‘ in the skin of dragons

marvel and myth original character. highly selective, canon divergent. featuring original elements of world interpretation. Sevlyn or Se-Vhan of Vanaheim.

[igneacor]

# IGNEACOR :  an independent , selective   &&  mutuals-only, canon-divergent ORIGINAL CHARACTER set in the MARVEL (CINEMATIC UNIVERSE) & MYTHOLOGY setting. Featuring independent notes of world-building. WRITTEN & LOVED by Alyssa. (23, GMT+8, She/Her).

Only SPECIFIC elements from MCU incorporated. This blog studies COURT INTRIGUE,  POLITICS && WAR, FAMILY, LOVE, IDENTITY, CHAOS, IMPERIALISM && POST-COLONIAL ANGER.

CARRD.        RULES.         DOSSIER/BIO.       VANAHEIM.

[igneacor]

just wanted to come back really quickly to announce that I met Tom Hiddleston yesterday and it was everything i ever dreamed of

[igneacor]

manifoldmischief​:

@igneacor​

“Oh, would you please set aside politics for one night? There a bonfire - go dance around it.“

"Prick. You know it’ll take me more than a pint to dance to this mawkish tune. Perhaps I’d rather be drunk on words!”

[igneacor]

manifoldmischief​:

“You know they’ll have your neck when it’s learned you murdered the prince of Asgard?“ No, he wasn’t extraordinarily hurt. His armor had stopped the blade, but the blow had been rather like a fist to the ribs. 

“I yield. Although, considering you’re the one with the cut hand, first blood is technically mine.” He held his own daggers up, then let them clatter to the weapons table as he moved off to the side and shrugged off his armor. Lifting up his tunic, he considered the purpling bruise her enthusiasm had left. “Lovely. I suppose I won’t be spending tomorrow swimming.“

"Oh, I’ll be sure to remind everyone the Prince of Asgard fell on my sword, don’t you worry.” Sevlyn turns the dagger over in her hand, finding different purchase on the waxed hilt. “And don’t you dare claim my glory - I struck my own hand on the blade.” 

Stowing the weapon, she clicks her tongue and sends a call into the air, in Vanir, no less. (To practiced ears, it was a two-syllable, ardently chosen name ). A large horse of blue-eyed cream rides out from the adjacent paddock into the training field - breaking a certain rule this way, catching a few soldiers off guard in the process who were quick to dodge out of the steed’s way. The young steed stops before her, stock still in an instant after a disapproving glance from his rider. “Aurvoi! Norns - watch the sand.” Sevlyn retrieves something from the horse’s saddle, then returns to Loki’s side. “Now, luckily for you, us Vanir have a salve for everything - this one is formulated especially for fussy Asgardian princes.” 

The smirk on her face is one mostly warm, yet slightly teasing. “You’ll be able to swim tomorrow just fine. Lift your shirt.”

[classsymemes]

a comprehensive list of scenarios

feel free to combine multiple prompts or add  “ + reverse ”  to switch roles !   for reference, the one sending in the prompt is the one committing the action.

