lady of vampires

thuringwethil; servant of the dark lord. she who walks in hidden shadow, she who walks unseen. mother of vampires, sister of dragons. indie rp blog for thuringwethil, of the tolkien legendarium

[margozofrhun-deactivated2015032]

        He was tempted to remove with a slap that horrible stinking hand of the vampire. But he did not. It would be unwise. Margöz did not know how many minions more could be hidden in the darkness of the halls. The warm blood from his chin ran under his black veil leaving a bloody aurora in the garment. Gently, he lifted her hand away gently, so there is no confusion. But still he was unsure if she was reliable to put this matter in her hands.

        ”If it is true what you say … ‘my lady’. Why is that he has NEVER spoken to me about you before?”

[ofsecretshadow-blog]

Lips to her finger, sleek tongue that darts to lick Margöz's blood away. It tastes of desert, of sand, of spite and rage and battle-lust.

It tastes human. She spits it out, teeth showing in her grin.

"Not all of Master's agents step into the light."

[breniarchive-blog]

He has been betrayed by less, in his days.  But this— ahh, he finds it something new.

     ”— You know it well, then? Loss?”

[ofsecretshadow-blog]

A body lost a body broken-- burned by failure and Master being angry, a body mauled by a girl in wolf's clothes by a dog howling, an elf-bitch with her goddess-given blood and voice of nightingale-- 

centuries of piece by piece once more, an atom, a muscle, a bone. Rebuilt from hate and spite and neverending greed.

"–– Loss? No. But blood? Blood I know well."

[breniarchive-blog]

     ”A strange question— what makes you wonder whether I have lost anything at all?”

[ofsecretshadow-blog]

"Your blood reeks of it."

[ofsecretshadow-blog]

tenebrouscrown started following you;

"And thus the king finds his way unbidden through the valley of his death. Have you lost your light, starless prince?"

[ofsecretshadow-blog]

[Gosh, you and your fc choices are perfect. <3]

you!!! you absolute darling you!! <33

[vezely-a]

             Fear was the man’s pale face, white and trembling. Fear was his brown eyes, widened in alarm. Terror was the one those eyes beheld.

                           ❝Apologies lieutenant.❞

             The elleth acknowledged her miss amid pulling her scimitar from the stomach of another — a retrieval that spilt and splayed the man’s innards upon the dirt. Rather than finish the previous task, she decided to leave the one frozen in fear to Thuringwethil’s bite, knowing she so enjoyed draining them of life.              Kohl-lined gaze caught sight of another running to his cart. An archer retrieving his weapons, perhaps? A tanning knife swiped from the now lifeless mess below her boots, found the side of his head before his hands retrieved what had drawn him there — a young boy, hidden inside the cart’s carriage. No pity stirred within her tar black heart, no thoughts of mercy for the innocent. Only an acnowledgment that his fate would not be kind.

                           ❝A child. Most unfortunate.❞

[ofsecretshadow-blog]

She stops, called to attention by Vezely's voice. She stands. It takes her a moment to turn, hair a billow behind her.

Thuringwethil clicks her tongue and moves with the graciousness of a serpent through sand.

The child is crying. She grins at it, her teeth wet with a friend, maybe, or a relative's blood? She grins.

Children's blood is, and has always been, the sweetest: rich with promises (sharper tasting than memories), rich with hope, so much less bitter than an adult's guilt, and resentment, and pride. Some blood tasted of fear, too, too much fear for such small and bony frames.

But there was still, in some, the joy of a puppy fed scraps, the joy of fireflies at night, of snow, of playing in the mud.

"Hold it still," she snaps at the elleth. "I want to heart it beg."

[margozofrhun-deactivated2015032]

            If the “thing” believed he was going to go down to her level, she was totally wrong. He was the Lôke-Khan of Rhun. Had it not been for his armies, Sauron and Mordor would have not been able to stem the tide of Northmen that would have went down southward to aid Gondor troops. He stopped them and defeated them, and now Margöz came to take their loot. No talking to a mere messenger.

            "Then, ‘milady’, I will wait patiently for his return.              I do not need any kind of translator and this matter              is private enough to be treated with ‘people’ alien              to the cause. But if you’re interested, it is about a              RING OF POWER.”

[ofsecretshadow-blog]

"Alien? I? Alien to the cause?"

Her laughter is jagged rocks and the bones that snap against them, and it is a sweet sickly nightmare that drips lust and hate in equal measure.

She circles the man in front of her, a claw coming to rest underneath his chin. It prickles. The smallest drop of blood.

"Sweet thing, Master would be nothing without me."

The failure of so long ago (a Silmaril stolen, a bitch and her dog left unchecked, her own body a broken mess at the bottom of a ravine) is not voiced.

[lethalii-deactivated20201227]

            ❝ Nah, ❞

      ❝ didn’t say tha’. I just don’t like riddles. ❞

[ofsecretshadow-blog]

"Scared you'll find yourself outmatched?"

[witchofthekorcari]

[ofsecretshadow-blog]

the darkness does not come unbidden it festers within, searches for meaning hidden in the bowels of the                                                e a r t h

indie thuringwethil of the tolkien legendarium. oc-friendly, multiverse-friendly. warnings for potential gore & violence.

[ofsecretshadow-blog]

so. here's the deal.

in case you haven't noticed, we haven't been that much active on this blog. part of the reason is the fact that for a while i hadn't been feeling jamie murray as an fc that much & as much as i love lisa bonet, decent caps of her are nearly impossible to come by (the other reason is the fact i've pretty much fallen in love with my elven oc // thranduil's wife starhuntxr).

this said, we will be switching fc entirely (for good, this time, i promise-- i know how annoying it can be when a rp partner switches faceclaims frequently) and using akasha from queen of the damned both for thuringwethil's human & vampire form. (many thanks to fundinson for linking me this lovely gifset & giving me the idea).

apologies if the blog gets a tad messy, i'm currently substituting all icons in replies for continuity's sake.

