i don't know why we bother with corsets

　　　s　y　b　i　l　　　　　c　r　a　w　l　e　y 　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　 　　　　　　　♛　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　[ This is an independent RP account for the character of Sybil Crawley from the renowned television series, Downton Abbey. 　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　All mature content will be posted under a cut; you can find all of my guidelines in tags and none of the gifs and most of the icons used are not mine. If you would like to thread: do message me.] 　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　I track the tag 　　　　　　lambwithaloudvoice.　　　　

[xshieldmaiden]

           ▋▋         ———–———–         very fair was her face

            but ｓｔｒｏｎｇ she seemed and ｓｔｅｒｎ as steel 

                                                            {  α ∂αυgнтєя σƒ кιηgѕ  }

    ▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

independent rp blog for éowyn from the lord of the rings series ;

mun has read all books in the tolkien series ;

this blog is both book!verse and movie!verse ;

has experience roleplaying éowyn for over three years ;

open to crossovers from all fandoms ;

writing ranges from short to multi-para / novella ; 

icons are not for public use unless requested ; 

skype is available upon request ; 

                                                            {  ʙᴜᴛ ɴᴏ ʟɪᴠɪɴɢ ᴍᴀɴ ᴀᴍ ɪ  }

                                                  you look upon a ｗｏｍａｎ. 

                                     home              message              guidelines

[repmet]

"In my life I can tell you not many have been kind to me. She was one of the few."

[hautecrown]

[lambwithaloudvoice]

SO, TONIGHT WAS THE RETURN OF DOWNTON. 

~ which only means that it shall be the return of my presence on this account more. beware bbs. 

[noelcowards]

But the weight of a woman tells me to stay Oh now mama how far I’ve come I’m somebody and I love someone.

[lambwithaloudvoice]

{downton comes to neverland: sybil+hook}

[honorablepirate]

  Killian dropped the feather by his side glancing over at the note he had just written, 

                                    12th December, 1920

             Third day on the trip to Neverland, shall get into safe land in about two more days.

      He started to write down on a small black notebook every move he took forward on his life has a fearsome pirate, planting respect in every land he put his feet on. With only one hand, he better had more to hold on — the warm welcoming he always got when he re-visited a city made the long and uncomfortable trips worth. No one, but a real sailor, knew better what it was to cross the seas driven by a true feeling, a feeling that drags you into adventures, that makes you starve to death if needed or jump off the plank to fed the bloody thirsty mermaids that claimed to give lucky on their travels in return.

      He closed the notebook with the words Journal spiked in the leather cover. Putting it aside he took a scroll from the edge of the mahogany desk studying carefully the next moves to make as he heard the smelly and loud men having their usual stinky drinking nights. He dispensed such thing where they were so close to their destiny. He shut is eyes for a mere second rubbing his tempers before glancing over into the big map. A captain had the duty to keep everything in order but some of the tasks he was meant to do were so exhausting… He tried to hold on into the reason that made him embark on that mad travel — the treasure he would hold beneath his bare hand, the gold he would add to his fortune, the crowns and rings he would keep to offer to the most praised ladies of the different kingdoms. 

     The sudden urge of getting as quickly as they could to Neverland attacked the pirate’s chest, making himself go out for a bit, climbing into the deck while he pull out the spyglass from his pocket. He was expecting to catch a glimpse of the green and big volcano in the middle of the island, that seemed to emerge from the dark waters, always cutting the horizon line perfectly when they were getting close; but instead of a volcano or a piece of land at all, his blue gaze caught a rather interesting thing through the spyglass. A young lady waved from the cold waters — but when he thought cold, he was really mentioning icy — it was nearly winter and the sea itself was some place no one would wish to be in their sake.

    “Get the ropes ready!” He yelled back at some crewmen who were jingling behind him, playing around with their bottles in hands. “We’ve got someone drowning!” Even though she was handling quite alright now, keeping her body floating, it was too dangerous for a young and precious lass like she be alone in there, exposed to all the mischievous sea creatures. “Hold on to it” He screamed to the lass as he made a perfect knot out of the rope, throwing it into the water near the place she was right after. He gritted his jaw tightly ordering some sailors to help him push her aboard. 

       He was cold hearted, he did not accept women on board. But this time it felt different; this time he was meant to help.