1.  GUEST :  for one muse to offer the other a place to stay. 2.  STORM :  for both muses to find shelter from a severe storm. 3.  MEDIC :  for one muse to show up at the other’s doorstep injured. 4.  SURPRISE :  for one muse to come home and find the other already inside. 5.  TRIP :  for both muses to road trip or travel together. 6.  BABYSIT :  for one muse to help the other home while they’re drunk. 7.  INSOMNIA :  for one muse to find the other still awake at 3am. 8.  AMBUSH :  for both characters to come under attack by the same enemy. 9.  DANCE :  for one muse to ask the other to dance at a party. 10.  STRANDED :  for one muse to help the other who’s stranded on the road. 11.  SERVICE :  for one muse to cover the cost of something for the other. 12.  SAFEGUARD :  for one muse to save the other from being hit by a vehicle or from some other life-threatening event. 13.  DAZE :  for one muse to wake somewhere and find the other hovering over them. 14.  STOWAWAY :  for one muse to find the other hiding on the same ship. 15.  TAXI :  for both muses to share the same taxi ride. 16.  MAKEOVER :  for one muse to help the other with a new outfit or hairstyle. 17.  LIFEGUARD :  for one muse to rescue the other from drowning. 18.  DISASTER :  for both muses to work together to escape a fire, flood, or other disaster. 19.  TRANSIT :  for one muse to sit next to the other on a public transport. 20.  SPRAIN :  for one muse to carry the other after spraining their ankle. 21.  EMPLOY :  for one muse to be hired as the other’s bodyguard, tutor, assistant, etc. 22.  QUEST :  for one muse to help the other with a task in exchange for compensation. 23.  SOOTHE :  for one muse to calm the other during a panic attack. 24.  RECOVER :  for one muse to return the other’s lost belonging. 25.  UMBRELLA :  for one muse to share their umbrella with the other on a rainy day. 26.  HEAL :  for one muse to nurse the other back to health from a sickness or injury. 27.  NIGHTMARE :  for one muse to comfort the other after a nightmare. 28.  REUNION :  for one muse to run into the other again after a long time. 29.  PRIZE :  for one muse to win the other a prize at a carnival. 30.  NUDE :  for one muse to walk in on the other while they’re changing. 31.  BED :  for both muses to wake in the same bed, naked or fully clothed. 32.  TRAIL :  for one muse to notice the other has been following them. 33.  EVADE :  for one muse to pull the other into an alleyway to escape their pursuer. 34.  THIEF :  for one muse to confront the other after having something stolen by them. 35.  CAUGHT :  for one muse to walk in on the other singing / dancing. 36.  FESTIVE :  for both muses to decorate for a special occasion. 37.  PRESENT :  for one muse to give the other a  (birthday)  gift. 38.  WEARY :  for one muse to wake up after falling asleep on the other. 39.  CAPTIVE :  for one muse to hold the other against their will. 40.  SNAP :  for one muse to yell at or push the other out of frustration. 41.  SLEEPOVER :  for one muse to stay the night at the other’s place. 42.  TRESPASS :  for one muse to trespass on the other’s property. 43.  BREAK-IN :  for one muse to discover the other robbing their place. 44.  MERCY :  for both muses to come across an injured animal. 45.  UNKNOWN :  for both muses to wake and find themselves in a strange place. 46.  ACCOMPLICE :  for one muse to assist the other at the scene of a crime. 47.  ASTRAY :  for both muses to take a detour and lose their way. 48.  RELAX :  for both muses to share a hot tub or hot spring. 49.  MUSE :  for one muse to model for the other’s art project. 50.  ACCOMPANY :  for one muse to give the other an extra ticket to an event. 51.  SALVAGE :  for one muse to retrieve the other’s belongings from a thief. 52.  MEAL :  for both muses to prepare and share a meal together. 53.  CEMETERY :  for one muse to find the other at a gravestone. 54.  REFUGE :  for one muse to shelter the other from enemies. 55.  ARRANGED :  for both muses to date or marry out of convenience. 56.  FAVOR :  for one muse to owe the other a favor. 57.  VACATION :  for both muses to book the same hotel on vacation. 58.  DEFEND :  for one muse to save the other from one or multiple assailants. 59.  CATCH :  for one muse to return the other’s pet that escaped. 60.  RESTRICTED :  for both muses to sneak into someplace they’re not supposed to be.

[theamazingloki]

Open Starter

“Enough, enough!“ Loki shouted. While sparring was hardly the worst way to spend an afternoon, this was going far beyond that. He clutched a throbbing side. “What has possessed you?“

[igneacor]

It was the turnip flower. The blood of it coursing through her like an opiate - only worse. She blinks, glances down at the parrying dagger in her hand. Bit of a bleed - a small puncture at her finger: she’d nicked herself on her own blade. Oh, and there was a quiver too. 

