* / 𝐂𝐑𝐎𝐖𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐆𝐋𝐎𝐑𝐘 . @radcslav - Tumblr Blog

𝖆𝖚𝖌𝖚𝖘𝖙 𝟐𝟔𝐭𝐡 - 𝖘𝖊𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖒𝖇𝖊𝖗 𝟐𝐧𝐝 // 𝖘𝖊𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖒𝖇𝖊𝖗 𝟐𝐧𝐝 - 𝖘𝖊𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖒𝖇𝖊𝖗 𝟗𝐭𝐡

#i. 〈 ❛ 𝐢 𝐛𝐮𝐫𝐧 𝐢 𝐟𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐳𝐞 𝐢 𝐚𝐦 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐦 . ❜ 〉 // physique .

I see in your eyes the same fear that would take the heart of me. The day may come when the courage of Men fails; when we forsake our friends and break all bonds of fellowship; but it is not this day - an hour of wolves and shattered shields, when the Age of Man comes crashing down - but it is not this day!!! This day we fight! By all that you hold dear on this good earth - I bid you stand! Men of the West!

#straight up it rad pep talkin' his men before war #also older fc ? always viggo thx #men of the east*#v. 〈 ❛ 𝐢 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐯𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐢 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐬𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐝 . ❜ 〉 // musings .

𝖆𝖚𝖌𝖚𝖘𝖙 𝟐𝟎𝖙𝖍 - 𝟐𝟔𝖙𝖍

#// point count .#rip lmao #time to do some challengesss

* / 𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐀𝐍𝐀 .

Movements she did not foresee but welcomed with new strange emotions, there had always been slightly glimmering hope, small enough to not disappoint her but big enough to keep her going with each passing day. The Crown Princess had often blamed her youth, her child like features, and her dainty body. Perhaps her husband preferred the opposite, wounded she sat in silent days of loneliness and awkwardness between the two. Bound to one another by both god and their people, but also for her constant inability to give up on him, she had known him for too long, her heart and soul both cared for him to an extent she wasn’t ready to admit herself. His words bring chills to her back, promises and hopes come with his lips. Still and lost of words she remains for a lingering moment as if any abrupt moment might disturb the scene. Instinct taking over, gentle hand finds the metal covered chest and roams to his neck, curling gently.

𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐀𝐋 𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐒𝐏 𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐋𝐄𝐒 𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐊 𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐋 𝐓𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐄𝐒 , sinistral arm acting as serpent to constrict slender waistline. her anatomy drawn inward –– lamb to the slaughter –– once existing matter is compressed, exhaustive expanse ceasing between them. tender touch is rivaled by one of muscled vigor ; she’s seized as if she’ll dissipate upon ransom. unsanctioned spectators scoff, dismissing such intimate conduct with superficial shrewdness. the red prince tastes the sharp tang of iron, his lover’s lower lip caught between canines in the midst of desirous kiss meant to bruise. he will surely splinter her spine, steel armguard biting && biting && biting.

the masses panic. apprehended rumors ignite, dreaded tones sounding the alarms of ‘ poison ’ , ‘ dead ’ && ‘ war ’ ! the tsarevna is swept rearward, digits exchanging ivory flesh for reposed blade pommel. their guard emerges, komandir’s tongue lashing russian commands until recipients depart upon respective orders. ❛ 𝐑𝐔𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐀 may have us sooner than expected. ❜ he reflects, observing congested hysteria.

#oftsarevnas #ii. 〈 ❛ 𝐢𝐭 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐩 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐜𝐫𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐢 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐛𝐞 . ❜ 〉 // interactions .#i figured i'd add in some of the event drama ! <3

* / 𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐒𝐈𝐘𝐀 .

