THE WHITE GRIFFIN.

[ofaarein]

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✶ indie & selective ISRAFEL OF AAREIN a fandomless original character from own lore.

✶ generic fantasy & fandom verses available. strictly 21+ .  ✶ low activity sideblog to @henosiis. written by KAT ✶ affiliated with;

✶ exploring fate, sacrifice, love, responsibility, change ✶ DOSSIER.

cr. otto lindberg, sailing at dusk / czeslaw milosz tr. robert haas, late ripeness

[memerabilia]

| SENTENCE STARTERS | THE BEAR & THE NIGHTINGALE |

PART I. | PART II. adjust as necessary.

Why after a hard winter and a hard summer must we waste food and drink on these?

Better to eat. There will not be food like this all winter.

Why do you stay here? No one would fault you for going.

A self-appointed task in service of your own pride.

It is a cruel task, to frighten people in God's name. However, [name], I am not afraid.

Wanting despite yourself, and hating where you love. Oh, you are beautiful.

After all your silence, do you speak to me at last?

Have no fear. I stand with you, and you will never again be alone. The world will fall to your feet because you have been loyal.

Be faithful, and I will never leave you.

I'd rather my sons living, and my daughters safe, than a chance at glory for unborn descendants.

Wild birds die in cages.

And so? Blessed are those who linger only a little in this mire of wickedness before they going into the presence of God.

The things you speak of are false; illusions to tempt the unwary. Hold to truth and all will be well.

I would carry your word to the ends of the earth, if only you asked it.

Only tell me what I must do. I will be faithful.

Call me with every breath and call me by name.

Only never leave me again.

There is evil among us. It creeps into our souls in the night, in the silence. It is waiting for the unwary.

I see you. You are all I see sometimes.

I see you. But, [name], there is little to see.

This winter will pass, as others have passed.

You want my people to love you, so you made them afraid.

Yes, I am all right. Forgive me. I must have cried out in my sleep.

You are out of luck, I am afraid, [name], and have been for some time.

If you do not take pity, we are all going to die.

It is my place, and they are my people.

Watch with me tonight. When you are here, I am stronger.

Get you gone. You have done enough evil here.

You would do better to come in and eat it by the fire.

Fallen so far, my poor creature?

I desire greatly that she/he/they retire from the world. It must be sooner, not later.

Do you be quiet and pray.

Defy me? It is done, and you will be bound with rope if you do not care to walk.

I have wronged no one. I have hurt no one. I have tried to save you!

I do not threaten. it is the truth.

Truth? Truth, you little liar, there is no truth in you!

A noble sacrifice? How will that help anyone?

I have helped all I can, and earned these people's hatred.

If this is the last decision I make, at least it is my decision.

Do you think I want to lose you to this folly?

Well, I was given a choice, and I am taking it.

You would not have saved me if you meant to kill me.

What madness brought you into the forest tonight?

This is my hour and mine alone.

I was so frightened I couldn't think.

I decided I would rather freeze in a snowbank. Well, that was before I began to freeze in a snowbank. It hurts.

I shall tell her as little as possible. And hope that is enough.

You are wounded. You are weary.

Perhaps you should be honoured; I do not often have guests.

There is magic in your bones. You must reckon with it.

You can walk where you will, into peace, oblivion, or pits of fire, but you will always choose.

Yes, there is death in it, but not before joy, or glory.

Will you stay here instead, and sing away eternity?

Some things I can heal. But I cannot heal gently.

I am little more than a shadow now, in the houses of men. Once I was a guest.

I am displeased, my servant. I am most displeased.

You will walk a hard road. If you have not the courage to meet it, better—far better—to die quiet. Perhaps I meant you a kindness.

Nothing changes, [name]. Things are, or they are not. Magic is forgetting that something ever was other than as you willed it.

All my life I have been told to 'go' and 'come'. I am told how I will live and I am told how I will die. I would walk into the jaws of hell itself, if it were a path of my own choosing. I would rather die tomorrow than live the life appointed to me.

What do I know of ancient magic, or ancient rivalries, or anything else?

No—please. Do not leave me, I beg. I beg!

And I was left with my sin—that I wanted you.

You must hold on, then. As long as you may. Be brave.

