Plotting Call!
I need to make some more icons but I would love to plot interactions with Eadith. So hit the ♥ and I will come to your iM/askbox with an idea for us to plot out.

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@pfadlos
Plotting Call!
I need to make some more icons but I would love to plot interactions with Eadith. So hit the ♥ and I will come to your iM/askbox with an idea for us to plot out.
@ofimaginarybeings /starter call/
“The world was made with mighty hand A blessing rests upon our lands, this home we have wrought, is a sacred keep”
-Clamavi De Profundis / The Song of Hammerdeep
tumblr why are you being mean and posting the replies I am working on instead of being nice and saving them as I told you to do??
astormofagirl:
there’s a gentle excitement within her as she sits in the sacred room of texts. the chess set is before her and Aethelflaed studies it intensely, contemplating the many hours she’s played with her father - the discussions they’ve had - the things he’s taught her, considered her opinions on and picked her brain about. all things of politics and country enamor her. she wonders if her soon-to-be husband will speak with her of such things too. how she longs to be included in the prosperity of Mercia and it’s people. slender fingers reach out caressing the stone of the king on the board. it’s silent, peaceful. she can hear gentle footsteps outside the doors and for a brief moment she thinks perhaps it’s her father the king. but the steps are too light. her mother then, no one else would dare come into this room. a smile pulls at her lips as she moves the piece on the board waiting for her mother to make her presence known.
@pfadlos Plotted Starter [ Aelswith ]
The door creaks only lightly, her gown rustling over the stone floor, as the king’s wife enters the study. It is already late in the day and she wishes to return herself to peaceful prayer before supper. But there is one thing she must do beforehand, one earthly thing she must adress. Aelswith has always found nothing but love in her heart for god, for her husband, for her country. But one love overshadows all others: The love for her children. As she steps into the familiar setting of the scripture room she finds Aethelflaed bend over the chess board. Not where she would like to see a young lady, but certainly where she can always find her daughter. And what shall a mother feel in the face of such a child? A resemblance to her father that warms the heart of any loyal to King Alfred, that sparks compassion. It will be a sad day for Wessex, the day on which they have to give their greates treasure to Mercia, like Mercia once gave a young girl to them. Even now, decades later, she remembers how marriage was such an exciting yet utterly terrifying concept to her younger self. It is a duty now to take some of that dread off of her daughter’s shoulders. “You will ruin your eyes if you keep starring at that board in the half-light”, though her words are meant to scold, there is compassion clearly flying on their wings, “I have had to search the entire castle for you, Aethelflead, What are you doing here all on your own?” The King’s wife stands beside her daughter, hands folded neatly in front of her, eyes only flickering over the board between them. “I thought you only played with the king”
I am slowly getting used to the new tumblr, but while I try to figure out who I owe what, it would love to plot some things with Eadith, since she’s the one character I have nothing going on with right now. So come at me.
extra™
Lyric Starter Call. hit the ♥ for a small starter.