“Stupid tonic-” She regards her sparring partner, a sheepish, if not strained, grin on her face. “Perhaps we should cease arms for the time being! Not extraordinarily hurt, are you?” 

[cptrs]

[soulrph]

𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐒𝐔𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐓𝐒.

idk what this is my dudes, i got angsty, then spot.ify gave me a soft song, and i decided to resolve the angst briefly by writing up these! i hope y’all enjoy!

DIALOGUE PROMPTS.

“ hey, look at me… you can do this. okay? you can. “

“ it’s gonna work out, alright? i promise.

“ you’re not alone, okay? not anymore. i’m right here with you. “

“ you good? “

“ here. hold my hand. you get scared again, squeeze tight, and i’ll help you. got it? “

“ shh… it’s okay… breathe with me, okay? in… and out… good job. “

“ we’re gonna figure all this out together, i promise. “

“ that’s it… there we go, good job… let it all out. “

“ of course i came. you called me. what’s wrong? “

“ hey, why don’t we get out of here? would that be better? “

“ you wanna get out of here? i know a great coffee shop a few blocks away. “

“ do you wanna talk about this, or be distracted, or left alone? “

“ you don’t have to be so strong all the time. it’s okay. cry. i’ll be strong for both of us. “

“ hey, i got you some water. drink it all, you’ll feel better. “

“ it’s been a long day. why don’t you stay here tonight? i can take the sofa. “

“ c’mon, you gotta eat something. and i can’t cook, so take-out it is. eat up. “

“ let’s go for a walk. staying here is the worst thing we can do, right? “

“ don’t you pay any heed to those morons. they don’t know you. not like i do. “

“ it’s okay. i got you… “

“ we don’t need to talk unless you want to. i’m happy to just sit with you for a while. “

“ it’s alright. you take your time… i’m gonna be right here whenever you want to talk, okay? “

ACTION PROMPTS.

[ KNEE ]:          sender gently rests a hand on the receiver’s knee to stop them from shaking it.

[ MOUTH ]:          sender notices the receiver’s distress from across a crowded room, and silently mouths “are you okay?” to them.

[ SIT ]:          sender guides the receiver into a seat after noticing them becoming upset.

[ BESIDE ]:          sender sits next to the troubled receiver at a social event so that they don’t have to feel alone.

[ BACK ]:          sender rests a gentle hand against the receiver’s back, silently checking in on them.

[ HAND ]:          sender takes a gentle hold of the receiver’s hand, as a form of emotional support and reassurance.

[ JOIN ]:          sender follows the emotionally unsettled receiver out of a crowded party and into a secluded space to check on their well-being.

[ BREATHE ]:          sender begins to take slow, deliberately even breaths, encouraging the receiver to copy their motions until their own breathing is back to normal.

[ SPOON ]:          sender lies beside the receiver and becomes the big spoon to comfort them.

[ GLANCE ]:          sender glances at the receiver while in a public setting to assure them they aren’t alone, and ground them in doing so.

[ BLOCK ]:          sender deliberately stands in front of the receiver to prevent them from seeing something that may upset them further.

[ SHIELD ]:          sender deliberately stands in front of the receiver to protect them from a targeted attack (verbal or physical).

[ DISTRACT ]:          sender, noticing receiver’s distress, provides a distraction for them (by conversation, a mobile game, a detour, etc.).

[ ARRIVE ]:          sender shows up at the receiver’s door after receiving a troubled phone call from the receiver.

[ CIRCLE ]:          sender rubs slow circles on the receiver’s back while hugging them in an effort to calm them down.

[ FOREHEAD ]:          sender lowers their head to press their forehead against the receiver’s, trying to comfort them in the process.

[ ANCHOR ]:          sender places a hand on the back of the receiver’s neck and pulls them close in an effort to physically and emotionally ground them.

[ HOLD ]:          sender holds out their hands to the receiver, either to hold hands or to hold them.