They are always afraid at the end. But the fear of the brave—that is best.

He had—such a look about him. As if he knew what to do, and how, and why.

Well, that is something, to be remembered.

It was his choice, [name]. It was his privilege. He would not have had it otherwise.

And I suppose you frighten people all the time on your own account.

I will be free, and I will not count the cost.

Anywhere, [name]. The world is wide, and the road will take us anywhere.

Come in, [name]. It is cold.

[motleyd]

he is a husk of a man, slipshod and sallow in his rag - worn cloak and threadbare stockings. in one hand he clutches a crook like a lifeline, as if it is the only thing that keeps him tethered to the earth on which he stands ... and perhaps it is, as ragged as he is. yet, there is a will in him still, a desperation for survival that sends him shuttering further into the narrow doorway with every breath of winter's wind — sends him shuttering, almost, into the home itself as the door suddenly opens with one derisive creak. "ah!" it is more a breath than a sound, and quickly swallowed as he grasps blindly out into open space, panic flashing in his sightless eyes. "who is there? please, whoever you are, just let me stand here for a moment more, i am simply trying to find some shelter from the cold!"

⋆˚࿔ @ofaarein

[ofaarein]

ᴛʜᴇ ᴄʜᴜʀᴄʜ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ꜰᴏʀᴇᴠᴇʀ ʀᴇᴍᴇᴍʙᴇʀ ɪᴛꜱ ᴀʙᴀɴᴅᴏɴᴍᴇɴᴛ. The healer’s efforts were for naught; the place creaked, whinged and cried with every breath of the sea’s wind, with every turn of the weather, as though bemoaning its fate. A resentful thing it was, its silence a rare thing, more omen than blessing.

Yet now there came a noise now greater than breeze or gale; it was a man’s voice, shouting as the door came open, what shook the humble abode’s resident from his thoughts. The call threw him upright as readily as his general’s bark would have roused a soldier, and Israfel turned to behold a stranger veritably barreling into his home, barely held upright by a worn crook, knocking down a few old pots and some literature as he went. With him, winter’s vicious bite came, and instinctively he wrapped himself further in the furs that lay across his broad shoulders as he came forwards. « Hold! » he answered, « Hold, my man. You are in a healer’s house, and may rest. »  Quickly he reached for the rickety door, and closed it behind his impromptu guest; along too he found his old cloak, and threw it about the man’s frame. « I welcome you, who are unknown to me, » Israfel said, a hand coming to rest on the stranger’s arm. « Pray tell, are you alright? »

[ofaarein]

paladin: What does your muse fight for? What tenets or oaths drive them? Have they ever had to break a vow, and if they have, why?

✶ — ᴅ&ᴅ ᴄʟᴀꜱꜱ ᴀꜱᴋꜱ.

First, he fought for glory; not the glory of sung praises, or terrifying epithets, but the glory of the kill.

Then, he fought his friends; his prince, his beloved, and the people also.

Last he fought for himself; for his memories and against his bitterness, and fought the illness of his own heart just as he fought that of the woman who taught him to love again.

Now Israfel fights no more, for all will to do so has left him, and he is content to let life's river take him where its current will. He won't deny his fate, whatever it is to be.

Despite all of this, all he has gone through, Israfel has yet to break a vow made true. When he vowed to fight till his last breath for Roces' independence, he did, though he survived. When he vowed to return to his dearly beloved, he did, though she refused him. When he vowed to do everything in his power to save Nuru's life, he did, though it wasn't enough.

Perhaps, in that way, he was always - and always will be - a true knight.

[ofaarein]

bard for the class meme! <3

✶ — ᴅ&ᴅ ᴄʟᴀꜱꜱ ᴀꜱᴋꜱ.

BARD: How does your muse handle social situations? Are they personable, charming, awkward, shy? How does your muse respond to being the center of attention?

Israfel has always been a very quiet man, who rarely speaks unless directly addressed. As such he comes off as relatively shy, and is the type to ask questions about others rather than open up about himself. He is a better listener than conversationalist, and cannot be relied on to carry a conversation on his own. In a group setting, he disappears even more, only speaking up by his own volition if he feels he absolutely must.

