multi-muse blog for PLEIADESFM ! as told by venom , they / them .
Greyson Stormfyre : Dragonrider . Tom Holland . intro
The White Wolf : Witcher . Henry Cavill . intro
Altair : Half-elf . Timothee Chalamet . intro
Sade Olutola

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KIROKAZE
Sweet Seals For You, Always
Stranger Things

Discoholic 🪩

Andulka
art blog(derogatory)
Cosimo Galluzzi
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her
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"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"

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Kiana Khansmith
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open
Alisa U Zemlji Chuda

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@stxrmfyre
multi-muse blog for PLEIADESFM ! as told by venom , they / them .
Greyson Stormfyre : Dragonrider . Tom Holland . intro
The White Wolf : Witcher . Henry Cavill . intro
Altair : Half-elf . Timothee Chalamet . intro
"Sorry...but you are you're welcome. It's just true." he said softly as he shuffled his feet looking down his blush still burning bright as it spread covering the tips of his ears now. He was weak for pretty men it was an Achilles heel. He found himself saying whatever was on his mind no matter how much it ended up embarrassing him.
"I think the world could do with more temples and less churches I think. A bit more ah- what is it called. Tolerance of our differences and stuff." Ben smiled at the other looking back up from his feet when he was asked what he was doing there. "Well ah- not really? I mean kinda. Some wank of a noble paid my guard captain to give him an escort. He's a real dink and I don't mind much I got lost because it means less time with him and his greasy mustache. He kept putting his hands up my thighs too."
Altair chuckled. "Like many of my kind we are blessed with a particular kind of beauty." The half-elf mused, silver eyes catching every detail of the other's movements and gestures even if it appeared as though he wasn't entirely paying attention.
"Tolerance is surely lacking in the world." Altair agreed. His own faith taught a lack of discrimination, but not because it might make the world a better place, but simply because death comes from all. No matter who you were or where you were from, you were all the same in the eyes of death and his followers. If you name was given to Death's Hands, your time was borrowed. Altair had taken the lives of the richest and the poorest, kings and paupers - they were all the same to him. He listened as Ben spoke more of what had brought him to Lysain, nodding to show his attention. "An unfortunate side-effect of the rich, they seem to think they own everything."
"It is a bit rude to send Shrykos away without letting me give her a gift," Anders said with a soft teasing tone. He knew the reason why she left so soon after all. Set aside on the rugged table was a parcel for them both; things edible and shiny inside. It was tokens of his affection, ones that he gave freely with no words attached. "However--" the prince took the last sip of this pour of wine before setting it down. Taking the two strides to close the gap between them, he used his now free hands to wrap the boy into his arms and steal a kiss. Soft, sweet, loving. It lasted just a few seconds before he pulled away to whisper against his lips, "hello, you."
"As if I can truly make her do anything." Greyson chuckled, feeling the almost chuckle through the bond of his dragon. Their connection was almost divine for those of Vissai - something no other could truly understand unless they were dragonriders themselves. She would listen to orders from Greyson, but he would never ask her to do anything she wouldn't already do. But in truth, she couldn't be visible if they were meeting in secret, and would instead hunt and entertain herself giving them privacy.
When he was pulled into a kiss, Greyson smiled softly, his own arms coming to wrap around Anders' neck. "That's the kind of greeting I like." Greyson chuckled softly, stealing another kiss. He didn't know how long it would be before he saw the other again so he would take every moment he could.
It was no secret that the heir of House Gauthier was a fan of sitting in a tavern, mug of ale in hand, and his being named the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard hadn't stopped that. What he didn't expect, however, when he had ventured into the tavern with a couple of his men that wanted to celebrate his newfound position, was to see the infamous white wolf enter. Eyes had turned to watch the witcher as he entered, and as he approached the bar, the half-giant turned to look at his men. As interesting as their company was, something told him that the company of the other would be far more intriguing.
"Your gold is no good here, my friend," the Lord Commander spoke as he approached bar, moving to place a hand on the other's shoulder in a friendly pat before he moved to sit on the too small bar stool next to him. "Leana, put whatever he wants on my tab, aye?" The barmaid gave him a nod as she began to pour the first of what he assumed would be many mugs of ale. "It's the least I could do for someone that protects our lands." It might not be for glory, but even still, he knew it was best to show his appreciation.