[lambwithaloudvoice]

               —————        {❧}   The voices from above sounded more like a muted buzz, for the hours that she had been afloat on the ocean had rendered her senses useless. She could tell from the baritone rumble that it was men that shouted down to her; their continuous commands rousing her from her semi-consciousness. She lifted her head from the driftwood and stared at the colossal ship before her: it was almost like a vast creature had materialised in front of her and she was frozen in fear for a moment or so, wondering whether or not she should accept the assistance that these men offered. She was a lone woman, saturated and cold and without any means of communication, and rowdy men hung over the rails and threw down rope for her, many of them with bottles of some sort in their hands and hats askew on their heads. This cannot end well.

                            Hold onto it!

  The sound of distinct voice above her pulled her into action: the realisation that she would drown or freeze to death in the icy waters sunk into her mind. She flinched when one of the ropes finally drifted towards her on the surface. Sybil’s hands were numb and ashen as she reached out and clutched onto the said rope with as much strength as she could muster in such circumstances. It didn’t take much time before she was pulled towards the ship: leaving her sturdy driftwood behind her. She made a conscious decision to jump back into the water and seek out her trusted floating device if she found that she could not trust such men: she would rather face drowning than other unspoken horrors that she wasn’t sure awaited her. A net was thrown down the side of the ship as soon as she was close enough to clutch onto it and she could feel the soles of her feet become raw with pain as she hastily and awkwardly climbed such a net until hands could reach forward and thrust her onto deck: she fell down onto the wood with such force that she could hardly take a breath afterwards. “—Can you breathe, lass?”

    She was rolled onto her back and as soon as she saw a distinct face coming towards her, she immediately struck out with her wrist and the dismal crack that filled the air told her that she had hit the required target. The man fell back with a cry and Sybil immediately moved to cover her soaked legs with her nightgown. “If you think you are coming near me with that liquor-infested mouth then you have another thing coming!” she spat out, crawling as far away from the crowd as she could, pressing her back against a wooden pole and realising that she was indeed, cornered. “Where am I?”

[aegonette]

[justliketimelessporcelain-blog]

Mary took a rather deep breath as her arms soon became empty once more. She did enjoy giving her niece the cuddles, but she knew very well that Sybil was right. Her eyes looked toward her younger sister as she handed over Sybbie to Tom - then turning her attention to her own beloved husband. There was still that great deal of worry within his expression. It upsetted Mary to see him in such a state. Matthew turned to give the three females a small smile before leaving the room with Tom and Sybbie.

"Sybil?.. did you ever feel like this?"

Mary took a deep breath as she sat forward Slightly. She took a deep breath as her palms slipped on to her abdomen, rubbing it gently. It was obvious Mary was showing many signs of discomfort. She just hoped Dr Clarkson made it upstairs soon. 

Luckily, he soon did; but not without Lord Grantham at foot. Robert looked rather shocked to see his eldest daughter bed ridden with his youngest caring for her. He frowned in confusion “Sybil?… Could I - have a word?” Robert then muttered. Doctor Clarkson made his way over to Mary and set his bag down before going on to examine her.

Once Robert had Sybil to one side, his rather concerned fatherly expression looked down upon her. “Sybil.. What is wrong with Mary?.. Is there something seriously wrong with her?” The Earl was certainly concerned for his daughters. He was greatly a family man.

[lambwithaloudvoice]

               —————        {❧}   The youngest daughter of the Earl of Grantham was an excitable female, and therefore it took all of her self-preserve to mask the sudden desire to smile from ear to ear and to reveal to her eldest sister what her suspicions were. “I have been under the weather a few times, Mary, but I doubt it’s a life or death matter,” she told her sister with a quick smile and a pat of comfort to her arm. She was relieved when the bedroom door creaked open and Dr Clarkson came with his usual briefcase and nervous smile; but it didn’t surprise Sybil when she saw their curious father peek his head from behind the door and look in with what she could only describe as sheer concern. She had to bite back the temptation to roll her eyes at his worry: he always did have a rather soft spot for the eldest sister and she was sure that Robert Crawley would be ruined if anything did happen to Mary. She quelled his fears as she came to stand next to the door and reassure him that it was nothing to worry about.

  “—Oh, don’t worry at all, papa. I doubt it’s anything to worry about. I do, however, have some suspicions that it could be joyous news after all,” she murmured to him. Their father tried to quell his own evident excitement as he moved over to the bed and leant down to kiss her sister’s head. “It seems that you are in very good hands, Mary.”

[lambwithaloudvoice]

“—I do hate it when I’m feeling a little under the weather.” 

