little lord left undone.

𝘪𝘧 FORTUNE 𝘧𝘢𝘷𝘰𝘳𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘰𝘭𝘥 ... , 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 LUCK 𝘨𝘰𝘯𝘦 ?

[pawnedprince]

𝑷𝑨𝑾𝑵𝑬𝑫𝑷𝑹𝑰𝑵𝑪𝑬.   an independent   &   mutually   exclusive   blog   for   𝐋𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐒 𝐂𝐀𝐏𝐎𝐍   of  warhorse's  kingdom come: deliverance.  est on  3.21.25.   must  be  21+   to  interact.  personals   do  not  interact.  content   warning for :   themes   of   violence ,   war , execution / torture , religious imagery and language , and medieval / feudal practices.   written   by   monk : 30 / they / he. aligned with @knightedgales and @baronisse.

ᵃᶰ ᵉˣᵖˡᵒʳᵃᵗᶤᵒᶰ ᵒᶠ : your chivalric code put to test , the true worth of rightful kings , freedom versus duty , the unbearable weight of expectation , being kept from the game you're forced to play , the scapegoat & the sacrificial lamb , comrades in more than just arms &   not living to see the history you've made.

companions : KNIGHTEDGALES , BARONISSE / SANCTIFISOL , OFKUNSTADT , PUTREFACEREM / SPOILSOVWAR , PIRKSTEIN / DRAHNOVICE

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¹ˑ  carrd.   ²ˑ   playlist. ³ˑ   prompts.   ⁴ˑ   side blog.   ⁵ˑ   nsfw blog.   ⁶ˑ shepard. ⁷ˑ harry du bois.

[pawnedprince]

happy new years everyone 💕 it absolutely was not my intention to just vanish off the face of the earth here, but there’s just been a lot happening, y’all know how it is. but it’s a new year now and i want to get back to being present and writing again, so stay tuned as i start moving things over to the new blog

[sanctifisol]

to say she'd woken up with more excitement on this morning than he has all year would be an understatement. enough so that valerica , while combing out her daughter's hair in front of the mirror had to remind her stop fidgeting , serana , and sit up straight. you aren't a child anymore , you're growing into a lady. act like it. through the mirror she could see the way her mother chewed inside her cheek. keeping more words at bay of the upcoming visit. eyeing the way her daughter held to a small box in her lap , her fingers running along the raised , ornate pattern in self-soothing motions before opening it to eye the few letters that had passed between hans and her.

the trio and garan waited patiently on the mist-slicked shore while the sea sat restless beneath the bruised morning sky and as the boat inched ever closer , for some reason , it was harder and harder for serana to breathe. with her hands folded demurely in front of her , her heart somersaulted in the cage of her chest. fluttered wings of a bird desperate to break free. a murmur of words she can not hear between her parents lay beneath the pounding of icy waves against the sands. garan is kind enough to rest a hand on her shoulder and offer the ghost of a smile down as the gangways allow the party to disembark the ship.

her toes curl in her boots , reminding her to keep still. the family's advisor gives her shoulder a squeeze before departing to greet hanush and his retinue with harkon and valerica. and there they stand. together again. the wind acting as the perfect cover for why their cheeks burn so bright. " hans , " met with a small curtsy. a gentle bow of her head. she notices how the last traces of boyhood were beginning to melt from his face, so she can truthfully respond with , " you do too. " teeth nibble at her lips. serana's blue eyes glance up at her mother who watches from the distance to determine if the greeting was enough before giving a nod of approval. and dismissal. they were still young after all.

and that's all she needed.

her hands slipped free from their prim clasp , quick to find his and without another word , she began to all but drag him away from the politeness and performance that framed their families. that curtained their fate. " i have so much to show you !! " i've missed you. " we've a new shipment of books , and i have a new horse !! we could take him out to this small patch i've found out in the woods , it's so pretty i- " her father's voice echoes a ghost of a reprimand in her head. too much. don't be too much. she turns to face hans. " -if you'd like. "

[pawnedprince]

it's as if everything melts away: all his fears and anxieties, this cold budding of a crisp and gray evening giving way to the throws of a more familiar spring the very moment she greets him. a glance over his shoulder confirms that their families are already deeply engaged in conversation, thus giving them both their release to speak freely. a small bow is returned, one that might have come accompanied with stifled giggling in earlier years as they both tried to out - do the other in turns of overly buffoonish greetings. he smiles at the thought — she, the only source of levity and laughter he has ever had and it has been far too long. he can tell they both were given similar talks on decorum and respectability and what's to be expected of them.

