d r u í

𝐬𝐩𝐮𝐧 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐬𝐮𝐧𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 / 𝐰𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐭

[fawnmaid]

theelectusrex​.

Dreams. Forebodings. Arthur tossed in his sleep next to Merlin. His magic seemed to be trying to warn him of something about to occur. Waking in a sweat, he tried to get back to sleep but the vision was threatening to overtake him. He decided it was best not to lie in bed and mull over it. Slipping away from his lover, he drew a tunic over his head. He knew the warlock might be cross with him. Normally Pendragon woke him when the dreams were too much.

Opening his door, he stepped into the deserted halls. It was late and no one was about save for knights on patrol. The cool air felt good on his skin as he escaped the clutches of his room. Padding around for a bit, nothing caught his interest til he saw a figure sitting knelt in front of a statue. It was of his mother. Sighing, he moved forward to the person seeing it was one of the servant of a visiting royal. Not wanting to disturb her, he lingered there for a moment until he sneezed - giving himself away.

❝ bless you, ❞   elain says without even turning her head. she’s aware of him before the sneeze but he doesn’t seem interested in letting her know, so she’s content to keep the secret - until it can’t be kept anymore.   ❝ i think it will be a restless night for many in the castle. i opened my window, and the air felt like there might be rain... a storm. ❞

there will be a storm, but she isn’t really talking about the physical one that the night air has promised her. there’s no doubt in her mind that he’s had a similar dream. it could even be the same one. these things are funny like that. 

when elain finally looks over at him, she realizes she’s speaking to the prince, but she doesn’t change anything about her demeanor. she isn’t sure he wants to be recognized, since he hadn’t wanted to be seen, so she’s happy to play dumb - but polite - in the meantime. she offers him a smile and gestures to the spot left empty beside her. there’s plenty of room for two here.   ❝ i think the moonlight clears the cobwebs a little. bad dreams, sir? ❞

[fawnmaid]

inthelandofemrys.

Walking barefoot in the forest, Shira was collecting herbs near the safe haven. Many warriors were hidden in the trees and in the branches above looking out for enemies. Hearing a tree branch snap, she twisted and pulled out her small blade her husband Ziraz gave to her. Her movements were fluid and graceful. Only when she saw no one near did, she put the blade down. Senses keen, she knew of the other before they did. Sheathing the knife after the magical rhythms told her it was no enemy. She went behind a tree to observe first. Dark eyes scanned around her, waiting for the other to appear.

When she did finally, she saw her crouch down to consult the earth around them. A common practice of her people. A breeze ripped through the area and brought up some leaves that laid on the ground. None came to her, she just stayed still til she heard her very choppy dialect.

Cyfarchion, i'r un nad wyf yn ei adnabod. She spoke as she came out from behind the tree. Greetings, to the one I do not know.

the woman that appears alongside the uttered response is beautiful and, elain senses, dangerous. the danger isn’t uncommon for druids, though they are not a warlike people; they are powerful. she wonders if she registers as dangerous too. she’s a trained warrior, she supposes she must at least be a little dangerous. fortunately, she isn’t a threat to these people. in fact, she hopes she might find assistance among them. she straightens up completely and offers a smile, calm and hopefully friendly.

❝ my name is elain. i am a druid from the north. ❞   she stops using their tongue now, and switches to english. she knows it better, though not as well as her own language.   ❝ i am lost. not in the woods, but in other ways... i am on the trail of an aisling. is there any chance i might find food and a safe place to sleep for the night among your people? ❞ 

she wonders if the southern druids have a concept of the vision-dreams. they must have, she reasons. 

[fawnmaid]

her dreams have disrupted her sleep... again. she sees a storm gathering on a horizon, dark clouds against the crimson of the pendragons. it threatens a sunrise or it heralds a sunset; she can’t be sure. elain knows better than to decide what an aisling means so soon after she’s had it. she decides to wander, find somewhere peaceful and quiet to sit and think. lady tegan won’t mind if she sleeps in just a little while to make up for it. she doubts other servants have such understanding employers, but she’s fortunate. 

she never lingers in castle corridors during the daytime. there’s too much hustle and bustle. but there’s no rules against exploring them once most everyone’s gone to bed, even if the guards squint at her when they pass by on their rounds. all she needs to do is not go looking for trouble. what trouble can she get into here, though, in front of the large-paned windows overlooking the courtyard? there’s a statue, and she’s sat on its base. the light of the full moon pours in through those windows and splashes all over the floor, and all over her. it’s comforting. she folds her hands in her lap, tilts her head up slightly, and shuts her eyes to soak in it.

starter call        ♡        @theelectusrex.

[fawnmaid]

elain isn’t proud of the fact that she’s here, that she’s left lady tegan back in camelot - safe as she is under the care of the pendragons. after all, as long as she’s not there, her lady isn’t harboring a sorceress. at least that is one danger removed. as for the rest, she knows from her dreams that she can’t conquer them all from camelot. the world is far bigger than one kingdom... though, camelot is quite big. she’s not even made it through the darkling woods yet. her feet are tired from all her walking, but she had turned down tegan’s offer of a horse. it’s best she doesn’t draw attention to herself.

but there are eyes on her here anyways, of that she is sure. she slows her gait and listens to the trees around her. the land has a way of speaking, if you’re willing to try and understand it. she considers crouching to press her palm into the earth, but it turns out to be unnecessary. the tingle of magic waiting in the air is familiar enough. she’s in the company of a druid.

❝ yfel grêotan êow, lêof, ❞   she says, trying the tongue she’s heard spoken in these southern lands. i greet you, friend. 

starter call        ♡        @inthelandofemrys.

[fawnmaid]

starter call ,  though it will be iconless until i make enough icons !!

[mirandahamilton]

fashion of the last kingdom: iseult’s blue dress (S1E7, S1E8)

[mirandahamilton]

fashion of the last kingdom: queen iseult’s royal gown + shift (s1e6-s1e7)