◄ H E R A L D ► @heraldofdoubtarchive - Tumblr Blog

the coffin door creaks open slowly:

i'm over at @mournwvtch if you guys would like to hit me up over there. might relegate my inquisitor to a sideblog someday if i feel she needs to be revived from her long rest.

@tethrxs if you're out there somewhere, darling. please reach out if you'd like, i would love to catch back up.

xoxo

vigiilance

How do you tell a girl she is more sunshine than the sun itself? He is not blinded by the daylight as much as by her smile. It’s an infectious thing; she’s smiling, he’s smiling, their fingers intertwine in an intimacy he has not known or loved as much as he’d known it in his time of swill coffee and no running water. She is aloe on a sunburn, aspirin on a headache. If she will be his sun then perhaps he is the moon, between them only tides lapping sandy shoes. He, with too many faces and most of them hidden, waxing slowly in her glory.

The air’s gentle edge of warmth brings color to his face, a healthy flush to his cheeks, eyes wandering the horizon like he will never in his life not look to the skyline with the wonder of a new age. As if these buildings, as if this street will never grow old.

“I’m following your lead, love. Wherever you want to go.”

heraldofdoubtarchive

They step off the stoop of their home with it’s rotten wood and embrace the brisk cool air as it greets them. The cold is betrayed by the sun that envelops them and the grin that parts her lips with the brightest of smiles before her fingers are grasping for his with an insistent need to be close. Come, Thommy, come look at the world. The stone of the walkway bleeds into the pavement that leads into town, cars speeding by with music that filters through the cracked windows. Life pulsates in every inch, it’s old buildings mingling with it’s modern changes. There is an old charm to their town, to this place that she calls home that she hopes that he will one day.

Her lungs heave, vapor twisting in the air before her small body is turning to face him while her scuffed boots scrap against the ground beneath her feet.

“ Well then, as you have put me solely in charge of you, I say we get coffee, and then we make use of that beautiful town square. There are charming little shops that line the streets. You might enjoy them. “

#vigiilance #« ic;#« v: modern day drifter;#[ AHHH ANOTHER!! ]

vigiilance

Is he safer in Manchester?

Is he safer anywhere? Even in his own halls, in his own dormitory, in his own bedroom he feels the sting of his blood purity. If mudblood had ever been a slur he’d never known it; its use surrounds him from all sides, drops from the mouth of every surly boy trying to prove he’s already a man. He calls himself the same in common parlance. Muggle-born too often feels like he avoids the fact of what is. When he studies, it is to be the best wizard he is capable of becoming. Each spell cast again and again until it becomes a reflex. When he trains, when he plays, when he flies–it is to be perfect. To render himself untouchable by those who would undo him.

And they never speak of these common truths but he knows that she knows. Knows when her hands draw with delicate gentility against swollen muscle, when she tells him it’s okay to stop. When her fingers close about his wand hand, when she says he’ll lose his voice if he keeps going with such unyielding voracity.

He is lonely without her, of course, but there is fear in him just the same. Fear of what comes in the night when he’s all alone.

“You’re no safer than I am. They already call you traitor.”

It would be months without that smiling face, without the chocolate curls that smell like pine and lavender curled about his neck. Without her lips pressed to the hollow of his neck. Why does he have to say goodbye at all? And when he speaks again it is with a lilt of finite anger–an expression of frustration at the way things are.

“You’d have a home with my family. But your family, they…they’d know better than to let you out of their sight to run off with me.”

heraldofdoubtarchive

Traitor.

It’s a word that bleeds into her bones like a sickness, it’s vile stickiness an ever consistent reminder that she was what the rest of her world deemed wrong. Muggleborn children were to be treated with caution, ostracized, not to be trusted. Thieves, they were things, not wizards or witches alike. She saw the looks that were thrown in their direction like daggers, constant in the way they follow the pair as they walk hand in hand in the corridors. Blood traitor--worse than the muggleborns themselves.

But she didn’t care. No, when she looks into his eyes, she sees so much more. But held within them now reflected only frustration to the truth. To what awaited them beyond the fringes of the lake, but the reality of their fate.

