summergirl

These are not to be dismissed. I am alive, I live, I breathe. I put my hand out into the sunlight. Hermia Cordelia Higgenbottom, Fishmonger. "Happiness wasn’t a mystical place to be reached or won–some bright terrain beyond the boundary of misery, a paradise waiting for them to find it–but something to carry doggedly with you through everything, as humble and ordinary as your gear and supplies.

[volkaxdalca-deactivated20180214]

She was probably right, but Volka didn’t want to believe that, and maybe his logic was personally biased and incredibly flawed yet his self loathing wasn’t just going to go away. To do something was to give himself a purpose. And to have a purpose would be the have something that could be taken away, it would give him a new rock bottom to hit. Volka would never admit that some of him was afraid to do anything, afraid of what might happen afterwards.

He cursed himself: months ago, he’d been so eager to get involved, but then he’d had far too much time to think about it. To begin to doubt that any good could become of anything Volka did. He’d accepted that the guard he once had been was gone. Why resurrect all the extra pain that came with believing he was good for something and learning the complete opposite?

Unfortunately for his not-so-iron will when it came to this particular topic, the answer was simple. He would have to do something because he’d sworn his life to the Prince, to someone he cared about, and his life wasn’t quite over yet. Still. Fear blocked him from being open with himself about what he had to do. He crossed his arms, defense still. “So maybe the King believes me, maybe not. Suppose he doesn’t, there’s got to be some sort of crime in impersonating a prince…” He was grasping at straws, and his voice gave away that he knew it.

[hermia-higgenbottom]

"But ee know ‘e’s not impersonatin’ anyone!” Hermia insisted -- almost pleaded -- fighting not to shout. She  “Th’queen’d know ‘er own brother! Punishment ‘r no, ee know ee’d be tellin’ th’ truth.”

It struck her, however, that there might be a reason he didn’t want to save the prince. She couldn’t imagine it was plain cowardice. No proper guard could be that selfish...could he? No, he’d want the glory that came with saving Prince Leonidas. He’d want the rewards and adoration. She looked at the man with disbelief as the only other possibility she could think of presented itself to her.

“Do...Do ee wish fer His Highness t’ stay enslaved, if it means ee stay free?” She couldn’t imagine a knight to be so cowardly as to want his safety over that of his prince. Or any person alive, really. She had faith in people, even ones she despised. All people were not good, but none were completely without merit. She had to be wrong about this man. She had to be wrong.

[alistair-henry]

“I confess that others may not share the same attitude I do. I am sure the majority do, but there are always exceptions…” Alistair thought of Dane, and then of himself. He tried his hardest to act as honorable as he could, but there was a black mark in his own past he couldn’t erase no matter how much he wished. “Honor…honor is something to strive for everyday. Perhaps it is vain to call oneself honorable; only to say that one makes an effort to be such.”

[hermia-higgenbottom]

Something about Ranger Henry darkened, and Hermia wondered if this was perhaps the best conversation for them both. She did not often worry for the feelings of others when they did not bother to make such feelings clear, but Ranger Henry had proven himself to be a good men. Better than most she knew, anyway. “Ee seem an honorable man t’ me,” she assured him. “No’ too many’d assist a Solish lass in retrievin’ ‘er tools buried in the snow when she could do it ‘erself.”

[chrisnarouz-deactivated20170126]

“And it was all yellow ” A yellow Demelza Poldark AU aesthetic

[xavierxpiest-deactivated2016071]

“If th-they’re singing s-song about us, um…” Of this suggestion, Xavier was not entirely sure, and so he hesitated, he licked his lips and looked over his shoulder as though he’d heard something ( even though he hadn’t ) before finishing, “Sh-should we have g-g-gift or s-something, er… Like b-bows m-made from ribbons, m-maybe —- t-to th-thank th-them f-f-for, um, f-for the s-songs.” That would be nice, he thought. It would make children happy, wouldn’t it? And to him, to offer something, even something small, in thanks seemed perfectly right.

[hermia-higgenbottom]

If it were possible, Hermia would have smiled even brighter than she already was. She hadn’t even thought of bringing the children gifts for the songs, and the thought filled her with laughter and glee. She clapped her hands, nodded her head. “They’d never forget us then! We’d come back eighty years later an their great grand children will come out askin’ fer us!” There was no mistaking the sheer joy in her voice. She was eated. And even hopeful that this truly would one day come true.