to hell with every bit of it. this time was for them.

his cheeks warm defensively against the chilly air, thankfully having already been buffeted noticeably red from the journey and saving him an obvious embarrassment as she takes hold of his hands and leads him forward. a smile plants itself well into his features, as if he's suddenly been shocked to life and pleasantly surprised by her palpable excitement. and then she stumbles, like she's second guessing herself; and of course he notices. it's ironic in a way, the way he's learned to start taking up space — purposefully to his uncle's chagrin — and he has her to thank for freeing him from that shell of his childhood; and here she is, growing older, being fitted for the box she's being forced into. ❛ no, i'd love that! ❜ he reassures her, squeezing her hand gently. ❛ we'll have to take him out before it gets too cold. ... serana, i— ❜ hans steals another wary glance over his shoulder, judging how much distance they've put between them and their families now, emboldening him to speak more freely.

❛ i'm sorry i didn't write you more this past summer. i wanted to! uncle hanush has me so busy, he's got me training with the guard captain till sundown somedays, and— ❜ hans shakes his head remorsefully. ❛ sorry ... that's no excuse. ❜ his life barely feels his own somedays; and he's certain she understands this ... but it doesn't asuage his guilt for not trying harder despite it all. he returns from this apologetic foray with a softer smile, taking a beat and a moment of appreciation. ❛ it's good to see you again... ❜ a sentiment he dares to linger in, almost too long in this cradle of relief before clearing his throat and dropping her hands. ❛ you'll, uh, have to show me the way to the kitchen again. i remember i got lost last time. ❜

[blacknighted]

Henry grumbles in that way he takes to sometimes: like a lordling with a pebble lodged right in his shoe. In a manner of speaking, of course, that would suggest that he was a trifle of a fuss himself, blustering like a chimney at every inconvenience. He rolls his eyes now, chin in Hans' hand feeling unshaven days. "What?" he echoes. "All my grubbing in the dirt?" Oh, please. "If they're all so fond of it, I'll be sure to speak at length about trudging in them cowpats."

Annoying. Ugh! How can a squire be so endlessly annoying?! Henry should know better -- but clearly, he doesn't. As it is, it's too simple, their carousing, with his slipping oh so easily into worn, battered shoes. With Hans, he feels like he's boyhood again, watching him carefully as those bow-calloused fingers busy with work. Soon enough, Henry's about as dashing as he can be sporting more color in his jawline than his god damned clothes -- but it'll suffice. He now sweeps up that wrist before his lord can flutter away, his laugh proud, eyes twinkly, and the music below just starting to froth. "Sulking? And how are you meaning?" he questions. "I'm betting like how you'll be be busy doing when your feet aren't trampled on. All your scowling for the lady with the most battered toes by the end of the night, ey?"

His grin falters-- "Oh, let it go, Hans." He's cowed...?! The daft fool's shy! Incredible. Still, he doesn't pool away when Hans takes him shoulder, does he? He's so -- regal. That frock of black and tanzanite... Henry huffs. "The party's already started! I can practically hear Jitka! Have I got to deliver you by the scruff?"

[pawnedprince]

" you say that like they wouldn't be hanging on every word. " 'tis a jest but one with a foundational truth; henry's far from aware of the way he commands a room, and perhaps it's only someone outside his perspective who can even see that. it was what had inspired such disdain in their quarrelsome beginning in the first place. his thumb brushing that familiar scruff, a moment of reminiscing before he frees the jaw, the thought blankets him warmly. oh how far they've come.

the hand is easily caught and he welcomes the exchange of grasp, lips curling to a skittish smile: a tug, not to pull himself away, but to pull henry closer. a roll of the eyes is enough to suggest the comment might have hit a chord once truer than hans would have liked to admit, but still he smiles. " very funny. deflect all you like. " his own wall flowering days are over. all that love can't help but hold the door for jealousy time and again; but what sort of married man scowls at other women — who is he to covet what he can't rightly have?

the joviality all too quickly fades from the façade at the mention of the other and he takes up the task of distracting himself by fiddling with the already fastened collar once more. " might we leave her out of it? " the pit which has now opened up in his stomach is wide and vacuous; a cavern seemingly impossible to climb out of once at the bottom. guilt? is that what this is? " i'm sure she'd welcome an evening outside of my company as it stands. " a feigned return of his previous smile, another pat on the shoulder, and it's clear hans doesn't know how to navigate what henry has suggested as none other than a playful quip. would that he could extract himself from the evening entirely if he could; especially now.