[lambwithaloudvoice]

✦

               —————        {❧}   Winterfell. It was another unfamiliar name. She had been passed from castle to castle, town to town and harbour to harbour. It did not matter if she remembered what such a location was called, for she knew that it would not be long until her new master would pass coin into the hands of another and she would be sent away. It seemed that the basic rule to survival in this land was to remain silent: she had been so silent now for months that she almost couldn’t remember what it was like to form words, and the other servants believed that she had her tongue cut out for disobedience. It was true that she had been flayed for refusing to obey her master in her first location, for she had the crimson welts to prove it, but now she merely did not speak at all unless she was asked a direct question from whatever master she was passed onto. It seemed that not much conversation ensued between master and slave: her broken body would be put to use or she would be forced to scrub floors, serve food, whatever was commanded.

                            She was so cold.

  Sybil wondered what this Winterfell would be like as the cart continued to her new home: a castle that was so wondrous and well-built that she had to tilt her chin to look at it in awe. It was nothing at all in comparison to Downton: but almost all memories in relation to what she believed to be her old life had diminished from her battered mind. It didn’t take much time before the cart entered the castle walls and she found herself in a courtyard that smelt of horses and burnt embers. “—Come on then, get out!” She winced at the sound of the man’s voice as he clutched onto her arm and pulled her out of the back of the cart: he had spent the entire journey to Winterfell with a bottle in his hands and a song in his throat and Sybil found him more than repulsive. “Welcome to your new home, little mad girl, let’s see if these Stark’s can stand you, eh?”

[lambwithaloudvoice]

✦

               —————        {❧}   The sun beat down upon the cobblestone streets of the town and illuminated the beautiful countryside that surrounded it. It seemed that despite the sorrowful mood that had overcome Downton with the death of Patrick, the weather insisted that the tone become less melancholy as the sun shone with the arrival of their new cousin from his humble abode in Manchester. Sybil did not know much about him, as it was a sore matter to talk about around the dinner table; but from what she had overheard from listening in on conversations between her mother and father, he worked in a law firm and his own mother would come with him to Downton. Sybil was a curious little bird, and so she could not resist the desire to conveniently walk into town on the day that her new cousin was to be making his arrival. She knew that Mary had already rode in that morning, but as the afternoon sun beat down on her, she wanted to have a look at the new heir to their father’s fortune herself before he showed his face at Downton.

                       Stealthy. You must be stealthy.

  Sybil innocently held her basket of lavender on her arm, having picked them on her walk. She had walked through the village until she came to Crawley House: now alive once more with others. She could feel her mother’s disapproval in her mind already, but she was never one for obedience and bounded forward into the small garden. She would come under the pretence of offering a gift – that would work, wouldn’t it?

[thefreshprinceofdownton]

Matthew clasped his hands behind his back again, a faint smile on his face as his cousins sat down. He anticipated that this would be very awkward for both parties. The Earl and his family had essentially invited a stranger into their house, a random lawyer from Manchester come to take their home and money away, which was what he was. He didn't want it though, and it showed--at least he hoped it did.

Lady Grantham--or Cousin Cora, as his mind corrected--invited him to sit down and he took a seat in an armchair, fixing his black suit blazer and sitting up straight. He listened politely, trying not to look as uncomfortable as he felt when they mentioned the Dowager Countess, Lord Grantham's mother. He could think of no reason for her to like him. "I am very much looking forward to meeting the Dowager." he replied to Cousin Cora with another careful smile. He was glad for the distraction of cakes, for he was hungry, and did not hesitate to take one for himself and begin munching.

[lambwithaloudvoice]

               —————        {❧}   It was obvious that the room was so thick with tension that Sybil believed that it could have been cut in half with a knife. It seemed that Mary, who so often strived to be the centre of conversation when it suited her, chose to remain silent in this situation and drank from her tea and saucer as if the tension did not bother her at all. It was the middle sister, Edith, that seemed to share the sufficient awkwardness of their new cousin as she shuffled uneasily on the couch and pretended to be engrossed in looking around her rather than providing easy conversation. It was Sybil who broke the silence when Matthew mentioned that he was looking forward to meeting the Dowager Countess: she had to cover her mouth with her delicate hand to halt herself from snorting with amusement at the mere comment. She was sure that Matthew would take back such an exclamation as soon as he met their grandmother. Mary pinched her with a look of warning as the youngest sister sat between them, almost like she was imprisoned.

  “—I’m sure Granny can’t wait to meet you either, cousin Matthew,” Sybil exclaimed, urging a small smile from Edith as she drank her own tea. Cora looked at her three daughters with a mix of both amusement and shame: she knew how much Sybil loved to tease but their poor cousin from Manchester was not quite used to it yet.