[ AROUND ]:          while sitting together, the sender quietly wraps an arm around the receiver’s shoulders as a support.

[ SHOULDER ]:          sender reaches out and places a hand on the receiver’s shoulder, both to catch their attention and silently ask if they’re okay.

[ JACKET ]:          sender notices the receiver beginning to shake after an immensely distressing incident, and removes their own jacket to wrap it around the receiver’s shoulders.

[ CATCH ]:          sender, noticing the receiver’s legs beginning to give out beneath them, rushes over to them and catches them before they collapse to the ground.

[igneacor]

manifoldmischief​:

“My father is not above reason, but nor will he allow Vanaheim’s crimes to go unaddressed. A deal, perhaps, could be made, but not until it can be written in blood.“ Hands went to her shoulders, in a show of comfort, of sympathy. They were ever so close, whispers in the dark, like warriors caught on each other’s blades or lovers dreading to part. How precariously such things were balanced, ready to fall either direction. “And neither of us want that.“

He kept his voice low, almost breathing the words into her ear, “However, it might be all avoided if someone else sat on the throne of Vanaheim, someone who, like you, wishes only to lead your people in peace. What would you be willing to sacrifice, Se-Van,” he pronounced her Vanir name in a practiced accent, “to have your realm spared that bloodshed? If a fairer ruler sat on that throne, willing to be a friend to Asgard in the way it was in the time of my grandfather, why… Odin might even be agreeable to stepping back our influence.” 

He drew back some, pale eyes burning into her with the suggestion of a question. “Would that not be better, for both our peoples? To be spared such a war, to be spared being made orphans, widows, and corpses.”

Oh it was brief, but was it sharp. It skimmed across her ruddy complexion - a flicker of pain: a jolt under the cheeks, a melancholy shine in the soft brown of her eyes. Quick to pass before the calm gaze returns, the same one she practices in the looking glass. Vanaheim’s crimes. Crimes? The true crime was Odin and his clandestine operations. Always to disrupt and control. The secrets that rolled behind the throne. The unfair policies. The taxation laws. The iron grip (though, waning) on the ancient houses. She said nothing - for nothing could twist out of that strangled throat of hers. Her brother, her sober, sombre brother. Dethrone him? She has played with the thought, clearly, and buried it into bedrock. 

Spare the bloodshed. Play the amiable ruler. Make careful friendships. That was her father, and where was he now? It was clear Loki’s words had made a catch upon her sleeve, holding firm, preventing immediate movement. She feels the weight of his hands on her shoulders - genuine? Deliberate? They were in the dark still - shrouded in shadow, shrouded in secret. Shadow is safe. Secret is safe. “Loki-” she says his name the Aesir way, clear and heavy with intimation. Her intuition was something else entirely. She wonders if he means to spin a thread of his own entirely with these radical suggestions. 

“You know I trust you and your counsel - but to campaign for the throne....I would start a new war. A civil war. The realm would be divided - and it would prove an opening for Asgard to take control. Years of progress, everything I’ve worked for diplomatically, petitions, policy revisions, our degree of independent influence, everything would be reversed....you know your father would do it. He would not pass on the opportunity, I can say that with certainty.”  She whispers back, the last word was a bite. Forceful. A small drop from the ocean of rage she kept at bay. Then as quickly as it came, it dissipated.

 “The truth is, I fear. I fear that my work on Asgard has been a sham - and that everything that has transpired between us in friendship would somehow get destroyed.” Sevlyn searches his eyes, thinking, weighing the possibilities, wistfully. “In the event that does happen, I suppose I simply wish to thank you.” 

