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@iorvethofdunwall
Moving.
I’ll continue my roleplaying on Discord from now on. If you’d like to also start a new one, feel free to let me know. I’ll be writing on Discord instead of here now. I still have the same characters as my muses. If you’d like to continue our threads, let me know and i will make a channel for our writing to keep them going.
My Discord is Narperist #6282
Moving.
I'll continue my roleplaying on Discord from now on. If you'd like to also start a new one, feel free to let me know. I'll be writing on Discord instead of here now. I still have the same characters as my muses. If you'd like to continue our threads, let me know and i will make a channel for our writing to keep them going.
My Discord is Narperist #6282
Moving.
I'll continue my roleplaying on Discord from now on. If you'd like to also start a new one, feel free to let me know. I'll be writing on Discord instead of here now. I still have the same characters as my muses. If you'd like to continue our threads, let me know and i will make a channel for our writing to keep them going.
My Discord is Narperist #6282
Are you alive
Barely. Sorry for my inactivity. Been dealing with some stuff. Besides, i don’t have many threads going on anyway, only a couple. So that adds up to the “why bother being online” moodset. Again, apologies.
𝐈𝐎𝐑𝐕𝐄𝐓𝐇.
ㅤ some king’s wishes don’t equal a witcher’s. it’s a lesson quite clearly learned the hard way , all their faults paid for with agony & innocent lives , a vanishing of vipers inevitable. admittedly , sore temptation exists even now , perhaps , stronger than before ; getting involved just one last time in search for revenge , thirsting it like kings thirst their blood. it wouldn’t serve any good , of course , altering neither past choices nor state of mind , not even soothing an light-weighted pouch , resting by his hip , as well as a medallion , presented after slow shifting , a pendant which’s complex shape must be known to the elf. ❝ i work for no king. ❞
❝ whatever awaits you , we shall face it together. ❞ a simper’s allusion appears on the witcher’s visage , garments & armor covering plenty scars , proving many battles , a won fight after a lost fight , an existence not unlike the other’s. ❝ after all , i intend to pick up my payment. ❞
The Elf did relate to the Witcher in some ways, especially the suffering in the hands of crowned-heads, whch made it tempting to trust this man. Afterall why would someone that lived the similiar suffering that he did, want something bad for another’s? No, it would be too naive. Iorveth already had his back stabbed more than enough to learn that lesson to not trust anyone.
Face together... face what? What was awaiting for him? For them? “Where are you taking me, and to whom do you take me to?” the Elf asked with a frown on his face, his voice almost sounding like he was snapping at the Witcher. Mistrust was painted all over the Elf’s facial mimics. Though, it was tempting to give in, to be naive just for one more time. Until the Witcher mentioned picking up a payment. For what? To bring in and sell the head of an outcast rebel that Iorveth was? This was confusing, and Iorveth was too unsure if he could trust him or not.
“I’m not taking one step until you give me answers. Move any closer, and i will slit your throat open.”
@iorvethofdunwall liked for a starter for garrett
“- Careful, there.” Stated from the copse of the trees she remains in the shadows of, her head tipping to one side. “You’ll not want to take that path, take that path, take that path.”
As the voice rung in his ears, The Assassin swiftly took a step back, a hand going to grab the dagger on his belt out of reflex. As he kept his hand on the handle of his weapon, the Elf’s brows furrowed into a small frown.
“And why would that be?”
@hcsings Continued from HERE
{ ♔ } “I didn’t mean that, I just felt that it was rude to yell elves, because you are so much more than that for me. You are HEROES. You especially, as you saved my life. I am sorry. It is just very cold out here, I guess I don’t take well to the weather. It’s like Geralt said, I keep wearing the wrong clothes and not being the best at survival or keeping myself alive. I am sorry, Iorveth”. It was rare that Jaskier ever felt bad for everything that he said, especially his so called word vomits, but this one specifically he did regret because the other man was someone that he considered a friend, an ally and someone that he wanted to protect back in return. Trying to ignore the rain that kept falling down on him, and soaking his frame, the bard gazed at the elven man, wrapping his arms around his chest. “I am probably shaking more than you said that I am. It feels like it at least. Like strumming my lute..”