She was to return home at the end of term, and he was to return to the life that the rest of the world would damn him for. Light eyes drift closed at his words, fired back with the same fury that rises against her skin. She understood it, felt it just as greatly as he did, but the tenderness of her touch was what kept her from lashing out. Sooth him, her touch moving to smooth over the warmth of his features. How she wanted to run with him, Oh Merlin, how she wanted to just run.

“ You may be right, but that doesn’t mean I couldn’t at least try. “

Her parents weren’t the most lenient of folk, more often than not they kept a steadfast eye on nearly every move she made. Especially when word came that she was fraternizing with such a socially unacceptable child. But the Trevelyans were hardly the sort to admit that out loud. It wasn’t polite after all. Safe, she knew it to be a lie even as it passed her lips. But she had to believe.

#vigiilance #« ic;#« v: true and unafraid of toil;#[ BLOWS DUST OFF BLOG WITH THIS VERSE BECAUSE BABIES ]#[ forgive me my love for it has been too long ]#[ this was rusty but still felt so fucking nice to write ]#[ i love you ]

morerandomthanusual

Blackwall greatly disapproves.

#« visuals;#« the resolve;#[ ooof my goddddd! ]

So, wow. Real life whacked me in the face, and it leaves me completely leveled out. First of all, I want to apologize to everyone here for my sudden departure from tumblr altogether when I was forced to deal with some rather tenuous real life drama that seemed only fitting to do over the holidays. On top of work related stress and responsibility, having to get my live-in on again off again boyfriend of a decade out of my house was a bit more of a struggle than I had anticipated. And in doing that, with new relationships and things getting in the way, I found myself unable to find the time to be online. All of this is a whole lot of blah blah nonsense that really makes no difference.

The long short of it is I got wrapped up in my life and I couldn’t seem to find myself a tether. And for that, I am deeply sorry. I am sorry mostly to my partner, Fay, who has endured my silence more than she ever should have. The fact that she is even still here, that we’ve spoken and agreed to continue, is a true testament to the type of person she is and I don’t deserve her.

I am not going to dive head long into things, I am going to ease myself back into being active on here, because I still have a lot on my plate, and I need to pace myself. But as it is, I am back. For anyone who seems fit to give it much thought. And for those who still remain, I thank you.

#« ooc;#« psa;#[ this is stupid and pointless but i just wanted to apologize -_- ]

--

#going through a break up #I'm too exhausted to write but I'll be on tomorrow #gotta help him move the fuck out of my house first #I'm really not okay right now #I'll be better soon #bear with me folks

Starter Call! Press the ♡ !

#« ooc;#« starter call;#[ i'm off tomorrow so i will be gunning through these! ]

rutiilus-blog

how’s it work? you tell me how to tell. ask for something bad to happen, eventually something does.

#« promo;#[ good shit good shit! follow gwen's surrogate brother pls hes amazing do the thing! ]

jbyoungjaes

#« visuals;#« v: true and unafraid of toil;#« v: and cross'd my heart with shame;#« v: come to me child and i shall embrace you;#[ forgive me father for im gonna sin ]

TELLER }

The initial response was a ring of laughter, the sound of it slurred and delighted as the reaction goaded out of the other manifested. His own mug was slid against the table, the laughter slipping into chuckling as he rubbed at his face before following suit and standing. His hands fumbled to roll his sleeves to elbow, a skeptical eye looking over the eager Inquisitor who was ready to face off with him. Why, in that look there might’ve been seeded a note of pride, because this? This was so certainly the Marcher way. You could hang a pretty title on any of them, but their blood boiled all the same.

“C’mon now, am I gonna ‘ave to think of a good enough reasonin’ as to why I knocked out the damn ‘erald. I respect ya enough not to ‘old back.”

The room is twisting, a fact that she has grown all too familiar with as the weeks drag on with no real footholds made against Corypheus. Bull would tell her it was her way of coping with stagnating reports and just needing a release, but it was a slippery slope to be trapped on. But Maker cannot deny how freeing it feels to let the drink win, to feel as if she wasn’t above these people for once. They were all here for the same reason, were they not? She was no better than they were, and this moment now was a reminder of that. Even if she felt like she may be sick if she remains on her feet any longer.