astormofagirl·:
She’s nervous, far more than she cares to admit. Give her a battlefield, uncompromising Lords and kidnappings any day - but Uhtred’s now of age daughter - well this was quite intimidating to the new queen of Mercia. She takes several moments to simply watch Stiorra before finally stepping into the main hall and making her presence known. Aethelflaed smiles warmly, “Aethelflaed, please,” she insists - there were no need for formalities in an empty hall between family. She presses her hands together in front of her, the warmth of the fire flickering in front of her and considers her words a moment. “ you know your father - the man simply cannot stand still. ” in truth he’d purposefully left with Finan to give them some time together - but she isn’t quite sure the other girl would appreciate that sentiment. “ He’s quite happy you agreed to come - he’s missed you. ” she offers, sensing the hint of annoyance in the girls voice directed at her father likely and Aethelflaed understood. she motions to the seats around the hearth. “ come, sit. your trip must have been long. Can I have anything brought for you? Food, drink?” she takes a seat, hoping Stiorra would as well. It is unlike her to be so quiet spoken - she has not been that girl in quite some time. But she does not wish to air the wrong words. “ Perhaps we might speak, the two of us, since your father is currently preoccupied. ”
She watches her every move and every step. Stiorra keeps her eyes on the woman that so easily took her mother’s place. She knows such sentiments are stupid. Years have passed since her father’s second wife passed away too early, years in which the memory became a fleeting shadow, something she could not hold onto even though she so desperately tried. And if Gisela was now only a shadow to Stiorra, a face she could no longer recall in all its features, how could she be angry with her father for searching warmth and comfort somewhere else? Yet she simply cannot help herself. Not even a nod replies to Lady Aethelflaed’s first sentiment. It will take longer for the young girl to address the woman in front of her with any kind of familiarity. She does not harbor any ill wishes, any anger. Her quarrel is with her father, with her own uncertain future, with the shadows of her past. Not with Aethelflead. So Stiorra finally sighs, and sits down, close enough to feel the fire’s devouring wrath, to chase away any last remnants of the cold night air. “It is true, the restlessness has always lived within his blood, I am much the same, I must admit it. So surely you and father will understand if I cannot stay too long?”, and then, in a lighter tone, she adds: “But I do miss him, too, and I look forward to seeing him again. Will he be gone for long?” Her stomach indeed grumbles at the sole mention of food and finally, a true smile finds its way upon her lips, “I would very much like for something to eat, and a little bit of Ale perhaps? My gratitude for your warm welcome...”, a moment of hesitation, “Aethelflaed” Stiorra’s eyes travel to the fire between them and her gaze lingers there for a moment. There are not many things that this woman could wish to discuss with her. And every possibility that comes to her mind now is fed by fear and dread. Is this where her future will be decided? Is she to become a pawn in the politics of Mercia? “What is it you wish to discuss with me?”, she finally replies.
@pfadlos - MY FEELINGS
he’d had a lot to drink, maybe too much but he’s finally ready to ease into a blink of sleep. the curse was lifted, he was not entirely bound to Winchester with Alfred being gone and Ragnar was in Valhalla. all things felt right and by the gods was he going to rest. he needed to. his head was swimming with a million different feelings but tired stuck out as being the most constant. he goes to lay down but he hears shuffling, a whisper of movement. confusion strikes followed by a startled feeling of the unknown as he grabs for a dagger. fumbles for it more like. still, his grip is true as he turns the corner.
the steel clatters to the ground as he stares wide eyed at the vision before him. she’s there, well gone her time of carrying their son and something bright about her features. his Gisela. his breath feels all but taken from his chest as he tries to blink it away. too much drink, that’s what Hilde would tell him. but she’s so real how can he want this moment to vanish? he hadn’t said goodbye, he hadn’t been able to hold her in his arms -
“ is this really you? “ he questions and perhaps it was good that he was alone otherwise the sight might be enough to startle anyone.
Who else would dare to wear this face? Her hands fidget as she steps closer, uneasy on her legs - as if this body has forgotten how it is to move, to feel, to be a part of his world. And she despises every fiber of this mortal vessel for it. The creature, for she is now more ghost than human, opens her mouth, closes it again. Now voice does leave her lips, no whisper to trail upon the winds. She has lost that ability upon her return. She can scream and cry and shout on her plain as much as she wants, but it will never reach his ears. So instead the ghost of Gisela nods her head, reaching out both hands towards him, to close the space between them. If she cannot talk she wishes to touch, to be near him once more. To feel what she has lost. She nods and nods, tears already welling up in her eyes. Can the dead even cry? Are they allowed to mourn while everyone else has lost more than them? It is selfish, she knows as much. For it is only hurt that she brings to his doorstep, hurt and a warning for the things to come, the things she has seen. Gisela almost wishes that he recoils, that he takes a step back and flees the sight before him. It takes only a heartbeat before the longing grows stronger again and she finds herself stepping even closer. She needs to communicate, with her body, with her heart, if not with words. And she needs to touch him to show him the vision she is here to deliver. She should curse the gods for granting this one wish, for letting her be the messenger. It is too painful to bear. But she has asked for it, she has demanded it. And now she must pay the price and see sadness in the features of a man who still holds her heart in his hands. Dead as it may be.
