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Love Begins

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Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her

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"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
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todays bird
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@lothson
i miss writing here actually
maestrodarte:
leonardo’s smile widens just a little, an affectionate little thing, as he tucks the wine under his arm to wrestle with the cork. he frees it with a loud, rather satisfying pop that echoes against the stone walls. “i suppose i could give you a little clue. you are humoring me, after all.” he stops long enough to pour mordred some wine, and then himself. he jams the cork back into the top and shoots mordred a charming smile. “what was i saying?”
it only took him a moment to get himself back on track. “oh yes! the clue. well. it is floral, in nature. but that is it. i think a surprise is… good now and again. at least a nice one. and this one, i think, is nice.” and with that, he sets off, taking a nice long sip of his wine as he does, towards the gardens. the night air seems to have put a bit of pep in his step. “i have spent the last several nights exploring the gardens. they really are extensive. have you taken the time to walk the paths?” leonardo leads them down a winding staircase and out towards the gardens, to be swallowed up by the night air. the low, constant sound of crickets is soothing, leonardo thinks, as he turns his gaze towards the moon. the gardens are dark, few torches light their way, but leonardo knows the way, his feet carrying him down the cobblestone paths, only this time slower, because he has company. he likes mordred. the artist just hopes that this is everything he has built it up to be.
𝐈𝐓 𝐌𝐀𝐊𝐄𝐒 𝐀 𝐍𝐈𝐂𝐄 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄 𝐅𝐑𝐎𝐌 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐇𝐔𝐌-𝐃𝐑𝐔𝐌 𝐎𝐅 𝐂𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐋𝐄 𝐋𝐈𝐅𝐄 . he’s certainly used to the boring , monotonous days where everything is provided for you -- he’s had to chase away servants before if only to give him something to do . in din eidyn the servants were few and far between , dedicated to cooking and cleaning . 𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐔𝐂𝐇 𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐅𝐄𝐑𝐑𝐄𝐃 𝐓𝐎 𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐊 𝐀𝐅𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐇𝐈𝐌𝐒𝐄𝐋𝐅 . but having leonardo pour him wine is much better than any servant . in fact , he might even consider it better than if the king ever decided to do such a thing . a quiet hum of thought escapes him as he follows leonardo down the stair case , one hand against the wall for an ounce of balance in the darkness . ❝ floral ? ❞ he raises a brow , curious now . he’s not much of a man for flowers , as much as he might appreciate nature . 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐄𝐁𝐁 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐅𝐋𝐎𝐖 𝐎𝐅 𝐋𝐈𝐅𝐄 . the druids had taught him to cherish all things that could breathe , even flowers . but he does have to wonder what exactly leonardo has done to the gardens as the wander into them . he does have to wonder if the gardeners might want him dead .
❝ i have . ❞ he admits , curling his hand a little tighter around his wine glass as he carefully avoids spilling it from the motion of his steps . ❝ although i’ll admit i rarely have time to take in the scenery . 𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐊𝐄𝐄𝐏𝐒 𝐌𝐄 𝐁𝐔𝐒𝐘 . and tired , too , as fate would have it . ❞ he looks up from his cautiously balanced glass , then , over to leonardo . ❝ luckily i’m not so tired tonight . ❞
sometimes i remember how my last mordred blog was just bbc merlin’s mordred 100% canon and now i look at myself and i think how far ive come
❝ ✧ 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐊 𝐂𝐑𝐘𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐋: 𝐀𝐆𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄 1x06 sentence starters.
* some slight alterations for ease of versatility .