“Is that so...” Iorveth murmured, resisting the urge to roll his eyes in annoyance and stuff something in Dandelion’s mouth to shut him up. Why were all the bards he met so stereotypical? They just talked so much, and never shut up. Even though that was annoying, sure, he still did like this man. Afterall, he wouldn’t have saved his life if he didn’t like, or saw him as a friend. Friends, something Iorveth rarely had. He did geniunely care about this bard, even though half the time he had the urge to smash that lute of his across his face to shut him up, he quite liked, and trusted the man.
Letting out a sigh, the Elf took off the white-grey cloak he had on his shoulders, something he threw on himself in cold weathers, and stepped forward to wrap it around the Bard. “Come now... let’s get you somewhere dry.”
❛ do you wish for anything else ? ❜
“I... might.” the Assassin spoke with a low tone, his voice almost sounding shy. His brows furrowed, eyes gazing down like a small child anxiously trying to ask something from their parent. “Would you teach me to be fearless like you?”
harpy.
❝ i know whose ship i’m on, ❞ amé is quickly intervening , preventing an unnecessary introduction , avoiding commutation of informations that is most certainly not wanted –––– by him , at least. an oily palm stops , rising between them , all while a small , tired simper slowly vanishes. amé heard many tales about this infamous ship , yet none told of such a … loquacious captain. ❝ & i know you. ❞
❝ as for friends , captain , i don’t make any & that must not change any time soon. i’m fine. ❞ surely , amé couldn’t say it any clearer without switching to blatant rudeness, a simple & plain “no” already itching on the very tip of a sharp , yet wise tongue. it seems nevertheless necessary , in this particularly stubborn case , to assure all words’ effects by giving a nearby boot , carrying a layer of velen’s most persistent sludge , a gentle kick , letting it tilt & and fall in front of the pirate’s own feet. ❝ if you’re that intent on keeping my company , though , you might as well help me out. ❞
“Now, now.. you call me loquacious like it’s a bad thing. Some may dislike talking much, yes, but i personally don’t see any harm in a nice conversation, unless you’re going to be grumpy about it.” Captain Black crossed his arms loosely over his chest with a chuckle. He knew of Witchers, and their nature. People who were mostly serious, considered to be emotionless by the folk. Children that were put into training from a young age and went through the Trial of Grasses, enhancing their senses, and dulling out their emotions. But Harpy knew they weren’t all that cold and lacked feelings like the common folk say. Afterall, he did have three Witchers in the crew of his ship, two he knew for years, and one he considered to be his brother. Unlike what most people said about them, Witchers weren’t as dull and cold as they are said to be.
“If you wish to keep being a moody, brooding bastard, be my guest.” he jested, shrugging, one side of his lips cornering into a grin. “So, what is it you wanted me to help you with?”
I finally managed to get the energy to write out all my drafts (except one, i’m sorry!) and put them in queue. Now i shall crawl back into my shell. Thank you all for being patient with me.
@fourmarksmage said;
There was a tension permeating the tavern from the moment they had entered it. Furtive glances were thrown their way every few minutes, and she’d noticed one man in particular clenching and unclenching his fists. “A wonderfully warm welcome these small towns offer, don’t they?” she offered dryly to Harpy, fingertips drumming against the wood of the table. “Do you think any of them will be foolish enough to start a fight with me?” She assumed she was the main source of the mistrust in the room.
The Captain kept moving his gaze around the tavern, almost frantically, looking out for any signs of hostility that could come to them. Normally, he couldn’t care less if anyone came to attack him, even the edge of a dagger to his throat would barely cause and panic for Black. Now, though, with Yennefer on his side, his whole behaviour had changed. He was looking out for any danger that could risk them, especially the sorceress’. This woman he had so much love for, and saw like a little sister, he was more than ready to do anything neccesary to ensure her safety and well-being. “They sure do know how to make people feel welcome, eh?” he huffed, tapping his foot constantly on the wooden floor unconsciously from the uneasy feeling he had. “I can’t tell. But if anything, i’m sure more than half of these people would come to me first. I have that bad reputation, you know. So, drinks on me now, what do you have in mind to get?” With a sigh, the Captain leant back and cracked his knuckles, his eyes closed and head leant back in an attempt to relax his tense mind.
