One stop 'til your freedom bound

Nom de plume: Eva I would have escaped to become a queen of the underworld too. ( mobile nav )

[persephoneswrites]

sofina:

Sofina wasn’t quite sure just how long they stayed in that study, it felt like days, her hand gripping tightly onto the dagger Cedric had gifted her for so long she could hardly move her fingers without feeling the aching reminder of what had happened in the palms of her hands. But then, it was over. Done with. She wasn’t sure to what end, who was lost that night, but all she knew was she wanted to see her husband. Although the fighting was over, he had not returned, and she was forced to retire to her old chambers to lay awake for the few hours that were left before morning came. She could practically feel the weight of exhaustion on her, but even if she could will herself to sleep, she refused to until she knew her husband was okay.  

When her maidservants entered to wake and dress her for the morning, she only feigned sleep, quickly jumping out of bed and hurrying them along so she could find out where Dastan was. When they mentioned he had only just returned, she felt an overwhelming sense of relief, and quickly left the room to seek him out. She noticed the door was closed and decided knocking would be more polite. When he called for her to enter, however, she quickly did so in earnest, closing the door behind her before striding over to him. The sob that had been sitting in the back of her throat finally releasing as she checked over him, hands shakily maneuvering over his chest, down his arms, before taking his hands. “Gods, are you hurt?!” She questioned, finally throwing her arms around his neck. “I thought I might lose you. What happened out there?”

A breath of relief was quick to escape his lips. His men had assured him that Sofina was well and safe but actually seeing her with his own eyes finally calmed the concern he’d felt for her all through the violent night. He didn’t stand in ceremony, all thought of polite propriety out of his mind, and he tossed the cloth aside, moving towards his wife. “I’m not hurt,” he reassured her, taking her hands in his for a moment to kiss her knuckles. “I’m alright, Sofina,” he said before she held him close and he reacted in near perfect synchrony, wrapping his arms around her.

Thank the Gods she had remained safe. “I’m sorry I left you,” he spoke in a low tone, a hand moving up to cradle the back of her head, holding her closer to him. The lord had wanted to be by her side, reassure her in the midst of the uncertain chaos, protect him himself… but he’d been needed outside; protecting his family —all his family— in the way he knew how, standing by his brothers in arms and working to contain the rioters. “You won’t lose me. I refuse to leave you a widow so soon,” he whispered, tightening his embrace. Such a fate wasn’t for him to decide, but by the Gods, he’d fight to keep his wedding vows for as long as he could. “It was a riot. A large group protesting against the alliance between Dorne and the Reach. It escalated fast- some of the people refused to listen to reason, they wanted to prove their point by shedding blood…” he told her, slowly pulling away to look at her but refusing to let go entirely.

[persephoneswrites]

Location: Dorne, Godsgrace​

The sun was already rising when Lord Allyrion returned to the castle. The angry rioters had been contained, some of them arrested and awaiting a hearing with his lord father due to the violence they had instigated. There had been wounded, and two Reach guards serving Lord Merryweather had been killed. Such a thing would only increase tensions, he was certain, painfully so. It weighed heavy on his heart that he had to stand there, sword in hand, before his own people as they protested as if anyone standing for the Dorne-Reach alliance was the enemy. And there was also another kind of aching heaviness in his chest in the knowledge that he’d left his wife on their wedding day, that a day of celebration had turned to chaos and Sofina had surely worried for her family, her people, in a place that was meant to be a safe and welcoming home.

Dastan removed his armor and poured water on a basin, using a cloth to wash dirt and sweat off his torso, his arms, his neck, his face. He wanted to make himself presentable before going to Sofina. Gods, no bride should have endured what she did… There was a knock on the door and the lord called for the person to come in, certain it would be his brother in arms, Tremond, coming to give news on the men of Godsgrace that had been injured. It wasn’t the guard. It was his wife.

[day-dream]

[persephoneswrites]

The falcon prince and the little flower

Letters exchanged between Seffora and Rhys  / @rainfallmuses

— ✼ —

My dearest Rhys,

I hope my letter finds you well. I was meant to be writing from Godsgrace, telling you all about my sister’s new home and keeping her company during the first days of her new life. Unfortunately, not everything went as planned at Sofina’s wedding and I am back at Longtable now. Don’t get me wrong, it was a beautiful wedding, and my sister looked as happy as could be. There was a disturbance during dinner, however. Riots erupted and the men headed out to contain the chaos and fight off the protestors while us women stayed inside, locked up until the protests stopped. It was terrifying. I feared the dangers outside but I also feared feeling so useless…

Father said the protests started because not all the common folk support the alliance between the Reach and Dorne, that it displeased them Lord Allyrion didn’t marry a Dornish lady. I’m worried for my sister, but I also feel some relief in knowing her husband is devoted to keeping her safe. In spite of being an arranged marriage that neither of them chose I could see they have bonded and that they care for each other. Father chose right, I believe. If I could be so lucky when my time comes.