❝ you’re making a terrible mistake ! ❞
❝ let me go , right now ! ❞
❝ you will NEVER silence me . ❞
❝ you have just the vigor i’m looking for . “
❝ stop whining. ❞
❝ let me out ! ❞
❝ we have to do something . ❞
❝ you have no idea what horrible things they’ll do to them . ❞
❝ you must learn to control your temper . ❞
❝ i did what was necessary . ❞
❝ i hear you’re looking for me . ❞
❝ arrogant trifle ! ❞
❝ what’s the matter ? too scared to come out and face me ? ❞
❝ what is that foul thing ? ❞
❝ i’ve never seen such a creature before . ❞
❝ you’ll die for this impudence ! ❞
❝ at long last , you’ve had a good idea . ❞
❝ you were so brave . ❞
❝ you’re a traitor . and a murderer . ❞
❝ it’s hard to recognize the light when you’ve spent your whole life in the dark . ❞
❝ learn the secrets they keep from you . ❞
❝ for shame ! ❞
❝ i gave orders . do as you’re told . ❞
❝ have you no respect for your lords ? ❞
❝ you dare blaspheme ! ❞
❝ how could you ? i protect you . you owe me ! ❞
❝ you owe me ! ❞
❝ i owe you nothing . ❞
❝ i know what you did . ❞
❝ back , savage ! ❞
❝ you’re not a lord at all . ❞
❝ we must rise for our fallen guard ! ❞
❝ spread the word and gather arms . ❞
❝ we take this castle this very night . ❞
❝ we’ve been walking forever . ❞
❝ don’t you ever stop to rest ? ❞
❝ whoa … what a view ! ❞
❝ the sands never stop shifting . ❞
❝ we should set up camp for the night . ❞
❝ looks like another night spent sleeping on the ground . ❞
❝ must you complain about everything ? ❞
❝ it’s not my fault that everything’s terrible . ❞
❝ i never thought i would miss home as much as i do . ❞
❝ i keep thinking that if i turn my head fast enough , i’ll see their face … or if i listen hard enough , that i’ll hear their voice … but i won’t . ❞
❝ they were right . it’s all my fault . ❞
❝ that’s what friends do . we help . ❞
❝ you’re a true friend . ❞
❝ many pieces on the board . many possible outcomes . ❞
❝ where does my path lead ? ❞
❝ i cannot defeat my dark half . ❞
❝ you will find a way … but not without sacrifice . ❞
❝ i will end the hunt . ❞
❝ will we meet again ? ❞
❝ there are some things even i cannot see . ❞
❝ life and death are a circle , not a line . ❞
❝ there is no end . no beginning . ❞
❝ speak for the dead . ❞
❝ my father wasn’t what you’d call the affectionate type . ❞
❝ i was a soldier , not a son . ❞
❝ every lesson they ever tried to teach me suddenly fell into place . ❞
❝ i loved you with all i had . i’m sorry it wasn’t enough . ❞
❝ i hope you taste better than you fight . ❞
❝ please , tell me true … how did they die ? ❞
❝ they paid the price for their insolence . ❞
❝ so the rumors are true . ❞
❝ we revered them … and we will avenge them . ❞
❝ we do not defy our lords . ❞
❝ their justice was no more harsh than their crime demanded . ❞
❝ grief has clouded your mind . ❞
❝ you speak madness . ❞
❝ we crushed them ! ❞
❝ what a feast ! ❞
❝ what do you have to say before i punish you for your continued failure ? ❞
❝ order is upended ! ❞
❝ i will take what is mine without games or pretense . ❞
❝ i / we will rule forever . ❞
❝ do not lose hope . ❞
❝ a war is coming , and you are not the one to lead us into battle . ❞
❝ it’s my mother’s / father’s crown , it belongs to me ! ❞
❝ i challenge you for the crown . ❞
❝ let us not act rashly . ❞
❝ i beg you to reconsider . ❞
❝ they are few , we are many . ❞
❝ we can fight . i will lead us to victory . ❞
❝ how can you defeat an enemy that cannot die ? ❞
❝ how have we come to this ? ❞
❝ i will take no pleasure in besting you . ❞
❝ though they are gone , they remain with us still . ❞
❝ these passings were very important to you … true ? ❞
❝ we have taken many losses . ❞
❝ i will take you as far as i am able . ❞
❝ they’re obsessed with death ! ❞
❝ she’s only a frightened child . ❞
❝ this is a wretched business . ❞
❝ take your soiled trinket . ❞
❝ you defile their legacy with that abomination . ❞
❝ you invite ruin with your feckless rush to war . ❞
❝ i will have justice ! ❞
❝ i will see them punished for their crimes ! ❞
❝ you will bow . ❞
❝ i will never bow . ❞
❝ we stand on the brink of anarchy ! ❞
❝ it is you who is lost . ❞
❝ what will you choose ? order or chaos ? ❞
feygana:
𝐇𝐄 𝐈𝐒 𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐘 𝐁𝐈𝐓 𝐀 𝐒𝐎𝐍 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐃𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐒. ready to don his iron armor and go riding into battle. morgana’s lips curled into a furtive sneer, for she could not deny that he had waited, that he had suffered, and that she understood his hasty desire for swift and just revenge more than any ever could. tome is set aside in favor of attending her young nephew, headstrong mordred, who she drew up behind with a scoff in her mouth.