❛ well, it’s not vodka, ❜ she joked, as she knocked her glass towards another, who had commented on the abundance of wine. anastasiya liked to thing that she was not easily befuddled by glasses of wine, for she, like most russians, enjoyed something a little stronger. it was likely that vasily had bought a barrel of vodka for their long trip, and she was half tempted to convince poor, unsuspecting courtiers into trying it. ❛ are you enjoying yourself this evening? it’s clear that no expense has been spared, but i’m simply delighted that they have citrus tarts. i’ve developed the taste for them. ❜

𝐒𝐏𝐈𝐂𝐄𝐃 && 𝐒𝐀𝐂𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐄 𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐄 varnishes embittered esophagus, causing otherwise stoic attributes to contort in distaste. the honeyed, syrupy wines of court often strayed from russian conclaves ; there was little place for candied extravagance amongst warring men, where distilled spirits reigned at the precipice of polar country. fortunately, the red prince had not deserted his motherland without the liquor’s scorched presence. but sealed within his adopted chambers, its consumption is delayed by consorting wife ( far more splendid company than he ). he shields her from the shadows, a sapphiric gaze accompanying her every advance. ❛ not to your extent, ❜ the komandir discloses, irises shifting towards present camaraderie, ❛ though i’ve never cared for such gatherings. ❜

#ofbezukhov #ii. 〈 ❛ 𝐢𝐭 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐩 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐜𝐫𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐢 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐛𝐞 . ❜ 〉 // interactions .#queued .

robbsource

#i. 〈 ❛ 𝐢 𝐛𝐮𝐫𝐧 𝐢 𝐟𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐳𝐞 𝐢 𝐚𝐦 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐦 . ❜ 〉 // physique .#queued .

* / 𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐀𝐍𝐀 .‌

As the guards march way, she too gestures for the maid to leave the pitcher behind and follow, if there was something they both shared in equal similarity it was that of privacy. Tatia denies with her head, curls bouncing back and forth as she does, gaze lost in the mazes from where they stand, fragile digits enlace with one another in front of her, standing straight but forever looking small and fragile in comparison of her husband. Lips tug upwards and she restrains from smiling as if she was a child, she had wore the red in hopes of him noticing her and even a small complement was more than she had expected the moment she wore it. “I’m please you believe it so.” Her hues finally dared lift in his direction, just like the day in the main piazza they shun in agreement.

𝐒𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐄𝐃 𝐃𝐈𝐆𝐈𝐓𝐒 𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐓𝐎 𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐒 , their putrefied marrow defined by assassinated adversaries. pad of thumb traces prominent cheekbone, index && forefinger reposed beneath the curve of porcelain jaw. he has disregarded her with purposed resilience, ceasing to trust she’d ever desire more than proffered autonomy. who is he but wolven executioner, fangs stained scarlet, pension for lifeblood. ❛ it is always believed so. ❜ her stark grin –– rivaling plagues of sinister visions –– often averts drowned immersion. ❛ && has been, long before our marriage. ❜ a combatant of articulation, the komandir’s jaw shifts in self - vexation. he loathes himself –– has for decades past. though dreamt hope is not an ideal he can bestow, benign grip is lulled into something unyielding. cranium inclines as mouth is parted, enclosing her upper lip in an act of intimate penitence a millennia lost.

#oftsarevnas #ii. 〈 ❛ 𝐢𝐭 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐩 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐜𝐫𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐢 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐛𝐞 . ❜ 〉 // interactions .

war is not heroic. war is not exhilarating. war is full of despair. it’s dark. it’s dreadful. it’s a thing of sorrow and gloom.

tite kubo .

#iii. 〈 ❛ 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐯𝐨𝐢𝐜𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐚 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭𝐲 𝐬𝐧𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 . ❜ 〉 // words .

* / 𝐈𝐕𝐀𝐍 .‌

——; “OH, COME NOW, BROTHER,” the older man, having observed the gesture of contempt from the corner of his damaged vision, allows his voice to carry just above the raucous din of the tourney field, his eyes never straying from the fabricated “battle” unfolding in the pitch. “Do not look so vexed, it doesn’t become you.” A small lie, dry and transparent. Truly, it would not be his brother were the vessel devoid of its stoicism. He’d plunged a hand through a jagged parting in the ice over the Volga in the dead of winter once and had felt more warmth in the water there than what sometimes could be found behind the younger man’s eyes. But softness is not a virtue in a komandir — at least not as far as Ivan cares to consider it.

His gaze still level on the field, he speaks again, shifting his weight away from his long-since damaged leg and onto its sturdier counterpart. “You ought to be enjoying yourself. Master of your craft; the world is watching to see the prowess of us easterners.”

𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐋 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐒𝐀𝐑 , he is often resolute guard before kindred brethren. spare raised for slaughter, mortal blade is foremost his executioner, far before his brother’s. had he lamented in red square, when the whole of russia believed him slain ? or had it been a matter of potent inconvenience –– mourning sovereign prince && appointing subsequent, seasoned commander ( his father would have thought as much ). oceanic peripheral seizes regal elder && concedes : ❛ i do not find sport in what i have lived. ❜ stare pensive, he observes the anarchic list field with measured disdain. behind fastened lids, the murman sea thrashes cerise foam. ❛ much could be learned from us easterners, ❜ the komandir perceives, cranium inclining towards soused congregation, ❛ they would fair poorly in war. ❜

#ovrurik #ii. 〈 ❛ 𝐢𝐭 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐩 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐜𝐫𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐢 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐛𝐞 . ❜ 〉 // interactions .

* / 𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐆𝐎𝐓 .

𝐻𝐸𝐴𝑅𝑇 𝑅𝐴𝐶𝐼𝑁𝐺, 𝐸𝐴𝑅 𝑆𝑃𝐿𝐼𝑇𝑇𝐼𝑁𝐺, 𝑆𝑃𝐸𝐿𝐿𝐵𝐼𝑁𝐷𝐼𝑁𝐺 𝐿𝐴𝑈𝐺𝐻𝐸𝑅 𝑆𝐿𝐼𝐶𝐸𝐷 𝑇𝐻𝑅𝑂𝑈𝐺𝐻 𝑇𝐻𝐸 𝐴𝐼𝑅, and since it was not her own charming jingle nor was she part of the conversation which had enticed such a bold reaction, margot rolled her icy toned irises. her fingers clutched her goblet tighter, almost fearful that someone would snatch away her last barrier from the nauseating sound of clucking hens better know as the fair ladies of the court. she knew that despite the advantage of youth on their side, she still out matched them in every way. but she would hate for marius’ generous gaze to stray even but a little from her. despite her internal frustration, the duchess adored court life and would certainly not part with it for a quiet life in the country.

margot motioned for the serving boy to fill her golden chalice once more, so that the ruby vino could dare to slosh against the rim of her goblet, threatening to teeter over the side from any sharp movement, ❛ will you indulge your senses with more wine? ❜ the raven haired lady teased to the courtier closest to her, and made a gesture towards the serving boy. ❛ it is a celebration in the name of the pope, after all. god practically encourages you to do so! ❜

𝐕𝐈𝐕𝐀𝐂𝐈𝐎𝐔𝐒 𝐋𝐀𝐔𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐄𝐑 ; incessant && unaffected. they are youthful naivety, unmarred by realistic trepidations. how preserved they must be, to be consumed by such artless wealth. such etiquette is far less glimpsed in his motherland –– its occupants severe && conscious of their country’s sacrificial conquests. what would the birthright progeny do, if forced to wield blade in place of chalice ? while ancestors rot, descendants inebriate. harrowingly, the cards had been dealt. && he was the ten of swords.

retiring ascent is halted by ebony - tressed silhouette. familiar in the sense courtiers are, he is unable to place her beyond effortless passing. though if he were to theorize both foreign cadence && attire expense, he’d place her amongst the duchy. ❛ i must decline. ❜ he rejoins, residual goblet drained. ❛ i’m certain my men are intoxicated enough –– lest their komandir be of more influence. ❜ several counters rearward, a plethora of soldiers reside deep within their tankards. tonality envenomed by sardonic mirth, the red prince resumes : ❛ if 𝐆𝐎𝐃 busies himself with such recreation, it is no wonder he’s absent when i call. ❜

#oflavalliere #ii. 〈 ❛ 𝐢𝐭 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐩 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐜𝐫𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐢 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐛𝐞 . ❜ 〉 // interactions .

various locations present during 𝟏𝟓𝐓𝐇 𝐂𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐘 𝐑𝐔𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐀 .

#crhs.graphic #vii. 〈 ❛ 𝐢𝐧 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐲 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐛𝐞 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐝 . ❜ 〉 // russia .#my russia tag is getting all the love

𝖆𝖚𝖌𝖚𝖘𝖙 𝟏𝟐𝖙𝖍 - 𝟏𝟗𝖙𝖍

#// point count .#when u finally gettin' close to ur second male #my schedule is unkind #just want my corsair bin bons thx

onceuponamusing

‘MERCY!’ they cried, ‘PLEASE — HAVE MERCY!’