[alistair-henry]

“Fishing? Quite the honorable pasttime, if a taxing one,” Alistair said honestly, gaining more respect for the readheaded woman. He blinked at her question, wondering what kind of knighthood worth their salt would possibly allow such behavior. “A ranger’s first duty is to Nore and its citizens, not to his or her own pleasure. I do not wish to pass judgment on any honorable warrior, but that behavior hardly seems fitting of the honor of knighthood.”

[hermia-higgenbottom]

"Aye?” she asked, not sure whether to trust him on that or not. Sol wasn’t terribly different than Nore overall, but...the luxury and beauty that came with summers and springs perhaps allowed men to be more...selfish, perhaps was the kind way of saying it. Detestable and irritating were closer to Hermia’s chosen words. “Th’ knights o’ th’ De Carta lands ma not agree wif ee. I thought t’was all glory an’ romances fer them. Honorable knights’re for th’ songs an’ ‘istory books.”

[volkaxdalca-deactivated20180214]

The mention of the prince’s name caught Volka’s attention: where he’d been only moderately interested in listening to her before, now he stared at her, hanging onto every word. He hadn’t seen Leonidas in months, not since they’d run into each other at the Checkpoint and offered a plan that never would have worked anyways. Since, Volka had tried not to think about the man, tried not to bring himself that sort of pain. After all, he’d realized back then how useless he was to the very person he once had been devoted to protecting. He didn’t believe Leo would ever need him again. Be it hard to live with, and it was harder to know that he was not going to do any good for someone he had once been so close to, yet Volka had dared accept that as truth.

“I know that he’s enslaved here,” Volka told her with a shake of his head, eyes dropping momentarily to the ground so that when his gaze softened for a split second, she wouldn’t see it. When he met her eyes again, his expression had hardened into a frown, “I’m sure I could identify him as for who he is, but I don’t reckon anyone would believe me. If I could help him, I would, but I doubt I can do that much.” He was useless, he was pointless, he had failed to be there when Leo had been enslaved, and surely he would fail if he attempted to help him return to Sol.

[hermia-higgenbottom]

She felt an ice-cold weight settle in her stomach. He knew. He knew and he wasn’t doing anything. How could he not do anything? “Ee could,” she insisted. “Ee must.” She would not allow anyone to give up, certainly not the person who could help most of all. Hermia was just a no-name fishing woman, but perhaps...well, Art’s wife was a scholar. Jane?

Hermia began to pace. She thought aloud, saying the first ideas that came to mind as she tugged on a lock of her hair.. “The...the King liked me. Let me order ‘im about like no king shoulda done when fishin’ one day. I’ll get an audience wi’ ‘im, tell ‘im about His Highness. An---An if ‘e got a brain in that ‘ead o’ ‘is, ‘e’ll take the word o’ His Highness’s guard fer sure.” 

[worthyironman]

When she shines her brightest, Let no dark cloud intervene

[volkaxdalca-deactivated20180214]

Need was a strong word, Volka thought to himself. It had been a long time since anyone had actually, really needed to talk to him. And moreover, she was looking for someone to write, or so she’d said. Had he not made it clear enough that he would not be that person? That he couldn’t be that person, the kind who served a necessary function. The kind of person who was genuinely needed.

“Do you?” He replied, tone flat with irritation. “And here I thought you’d already be on your way to find someone else - someone who can write - to bother.”

[hermia-higgenbottom]

“Aye,” she said, fighting back the urge to snap. This was important business -- royal business. She had to act like one of them just enough to get her point across. “I come lookin’ fer th’ guard o’ Prince....” Her voice caught in her throat. What if he didn’t believe her? No -- no he had to believe her. He was a knight. Knights had to understand. “O’ Prince Leonidas o’ Sol.”

“’E’s been -- ‘e’s been enslaved ‘ere in Nore under th’ ownership o’ Grigor Stradden, an’...an ‘e said ee’d be able t’ ‘elp free ‘im. T’ look at ‘im an say ‘e’s th’ real prince, rather than some impostor.” She swallowed, keeping her eyes on the man before her and biting her fear back. She could be charged for scandalous words, or even treason for something like this, as far as she knew. Hermia was never one for lies, much less about something as important as this.

[starkandsnow]

— but if she asked, i’d beg for her to destroy me // k.s.