[lambwithaloudvoice]

+ ahandsomeface [ first time in society ]

[antinxus-blog]

{ ❧ }

" I cannot say that the idea does not surprise me, for it does indeed. How refreshing, to see a young woman not interested in the ways of society. Though what a poor waste it must seem, someone possessing beauty to never share it but merely let it rot away. A pity it is really, you should think of extending your reach Ms. Crawley, your beauty won’t last forever. Explore the world while you can with the harsh grip of Society."

" Of course," Dorian chuckled, amused of how much he sounded like a dear friend he used to have. The very same words were uttered to him when he was young and innocent, some much damage they could do. The power of corruption was held within those words. " Perhaps you would not think it wise to follow my words, lest you end up like myself. Although you don’t seem to mind the rumors, I am not quite sure you would enjoy rumors of corruption, heartlessness, and sinful indulgences, as much as I do. They are delightful, the stories that they come up with. Amusing,are the looks on their faces as well." His head turned, slightly, flashing a smile towards a woman around the corner as she quickly blushed and scurried away. Ah, the power of youth. It was a shame she did not embrace it.

[lambwithaloudvoice]

               —————        {❧}   It was a refreshment from the usual conversation that she had been imprisoned with for the entire ball: someone asking how her sisters were, someone else commenting on how beautiful her frock was and someone asking to reserve a dance with her when she felt the need to enter the ballroom. It would have been more of an excitement if she hadn’t fantasised so much about how it would be: her first time in society with the adults – but now she could see that she much preferred the honest conversation of children rather than the false compliments that she had received. “I’m afraid that I am one of those dull women who believe that beauty can only be found on the inside of someone, rather than the exterior,” she commented with a small smile. It was true that Sybil was considered beautiful to all those around her, perhaps even more so than her sisters, but she was never one to look differently on someone if they did not have the perfect facial features or possess a flattering form fit for society.

  “Unfortunately, it is difficult to see what is on the inside of a person and so most of our opinions are based on looks alone – for instance, what is your impression of me, sir?” Sybil was rather curious now, as to how she came across to Dorian Gray, for she was known for being an excellent judge of character but this man disturbed her somewhat: he seemed troubled on the inside and although his face was youthful and he seemed not much older than herself, his eyes told a different story of wisdom and pain.

[drabbles-and-ideas]

Confess something you've thought about me on anon, and all I can do is post it

[corlenore-deactivated20130925]

Tudor Roleplay

[lambwithaloudvoice]

We are starting a new group based on The Tudors. I think we’d like to see both canon characters and perhaps a few ocs as well.  I hope we’ll get some more details out as soon as possible, but for now go follow the group and wait for more information. 

[lambwithaloudvoice]

richardnevilleofwarwick said: your eyes, omg!!!! why are you so beautiful???????

OMG HUSH VAL. <3 

[lambwithaloudvoice]

&the battle of helm's deep ♛

[argenteafolio-deactivated201504]

He admired her. Admired her spirit and courage, and especially her will to fight. She really did remind him of his elder sister, with her fiery temper and in general everything. But he simply could not let her do this, especially as he knew that this battle was most likely to be a futile and useless one. It was as if everything as balanced on the edge of a coin-flip, the Valar still deciding which side they would prefer to win. 

And he didn’t like it. 

Her last ‘Please’ echoed through his soul, remembering how forlorn he had been as a young child when his father refused to let him join a hunt. But this was different, this was war. 

"I’m sorry, my lady. But I simply cannot let you go." he said, hoping his air of finality would dissuade her. 

[lambwithaloudvoice]

               —————        {❧}   The audacious ladies maid could feel her heart swell and fall with the air of finality in which the elf insisted that she remain behind with the women and children, but she was never one for obedience and she was not unfamiliar with punishment for her obstinacy and defiance – she came to Rohan to seek shelter and food after the deaths of her two elder sisters to enemy creatures, and her will for battle was not because she wanted to be as brave as a man, but because she had a need (a thirst, almost) to punish those who took her family from this world.

  “—I’m afraid that you will find me rather determined in my quest, friend, and so you shall have to carry me to the caves and shackle me there if you wish me not to join in the battle.” It was bold of her, to say the least, as she knew that this elf in front of her was no mere soldier but he had royal blood in his veins, also. Sybil, however, stood with stealth and tenacity as she refused to bow down to the views of men: she would take sword to the Urakhai.