AURQILEA. / an independent fantasy multimuse rp blog. by kenna.
IT SEEMS WE FIND AS WE GROW OLD: some things that glitter can be gold.
Three Goblin Art
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Not today Justin
Game of Thrones Daily
trying on a metaphor

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AnasAbdin

izzy's playlists!
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pixel skylines
I'd rather be in outer space 🛸
i don't do bad sauce passes

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祝日 / Permanent Vacation

Kaledo Art
DEAR READER
Cosimo Galluzzi

roma★
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open

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seen from T1
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@medicter
AURQILEA. / an independent fantasy multimuse rp blog. by kenna.
IT SEEMS WE FIND AS WE GROW OLD: some things that glitter can be gold.
@medicter
After a quick straw poll the consensus seems to be go to bed so I’ll bend to the will of the masses.
NONE of you will care about this!!! Bio!! NoNE of you!! But LISTEN Agravaine met an arab muslim doctor and philosopher called Ghassan Ibn-Khadem in Jerusalem and they fall in love over tender religious poetry and discussing the morality of the world and I’m KEYED UP about it!!
You guys wanna know where Agravaine held a constablery in England? Yeah? It’s called Wisbech. S’like a little town in the mid-west. Because his dad was the Earl of East Anglia. Do you know how far it is from Sherwood forest? It’s 75 miles. Or like a day and a half’s walk away.
Did you need to know this? Definitely not. Did I? Debatable at best but here we are 4 hours and 4 paragraphs into this bio.
God the british monarchy is just one long farce huh? Kings having so many sons and not trying to have a good relationship with any of them, leading to all of said sons revolting against him in a massive fuck all war, running off to France to get Louis on side in one of the pettiest moves I’ve seen, riling up all the rebellion-sexual earls in the kingdom at the time, then doing so badly at it that by the time Henry II arrived back in England to deal with it it was already over. Whereupon all his sons have to then fret about and participate in the mortifying spectacle of pretending to be contrite and weeping at court whilst the entire gathered assembly knows for a FACT that you give not a shit about your dad and just don’t wanna be denounced. And then he forgives it! And you still get some bloody castles anyway! And then life goes on! Truly the ruling class has always been, and will always be, absolutely bonkers yonkers and completely villianously out of touch with the real would for time immemorial.
afraidofchange:
“Where is he?”
The accusation comes as a hiss through grit teeth, fueled with pure ire. Tardiness in this world brings a loss of profit, and for Nikita, profit means everything. Lacking patience certainly doesn’t help matters either, and while gaining a few looks from the people scattered around the near-empty bar (only the still drunk or hungover remain at this hour in the morning). Dingy and dark, her only companion - Nico - remains stoically silent as always, knowing better than to interrupt.
Cell phones - burners, always - remain as a last resort, insurance to make sure that the job’s been done, and Ben’s never been one to delay in giving the go ahead to let them know if plans have changed.
Visibly agitated, flicking her lighter off and on (damn these places and their no smoking inside policies), the sudden ring of her phone nearly makes Nikita spill her drink. Tossing the lighter down with a hard clink, the old flip phone is tossed open, all but thrown against her ear.
“Where the fuck have you been?”
Disdain can be felt over the phone, so she thinks, but the voice on the other end isn’t familiar. Instead, her brows start to knit together, glancing across the table to Nico with a look that dictates both visible confusion and concern, and even anger.
“O’Connell?” She repeats, voice lowering down to avoid attention of the few that remain within the vicinity. It sounds familiar enough that she can place exactly where this woman belongs – a gang that’s been hard to run against as an independent. A gang that all her partners know has been a steady source of inconvenience at best, and problems at worst. Clearing her throat, Nikita wets her lips. This is one good man down, out of a handful; it’s most certainly a crippling blow to her affairs.
“Only unfortunate conclusion is you’re going to answer for this. Now.”
Oof, little fire cracker isn’t she? All bite and bark, if her known body count was anything to go by. Nevermind. A verbal sparring match followed by a literal sparring match wasn’t what she was looking for.
“Glad we’re on the same page with that-” Cathrine drawled with a tone that would have been all business and even dismissive if the circumstances didn’t make it agonisingly sardonic. She stood from the bed and started looking around the room, opening doors and lifting beds, (with her clean hand) since no smuggler got this antsy unless they were waiting for a shipment. Which, strangely, might count in Cathrine’s favour, if she played her cards right.
“Why I called actually, but long and short of it is Ben and I had bad blood for a good jump back. You’re not gonna get a sorry out of me for ticking him off and if you know your business as well as I’ve heard, that won’t come as a shock. But...” She eventually managed to click the phone onto speaker and set it on the side table, searching for a rag to cover her hand before she hefted a long sofa. “- I’d hate to, hrgh, make a habit of getting in the way when no one’s getting in mine, so-” Ah, there it is, ‘it’ being a very full carrier of semi-automatic shotguns that ooze that ‘unlicensed’ look that gets organised crime so hot under the collar.