[pawnedprince]

why is he now suddenly filled with dread? the creaking boat rocking against an unpleasant current is alone enough to shake forth these feelings of ill anxiety, but the looming specter of the castle growing ever closer is certainly doing its part. it chews at him, this unease, a dog gnawing the last bones of supper by the fire: content to lay here dormant by the hearth of his chest. she probably doesn't even like me any more. a young lord of barely fourteen summers and this, of course, is the pinnacle of his concern. she's probably onto bigger and better things.

his uncle is saying something, some loud and aggressive laugh directed at the oarsman and hans can only be thankful that he's not the subject of attention for once. even the cold sting of a wintering wind cannot obfuscate that laugh however. but for now, he is stuck, miring in this irrationale, agonizing over two years gone by with meager correspondence. perhaps he is owed some of the blame in that; there is no world in which he could not have always written to her more. the boat sways as the dock begins to close in, hans quite nearly leaping to his feet to get a better view and immediately thinking better of it, nervously catching the sideways glance from his uncle as he sits back down. there are figures visible along the shoreline; that, for now, is enough.

he contains himself the rest of the way, a myriad of emotions which he contends with and quite nearly loosing the fight with all of them. regardless of what he feels, or where they may stand, he can't help but smile when their eyes meet, even from this distance. he wants to shout, wants to leap out and onto the dark soil before they've even docked; but he waits, following patiently after his uncle and their belongings. ❛ serana, ❜ he greets quietly underneath the conversation happening around them, stifling his smile best he can. ❛ you, uh, you look well. ❜ all that time and he couldn't have thought of anything better to say?

↳ a glimpse from the past for @sanctifisol

[pawnedprince]

got to see frankenstein in theaters and i’m vibrating at a completely different frequency right now

[pawnedprince]

sitting here at dreamhack, in corpo expo hell frankly, and we’re directly across from the kick set up where they’re doing panels and i’m like you can not convince me that people still use this app lmao

[pawnedprince]

pov: you didn't give him a kiss on the forehead and tell him goodnight

[pawnedprince]

is anyone not getting mobile tumblr notifications?

[pawnedprince]

i’m still waiting on the graphics commission to come back before swapping blogs so i guess i can get cozy for a bit lol

[arugullla]

[sanctifisol]

[ #SANCTIFISOL ]   ────────   original interpretation && portrayal of the vampire SERANA VOLKIHAR from bethesda's ELDER SCROLLS franchise. this portrayal is fandom independent && heavily headcanon based. with a focus on religious themes and engaging in horror imagery. taking inspiration from all forms of vampiric media , authors including but not limited to plath , woolf , dostoevsky , brontë , and shakespeare , as well as musical artists such as hozier , florence & the machine , sleep token , and ethel cain [ . . . ] crossovers are preferred & no knowledge of elder scrolls is needed to interact [ . . . ] loved by ouija , est 2018 , 21+ , she/her. / / promo credit. art credit.

✩₊˚.⋆🕸️⋆⁺₊✧ ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴘʀᴇᴛᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ᴏꜰ ꜱᴇʀᴀɴᴀ ᴇxᴘʟᴏʀᴇꜱ ,.., sacrificial lambs raised for the slaughter , girlhood + beasthood , god loves you but not enough to save you , familial obligations carved in blood , strangled by the threads of prophecy , love is devouring , a kiss is the beginning of cannibalism

[jessochkaa]

Hans, my dear…

[livesunique]

Loket Castle, Loket, Karlovy Vary Region, Czech Republic

[blacknighted]

@pawnedprince asked: [ 29. ] sender wakes receiver in the throes of a nightmare, reassuring them, "it's okay, it's not real." / A YELLOW SUNRISE: still accepting.

But it is real, isn't it? It feels it. Past his skin, there churns the kindling of a flame bloated fat by Skalitz.

And he would smell it, this bloody vision, with all of Sigismund's rancor and the pungency of flesh like broiled sow and pigtails. Fuck, it never feels distant, unfortunately, and neither far nor paler as it would shutter in his brain-gaps like a squatter in a room. It'd bear its fingers, too, for shoveling, wrought taloned like a falcon as its anchors all its daggers in the meat of his swallow. There, he feels a bottled scream gather, throat trembling with its muscles as it violently clamps it -- but no. He'd not beg in his nightmares. He'd not plead on his knees to leave Hans alone. Hans?!They are the devil, they are, and why is Hans with them?! Wake up! Find your sword! As the Lord says, Hal: you're to grant no such quarter for the Devil's folk.