[igneacor]

 from x

@manifoldmischief

“Excuses for strife are easily found. One need only look for a loose thread and know when to pull. Your brother’s unwinding the traditions of centuries.“ Now, normally, Loki might take some delight in the idea of the newness that swept into the void when a tradition was torn down. But their worlds seemed poised to drag swords, as needlessly as drunkards at a tavern, and as prince it would be expected that he stand at the front of the warriors... he would far prefer to stand off at the side, and watch the chaos play out before him. No. No, this wouldn’t do at all. “Which is precisely why you should go, old friend - who better than you to temper him? He’ll listen to you.“ 

"No, he won’t. And it wouldn’t matter if he did-” Her tone tightens to a whisper as two members of the Einhenjar marched by them. It had always been the deliberation in their gold-plated steps that gave her a stir, ever since she was a young girl. Outside, the sky rumbles low, pregnant with a storm. Sevlyn’s lip quivers, and she shakes her head.  “Not my brother. It’s the housemaster of the Jhunkai. He pulls my brother’s strings - and he is emboldened enough to push Asgard out - by any means possible. He does not see peace, subscribes to a violent doctrine and is adverse to negotiations.” 

MEANWHILE, elsewhere, below the red-lacquered balconies of a shimmering second-storey in the Vanir city of Umnok Tuman, a Tumanese man in beadwork slippers waves a yellow pamphlet in the air to a voracious crowd of supporters. Asgardian soldiers border the protest, tense and square against the scattered Jhunkai mercenaries, identifiable only by the red calligraphy on their necks. 

They are a few days shy of a court gathering. She gently touches Loki’s vambraces, earnestly, almost asking for permission. “I could reason with Odin. Control Asgard’s response to Vanaheim’s instigations. If-if I could somehow - broker a deal with him.” She hated this - having to bow and bite her tongue, all in the name of preventing a bloodbath. In truth, on the ideological side of things - she would have Asgard’s influence purged from her home world. 

[kingoftheravens]

 Plotted starter || @igneacor

The wild west could be a savage wasteland. Inhospitable and cruel at its worst, yet a solace at its best. The effects were plain in the small town Valerie and her mustang picked their way through: the dusty streets nigh barren, worn buildings in disrepair, people peering uncertainly from their porches, a saloon with a solitary horse hitched out front, its head hanging low. In the background of this meager town were the distant, looming rocky mountains, a dusting of fresh snow on their tallest peaks. Down here, however, it was warm. Not unseasonably, merely enough to warrant the sleeves rolled up to the elbows, the jacket left slung across the back of the horse.

They walked. Past the warped mesquite trees and the wispy ocotillo, the feeble woman sweeping her steps of persistent dust. Up to the listing jailhouse whose front boasted three bullet holes embedded in the wood.

Valerie had not been this far east in western country in some time. A hefty bounty for murder had forced her further into desert country than she liked, waiting for the storm of rage to settle and pass. Small towns like this generally forgave much quicker, provided they had even caught wind of the scandal to begin with. Upon hitching her stallion to the post, Valerie adjusted her stetson lower over her forehead and ambled her way to the side of the building. There, an array of posters pasted to the wood: a bounty here, a bounty there. A missing child, a missing man—no doubt devoured by the unforgiving wilds. A local robbery (”IF YOU KNOW ANYTHING, INFORM THE SHERIFF”). Her own image was not there. No reward for the head of Valerie Parker, known outlaw and murderer, menace and fiend. What was, however, was a woman standing just so that Valerie had to politely skirt her way around her, though not before touching the brim of her hat in polite greeting, “Ma’am.”

[igneacor]

People do not give credence to the desert and her givings, which are surprisingly abundant if one knew where to look. Sevlyn had relied on the dew of a suncup flower for miles only to arrive at a more temperate climate. It only took a six hour trek from Fort Smith where two gritty men were hung from a rough-hewn three banger gallows - one condemned over a trifling matter that resulted in an impassioned murder, another simply for rustling cattle. Her lips were parched, and her skin baked a notch browner by the harsh sun some. 

