away, would reduce him to a squawking bird. How is it the frailty of a mortal human man does he disclose his inner conflicts? I trust him too much to let my guard down. 

                          “It is far more painful to awake from a beautiful slumber when the continuity of life is still lost to you…” the king pauses to drown himself in the attentions of his companion “…and my life is forever until no longer do I wish for it. You are blessed.”

[mitchellwrites]

deathless ♚ sentence meme

[eryn-ara-blog]

indiemitchell:

You will always fall in love, and it will always be like having your throat cut, just that fast.

You are going to break your promise. I understand.

You’re lonely too.

It will stop your breath, how cruel I can be.

I am a demanding creature. I am selfish and cruel and extremely unreasonable.

I am your servant.

I crawl at your feet; for before your love, your kisses, I am debased.

For you alone I will be weak.

I belong here, and you will not deny me.

I say these things, and the world listens.

I do not tolerate a world emptied of you. I have tried.

In the dark, I have pored over the loss of you like pale gold.

I will not let her speak because I love her, and when you love someone, you do not make them tell war stories.

I moved the earth and the water for you.

You will always run away with her.

You will always lose her.

You will always be a fool.

You will always be dead, in a city of ice, snow falling into your ear.

You have already done all of this and will do it again.

No one should be judged for loving more than they ought, only for loving not enough.

We look terrible to you, and severe, and you see our blood flying.

What we carry between us is hard-won, and we made it just as we wished it to be, just the color, just the shape.

There need never be any rules between us.

Let us be greedy together; let us hoard.

Do not leave me, swear that you will never leave me.

I am selfish. I am cruel. My mate cannot be less than I.

Sleep with fists closed and shoot straight.

I can’t abide a poor liar.

You look like a winter’s night. I could sleep inside the cold of you.

Oh, quit that. Blushing is for virgins and Christians.

Scold me; deny me. Tell me you want what you want and damn me forever. But don’t leave me.

Bad luck relies on absolutely perfect timing.

In his own country, Death can be kind.

What is the world but a boxing ring where fools and devils put up their fists?

Men die. It’s practically what they’re for.

I am no one; I am nothing.

Nothing in me was not made by you.

A revelation is always the end of something. It might even be cause for grief.

Just tell yourself a story that’ll satisfy you and pretend he told it.

Forever isn’t bright; it isn’t like that. Forever is cold and hard and final.

I savor bitterness - it is born of experience. It is the privilege of one who has truly lived.

If you want to kill yourself, do not use us as your knife.

What did I do wrong? Was I boring? Did I ignore you?

Don’t you dare speak to me like that.

I have worn nothing but blood and death for years.

I have fought all your battles for you, just as you asked me.

I have learned not to cry when I strangle a man.

I have learned to watch everything die.

I am not a little girl anymore, dazzled by your magic. It is my magic, now, too.

Are we not devils?

No one is now what they were before the war.

I have not seen you without your skin on.

Close up your head; your brain is getting loose.

We obsess. It’s in our nature.

I’ve a devil of a habit for being right.

In war you must always choose sides.

If you try to be a bridge laid down between them, they will tear you in half.

We are all dead. All equal. Broken and aimless and believing we are alive.

My old bones will follow yours soon enough.

It is better to be strong and cruel than to be fair.

I will see him with his skin off before I agree to fall in love.

After love, no one is what they were before.

I have survived, but I have not been spared.

In the space of one heartbeat to another I loved you and I was lost to you.

Frighten me, make me cry, only come back.

It’s not so bad, my darling. Being dead. It’s like being alive, only colder.

You’ll think it’s love, while he dines on your heart.

You will be so beautiful when you are old.

I cannot keep you and I cannot let you go.

You will live as you live in any world…with difficulty, and grief.

I look at you and it is like my throat being cut.

She said you’d come and I swore to eat your heart.

I still want to kiss you.

My heart is being cut in two. I cannot bear it.

What happens to anything beautiful?

I have to know, I have to or else you will just rule me until the end of everything because you know and I do not.

[tralalalally]

25/101 days ‘til BotFA

[virusite]

“A person who deserves my loyalty receives it.”

- Joyce Maynard ( Looking Back: A Chronicle of Growing Up Old in the Sixties )