The half-giant offered his hand to the other, smile pulling at his lips. "Name's Rodrik. It's an honor to meet the famed white wolf in person."
Wolf was no stranger to eyes on him, whether it be from fearful and mistrusting farmers who didn't understand Witchers or from those who did and who knew of his esteemed reputation and unique looks. Either way the Wolf never paid the eyes of others much mind when he felt them.
Content to simply enjoy his hot meal and ale, armour and silver sword still stained with the blood of his hunt, golden eyes did turn towards the other when he came to stand beside him. For a moment the White Wolf was quiet, gaze assessing - armour, clean and expensive, a group of soldiers - all clues that told the Witcher the facts he needed to know. Likely a group of Kingsguard or guardsmen for some form of nobility. "I'm capable of paying for my own meal." Wolf stated plainly, leaving the gold on the bartop for the barmaid to take, simply as extra coin if she still planned to charge his meal to the other's tab.
Finally Wolf turned, facing the other. He wasn't exactly known for his charm and good conversation. "Famed? Do they tell stories of me Rodrik?" Wolf queried with an amused smile.
Though the prince was the heir to his father's throne, he would be foolish to admit that he knew every single secret within the kingdom. One secret that he had only become privy to, that his father finally decided was time for him to hear, was the truth surrounding the Sanctum of Eternal Night. It wasn't spoken aloud, only spoken in the hand gestures and movements of the Lysainian language, but the secret had been passed to him and he had become... curious. Curious enough that he had found himself visiting the Sanctum to see just how many people had come to pray to the Gods, unaware of what secrets the place held.
When he was approached, the prince turned to the other and gave a small nod. "Guidance is one thing I could certainly use, though I'm unsure if you will be able to provide the guidance I seek," Sebastian spoke before he looked forward, putting his hands behind his back as he appraised the statue that represented the servant God. "At least, not here. Somewhere more... private would be best, I believe."
The royalty of Lysain were certainly no strangers to Altair or his Order, their faces familiar even if the faces of Death's Hand were all shadows and strangers to the royals themselves. And while he would be respectful to any who came into the Sanctum, there was no special treatment for nobility - all were equal in Death's eyes.
"I am certain I can provide it." Altair replied with a slight incline of his head before he gestured for the prince to follow him - leading him through the mighty halls of the Sanctum, past people at prayer, those attending certain rights or acolytes tending to the Sanctum's daily needs. Entering down an almost unseen passage they eventually came to a smaller chamber, barely lit by firelight though Altair's silver-moonlit eyes cut through the darkness with no trouble. "It appears we have much to discuss. If your father has shared certain knowledge then you will have the coin." Altair began, holding out his hand and waiting for the presentation of the iron coin brandishing death's hands.
"The building itself is beautiful and I have never seen anything like it." he said with a nod as he continued to look between the impressive temple and the beautiful half elf before him. "You're unique- it's! I mean it's unique. I have never seen a temple so pretty. It's pretty. Not that you aren't pretty you are pretty you are very...pretty." color flushed the guard's face as he rambled with a deep blush coloring him.
Bennett moved as he was lead to be shown the services they offered, titles meant nothing in there? It was equalizing, and that was probably how religion should be. It should help the rich and the poor. As they came upon the idols of the Old Gods, Ben whispered a prayer and bowed his ginger head for a moment. "You are very open minded. I think more people should be like you and the Sanctum."
The slightest curl of an amused smile pulled at Altair's lips at the others blushing confession. It was hardly the first time someone had called him pretty, he was aware of the figure he cut. "Kind of you to say." The half-elf nodded lightly. Many times over the century he'd been alive, Altair had used his striking features and good looks to infiltrate to where he was needed in order to reach his target and fulfil his contracts. Sometimes being a face in a crowd was needed and sometime you had to be the face people wanted to covet.