A cup of water from the trough - a coin or two from the purses of unsuspecting men here and there. Her makeshift bandana mask that covered most of her face meant she could circumvent the name-calling from leery (all white) men. She watched their horses, strong steeds hitched by posts with saddlebags full of food, tools and perhaps, guns. For an instant -  Sevlyn endeared herself to a fantasy where she had the agility to mount one in a haste and take off; but no, there was no reserves left for another run. Another ill-planned escape. It was foolishness - one that would seal her fate if the townsfolk turned on her. 

A woman - striking yet perfectly subtle in her gait, skirts around her. Sevlyn catches her gaze, nods at her greeting. The first of any amiable interaction she had in this town. That was the first thought that graced her, and for some reason the woman stayed with her. Usually, should Sevlyn be on the occasional run- the young woman would move quick if she could, zipping in and out of view, minding her own survival; yet here she risked a longer exchange of glances by studying the woman’s particulars. The face, the gait - who was she? Awfully familiar. 

Parker. 

The outlaw who robbed the lawman’s stagecoach. The one she was in. The reason she escaped. 

“It’s you,” she whispered, just audible enough for folk close by to take notice. “You were there - at the robbery.”

[esausrpmemes]

Want to ship? Feel free to tell me straight off!

Yes, shipping does need chemistry between the two muses, but if you look at my muse and think ‘You know what, I’d like to ship my muse with theirs!’, feel free to tell me, even before we start threads!

I love having a direction/goal to work the characters towards – when I write fiction on my own, I like having goals and plot points, like romances, family and friend relationships, rivals and enemies.. why wouldn’t I like having the same with RP? RP is just collaborative fiction writing!

There’s no shame in liking ships, or even RPing for ships. There’s tons of people in the world who love to read romance novels, and no one tries to tell them that’s wrong or worse than liking mysteries, or fantasy adventure. Neither preference is wrong, it’s just that – a preference!

So please – if you want to ship, or work towards of ship, in any capacity : romance, family, friends, rivals, and everything in between – TELL ME! I’d love to see what we can come up with together!

[igneacor]

Just three weeks ago, the omens had revealed themselves. 

@liesmth​

First it was the urns of seaweed-salt down at Ruyur Reef. Its contents black as hate pearl. Inhaling the fumes, those who opened it expecting an umber fluid had bowled over in convulsions. Next, the livestock bled black blood, and the gold mussels from the shallows were shades of withered and ebony, like rotten wood. No amount of blessed brine could save these precious reagents. Merchants in an uproar, scholarly folk frowned over desiccated samples of fish. A disease was savaging the coast, and even with Khosat Qin and her retinue-folk, with all their worldly knowledge - there was little in the way of precise recognition. I think we should take measures to torch the goods, even the salvageable. If the Black Bile were to reach the farms in the north….I deign to think…. 

The temple stewards have a theory it’s the gods, retaliating. All the shrines the Asgardians destroyed in the South. Kilaw, the Southern bleeding goddess of revenge, has risen, they say, covered in suck-marks, bile spots and bleeding punctures, indiscriminate in their attacks. The call from the Capital was for the young princess to abandon her studies and return. Yet, in spite of the protests from her counsel, Sevlyn had stayed put, and under the dull gleam of Tus Tsim’s eyes she handpicked an intimate team of investigative specialists: the brightest of the monkhood, the strongest of the seaborne soldiers, the sharpest of trackers. This would be her Khutmara, Sevlyn said - the student’s challenge of their own choosing. A challenge that would define their reputation as a scholar for the rest of their lives. 

Before the expedition began, the soothsayers bathed the princess in muddy brine, sourced from the topsoil of Korkka’s seabed. The salt shamans stuck a coral busk under her sarong corset, enchanted with tamarind powder and sorghum wine. The Asgardian peacekeepers only allowed this ceremony after a long riposte of negotiations. Still, they spectated it all with wonder. 

Three days out, during the wet season. 