@ofimaginarybeings plotted starter for Uhtred.
The nights were growing colder, so close to the Scottish border. The wind tugged at her with claws and teeth, cold and unforgiving. Her eyes darted upwards for only a heartbeat, it looked like rain. But Gisela cared about neither, she was long past feeling wind and rain, sunshine and birdsong. And it was that emptiness that had kept her safe, had kept her mind at ease in these trying times. Her body might be standing on the parapets of Bebbanburg, but her mind was somewhere else, far away in the company of a different man, living a different life. If only they had not caught her in that nunnery, that life could have been hers. But instead, she stood here, while dawn went down to day, wondering where he was. It was almost as if she could feel him coming closer with each passing day. Wistful thinking for sure. A group of merchants began setting up their tents in the shadow of the castle wall. Ælfric was too paranoid to allow them inside his precious and so well fortified home. It gave her comfort, to know that dreadful man was so terrified of the one she called to each and every night. But the new Lady of Bebbanburg did not care for merchants either, so she turned away, lost in her own emptiness. From the corner of her eye, she spotted a shadow, someone moving between the tents, watching. And her heart skipped a beat. It was him. It had to be. Faster than she could even think about making a decision, faster than she should have acted, Gisela made her way down the stairs and out of the gate. Mud splashed upwards, her hurried steps already breathless. Then she stood between the tents herself, but he was nowhere to be seen. Gone. Like a dream, like a shadow. “Uhtred”, her voice barely a whisper as Gisela’s arms wrapped around herself, heart almost bursting with longing.
I am super sorry for disappearing every now and then. But I work in Medical (Radiotherapy to be precise) and a regular day can be quite draining for my emotional health. Especially in these trying times. I am sure you all understand, thank you very much for your patience ♥
Where you can find Marie.
a) hidden in her writing cave working on her novel (which she should be doing at all times but never does) or working a linac @ the doctor’s office (which she does for 40 hours a week, not recommended to find her there. It’s filled with radiation after all) b) Tilda, daughter of Bard / Tolkien RP Blog / basically an OC by now / Main
c) The Last Kingdom Multi Muse / TLK RP / WIP & low activity
d) Tolkien OCs / Tolkien RP Blog / private and highly selective, super low activity
e) Legends Multi Muse / OCs based in Folklore and some canon characters / selective & low activity
f) Marie Valerie of Austria / history based / currently on hiatus. kind of. we’ll see
are you good with children?
not really.
excellent, neither are we.
@astormofagirl plotted starter
Her hands fidget as the young girl enters the great hall. She is unsure about her place here, her purpose in this city. Stiorra sighs, stepping closer to the fire that burns bright and happy before her, right in the middle of the hall. Once her place had been with Aelfwynn and Aethelstan and every day had felt like she was cursed, lost in a future she never longed for. But now... Now she feared it would truly never end. Was she supposed to see the child of her father’s new wife as some kind of sister? Was she supposed to look after her for years to come, bound to a bloodline like the man that now called himself the Lord of Mercia? The heat is warm upon her skin and she stretches out her hands, still numb from the chilling wind outside. Her journey had been long, cold, and filled with uncertainty. Father called for her and even though she did not wish to do as much Stiorra followed. Wondering, questioning. Light steps echoing in the space behind her and her shoulders tense, almost expecting an attack. With the Danes so close and her world swaying she has been on edge for weeks now, unsure which side to take. But surely her father’s hall will be free of his enemies. She turns around, facing Aethelflaed, the Lady of Mercia, and true ruler of this place. A small smile plays upon Stiorra’s lips as the young girl bows her head in greeting, intending to at least appear polite. They both now she does not wish to be here. “Good evening, my Lady, I did expect my father to at least take the time to greet me, after I travelled miles upon miles by his request.” The wind’s chilling cold seems to have crept into her voice as well.
This is a roleplay masterlist for The Last Kingdom the television show adaptation on Netflix. To be added to the masterlist please reblog this master post and be sure to tag your character names, whether they are canon/ original character or Crossover Character and if you are a single or multi-muse blog. Thank you! Any questions or comments pleasemessage me. ❤️