He chuckled softly at the idea of more people being like the Sanctum. "Things would certainly be interesting if more places in the world were like the Sanctum I'm sure." Altair replied. "What brought you to Lysain? A diplomatic envoy?" He asked curiously.
"Oh um. What is the difference? between a church and a temple I mean. I should know huh? I sound dumb." he said out loud at his own question he knew he should know these kinds of things. He prayed to the Old Gods but he mostly just did it himself there was little structure or formal practice to it. Still he looked around at all the many statues of gods around the temple. "I sure have never seen anything like this before." he said honestly.
"I hope it helps someone. I mean that's the goal of most religion yeah? To help someone." he said with a blink as the other figured appeared and disappeared so quickly and silently. That was a good trick and one he wanted to learn for sure. Seemed handy if he were doing guard work. "This place is really interesting. I am gad I got lost and found it. I will get a reaming for it though I am sure. Do you ah do like services and stuff here? Which god is yours? If you don't mind me asking. I guess I follow the old religion. The Old Gods."
"Churches are for one particular faith - a temple refers to a house of worship or divinity for any particular religion or creed." Altair explained. The half-elf had immeasurable patience, both from his particular work and his long life, teaching and training the next generation of assassins also lent itself to patience with his students. "You won't find anything like the Sanctum anywhere else on the continent. We're...unique."
"It is." Altair agreed. The gold would be given to the poorest in the city, the Order had no need for it. When asked if they did services, Altair nodded before gesturing for the other to follow. He led him through the vast halls of the Sanctum until they came to another, currently quiet as a small collection of acolytes provided a funeral service for one of the city's residents. "We provide services to any resident of Lysain., nobility or poor, when you enter the Sanctum titles mean nothing." For all were equal in the eyes of Death. Altair watched the service for a moment longer before once again leading them away towards the idols of the Old Gods. "In the Sanctum our eyes are open to all faiths." He answered rather non-commitally, no idols or shrines to Death would be found in the halls above, only in the secret halls of the Order.
“your honor isn't nothing. sometimes that's worth dying for.” one could tell that klogrog was the stubborn type. it was going to be hard to get him to budge. mainly because he didn't bother trying to think from someone else's point of view. it was hard enough to do that for his own way of thinking.
“i probably won't sell it or market it to anyone else, so it's not something that anyone but me would have access to. although i know a couple of skilled blacksmiths.” he shrugged, not knowing if they'd get their hands on it. “idiotic men still feel satisfying when you finally beat them down.”
Greyson couldn't help his chuckle when the other continued to argue the point with him, as if he was adamant and not giving any ground or agreeing on anything. "Stubborn, are you arguing for the sake of it my Stormfyre?" Shrykos commented only making Greyson's amused smirk grow.
"Oh so you are working on something of the sort?" The rider teased as he leaned back in his seat, sipping his ale contently. "That they do, and they usually make the most amusing of mistakes, like thinking they can outrun an arrow or stealing a boat will actually save them from my pursuit."
a lot has changed since he was born. a lot about him had also changed. elenorius knew that change was good because if it never happened, he would have never gotten to where he was at that point. therefore, he needed to be an agent of improvement. usher people into a new age whenever it was coming to fruition. he surely wasn't going to hold people back. the high priest would have never forgiven himself for that. even if he did feel old sometimes. that feeling was often fleeting because he tried to put all of that behind him. had to focus on so many other things.
elenorius moved his right hand up and wrapped it around the white wolf's neck. at the same time, he placed his other hand on the man's chest. even though he did return the kiss, with just as much passion as normal, he pulled him away with some added force. “i'm talking the right amount.” he dropped the hand from the chest, ready to resume the kissing.
Wolf couldn't help the low chuckle that seemed to growl from his chest when Ele just had to get the last words out between them - even going so far as to stopping their kiss. "If you say so." He responded, fingers tracing across the sorcerer's jaw down to his chin to tilt his head back into that perfect position.
For a man moulded by blood and gore, the White Wolf could be rather sweet when he wanted to be, the press of his lips almost tender where one might assume he was all ferocity all the time. But with a rare few - mostly just Elenorius - Wolf could be tender, gentle. He pressed close once more, thick chest practically cornering Ele up against the tree as Wolf stole those lips once more.