I hope things have been calmer for you, though I know how that must bore you. Apparently things can be too eventful and there is such a thing as too much excitement. I must admit I miss you, it was lovely seeing you again when I visited the Eyrie and I can only hope it won’t be as long before we meet again. Give my best to your family.

Sincerely,

‒ 𝒮effora

[caffeinatedrogue]

having ocs is so fun tho. It’s like playing with barbie dolls except we’re hallucinating it all vividly in our heads and everybody is emotionally scarred

[persephoneswrites]

DÍA INTERNACIONAL DE LA MUJER  💜  INTERNATIONAL WOMEN’S DAY

Translations: Picture 1: "Mi wife and daughter, Graciela and Sol Cifuentes, murdered in the Álvaro Obregón municipality"

Picture 4: "Mexico, feminicide [country]"

Picture 5: Victims of feminicide

Sources: Pictures 1 - 3 from urbanacdmx (Instagram) Pictures 4 - 6 from santiago_arau (Instagram)

[blankspace17]

seen a lot of these with your favorites, but reblog with the CURRENT book you are reading, show you are streaming, the last movie you watched, and any game/puzzle/crafts you’re working on 

[vavaharrison]

3.01

[persephoneswrites]

pixiedustdoestheimprov​:

——————

“Holy shit!”

The cuss left her lips before Meena even had time to think about attempting to remain professional. Her chair squeaked as she stopped mid-turn, hands slapping hard on her desk as if to steady herself. The movement sent pens rolling about haphazardly and rattled an empty coffee mug. 

Just her fucking luck. She always had to start a case having had a minor heart attack. She’d say it came in the job description at this point, but she was never prepared for the sudden arrival of a new client. Breathing a hard breath, Meena looked up, eyes narrowed roughly as she pushed hair out of her face. 

If she’d been startled by the sudden sound of an unexpected voice, the sight in front of her startled her even more. The most she had during a consult was silence and squeaky scratching on a white board. Nothing to tell her the thing writing them was actually real- or ever had been. Of course, there were the open case files with photos and evidence to say anything to the contrary, but seeing wasn’t always believing as it were. 

When she’d been younger, Meena’s grandmother had told her she’d grow up to be that sort of person- denial was her gift. Perhaps that was why she’d become a detective, as loose of a job title that was for her. Deny, deny, deny until only the deepest shreds of logic remained. At least no one questioned her when the job was said and done and over with. 

Sucking in another breath, Meena studied the shimmering, wavering silhouette of the man in front of her, nodding in attempt to hide how miffed she felt- at him, at herself, at the open door of her office (would it even stop a phantom, if she decided to close it one of these days?). “Well, that’s good to know.” 

Her eyes roamed the room. Introductions were never easy, especially when Meena had to stop herself from giving her hand to shake, or telling him to take a seat, or asking if he wanted some water or coffee from the shitty machine in the common breakroom. Nodding once more as he spoke her name, Meena’s fingers curled in on themselves on the desk to avoid tapping them. “A pleasure, Marco… we can get started whenever you’re ready.” 

@persephoneswrites​

His deadpan expression remained as the investigator was startled to see him. He was more than used to such a reaction at this point when living people could actually see him. Marco could apologize for startling her but after over a decade of being a ghost, apologizing for your very state of being started to become old very fast. Instead, he just shrugged with an air of nonchalance that could only be acquired by years upon years of this powerful yet powerless existence and slipped his hands into the pockets of his black jacket.

The man simply waited for the shock to wear off and when Ms. Patel looked more composed he went ahead to pull out the chair before her desk and sit across from her. He didn’t wait for an invitation to sit down -though that would have been more polite of him, to actually wait for it- because he doubted he would even get one. Most ghosts didn’t stick around long enough to learn how to interact with the world around them as he had, albeit not by choice. But well, now he could make himself solid enough not to phase through the chair, a skill that took a ridiculous amount of time to master considering the simplicity of the action itself.

“Sure” he nodded, willing to get the ball rolling. “The files I sent beforehand have all the basic information you might need. Date and place of death, and all that”. He said as he tilted his chin towards the papers on the desk. It was weird how a person could detach somewhat from his own death, even more so after going through this similar process a few times already without any success. Dead since July 2005. The cause of death had been four shots to the torso, three of which punctured his lungs. Assailant, unknown. And to this day Marco could remember vividly how it all happened out of nowhere, how he didn’t see the person -or persons- shooting him just a block away from his home. “I figured it’d be better if you ask me anything you might need to know for the investigation, and I’ll- Well, I’ll answer what I can. I’m aware there’s some blank spaces of information there,” he said pointedly, since he wouldn’t be able to provide all the information. That was why he was here to begin with, so she could help him fill in those gaps.

[microcomets]

do you ever just

they love each other so much

[adampvrrish]

i’m unbearably lonely!!! *continues to bear it*

[axsha]

*switches language to talk shit about you*

[qotsgifs]

requested by anon

[persephoneswrites]

pixiedustdoestheimprov​:

Waiting. 