[ofsecretshadow-blog]

Pretty thing… Her words were so sarcastic that almost made him get mad, but he would not enter in her game. Margöz was here for other reasons: Empty promises that he was willing to make them fulfill. He looked at the body. It was a man, like him. But he would not care about it neither. This host was nasty as hell and with every step closer she did the reek of blood was stronger.

        Your master promised me an artifact. Something that would         make me powerful and strong. And I’m still waiting for it. Because         my part of the deal was already done.. “        "I will no speak about such matters with a… whatever you are.

She tilts her head to the side, narrows red eyes to inquisitive slits.

"My Master is not here right now."

She lowers her voice to a menacing whisper, "Any and all matters are to be directed at me."

Being called thing is not something she is accustomed to: her pride cracks and lets rage (quiet, for now, and more annoyance than wrath) seep through, nest at the bottom of her throat. 

[lethalii-deactivated20201227]

                ❝ I don’t like people talkin’ in  riddles.  ❞

[ofsecretshadow-blog]

"Do you now?"

A smile, a toothy, dangerous grin,

"D'you consider yourself smarter than people... talkin' in riddles?"

[ofsecretshadow-blog]

malitiosii started following you;

"Tread carefully, girl-- the sand is not merciful to those who step beyond it."

[kapuletov]

& ofsecretshadow demanded audience.

                ❛                              you are not  Nariel.                 What is it you seek in the chambers of your Queen? ❜

[ofsecretshadow-blog]

"My Lady, I am of the Sandwalkers, but a humble merchant from far East. I come bearing gifts and to seek council."

She smiles beneath her breath, head bowed, hands brought together-- 

The gifts she brings are different than she says, of course: golds and silks in her packs, and perfumes in her bags, incense that smells of blood-red moons and goddesses kicking sand in the sky to make stars, but beneath it all, within her hands and the very essence of her heart is something deeper, darker, more viscous. In visions the darkness had returned to her, shining dreams of her Master burning bright, screaming as the world was wrought down around them.

Howls of triumph, in her visions, over burning wood.

Go to the Greenwood, he had spoken. Find me where the forest's thicker, where the spiders dwell and the darkness calls to you the sweetest. In Dol Guldûr will the shadows find you.

She had been trailing poison behind her ever since she had entered the greenery, flowers wilting as she passed, subtle- a fungus here, a parasite there, a rabbit's heart suddenly stopping beating. And nothing, nothing was more delicious than dragging her filth deep into the Elvenking's halls: the illness clung to her like fog, masked by glamour and her Master's blessing.

Thuringwethil runs a tongue over her lips.

[vezely-a]

                           Shock.

                 For over two centuries Vezely served as Thuringwethil’s assistant so witnessing her feed was no longer a novel horror. Instead, shock was reserved for the victim now gasping for air as blood filtered through his severed throat and into her thirsty jaws. It took only mere seconds for the same dreaded realization to hit the small company of fur traders poised around him. Eyes widened and mouths gaped open before cries were shouted and tanning knives shakily drawn to protect the one serving as the lieutenant’s supper.

                           Protect him — they could try.

                 A dagger quickly unsheathed from her belt was thrust into the eye of the first man to draw his weapon, sending him flat to the dirt behind him. Vezely did not need to protect Thuringwethil so much as absolve her from disruptions. Hungry she undoubtedly was after the length of time they traveled through desert and dust. Duty thus called forth Vezely’s scimitar as she dismounted her horse and prepared to hunt the men who would attempt to save the one she feasted on.

                           ❝Don’t you know it’s impolite to interrupt?❞

[ofsecretshadow-blog]

For a moment, human flesh still a shadow on her bones and then the enchantment falls away, her laughter echoing through bloodied shining fangs--

Terrible, and tall and ruthless, no longer human but of godly make, sung from music twist and broken. She drags the body, flailing body, to the floor, never a human in her eyes but simply food, warm blood to drink from and be satiated, blood red that mixes with the dirt beneath their feet.

The sound she tears from the man's throat is heavenly, life melting from him into her own body. When one of the men manages to elude Vezely's blow and strikes her to the face, distracted by the red song as she is, she freezes.

Very slowly, she lifts up her head: Thuringwethil is a hellish sight, chin dirty with flesh and blood, mouth gushing, hands stained. She stares at the other who cowers before her.

"Silly thing," she whispers, "Were you not listening? Do you not know how rude it is to interrupt?"

[margozofrhun-deactivated2015032]

A few drops of blood were not going to impress him. Although it was the first time Margöz saw such a being, and he thought they were just a legend, was used to seeing all kinds of dead animals, especially horses. And more than once he had to kill other men. His armor gleaming with golden reflections of the sun on the metal while their scarlet robes matched the eye color of this strange hemophage creature with white hair. His response was immediate, he cried out in a clear and serious Black Speech.

             “I have come because your master has               promised me something I’m still waiting.”

[ofsecretshadow-blog]

"Quiet, petty thing--" she snaps, and bares her fangs in disgust, "I can hear you just as well if you do not screech like a calf led to slaughter."

She strides over to a washbasin, her footsteps echoing in empty stone hall, her white clothes and hair staggering contrast against the polished black marble of the room-- dips the tips of her fingers first and then her hands, rinses her face and mouth of blood.

The body still lies on the floor.

"What did my Master promise you that could ever demand such urgency?"