Generally, this leads to people describing him as reserved, though agreeable, and a good confidant.

Israfel resents being the subject of attention. He is uncomfortable when it happens, and often finds himself at loss for words. He thinks of himself as a poor speaker, and is far from the kind of man who would whip up a rousing speech on the spot. Still, his discomfort usually leaves him relying on simplicity, which in itself is a good quality in a public speaker. He's more afraid of speeches than speeches are of him, to put it succintly.

[ohisms]

✱˚｡⋆ ↪ 𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐁𝐁𝐋𝐄𝐒 𝟎𝟏 . ( a collection of assorted prompts intended to inspire drabbles & maybe starters. adjust as desired. )

describe a time your muse committed a justified act of violence.

describe a time your muse felt truly free.

describe a time your muse just couldn't help themself.

describe a time your muse committed a crime.

describe a time your muse discovered something about themself.

describe the earliest birthday your muse can remember.

describe a time your muse broke the rules.

describe your muse's feelings on their gender.

describe your muse's feelings on their sexuality.

describe a time your muse felt truly loved.

describe a time your muse lost their temper.

describe your muse's very first kiss.

describe the moment your muse discovered their passion in life.

describe a time your muse longed for something so deeply it tore them apart.

describe a time your muse worked themself to exhaustion.

describe a time your character was treated medically.

describe a time your muse made an unheard cry for help.

describe a time your muse couldn't care for themselves.

describe a time your muse couldn't commit to something or someone.

describe a time your muse realized they were in love.

describe a time your muse felt betrayed.

describe a time your muse learned devastating information.

describe a moment your muse reminisces about often.

describe a moment in which your muse lashed out violently.

describe the first time your muse held a weapon.

describe a time your muse blacked out.

describe a moment your muse was absolutely terrified.

describe a moment your muse went into fight or flight mode.

describe a moment your muse had a big, life-altering revelation.

describe the first time your muse took someone's life.

describe a time your muse went somewhere they shouldn't.

describe a time your muse sneaked out of the house.

describe a traumatic experience from your muse's childhood.

describe the first concert your muse ever went to.

describe your muse's dream [ engagement / wedding ].

describe an outing that went terribly, horribly wrong for your muse.

describe a time your muse found themself somewhere unexpected.

FOR PAIRINGS:

describe a time our muses slept in late together.

describe the moment receiver knew they were in love with sender.

describe the first significant fight our muses got into.

describe a time receiver thought they were going to lose sender.

describe the first time receiver realized they were comfortable around sender.

describe a moment that receiver felt betrayed by sender.

describe a private thought receiver has had about sender.

describe a time our muses went on a long scenic road trip.

describe a moment where receiver held onto sender a little tighter.

describe a moment of pure joy between our muses.

describe a moment where sender made receiver feel safe.

describe a moment of grief and mourning between our muses.

describe a moment where receiver lost their temper with sender.

describe a moment where receiver broke down in front of sender.

describe a moment receiver jumped into action to protect sender.

describe a kiss between our muses that 'shouldn't' have happened.

describe a day/night our muses lost track of time together.

describe the first date our muses ever went on.

describe the day our muses got the keys to their first place.

describe a night our muses stayed out until ridiculously early.

[cityandking]

d&d character class asks

artificer: How good is your muse at picking up new tools/skills? Are they proficient with any tools? How are they at making things with their own hands?

barbarian: What makes your muse angry? How do they manage their anger? Has their rage ever led them to destroy something important?

bard: How does your muse handle social situations? Are they personable, charming, awkward, shy? How does your muse respond to being the center of attention?

cleric: Does your muse believe in any god or follow any religion? What drives their faith? Or, if they're faithless, why? What would it take for them to find faith in something or someone?

druid: How does your muse interact with the natural world? Are they good with animals? Plants? Do they keep any pets?

fighter: What's your muse's fighting style? Are there any weapons your muse is comfortable with, or a weapon they'd like to learn to use? What drives them to fight?

monk: How does your muse regulate their emotions? Are they in tune with themselves? How does your muse find peace?

paladin: What does your muse fight for? What tenets or oaths drive them? Have they ever had to break a vow, and if they have, why?

ranger: What is your muse's preferred environment? How good is your muse at fitting in with the world around them? Can they survive on their own, or do they need support?

rogue: How secretive is your muse? What are they secretive about? What would it take for your muse to spill their secrets?

sorcerer: What are your muse's natural talents? Have they taken the time to hone those skills? Do they like to show off, or are they quiet about their abilities?

warlock: Has your muse ever made a deal to get something they wanted? Is there anything your muse wants enough to broker for it? What would your muse sacrifice to get what they want?

wizard: What is your muse like as a student? Do they have the patience for studying? What do they like learning about? What do they most want to know?