They followed the thickening signs of the bile. Holes have been observed in the ocean. Past the saltwater lake, the beached reefs, the islands visible from the coastline that shined with black gold and death. An Asgardian unit of three - specialists of unconventional warfare - they were called, trailed behind. In place of mineral gold armour they wore climate adaptive suits with ceramic armour. Black ravens inked on the back of their necks. The leader spoke eloquently, was compassionate, and respected the princess and her followers from a distance. She did not acknowledge them, and in her willing muteness simmered a blackening hate for the imperial force they answered to. 

That is, until, the leader, known as Agnarr, stopped abruptly in his tracks and motioned for the princess. “What is it?” She asked in Asgardian through her thick Vanir accent. “Something’s not right. The air is stifled despite the openness. Can you not feel it?” He said, removing his ceramic half-mask.

[igneacor]

wow that scene in moon knight where they spoke “mandarin” pls i was fckin choking i hate marvel 

[igneacor]

whomuses​:

Okay, that clearly went over her head. Jet remembered how they’d arrived in this world; naked, tiny, confused, lost in a shape that they had never had before, utterly dissected from their home and their species. They’d chosen it, of course, but they’d never expected the dragonlands to be an entire world away. And they’d been so lucky, the people who found then, helped them…

Instincts were definitely right here, judging by her next words, and Jet inclined their head slightly, a half-smirk.

“I’m anything but mortal.” they chuckled, but shook their head, “No idea what those words mean, sorry.” they shrugged. “I’m a dragon. Or - I was. It’s … complicated.” they shrugged. Awkward talking about it and they weren’t going to mention the accidental shifting part of it. “Gave my magic up to a mage and ended up here. Trust me, wasn’t the deal I thought I was making.” they wrinkled their nose slightly. “Look, we can’t - stand around talking here. Humans aren’t… they’ll lock us up. Come with me. We can go to my apartment.”

Wow, they weren’t sure they’d ever said that without flirting.

She wondered idly how it came to be - that she would meet a dragon on a land filled with nothing but mortals, supplanted by their industry. A dragon...she thinks for a moment, of her own land, where quick little shadows blot the sun, the small wyverns the size of brahminy kites wheeling overhead, judging the world and her people. Sevlyn then thought about how the stranger would look as a dragon. The only dragons that were sentient were the god-dragons. Sri Duka, for one, who once blew his frosty breath in her face. 

The concern for mortals made her laugh. “---Oh, they can try,” she said, in a derisive chuckle. “They can TRY indeed.” Better the powerless folk than the Elves, she thought, who would have most certainly elected to send her back to Asgard. Of course, her own damn homeland would have been ideal. She supposed redirection would begin here, with...them. First, a bath maybe. Then...a map. Or a drink.

 “---Thank you. You’re kind...but...why?” 

[igneacor]

zagubionywilk​:

      >> ⚔️ <<          HIS RETORT HAD    come off a little rough,    that much was obvious in her response    ;    verbal or not.    she seemed almost    SURPRISED    he had responded at all which posed that she    .  .    had likely been speaking under her breath.    his sensitive ears had won out again    ——–    FOR BETTER    OR    WORSE.

HE SIGHS,    A SHOULDER    shrugging as the white    -    haired witcher turns his head as senses alert to the magic shift in the air.    his brows furrow ‘fore he nods.        ❝         I DO.   ITS NOT    supposed to be so in this area.   its    .  .    NEVER THIS DENSE.       ❞          

His senses are just as taut as hers. The strings in the air are strained; she feels the judder. The volva preachers back home had taught her how to navigate these vibrations for its source, the exact point of origin if she paid enough attention. So she listens - pebbles clacking, squelching...fizzing? She sees a crude rainbow stain spreading and coating the rocks. The air was beginning to taste acrid. Oil demon? Were there oil demons on this world? 

“What-?” The night light cast over them was put out in an instant - the stars swallowed by that black, and the woods beyond them darkened. Sevlyn saw the trees distorting in front of her. The ground quaked. “---- Fiend. It’s a fiend!”  

[igneacor]

tell me why i forget my own lore and headcanons