#pre-heist routine
Geralt of Rivia — commission for @vortexoffate 🖤
"May thy knife chip and shatter."
Dune: Part Two (2024)
"Well this is a church innit? I just thought if anyone would help me it would be a church. And you have all the gods. Even the old ones. So that's nice." Bennett was hardly deterred by the easy way the other spoke about how the kingdom was not one of kindness, the heart of a phoenix burned in his chest and he would be who he was regardless of what here was. Cheerful and bright. "Um. Can I give this to you then? You can take it for alms maybe? Or like. Maybe they will come looing for it. I'm Bennett by the way. You can call me Ben. Or like. Whatever you want I guess. Do you live here? Are you a monk? I thought monks were bald and silent. Maybe that's just in stories though." He studied the other's fine features wondering if the man knew he was pretty like a statue in a garden would be.
"A temple yes, a church no." Altair corrected, inwardly cringing at the word church. The Sanctum held idols for all faiths but it was the house of the only truest entity - Death. For death came for all, kingdom, colour and creed alike.
He took the coin purse when asked, surprised the other would part from it - finding coin for some would keep death at bay for another day, charity was rare in the desert city. "It can be put to use." He said, handing the purse off to an acolyte who seemed to almost appear from no where and disappear just as silently. "Well met Bennett. Yes I am a member of the Sanctum and again, we are not a church, nor are we monks." Altair informed. He was aware of his other-worldy features, silver eyes that seemed to capture the moon, all gifts from his elven mother - and the assassin was well aware how those gifts could be used if need be. "You won't find a temple like this outside of Lysain."
balthor merely inclined his head, a sign that he had heard the other man in the first place. he held no interest in a meal at the moment, as there was another more important thing to do. his gaze was still locked on the dragon who presumably belonged - or rather, bonded - to the young man. beautiful, as every dragon was, yet balthor couldn't shake the unease off at the sight of it. perhaps he inherited this fear from his father whom balthor knew had once nearly been blown off by a dragonrider and, by extension, their dragon.
"oh?" balthor shifted, turning around to face the young man. there was another moment of silence as he tried to recall the time when he served a dragonrider. vissai was the home of the dragonriders and, as he had possibly served thousands of customers, balthor didn't make it a habit to remember the faces of his past customers. it took him several heartbeats to nod in recognition, not because of the face, but because of the words the young man said. "i remember you. your bow is an intricate thing." balthor didn't come across many chances of working with a bow, but he wasn't about to admit it now. his gaze lingered on the other man, assessing. "are you out on a hunt?"
When the other didn't take the offered meal, the rider didn't seem phased, simply removing the rabbit from over the small fire when it was cooked and staking the spit into the ground beside it where it could remain warm but not overcook. He caught the gaze on his dragon, always a little amused by those who simply couldn't help but stare. It wasn't uncommon, dragon's did command awe and revelry from their presence alone, even bonded as he was to the mighty blue, she still took Greyson's breath away every day. "She doesn't enjoy the taste of men, venison or sheep are much more to her pallet." Greyson teased with a smirk, making Shrykos chuckle, the sound a low rumble in the she-dragon's chest as he rested back against her huge foreleg.
"Thank you, it's my prize possession." Greyson nodded, eyes glancing at his bow to admire the craftsmanship. He'd always been an exceptional shot ever since he'd learned how to shoot. And it made for the perfect weapon when riding on dragonback. Shrykos herself was the ultimate weapon, but sometimes a hunt called for more precision or to defend his dragon's blindspots when in flight. "I am. My quarry has been trying to flee across Vissai's boarders. For once the price is for a live retrieval." Greyson replied, his amethyst gaze meeting the blacksmiths evenly, taking the measure of his reaction. Bounty hunters weren't uncommon, but not everyone agreed with the work.