“- let me make it up to you.”
The irresistable urge to use Ann Wolfe as Rhunon’s FC verses the also irresistable desire to use Ming na wen as Rhunon’s FC verses the also irresistable urge to use Michelle Yeoh as Rhunon’s FC verses-
𝚂𝚅𝙸𝚃𝙺𝙽𝙰. / an independent arya rp blog. by kenna.
𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐈𝐃𝐄 𝐌𝐘𝐒𝐄𝐋𝐅, i’ve seen a HELL. a road so thick with blood, unspeakable violence, beauty and tragedy, so thick you can take it in by the mouth, like cream or black roe, and know the wounds hidden in my jaw.
Horst’s wife and son are both trying to make him very very very scared and very very very sad everyone bully @starfrckled and @phaineis for what they’re doing to me!!
O fuck... I need to roleplay Rhunön... I need to roleplay her so badly... she’s... MADE for me... oh no
@afraidofchange ||| Closed Starter for Nikita 🔪❤️
Lord preserve her but she hated mobile phones. And she wasn’t going to come around to them either! Even if it was as easy as a few button clicks to get a full list of some recent corpse’s contacts. The buttons were so damn small and the little white numbers were easily concealed by even a smudge blood. If someone tried to tell her Blackberrys were a criminal’s best friend one more time-... Oh, Nikita?
Her clean hand stilled in it’s rummaging for the ever present Hydrogen Peroxide sanitiser she kept in her bag as she gazed down at the little pixel screen in her hand. Bugger it all, the man lying dead on her hotel floor was one of that Nikita’s fixers? This Ben Adams? Ben Adams good-at-the-job, better-at-being-a-snitch Ben Adams? Ben destined-to-catch-her-knife-in-his-throat-one-of-these-days Adams? Well, fuck.
Cathrine let out a weary sigh. She would have reached for a cigarette but that’d set off the cheap fire alarm. She supposed she should have suspected this, at least. All she’d heard of this Nikita told her he wasn’t particularly big on trust. Best kind of people to deal with a man like Ben Adams. But, given that, this little hiccup in her plan to eventually make contact with New York’s newest prize smuggler needed some quick resolution. Plans change and all that. So she hit dial, and- (ah shite blood on her ear damnit-) waited.
When the voice that answered in a thick russian accent was distinctly feminine, Cathrine’s little ‘huh’ pause was short enough to seem polite. “Yeah hi, if you don’t mind me getting straight to it; Ben’s dead, I killed him, I thought you and I should have a little chat about that. Before anyone jumps to; you know, unfortunate conclusions. Name’s Cathrine O’Connell, which I suspect’ll mean something to you.”
I hope that ves knows that her magister girl misses her a ton, ok bye
“Well I am very missable.”
I finished Cathrine’s bio! And her timeline! Can yall BELIEVE it!
@medicter @abrazan said: ❝ I don’t think he gets to decide that right now. ❞ from loghain pretend I sent this on medicter ❤️ from undeadwood part ii ( accepting )
“Father.” Anora pleads, silence falling as both hands rest over the top of her chair. Her hair is carefully braided, done by herself into rolls at the base of her head. The Queens eyes are red and she can feel her face slowly cooling from the redness of the crying. No more, and certainly not in front of her father. She did not remember when it had become unacceptable to do so, but it felt like it now. Even just by herself, crying would not help the situation or make her feel any better. Just tired, tired and with work to do.
Blue eyes fell on her father and she could see where people saw the similarities. Why they called her her father’s daughter despite holding her mother’s blonde hair and softer face structure. The frown was the same, as was the fury reflected in his eyes “Thank you, but you know that you cannot do anything.”
Her back straightens and she stifles a sniff; not very lady like to sniff. Both of her hands hold tightly into the wood of the chair as if it is a raft and she is in the middle of a strong stream.
“You are right, he does not.” her voice is a low rumble, torn at the edges and heavy but strong. Firm. Anora moves closer to him, to her father. A small smile on her lips as she sees the lines on his face, the creases on his face deepening. It was frightening, the thought that he was growing old and the day that she would wake up knowing he would not be there steadfast to defend her… It was daunting. And so she pushed it to the side. It would be many years, do not think about it. Anora’s hand holds his, squeezing it “I do.” a pause.
The relationship between her father and Eamon had always been… strained. But this was her fight and he knew as well as the Queen did that nothing good would come from his interference “You understand, yes?”
I have this struggle where I really want to write Agravaine again like right now but he’s a nonsense supplanting OC within a fandom I’m not entirely still in anymore and I have no threads or ideas. I just… like him…
look at this ragged dog-eared old knight, I love him very dearly, how did he come out of my general frustration that Templars had no real large scale army command training or field battle experience…
Bioware: Cullen has barely ever left a Circle and only really has experience leading what amounts to a magical prison service but now everyone expects him to be the field-general of a real whole ass war and no one is worried about this.
Agravaine:
I have this struggle where I really want to write Agravaine again like right now but he’s a nonsense supplanting OC within a fandom I’m not entirely still in anymore and I have no threads or ideas. I just… like him…
look at this ragged dog-eared old knight, I love him very dearly, how did he come out of my general frustration that Templars had no real large scale army command training or field battle experience...