❛ because, so do they ❜, said morgana, who threaded her thin fingers into the curls atop his head. she soothed the scalp with the tips of her nails and cast her steely gaze into the fire. it snapped and snarled at the dry logs at the top of the pile, sending vicious plumes of dark smoke barreling up the uneven pipe of gray and gloomy stone. ❛ and if we are to go charging in headfirst while they are walled up within their precious camelot, we will be crushed like ants fleeing from the mound. come now, mordred, you know better than to draw your blade first. let arthur come to you. ❜
𝐇𝐄'𝐒 𝐁𝐄𝐄𝐍 𝐒𝐎 𝐏𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐓 ... biding his time , year after year -- that’s not to say he’s always planned for this , but he was certainly always patient . always waiting to be rewarded for his efforts . always waiting for arthur to offer lothian the help it so desperately needed , 𝐎𝐑 𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐒 𝐓𝐎 𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐖 𝐒𝐎𝐌𝐄 𝐒𝐈𝐌𝐏𝐋𝐄 𝐒𝐘𝐌𝐏𝐀𝐓𝐇𝐘 . he lets out a slow sigh as he feels her fingers raking through his hair , it at least settles his fiery temper for a moment enough to think .
it feels as though his blade is always sheethed . always waiting , wanting , hungering for a taste of blood . 𝐒𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄𝐒 𝐈𝐓 𝐇𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑𝐒 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐍 𝐇𝐄 . but he knows he cannot strike too fast , lest he ruin an opportunity . or die far too soon . in his lap he cradles his own hand , curling his fingers , watching calloused skin worn by weather fold upon itself . he’s quite used to being the serpent . 𝐒𝐋𝐘 , 𝐏𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐑𝐅𝐔𝐋 , 𝐔𝐍𝐒𝐄𝐄𝐍 . but he has the steadfast nature of a bull . ❝ i’d rather like to face him head on than wait in the shadows . ❞ he admits , and wonders if it may be possible to simply challenge him and behead him in his own home . ❝ anything is better than waiting . ❞
𝐁𝐘 𝐎𝐏𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍’𝐒 𝐖𝐎𝐄𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐒 , by your sons in servile chains , we will drain our dearest veins , but they shall be free . lay the proud usurpers low , tyrants fall in every foe ! liberty’s in every blow , let us do , or die .
MORDRED OF ARTHURIAN LEGEND, WRITTEN BY HEATH .
sometimes i get unreasonable stressed in this fandom bc im so protective of my own canon
anyway mordred didnt die on behalf of lothian for ppl to claim that king arthur, canon conqueror of foreign lands, is a hero compared to him
feygana:
❛ 𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐔𝐍𝐄 𝐇𝐀𝐒 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐋𝐓 𝐔𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐀𝐃𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐈𝐓𝐘: but nothing’s to be done: the long and short of it is this: Endure. ❜ | @lothson / sc.
𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐔𝐑𝐄 . is that not what he has been doing his entire life ? from the moment he could walk ( or perhaps even before ? ) til now . every second has been a trial of endurance . 𝐈𝐓 𝐂𝐀𝐍 𝐁𝐄 𝐓𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 . he shifts his weight in his seat , old wood creaking with the slight of his movements .