(You have to fight. You have to bleed for Hans. Don't be weak. Fire is in his nose, his ears, stinging his scalded-tender flesh, but that axe swinging down to Hans' belly...!)

"No! No!" Henry jolts. His sheets are tangled off the bed. Dead at night, he sees a shock of blonde hair slowly clearing. "Hans?" He grabs at him. Hale? Whole? Jesus fuckkkk. "You don't get it. It was all there, even the things that shouldn't have been. Sigismund's army, Theresa, you--" It's just Devil's tricks, you fool! He breathes hard. "It's always there. And you. You've got me twisted."

[pawnedprince]

the trashing had woken him before anything else.

all the jostling and how could he not rouse from his slumber, ready to stand guard for what battle awaited? " henry? " it's a soft call at first, hoping to reach him though not startle him, soothing some wild creature of the plains in much the same timid way. but that's not going to be enough. a hand to his forehead and he's cleared away the sweat forming, treated back the tangled locks left in their wake. and he tries again. " henry ... you're having a nightmare. "

it's a deep pit, the helplessness in his stomach, to watch his dreams — though mere half - spoken realities or partially formed fears — torment him so. a hand resting on his chest, one heaving with what is clearly an exhausting fight, hans leans in closer. " henry, wake u— " with just as quick a response, hans sways backwards so as not to be collided with as henry has managed to wake himself up. the frown sets in, a deeply planted sort of garden, as he takes to rubbing gentle circles on his back. no, it wasn't real; but that didn't mean it couldn't become so. hans can't begrudge him these fears, or how deeply they gnaw at him, but the comfort of his own arms only offer up so much efficacy. " i know ... i'm sorry ... " he offers in return, pulling him close, cheek to shoulder. " but it's over now ... i've got you. "

[blacknighted]

@pawnedprince asked: ‘ that's better, you look like yourself again. ‘ / ↪𝐃𝐎𝐖𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐑𝐀𝐁𝐁𝐈𝐓 𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐄: still accepting.

"Oh, come on, Hans. Give it a rest already, will you?" Stop fussing! "Isn't me they're looking to go parading down these halls."

But he gets it. He's busted, the bloody devil, with those angry bruises on his jaw and a fresh smattering of scrapes from a very handsy rosebush. He looks like an unnameable terror, quite frankly, a mess that fair maidens the world over will shriek at and bolt from. Still, such were the tells of a knight-errant, aren't they now?, or at for Rattay's little darling and resident servant. Henry grumbles. Hans fixes his collar and the silk's so...expensive. It's Hans', and on it still, he can still make out his soaps, his oils, and the fragrance of a walk.

"I'll be keeping to the corner," Henry tells him. "Wouldn't want this mug to offend the eyes of you noble ladies and sirs." Ha, ha. "Besides, if I'm remembering rightly, I got all scuppered up like this for your sake, Sir." Right! For your little 'adventure' with the butcher's daughter! He smirks! "And I've two left feet, anyway. I'm not going to be out there dancing."

[pawnedprince]

" isn't it though? " the tilt of his glance suggests he's thinking otherwise. a ginger grip upon his page's jaw angles it slightly for further inspection upon its bruised state with a contradictory tsk and a smile. oh typical henry ; and they should expect him in no less of a state. " everyone's going to want to be hearing details of all your current exploits and investigations, so might as well brace yourself. "

hans has played these motions so many times now: the primping and preening to acceptable degree and beyond, and he'll have no less than a state of exemplary presentation for such a companion, lest it reflect just as badly on himself. the clothing suits him well, or so he's observing, at least well enough for a man with more muscle than he, but hans can't help but laugh. " sureee, " he trails off, unconvinced, fiddling with the unseemly small buttons at the collar. " now henry, if a fair young lady asks you for a dance, even if you are sulking in the corner, you'd be hardly in a state to turn her down. and i half expect you'll get at least one offer. "

a firm but reassuring hand anchors to the shoulder, the young lord's expression flooding with heartfelt but all the while puckish intent. " well i'm afraid two left feet simply won't do. looks like i'm just going to have to teach you! "

[littleskrib]

In his keep

"My heart is completely in his keeping.

The world would be empty for me without him,

and I could no longer survive."

|211025

-

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