Don’t be sick in front of him, Gwenny. Then he wins. Balls.

“ Ya think ya can stay standin’ much longer? Might just have to poke ya and it’ll be over. Maybe y’should just sit back down. “

#rutiilus #« ic;#« v: leader of the inquisition;#[ gwen this is just sad ]

THOM }

“Are you always persistent?”

For he has already decided he doesn’t like this girl, that he’s not going to like her, that never in a million years would he ever be caught dead at her side. He sees insolence in her–an unladylike pigheadedness that suggests she often received whatever she asked for. And he, in all his illustrious wisdom gained in eight whole years, he will be the one to tell her no , she cannot have him, she cannot have everything she asks for, not this time.

But he is just one small boy, after all.

“I don’t want to be here.”

Spoken in a volume just above a whisper, he collapses in on himself with no celestial grandeur, pulling even the light around him inside to something dimmer and more ominous. Rump makes contact with the stones as his arms wrap tightly about his knees, drawn up to his chest. Labyrinthine walls spiral high to the beautiful sky above and yet he can only stare languidly at the dark roots of bushes, at a few small beetles scurrying into the stones. He is crying without crying, he is screaming on the inside.

“Mum made us leave Markham. We had a farm there. She sold everything and made us come here because she didn’t want to live in the house Liddy and Papa died in. Maybe she thought we’d get sick like they did.”

Such morbidity hardly phases him anymore. It’s painfully monotone the way this is delivered, spilling from his lips without anything to stop the flow of sorrow. They are at odd balance, even now; she in her sunny blues, he in drab greys, blacks, fingers twisting in the fur he once wore around his shoulders, one now draped listlessly over his feet.

“She keeps saying it’s better here. Papa was going to teach me how to fight with a sword. He promised. Now I have to be a servant forever. I don’t know what makes that better.”

“ I am--have to when you have three older brothers who try to avoid you. “

Though Hadden had always been at her side since her birth, she knew as well as a seven year old could that he couldn’t very well enjoy spending all of his time with a child. The grounds of her family’s estate weren’t exactly brimming with children her age, peers for her engage with and have the childhood that she so desperately sought for. No, she was instead thrown into every etiquette class her mother could force upon her, to mold her into the proper noblewoman that she was meant to be. Her mother so desperate to groom her to be a wife to some nobleman that would garner their family more politic ground.

But all Gwendolyne wanted to do was fight.

She remains silent as the boy collapses in on himself, turning inward in an attempt to appear less alive. To wane her attention from him in the attempt to bore her, to get her away from him. But as he remarked, she was persistent. Especially when she could tell there was an unspoken pain there, one that he didn’t have the voice to express. Not fully, it would seem as she drew closer to him with the skirt of her dress plying blades of grass from each other to bend at her invasion. As if her steady approach was to say, I’ll listen to you, Thom.

After a beat passes, she slowly bends until she seats herself beside stubborn incarnate, noting his body language so not to invade his personal space. Remember, do not touch a cornered animal that feels threatened. Coax it out, allow it to approach you instead. Small hands reach to pull her skirts out from beneath her small body so they flow down to the stones below, her gaze drifting up to look at the sky in all it’s unpolluted glory.

“ My brother can teach you. I know he isn’t your father and I’m sorry but--Hadden is a soldier. He teaches me in secret so Mama doesn’t find out. She doesn’t like it when I play with swords. She thinks its unladylike. “

Which was a truth Gwendolyne has grown used to hearing day in, day out. She was meant to be clean, dutiful. Silent. But it was not her way. Mistake it for pigheadedness, but she knew what she wanted to be, even now. As her gaze drifts from the sky, she finds herself looking at the boy, her smile still warm despite how vehemently he pushes her away.

“ You can use my practice swords if you like. “

#vigiilance #« ic;#« v: come to me child and i shall embrace you;