[wonderful-rp-resources]

Reblog if you want lore and or muse-related questions in your inbox!

Specify which muse for multimuse blogs.

[beautiful-mischief]

open starter —

There was a certain bliss to losing oneself in music, in truly feeling it from the soles of his feet up through the elongation of his legs, his his thighs, his arms, fabric sighing over his skin and eyes dipping closed like he knew the choreography by heart — he had, once, but with no tutor to chide him for missed steps and the swell of an adagio in his blood Mal cared little for propriety, content to flow through movements whether they were incorrect or not, content to simply be in one singular, perfect moment where all else fell away save for the music ringing in his ears.

And then, as it faded, and his feet settled flat upon the ground once more, awareness returned. A feeling like slowly, blissfully waking after the most restful nights sleep — and then the sensation of being watched, one that had perhaps been easily overlooked till now.

“I didn’t realise I had an audience.” A warm, playful smile. “You could at least applaud.”

[ofaarein]

ᴇᴠᴇɴ ꜰʀᴏᴍ ᴀꜰᴀʀ, ʙᴇꜰᴏʀᴇ ᴄᴜʀɪᴏꜱɪᴛʏ ᴅʀᴇᴡ ʜɪᴍ ᴄʟᴏꜱᴇʀ, ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴀɴᴄᴇʀ ʜᴀᴅ ꜱᴇɪᴢᴇᴅ ꜱᴏᴍᴇ ꜱᴛʀɪɴɢꜱ ᴏꜰ ʜɪꜱ ꜱᴛᴇᴇʟ ʜᴇᴀʀᴛ. As though the wind carried him he moved, and every step spoke of a pure and wholesome glee. Spellbound, Israfel had approached, awe and something sadder alike in his chest — for had he ever let himself be moved so earnestly by his own desires? He watched in silence as the man swirled and twirled, his hair and jewellery catching fire in the golden sunlight. Before any true envy could bloom the dancer stopped, onlooker caught fast in his ocean-blue eyes. Israfel’s own widened, as though surprised he’d been seen — or perhaps he was surprised the other man was real at all, and not some faerie illusion, for he had danced with the joy and abandonment of one. It was much too late to pretend he had not been watching; with a quiet, awkward chuckle the knight gave a few claps of his hands in appreciation. « I could scarcely bring myself to interrupt, » Israfel smiled faintly. His voice lowered, as though he spoke with shame: « T’was an enchanting sight you made... I hope it was not untoward of me. »

[ofaarein]

micro tag drop (for maequena ic posts!)

[yokaimemes]

how can i help you … write with my oc?

sometimes, it can be hard to get engagement as an oc writer, but it can be equally hard to explain what would help you engage with an oc writer! this meme is meant for oc writers who might like some ideas on how to help their followers engage with them, as well as provide a guided list of potential things that may help those looking to write with their mutuals' ocs!

📖 : more information about their backstory or lore!

👥 : more information about how they interact or engage with the people around them!

🌐 : more information about how they interact with the location/world around them!

🔗 : links for where to find more information you may have already posted about them!

🗣 : i'd like to first plot out how our characters could interact!

🤝 : i think our ideas or lore may not mesh or match, and would like to discuss how we can meet in the middle!

📝 : i'd love to hear potential interactions or plot hooks you're interested in for your oc(s), so i can use those as a jumping off point!

❔️: other (please specify what would help you best!)

it can be difficult interacting with others, both as an oc writer and as someone looking to engage with another's ocs, but it doesn't have to be—sometimes we just need a little help!

[ofaarein]

ʙᴀꜱɪᴄ ɪɴꜰᴏ.