❝ i’m done with enduring . ❞ he answers -- not spitefully , though his words may suggest otherwise . 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐈𝐒 𝐒𝐎𝐌𝐄 𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐎𝐌 𝐈𝐍 𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐕𝐎𝐈𝐂𝐄 . but it’s most certainly not aimed at her . ❝ why must we wait and do nothing ? we have the power to act . ❞
lol
maestrodarte:
@lothson
leonardo’s long legs swing over the ledge of cool stone balcony next to mordred, presenting two glasses and a wine bottle as an explanation. he wears a warm smile, eyes bright even in the darkness. the night sky stretches above them, near endlessly and for a moment, the artist is staring at the twinkling stars like they hold answers to questions he has not verbalized just yet. “i hope i am not interrupting anything,” he says at last, smile twitching ever wider as he studies mordred’s face intently. the air smells sweet, like flowers, and a chilly breeze rustles the thin tunic the artisan has donned for the evening. a clean one. must be a miracle. the night is quiet. torch light flickers every few feet along the ramparts of the castle. leonardo likes it like this. it is like taking off an armor he is not even aware that he wears, and shaking himself free. he wonders briefly if mordred feels the same, but neglects to ask. the artist blinks and extends one of the goblest he brought with him. his heels nick the stone wall a few times as his legs swing, “if you do not have prior obligations, i have something i want to show you in the gardens. you are the only one i think would appreciate it.” he pauses. “and obviously we can have the wine under the stars. i think that is rather appealing, no?” he doubts the kitchens will miss this particular bottle. the other few he’s squirreled away in his workshop is another story, of course. but they might as well indulge this evening. he has already made the theft. leonardo tips the wine bottle enticingly and gestures with his head towards the stairs as he peels himself off the balcony.
𝐈𝐓 𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐒 𝐓𝐎 𝐁𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐄𝐒 𝐎𝐅𝐅 𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐎 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐈𝐓'𝐒 𝐓𝐎𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐃𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐍𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐇 . that’s where his gaze lingers ---- and his heart , too , for that matter . regardless of what loyalties and faiths he has given to this place and its king din eidyn will always call him home . 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓'𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐓𝐎 𝐒𝐀𝐘 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐀𝐑𝐄𝐍'𝐓 𝐍𝐈𝐂𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 . some company is better than others . he draws a breath inwards as the artist disturbs his peace . it’s not unwelcome ; it’s just unexpected . not many people tend to seek him out when he wanders off -- typically that behaviour belongs to his brothers . ❝ only thought . ❞ he comments a little absently between the moments of silence . he looks the other over with a curious glance . there’s something about his invitation that inspires trouble , 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐎𝐁𝐕𝐈𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐋𝐘 𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐋𝐄𝐍 𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐄 𝐈𝐒 𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐀𝐍 𝐀𝐃𝐃𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 .
❝ i could never decline such an offer . ❞ he answers as he takes the glass pressed towards him . 𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐒𝐏 𝐔𝐏𝐎𝐍 𝐈𝐒 𝐈𝐓 𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐄𝐅𝐔𝐋 , thoughtful , even , as he tears himself away from the view and towards whatever it is the the other wishes to show him . ❝ do i get a clue or is it a surprise ? ❞
What I love most about mordred is even facing ridiculous odds, when defeat lies on the horizon and he barely has a thing left to fight for, he still doesn't give up. He fights till his very last breath to do what he can, what he MUST, for his people
𝐁𝐘 𝐎𝐏𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍’𝐒 𝐖𝐎𝐄𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐒 , by your sons in servile chains , we will drain our dearest veins , but they shall be free . lay the proud usurpers low , tyrants fall in every foe ! liberty’s in every blow , let us do , or die .
MORDRED OF ARTHURIAN LEGEND, WRITTEN BY HEATH .
@arzhur asked : “ you’ve gotten so used to being hurt that happiness scares you. ”
𝐁𝐄𝐂𝐀𝐔𝐒𝐄 𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐒 𝐀𝐋𝐖𝐀𝐘𝐒 𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑𝐒 𝐎𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐙𝐎𝐍 ? perhaps . much has been taken from him -- land , home , family , friend , and it all boils down into one big pit of grief . it’s hard to distinguish one from the other anymore . there’s a nervous twitch in the bouncing of his heel as he looks upon the other ------- and then turns down his gaze completely . 𝐅𝐀𝐔𝐋𝐓 𝐋𝐈𝐄𝐒 𝐈𝐍 𝐇𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐘 . fault lies in feuds , in men who are already dead or strangers from foreign shores . pain just festers when there’s is nobody to turn anger upon . he’s silent for a moment . he’s not sure what to say . he’s not sure whether to agree or disagree . 𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐑𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐒 𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐒 , 𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐎𝐄𝐒 . he aches for it . that’s why he’s here . because he thinks , however naively , that maybe arthur and the knights may bring it . he has faith that they will . and yet still he struggles to find the will to smile . 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐈𝐒 𝐀 𝐋𝐎𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐖𝐄𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐒 𝐔𝐏𝐎𝐍 𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐃 . in fact , he’s not certain he’s felt true happiness in a while . that feeling lingers in some forest far , far away from here .