Waiting. 

What a terrible thing it was. If there was one worst part about the worst job in the world, Meena would have to give it to the waiting. 

It was the problem with clients that she couldn’t see. Like most normal people, ghosts didn’t exactly make it a habit to be punctual, and so in leaving her corner office door open Meena Patel often found herself jumping like an idiot at the sudden squeaking of a whiteboard marker or the flickering of the lights 10 minutes after she’d already set a time for the consultation. 

The universe conspired against her like that. It was a thought that visited her often, when Meena was at her most bitter. Leaning back in her chair, she bared her neck to the ceiling, using her heels to spin her around in a little circle.

“What I wouldn’t give for him to haunt the door bell or something. Maybe a coffee cup,” she said to the empty air. She really could go for some coffee right then. 

@persephoneswrites​

At this point Marco wasn’t even sure why he even still tried. The idea of ‘moving on’, ‘ascending’, or whatever the hell the others called it wasn’t especially appealing to him in itself, it was just that the alternative of staying here, roaming for all eternity wasn’t exactly something he felt too chipper about. His fifteenth death anniversary had just been a couple of weeks ago and frankly, fifteen goddamn years trying to figure out how the fuck he ended up being what he was now was a pretty long time. Playing murder mystery about his own death had gotten tiresome about a decade ago...

He’d tried his luck with a few supernatural detectives in the past with little success, so he wasn’t putting too much faith in this next attempt. But hey, apparently these people had solved his pal Jim’s murder in less than a week, so the other ghosts were giving glowing recommendations because of that. It was all very millennial, and he’d died before smartphones were even that big of a thing, so the fact that he’d been matched with a detective through this business’ platform made Marco even more skeptical. But oh well, it’s not like he had anything to lose. Only time, maybe, but time didn’t mean much to him these days.

“Haunting objects has never been my thing” he said as he appeared just a couple of feet ahead of her desk, managing to make himself look more corporeal. Some of his friends enjoyed doing the haunting shtick, but not him. Some called Marco a party pooper but he’d always focused on learning more practical skills to interact with the world around him, and the occasional living humans when needed. Like right now.

He didn’t mean to be late. Again, time was a tricky thing every now and then. If he was being honest, he was never too punctual when he was still alive, though. And now that entire days sometimes passed in the blink of an eye, it was hard to even attempt to show up on time. “Meena Patel, right?” he asked more out of formality than anything else. She did look like the picture he’d seen online when he did some research about this business of hers. “My name’s Marco Velasco”.

[pandaalism-blog]

[whitepeopletwitter]

[persephoneswrites]

briannas1x1​:

Shock, yes, he expected it, and still the second it took for her to process it was him on the step felt like an eternity. As a smile crossed her lips, a sigh of relief escaped him and the weight of the last few months slipped away. “I couldn’t wait any longer, I didn’t want to miss another second of our time together,” he admitted, falling back a step as she flung her arms around him. The last bit of uncertainty, of fear, leaked away as the faint smell of her shampoo and the warmth of her embrace settled over him. He sighed, pressing a kiss against the side of her head. His arms wrapped around her, strong and solid, feeling as though it had been centuries rather than months. “Regardless of anything else, I love you. Immortality, mortality, it doesn’t matter. Things can go wrong with or without them, and my place is here with you. Both of you,” he added, looking down at her baby bump, his hand hesitant over her bump. “May I?” The months took their toll in different ways, and Ben wasn’t sure what he could do, or what she would let him do.

Eleonor’s smile just burst into an even bigger gesture of pure joy. She could hardly put into words or arrange into coherent thoughts just how happy she was that Ben had chosen to return. She understood his reason behind leaving and she had been the first one to support him in that search he needed to undertake. She would have waited for him for as long as he needed to be away, but she was glad she didn’t have to. He was here. He truly was here. Ele held him close, threading her fingers through his hair and nuzzling the crook of his neck as he pressed a gentle kiss to her temple. She had missed this beyond words.

The lamia pulled away slowly, though still standing quite close to him, her hands cupping his face tenderly. She loved this man so deeply she was willing to risk any obstacles that might come if his lifetime was that of a mortal man. “I’ll gladly take the time we can get, Ben. Whether its decades or centuries. Any time is precious by your side” she told him before leaning in to kiss him. She kissed him slowly, softly, and just as her lips parted from his she whispered “Te amo, y te amaré hasta el final de mis días”. Her heart was his, Ele had given her love to him completely, and whether Ben lived an immortal life or not, she knew no other person would ever possess it.

When he asked if he could touch her baby bump, the lamia smiled at him and reached for his hand to place it on her rounded belly. She had been feeling her son growing inside of her for months. This was the first time Ben would get to feel him. By the size of her pregnant belly, it was evident she would be giving birth soon, but still, it was good to let him know when their baby would come. “I’m due for September 6th. Our son will be born in just a couple of weeks” she smiled, caressing his hand atop her baby bump. The time of his return couldn’t have been better.