LEGAL NAME: israfel of aarein / israfel anastos (modern). NICKNAMES: rafe, the white griffin (title). DATE OF BIRTH / DATE OF DEATH: march 17th, 5E 250 — n/a. GENDER: trans male. PLACE OF BIRTH: province of aarein, duchy of roces. SPOKEN LANGUAGES: n/a / greek, english. EDUCATION: no education in youth; later trained as a knight; learned basic medicine when older. HAIR COLOR: pale straw-blonde. EYE COLOR: hazel brown. HEIGHT: 5'6" (168cm).

ꜰᴀᴍɪʟʏ ɪɴꜰᴏ.

SIBLINGS: n/a. PARENTS: danai of aarein, unknown father. CHILDREN: maequena (adopted). PETS: dapple-grey mare named arethi.

ʀᴇʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴꜱʜɪᴘ ɪɴꜰᴏ.

SEXUAL ORIENTATION: bisexual. RELATIONSHIP STATUS: widowed.

tagged by: @malfl0ra <3 <3 tagging: @ki-pulse @intothewildsea @warwaited (for xue), @izar-tarazed, @anorlondoarcheryclub for ifs, + whoever wants to steal it off me

[bodyofdeath]

crossfaded on what no longer is and what remains to be seen

[askboxmemes]

True/False game. Make an assumption about me in my ask and I’ll tell you if its true or false. Go.

[feral-ballad]

I was furious at my hands. At myself. At my history. At my inability to do anything with those hands.

Victoria Chang, from Dear Memory: Letters on Writing, Silence, and Grief; “Dear Daughter,”

[ofaarein]

OKAY now that my bio's up does anyone wanna. plot.

[ofaarein]

ɢᴇɴᴛʟᴇ ᴡᴀꜱ ᴛʜᴇ ʙʀᴇᴇᴢᴇ ᴀᴛ ᴛʜᴇɪʀ ʙᴀᴄᴋꜱ, ᴛʜᴇ ʟɪɢʜᴛ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ʜᴀʟꜰ-ʜɪᴅᴅᴇɴ ꜱᴜɴ. Gravel clicked beneath the hooves of a dapple-grey mare, her coat a mirror of the cloudy skies. Upon the saddle sat a young woman, and besides her an older man walked, his hold on the reins loose. To their left, not a quarter mile away, waves lazily caressed a stony shore streaked with bleached driftwood and dried algae. It was late summer, and the dry air stung with the scent of salt; it caught in the old horse’s nose, shaking her slate-colored mane as she sneezed. @sunmad raised her clear voice just loud enough to be heard above the mare’s grunting and the distant cries of seabirds. « This place we're going to, what is it, exactly? » The man looked up at her for a moment, his free hand shielding his eyes from the sunlight that shone high over her shoulder. « Saint Ardey’s? » he replied, his eyes then wandering southeastward, where the road slowly took them. In two days’ travel, its tall cliffs would appear in the distance. For now, the image was only as clear as his recollection: waves crashing against tall pillars of stone, the wind howling as it carved and smoothed the walls, the imposing fortress of nature; perched atop, an old and overgrown abbey, the quiet work of mortals, worn by hundreds of years and thousands of hands. In all his memories, everything was still, timeless, silent as the black-sand shores where generations of monks had buried generations of men. « A very old monastery. It was there I learned what little I know of physicks, though I left many years ago. » He’d buried someone there too, all those years ago. It was for her he put down the sword, had instead learned of herbs and poultices, humors and the most elemental surgeries, and yet more. He had found such purpose then, such drive as he thought he had forever lost, and still he buried her. The waters had surely taken back her humble gravestone by now, and they would have taken the sword that hung at his side too, if it had not found its way back to him, gripped tight in small, determined hands. Israfel’s steps slowed. He buried his charge, his dear Nuru, his daughter’s mother, and he had not returned. Who had been left to pray over her remains? He feared her spirit, though it would be right to do so, would seek revenge for having been so forsaken. The knight cursed himself, cursed his cowardice as he ordered himself to pick up the pace again, training his eyes on the road, the old tracks of carts and wagons, the dry and leafless shrubs that bordered it. 

« …It is a beautiful place. »