❝ there are a lot of things that i’m afraid of , but happiness , my lord ? i never thought one could be afraid of being happy . perhaps i am . ❞
ofxavalon:
@lothson said: “ and the saddest part of all? you’ll cling to the good memories, as if there were any. ” for gawain
as if there were any. his memories cast back to childhood, to moments when they were all together. before they were filled with duty and chasing honor. no, childhood hadn’t been perfect, but at least it had been better than this. better than burying his brothers, dead at the hand of a man he had considered a friend, a brother born not of blood. ‘ do you think so little of me, brother, that you think i would excuse the man who did this? ‘ of course, gawain didn’t only mean lancelot. yes, it had been lancelot that brought the blade to bear, but it had been gawain’s absent blade that had been unable to stop the slaughter. ‘ whatever fidelity there was between lancelot and i, it is over now. ‘
𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐆𝐀𝐙𝐄 𝐋𝐈𝐅𝐓𝐒 𝐅𝐑𝐎𝐌 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐆𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃 . he was perhaps being too harsh , but there has always lingered an element of animosity amongst the knights as it is . he trusts gawain , of course , more than anyone else here , and this is a loss for both of them . but some days he holds his own concerns upon where gawain’s loyalties lie . 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐘 𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐎𝐑 𝐀𝐓 𝐇𝐎𝐌𝐄 . with king or family . tongue clicks from the roof of his mouth as he struggles to find the words to say to his brother . he remembers a time when he was all too excited to serve with the knights , but now with every second that passes he regrets his decision more and more . they had only each other , now , and that wasn’t even the worst part . now , they were also the only ones left to stand as a defence against the bernician invasions of their home .
❝ i don’t think that of you , no . ❞ he answers , although he has to wonder if maybe he does . just a little . 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐌𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐒𝐓 𝐒𝐄𝐄𝐃 𝐎𝐅 𝐃𝐎𝐔𝐁𝐓 . but that’s not all too surprising . he’s not sure anyone around here can really be trusted anymore . he swallows hard before he can continue ; there’s a touch of honesty from him as he clenches his fist at his side . he’s upset , of course -- 𝐖𝐇𝐘 𝐖𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃𝐍'𝐓 𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐄 ? ❝ but this ------- everything is so rotten here . ❞
mudwoven:
( I SICKEN YOU, DO I? ME WITH MY RABID DEMEANOR AS I PUT MY SWORD BETWEEN YOUR MEN’S RIBS? WOULD YOU NOT HAVE KILLED THE SANITY INSIDE OF YOU? WOULD YOU LET THAT RAVEN CAW AT YOU UNTIL YOUR THROAT ACHED FROM YELLING? WE WORSHIP TWO DIFFERENT THINGS. I WEEP FOR THE LIVING, YOU WEEP FOR THE DEAD. THIS IS WHY YOU WILL BE AT MY MERCY. ) * the rain begins, it is cold as it wets his braid. the water turning crimson as it hits at his skin harder. he has already noted the tall shape of his son, followed by his brother. the survivors counted and beaming with the taste of victory. he has remained quiet, however, if not for the teased out comment towards the leader of the opposition.* he has already decided to keep him alive, a captive for the time being. his idea forms slowly, gestates in his mind while offers up a benign leer. he crouches, features both antipathetic and childishly gleeful. there is a youthful exuberance of his disposition that seems to clash with the unblinking eyes and tip of tongue that darts out to lick at the blood on his chin. it is natural for him to adapt to the role of pagan, devilish, bloodthirsty. the slaughter of bodies around them is merely evidence of the gods being on his side. he presses his palm to his side, the wound leaks, but he continues on with the duties. a shrug, he is emotionless in his delivered reply, but there is a twitch of his upper lip that signifies his unsatisfactory feelings regarding the defeated’s response. ‘DEATH I DO NOT TREMBLE AT, NEITHER DO MY MEN. I DO NOT EXPECT YOU TO UNDERSTAND, AS YOUR GOD HAS DIED ALREADY.’