𝐆𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐓 / @iorvethofdunwall.
it is calm , yes , or rather quiet. a witcher is aware of it not necessarily meaning assurance , something good. if anything at all , it is worrying , really. now , surely , a grand celebration’s many noise might drive away many , mayhaps even ill - tempered sorts of beasts , yet certainly not monsters , au contraire. ❝ me & drinking ? ❞ nevertheless , a curious insouciance is clinging , pulling mouth corners up , shaping a simper.
it softens soon , a coiling shape idle against the man’s ilium , its placidity eventually rubbing off. a keen eye is kept on the dark waters , gentle waves proving of the life within it , as the viper calms , settling even , one palm nudging the elf’s arm. ❝ a waste of coin , i’d say. alright , well , a special occasion might persuade me … or an addicting taste. ❞ amé sits , as soon as enough space is made , just a little too close to another , sharp rocks proffering few comfortable spots. a smile is shifting , cranium slanting only vaguely , at that moment. an unorthodox upbringing shows itself , mostly in that conquering , impish grin. ❝ now , you can cease to fear. i’ll stop you , maybe , unless it is not entirely idiotic , but amusing. ❞
Garrett was hoping the Witcher had drunk, so if anything went wrong, he could try to talk out of it. But seeing the impish grin on Amé’s face, the Assassin let out a short, quiet chuckle. Not entirely idiotic, but amusing, huh? What Garrett had in mind was probably the second most idiothic thing he ever thought of doing in his life, but regardless, he wanted to do it. He had never had this feeling before, or wanted to do something like this, to anyone, at all. Even though he was still young, Elves do live long, and Garrett was probably old enough to be considered as someone that ‘’probably has done things’’, but he wasn’t. Most his life, the Elf spent his time avoiding people. Now, though, he wanted nothing but to spend as much time as possible with this Witcher.
‘Come on, be bold, be brave. What’s the worst that could happen?’
He thought, with a sigh. “You can stop me, if you’d like...” the Elf spoke in a quiet, shy tone, while moving a hand up to tug on the fabric of the mask covering half of his face. The Assassin hestitated for a second before pulling the mask down, his face now exposed under the moonlight, the Left side of his face covered in horrible burns that reached down to his neck, and high up near his eye. Some of the flesh gone from his cheek, along with a part of his lips, some of his teeth showing over the empty place where his cheek should be. At least now Amé would probably understand why the Elf’s speech was off, and slurred like that. Pushing his hood back, he shook his head a few times to air out his hair, pointy ears poking out of the black, wavy locks.
Amé was probably too focused on staring at his scar now, the Assassin thought, this was probably the best chance to do what his heart kept screaming at him for. A hand held the Witcher’s cheek, and Garrett moved closer to the Witcher. Eyes closed, the Assassin’s scarred lips met the other’s.
𝐆𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐓 / @iorvethofdunwall.
a witcher’s attention wavers. it was all going a little differently than actually meant , a night of observation , gathering informations , informations which would surely prove useful in oncoming contract’s , now evolving into something … something else. a strung - out good bye ? it is anything but easy to categorize , especially for amé , who’s consciousness is filled with more knowledge than experience , presumably in any existing field.
a step behind , always , always adjusting one’s own movements to the leading figure’s , amé follows garrett over the dirty rooftops , rotting wood not croaking even once under nimbly moving feet. it takes time , spent in a comfortable silence , which gives each one time to gather their thoughts , their composure as well , until the city’s left behind , until yells of drunkards , scents unique to crowded , unclean locations give way to sound & smell of the wilderness.
❝ it is so calm. ❞ amé draws in a deep breath as soon as simple earth , a softening layer of grass is underneath them again , at last.
The Assassin’s mind was, at this point, almost a mess. A storm of emotions had hit the Elf’s thoughts, and it was slowly starting to become harder for him to keep calm, normal. Even having a conversation, or looking someone in the eye for longer than a second was something rare for Garrett, yet there he was now, at that dark, silent place near the calm lake. Half of his mind was screaming with anxiety. What was going on? What was this feeling he had?
As the two arrived at their destination, Garrett took Amé to the pile of big rocks beside the lake, and sat down on one, second closest to the lake, the tip of his leather pad covered boots touching the water. “It is..” This was calming, and a beautiful view, that brought a smile on Garrett’s face, which he immidiately wept off. Expressions such at that...still hurt those horrible scars on his face.