[eleanortomlinsondaily]

[princessofpoldark]

infinite list favourite lines  1.07  [18/∞]

[volkaxdalca-deactivated20180214]

Did she really need to ask for someone who could write? Volka reckoned one could throw a stone in this place and find someone who could write plenty. Well, so long as that stone didn’t happen to hit himself or, apparently, her. Volka, in spite of what he’d said, had even less business being amongst the folk in the University: and he wasn’t entirely sure why he was here either ( though boredom most certainly had something to do with it. )

“If you’re looking for someone to write, then you could probably enlist anyone in here except for me,” he replied coarsely, as though it was entirely obvious. Because to him it was, and because Volka didn’t take to anything very kindly, much less being snapped at.

[hermia-higgenbottom]

“Aye? I thought there were nothin’ o’ value ‘ere,” she countered, before realizing who it was she was talking to. This man -- one-handed, crude, unhelpful -- but no doubt about it he was Prince Leonidas’ guard, wasn’t he?

“No -- no, I need t’ talk t ee,” she said, biting her anger and irritation back. She put her hands down at her sides, lowering her chin and doing her best to make it incredibly, unmistakably clear her intentions. She would neither pick a fight nor try to argue -- she had to talk to him about Prince Leonidas. She had made a promise about it. And she would be serious, straightforward, and uncrass about it.

[xavierxpiest-deactivated2016071]

He liked to imagine her in such a situation, and it was certainly cause to draw out a more evident smile. Maybe he would have liked to do that too, when he was young- though he and his brothers had caused no shortage of trouble themselves. He wished he had the strength to share those stories: but even the thought of his former family gave him as much stress as it did sadness. He tried in vain to shake the memories from his mind, instead only being successful in putting them in the back of his mind. There, but out of focus.

“M-maybe they, um, m-make a s-song about, er, our c-cart…” Xavier timidly suggested after a moment or two of desperate scramble in his mind for the right words.

[hermia-higgenbottom]

“Aye!” Hermia cheered, excitement flowing free. She didn’t miss the fact that he had made a suggestion himself, but wasn’t about to point it out. Better let him get bolder on his own. “I can just imagine it now. Two lordly travellers with a cart from somethin’ out o’ legends. We gotta stop by th’ villages on our way back to ‘ear what songs got made!”

[xxsparksxx]

[leo-princeofsol-blog]

Leo grinned a little at her response, pushing a hand through his slightly tangled curls. “Perhaps that’s what I was missing all this time – a proper Solish lass,” he said, amused by the idea. He couldn’t think of a single person, save Volka, he’d met that hailed from their country.

[hermia-higgenbottom]

“Um--” she started, feeling another blush rise up over her features. Hermia wouldn’t be surprised to learn if she had turned as red as her hair, but if there was one thing she had never been called, it was a proper Solish lass. “Dinna tell Art ee said tha’. I’ll never ‘ear the end o’ it.” A small grin pulled up at the corners of her lips, and though embarrassment still filled Hermia from head to toe, there was no denying the little flicker of warmth that came at the idea of someone calling her a proper lass without prompting. She...well. She sort of liked the sound of it.

[eleanortomlinsondaily]

Eleanor Tomlinson for Town & Contry (credit)

[blindbutseeing-blog]

Irritating - to be accused of being the same as her tormentors. Dahlia clenched her teeth, but only for a second. She had dealt with worse, had suffered through another’s judgement, and she realized the girl before her must have reason to be so defensive. They had been likely put through the same fate. To be looked down upon, to be mocked and torn apart for who they were, and built up differently. Harder. Yet, the yellow-orange aura spoke her thoughts, while Dahlia was forced to stay silent. For now. But wouldn’t that all change with Nore? “You are mistaken, but I realize my words cannot convince you otherwise. Fare thee well. I hope you find your gift.” 

[hermia-higgenbottom]

Hermia had never had to stay silent, and so she never would. She would fight and shout and argue until her blood ran dry. But when she’s utterly shut down, left with nothing but what felt like false well-wishes and curtness, there was nothing left for her to act out. And so she did. With a snarl, she clenched her fists -- but kept them at her sides. “I dinna believe lies made lightly, when they’re made t’ make a fool o’ me.” She did that well enough herself at times. “Gowan yer way, milady, an’ make no presumptions abou’ me.”