he feels out of the cycle of winter and ravens, this frustrates him and it causes a tension to ripple down neck muscles. the anger blooms, subtly and with a silent approach that is characteristic of the viking king. a wide grin spreads his lips as fingers press into the ground, the puddle of others’ blood still warm to the touch. he slides his fingers down his face, adds more red, the saline smell sticking inside his nostrils. a tilt of his head before grunting to stand once more, arms outstretched at the beginning of their celebrations, the drumming increasing and laughter growing louder. words taunted out with a lilt, glare unbroken as jaw clenches. ‘THAT PLEASES ME. SIT HERE AND BE DISGUSTED AT ME WHILE WE CELEBRATE OUR VICTORY. I AM SURE YOU WILL SEE MORE THINGS THAT UPSET YOUR STOMACH BEFORE THE NIGHT IS DONE.’
𝐇𝐄 𝐄𝐘𝐄𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐀𝐍 𝐁𝐄𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐄 𝐇𝐈𝐌 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐏𝐔𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐓 𝐎𝐅 𝐇𝐀𝐓𝐑𝐄𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃 𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑 . he is not the sort to hate easily , but when he does it is with an immovable kind of sincerity . it his wholehearted . he is no stranger to losing battles , 𝐍𝐎 𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐎 𝐃𝐄𝐅𝐄𝐀𝐓 . these mountains are stained with blood . but similarly he has never been the sort to give up . moments will come , he must only bide his time , and he will have plenty of it if he wishes to . there is value in his breath . he can only manage a smile of amusement towards his captor who has mistaken him for christian . the roman influence from the south has yet to touch lothian’s borders , and he should rather like to keep it that way if he could . 𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐆𝐎𝐃𝐒 𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐍𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐃 . the gods of land and sea and sky , of growth and nurture and life . the elders that lie await in the mounds in the west and the druids that care for what was once long forgot . it comes as a reminder that he has all the power he needs to escape this place . binds do not truly hold him . but he would rather not show his strength if he needn’t . magic is such a very delicate thing to throw around .
❝ my gods are not so easily defeated . ❞ he mutters . ❝ the blood spilled here will seep into the soil and with it bring new strength . 𝐍𝐎 𝐒𝐀𝐂𝐑𝐈𝐅𝐈𝐂𝐄 𝐈𝐒 𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐖𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐃 . you know nothing of our lands -- and they will claim you for your foolishness , as they have invaders before you . you will not be the first to fail here . ❞
@bndruidh asked : *kisses* :)
𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐎𝐅𝐓𝐄𝐒𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐃𝐄𝐒𝐓 𝐓𝐎 𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐄 𝐁𝐘 . it’s not that they are rare or that they do not exist , but because they always come bundled with harshness . most of all existence is a struggle -- life is not fair . 𝐁𝐔𝐓 𝐇𝐄'𝐒 𝐒𝐎 𝐅𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐈𝐀𝐑 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 . so , finding small amounts of happiness is always pleasant , especially when it comes as a surprise . he’s more used to her mouth being harder than this . ready and waiting for the opportunity to scold him for some stupid decision or another ---- and there’s nothing wrong with that , because more often than not she is right . she’s quick with wit and judgement . sometimes it’s like being hit by a rock . 𝐁𝐔𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐈𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐀𝐓 𝐀𝐋𝐋 . the callous on his fingertips scrapes a little over the soft skin of her cheek as he leans in towards her . it’s all so very gentle and her lips so very inviting that for a moment he near forgets everything that weighs upon him .
it’s brief , truthfully ; just a quick moment of softness . but he’s not so fainthearted to simply let it end there . his hand stays steady curled around the line of her jaw and eventually his forehead lands to rest upon hers . his eyes are closed and his breath is calm but his heart beats rapidly like some bird fluttering to escape from a cage . 𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑𝐒 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐀 𝐅𝐄𝐖 𝐒𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐌𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐒 . then , eventually , he offers a few words . ❝ i’ve been waiting for that for a long time , you know ? ❞