Then, the Elf turned his two colored eyes up to Amé, looking into his beautiful feline gaze. “have you drunk anything tonight? i’m almost hoping you have... i might just do something very stupid of me sometime soon.”
This blog is marked "low activity" until further notice.
Please be patient with me. I will reply to threads soon. I just... really don't have the writing mood lately.
@bittersurvivor asked; “You need to think about yourself every once in a while.”
“And you think i haven’t?”
The Assassin looked up at the Royal Protector with a frown furrowing on his brows, a rather sad expression shown in his mimics.
“Trust me, Corvo, i have. And look what it caused for me; a wound on my face for the rest of my life and a slurred speech because of it.”
It wasn’t only the physical scars it gave Garrett, though. His mental, emotional ones were almost worse than the one left on his face.
“This is why i never think of myself first anymore. Are you not happy with being my first priorty anymore, then?”
Temerian Rye//Closed
( @ysmay-of-nilfgaard continued )
It took everything in him to swallow up his fear and put on a brave face, to pretend he was fine after witnessing the biggest fear of his life. Garrett only hoped that this woman would never incinerate fire like that again, at least for a while, until he was calmed from it enough and managed to get over it. The elf's heart was beating faster than a marching drummer's rhytym, rush of adrenaline flushed his cloth covered cheeks. After a moment, he managed to atleast control his breathing, which he was doing so frantically, and soon calmed down.
The Elf thought to himself, Why would it be a bold thing to admit? If any problem, obstacle, any hint of violence towards him, he could easily take care of it. Garrett had to keep his thoughts mostly to himself, though, as he had the habit of barely ever speaking aloud. Not only did it hurt him mentally to hear his "off" speech due to his facial scars, it physically hurt him to do so aswell. If he would open and close his mouth constantly for a few minutes, keep a conversation, it pained his jaw. An old battle scar that kept tormenting the Elf with it's pain.
"I.. uh-huh. Welcome." the Assassin tried his best to speak as little as he could, though even that he did so, his speech was still obviously off. He would only hope this woman wouldn't notice, and if she did, she wouldn't ask about it.
Travel? On foor in this kind of weather? Garrett thought it was odd that she was doing it, that was almost an invite to catch a cold. "No. I live here. You shouldn't pass these woods alone, it's dangerous. There is a reason why folk avoid this place."
𝐆𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐓 / @iorvethofdunwall.
it isn’t a surprise. it is a relief , if anything at all , an overly sensitive nose only unwillingly spending any span lasting longer than absolutely necessary amidst reeking & completely senseless people , alcohol flowing in almost incredible masses , only almost as it occurs way too often. amé is swiftly shifting , cranium inclining subtly , a glimpse thrown over a tense shoulder. ❝ i didn’t know about that poetic streak of yours. ❞
a lot is still unknown to him , admittedly , which isn’t anything amé is particularly eager complaining about at any point , as garrett himself is in a similar position. a smile spreads over a witcher’s pale visage , small & yet clearly genuine ––––– no questions , not even now , only quiet acceptance. it is relieving , yes , relaxing , a feeling only some awoke inside of the viper over many , many years. ❝ fine , alright. please , lead the way. ❞
“Poetic?” the Assassin let out a quiet chuckle, his lips not moving even the slightest to curve a smile on his mask-hidden face. The Elf still couldn’t believe what he just said, that was so unlike him. A romantic side. That wasn’t something Garrett had ever expressed before, or even thought of, really, which just caused the Assassin to grow nervous and not know what to do or say for most of the time.
That smile, though. The geniune, beautiful smile curved on the Witcher’s lips took almost all of Garrett’s attention. How could just a simple facial mimic be so beautiful? Then, the Elf turned his two coloured eyes up, the brown one looking black like a coal in the dark, his bright blue left eye catching just a little bit of light from the torches nearby and reflecting it like a diamond. Then he met the Witcher’s eyes, his amber coloured, cat-like gaze. Garrett felt like the world had stopped rotating, and the time froze for a while as he stood there looking at Amé.
“Lead the?... Yes, the way, this way...” Consciousness got shaken back into the Assassin with his words, and shook his head with a small frown, embarassed. His head down for a while, the Elf led the way into the direction he spoke of with a still embarrased, rather shy expression on his face, just thanking his mask for covering most of it.
