beloved by grief.

fickle with a heart of glass.

[roselament-blog]

thirteenthseal·:

In a time long before this one, Arthur learned to cherish the fragmented memories from each and every incarnation he witnessed. Though he cannot hold them all to perfect memory, what stays with him is treasured with an adoration that even those in possession of all the world’s riches could never truly match. It was these memories that would carry him throughout his many trials and tribulations, kindling to add to the flame that was his very soul.

One of which, was Tristan’s song. Unforgettable, and never to be misinterpreted for another’s by the resolute, sweet sorrow intertwined into its melody. 

It is no surprise, then, when that irreplaceable sound hits his ears and he follows it subsequently without a shred of hesitation. Arthur knows this time that this is not a dream, knows that he is awake and with one knight already beside him in the great white, the arrival of the others was no longer an unattainable wish. One by one, they gather, and it is that firm thought that guides him directly to the origin of the bittersweet symphony.

What does catch him off guard thereafter is how he finds Tristan, nestled into the fresh snow while he allows his song to speak for him. He reminds him of a bed of roses, a flash of vibrancy where color has otherwise left them. Though it bemuses him to find him like this, the sight of another, beloved knight makes Arthur feel at ease.

    “Tristan.” He thinks to stop him from kneeling, preferring to greet him as a companion instead of a subordinate. If you’ll still have me, he says, willing Arthur’s eyes shut for a hushed, almost sheepish exhale before they reopen to gaze upon him again. As if he would ever turn away those that emboldened his spirit when even he did not realize he needed it. “Fret not, for you too will always be one I hold dear. Please, rise.”

Tristan’s heart feels uncharacteristically light at those words-- he can’t help standing even as he speaks, fingers curling against his chest like he hopes to hold this feeling dear. “... As you wish. my liege.” Even in days of old he’d never been one to lean upon his lord’s rightful titles, skirting around them-- particularly in their last days-- with gentle nods and low bows of supplication. Now, though... he felt that in too many of the pasts he could recall, he’d been cold enough.

“Treasured lord... before I speak another word of reunion... I have yet to truly earn your forgiveness.” Of course he’s the sort to draw things out, even with such a clear and gentle display of acceptance. He’d been dwelling on it for years, after all; daydreaming of the right words to restore the wound he’d left behind. A wound far greater, in his eyes, than any measure of his devotion or his service.

“When I last had the honor of gazing upon you, I coldly...” He pauses to shiver. Maybe lying in the snow wasn’t the best idea? “... rejected the fairness, the kindness you displayed in such equal abundance to all.” 

Drawing just a little closer, he settles this time for lowering his head, one eye regarding him hesitantly from behind a silk curtain. “I thought not of the burden it must be to hold such an all-encompassing love, but now I believe I truly understand.”

[devotedecay]

❥      NON - SEXUAL   ACTS   OF   DOMINANCE . 

feel free to edit or elaborate as you please .   ( add  ‘ reverse ‘  to your message if you’d like to see how my muse would perform the action ) . otherwise , send in one of these for my muse’s reaction to   …

[ lit ]  your muse lighting a cigarette , spliff , etc. for mine . 

[ order ]  your muse ordering for mine at a restaurant or bar .

[ guide ]  your muse putting a hand on mine’s back to lead them .

[ pay ]  your muse paying for mine at a store , bar , restaurant , etc . ( you can specify where or for what . )

[ open ]  your muse opening a door for mine .

[ dry ]  your muse drying mine off with a towel after a shower , bath , swimming , etc . 

[ instruct ]  your muse giving mine instructions / telling them what to do . 

[ groom ]  your muse adjusting mine’s appearance , such as straightening a tie , fixing their hair , or buttoning their shirt for them , etc . 

[ direct ]  your muse taking mine by the chin and telling them to look yours in the eye .

[ disagree ]  your muse sternly telling mine  ‘ no ‘ .

[ rest ]  your muse resting their arm over mine’s shoulder / s .

[ clean ]  your muse cleaning a smudge of something off mine’s cheek , forehead , etc .   feel free to specify what and how . 

[ answer ]  your muse answering a question meant for mine . 

[ coat ]   your muse holds mine’s coat out for them while they put it on .

[ pilot ]  your muse taking mine by the arm , hand , shoulder , etc . to lead them . 