‘SORRY,’ you sneered, ‘—I’M ALL OUT OF MERCY.’

#iii. 〈 ❛ 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐯𝐨𝐢𝐜𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐚 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭𝐲 𝐬𝐧𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 . ❜ 〉 // words .

* / 𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐀𝐍𝐀 .

Graceful steps guided her among the masses of celebration, such composed face walking among them seemed almost as she could not hear their joyful screams or see their jumps of excitement. This is what she had been raised to do, to be eternally unbothered even if the world around her burned down. Golden goblet cupped in fragile hand, followed by a woman carrying a golden pitcher and two guard flanking her, it seemed the sea of people parted at her own command, however it was not her they feared it was the presence of those that swore to protect her life. “Now my dear, while we might all think it, we shall not speak it.” She whispered as she got to his side, grey eyes focusing in the distance where his was. “I’ve fetch you something to drink while you await, although I’m a soul believer you have already defeated the foolishly brave, I’m unsure anyone else would dare come forward after the few shows you’ve given them.” Tatia offered the golden cup to Radoslav, always dutiful, always caring.

𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐕𝐈𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍 , his tsarevna emerges in rose red textile. nomadic irises derive silken touch whilst steel digits itch to seize feminal figure. fortified guards –– right && sinistral –– discharge themselves at their komandir’s gaze, surrendering priceless charge to weaponized prince. ❛ have you ever known me to hold my tongue ? ❜ he quips, mental recollections reminiscing scolding adolescence. perhaps their union, if not for her husband’s tumultuous frays, would have been better comprised of youthful liberation. benevolent commending tugs at mouth corner, her dutiful eulogizing made earnest by the fact he recognizes pursed falsities. welcoming proffered chalice, he draws molten rim between dual lips, and consumes contents the shade of cardinal pope. garbed index is set beneath fine jaw, tilting adorned cranium till stares align. ❛ red suits you. ❜

#oftsarevnas #ii. 〈 ❛ 𝐢𝐭 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐩 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐜𝐫𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐢 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐛𝐞 . ❜ 〉 // interactions .

𝐕𝐄𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐍 𝐎𝐅 𝐒𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐔𝐈𝐍𝐀𝐑𝐘 𝐂𝐑𝐔𝐒𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐒 , he perceives little levity in feigned campaigns. && though he’d digressed, a regiment of militant brethren inscribed ‘ 𝙍𝘼𝘿𝙊𝙎𝙇𝘼𝙑 𝙍𝙐𝙍𝙄𝙆 ’ upon the melee’s contending parchment. post initial, warring trefoil, the red prince remained regnant, inked honorific advanced towards subsequent rounds. but as daunted duelists forfeit, the komandir is left to await additional combatants, competitive ranks nearing extinction by swift annihilation. at mandated intermission, he observes the joust, bearing witness to splintering lances && cascading knights. feral filly prances, dappled coat lathered, defiant teeth chomping iron bit as untutored rider wrenches leather reins. she bolts forward, withers twitching, spindly legs made precarious by barding much too ponderous for a yearling. sudden ceasefire forces her horseman to catapult, forging an anatomy of fragmented limbs. the opposing destrier diverts, equestrian scrambling for purchase whilst laughter erupts from the ramparts. squires flood the lists, and a languid shake of cranium foreshadows caustic reproach : ❛ coronation of fools. ❜

#crhs.start #crhs.event #wow finally an open ?? amaze #ii. 〈 ❛ 𝐢𝐭 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐩 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐜𝐫𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐢 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐛𝐞 . ❜ 〉 // interactions .

various artwork // 𝟏𝟓𝐓𝐇 𝐂𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐘 𝐑𝐔𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐀 .

#wanted smth for my russia tag #will prob do landscape / architecture ltr #vii. 〈 ❛ 𝐢𝐧 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐲 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐛𝐞 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐝 . ❜ 〉 // russia .#crhs.graphic

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* / 𝐂𝐑𝐎𝐖𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐆𝐋𝐎𝐑𝐘 .