[ stare ]  your muse staring mine down . 

[ placement ]  your muse telling mine to sit down .

[ teach ]  your muse taking control of mine’s hand , arm , hips , etc . to make sure they do something correctly .  

[ patience ]  your muse telling mine to be patient .

[ tears ]  your muse wiping away mine’s tears .

[ swat ]  your muse swatting mine’s hand away from something they’re not supposed to touch .  

[ jewelry  ]  your muse clasping a piece of jewelry for mine , such as a necklace , or earrings . 

[ enough ]  your muse commanding mine to stop talking . 

[ retrieve ]  your muse requesting or ordering mine to retrieve them something .

[ invite ]  your muse inviting mine to sit on their lap .

[ lean ]  your muse inviting mine to lean into their side while they’re sitting or laying together . 

[ calm ]   your muse telling mine to  ‘ just breathe ‘ .

[ scold ]  your muse scolding mine for something .

[ comfort ]  your muse pulling mine into a reassuring hug .

[ approval ]  your muse complimenting mine on a choice they’ve made .

[ beckon ]  your muse beckoning mine to them without speaking . 

[ laces ]  your muse lacing , tying , or zipping something for mine , such as shoes , a dress , or a jacket , etc .

[ stay ]  your muse telling mine to stay in the car . 

[ defend ]  your muse defending mine’s reputation , dignity , or safety for them . 

[ feed ]  your muse feeding mine something , feel free to specify what .

[ volume ]  your muse demanding mine speak louder .

[ read ]  your muse reading something to mine .

[ refill ]  your muse refilling mine’s glass for them . 

[ possessive ]  your muse resting their hand on mine’s leg or the small of their back while they’re sitting beside each other . 

[roselament-blog]

@thirteenthseal

Tristan waits for something he can’t name, alone in the snow, gloved fingers coaxing a song from his beloved Failnaught. The serenade it offers him is mournful, regretful, and soon he’s joined with it-- eyes ever shut, snowflakes crowning him with bitter chill. 

As if immune to the cold in this solitary state of lamentation, he lies back in the snow, cape spread beneath him like a blanket. Certainly it does little by way of warmth, but he sings unhindered, low and sweet. Perhaps he feels that it suits him to lie here, forgotten by all...

All but one, it would seem. The harp feels him before Tristan can see him, but both of them know it at once; their King walks before them once again. Like a spirit from the catacombs he rises, softly combing crystals from his hair. He finds that he can’t look at him directly, though, so rather than attempt eye contact he clutches Failnaught close, sinking to one knee in the midst of powder-white.

“My King...” he utters, though it sounds a little uncertain. “If you’ll still have me, that is...”

[roselament-blog]

@torejoice

A man he’s never seen before is lingering alone near the residence he’s been granted... by whatever it is that brought him here. It isn’t often that Tristan approaches those he scarcely knows without prompt or threat; but his garb calls to mind the warmth of high-walled cathedrals, soft hymns and stained glass. The sorts of things reserved for the faithful, those who believed as he wished he could bring himself to believe. 

“Father... my intention is not to disturb.” He’s even speaking to him first. The odd sentimentality that drives him is a shock even unto himself at times like this. “But if I may ask a moment of your time... it seems you’ve been here far longer than I. I hoped to introduce myself, and humbly request your candor.”

[roselament-blog]

@kingservant​

The look on his face-- softly downtrodden as he’d carefully perfected over the years-- brightens as he sees the man standing before him. It’s minute, a delicate quirk of his lips that an ordinary onlooker likely wouldn’t catch. Of course Bedivere would, though. 

Tristan supposes as he approaches that perhaps he shouldn’t smile, shouldn’t draw close without so much as his weapon, given their last parting. But without the reversal that had clouded his heart then, he finds that what he craves most dearly is the warm embrace of an old friend.

... Perhaps not literally, though. He isn’t that reckless. A hand rises to his scarred chest in loving supplication, head inclining as a greeting and a show of trust wrapped into one. “Sir Bedivere...” It’s husky with disuse. If he’d spoken to any of the strangers he’d passed first, he may have made a new friend... or a new enemy. Too risky. “... We needn’t speak of the past. Are you well, old friend?”

[dawntrailing]

「 CRAFT ESSENCE EXP CARD: BOAR KING 」