"I rather would uh yes. So to ne honest with you I am um. Lost. Very lost and I am sure my guard captain is going to murder me if I make it back. But I think I should attempt to. So what happened was we was supposed to be escorting some something or other noble who was not a prince so I stopped paying attention, and after the docks I got lost. Because I get lost a lot. Normally they tie a string to my finger but they forgot. Anyway I wandered 'round till I ended up here and you're like the first person to ask me if I need help." Ben stopped now out of breath from the long winded and overly complicated story that should have simply been 'yes I am lost'. "Also I found someone's coin pouch on the ground and I dunno how that works here. I'm from Varlinnis." he held out the heavy pouch of coins, he hadn't even looked inside just held onto it carefully so he could give it to some sort of authority.
Altair listened to the onslaught of words from the other, following along to the longwinded explanation he was given with a few mild nods to show he was paying attention. He left the pause linger between them, just in case the other had any more he wished to add, before finally speaking. "Lysain isn't a place people offer kindness for nothing." Altair replied, his words simply a fact, having grown up in the capital for his entire life he was used to the way Lysain people behaved. "This is the Sanctum of Eternal Night, it is at the heart of the city, quite far from the docks I'm afraid. If you're looking for the streets of silk or the coin district, you'll likely find most nobility there." He explained before silver eyes looked down at the coin pouch. "Outside the Sanctum? I would assume some unfortunate street thief has lost their take for the day if that were the case."
The Sanctum of Eternal Night
Location: Capital of Lysain Building Description: A huge stone temple within the capital, housing statues and idols to all known gods on the continent. Any who wish to pray to their gods are welcomed within the Sanctum's walls.
On the surface the Sanctum of Eternal Night appears to be like any other temple, only it isn't built for just one particular faith or deity. The Sanctum has idols and statues for all the known faiths, but the largest and most prevalent statue is for the the Eternal Night.
Beneath the outward guise of a temple, is the heart of the Order of Death's Hand, an assassin organisation that was founded centuries ago. The Order work from within the temple, with almost all of the priests and temple workers being part of the Order.
Those who follow the Eternal Night believe and are committed to Death's design. As part of the order, they devote their lives to the order, hold no lands, seek no fame or fortune, and resign themselves to being no-one.
Contracts are made by going to the Sanctum and lighting a candle at the alter of Death, by giving over a name on a small scrap of parchment and paying a very unique iron coin marked with the hands of death on both sides, a person can commit to the name they have given being offered to Death. Once a name has been given it cannot be taken back and that person will meet their end by Death's Hands.
The Order is known across the continent, many will travel to Lysain simply to give a name at the temple. You must acquire one of the unique iron coins before a name can be given, and they are available to any who would seek to obtain one.
Order Structure
Death's Left Hand - Leader of the Order
Death's Weapons - Second circle of command
Disciples - Fully trained Assassins
Apprentices - Assassin's in training
Initiates - Newest Assassin's training
Pilgrims - Those seeking to join the order
GLIMPSES OF THE PAST: a headcanon / prompt collection because sometimes it's not enough to write about your muse's past and how it affects them, you just gotta write a little scene. these prompts are designed to be a little writing prompt related to your character's past, essentially!
send FORGED for a scene from my muse's past that they think made them stronger in the long run
send REMINDED for a scene from my muse's past in which they encountered something that reminded them of a difficult experience / trauma
send CONFESSED for a scene from my muse's past in which they revealed a secret about themselves to someone
send TRICKED for a scene from my muse's past in which they misled, tricked, or lied to someone
send IMPRESSED for a scene from my muse's past in which they tried to impress someone, successfully or not
send ACHIEVED for a scene from my muse's past in which they completed / achieved something they were proud of
send CHANGED for a scene from my muse's past that represented a turning point in their life
send DIFFERENT for a scene from my muse's past that they feel changed their outlook / personality / etc, for the better or worse
send CRITICAL for a scene from my muse's past in which they thought about / were reminded of something they're insecure about
send SCOLDED for a scene from my muse's past in which someone told them off, justifiably or not
send STRAINED for a scene from my muse's past in which they interact with someone they have a difficult relationship with
send SOBBED for a scene from my muse's past in which they broke down in tears
send LOST for a scene from my muse's past in which they felt lost, literally or figuratively
send BLINDSIDED for a scene from my muse's past in which they were betrayed or shocked by what someone did
send INJURED for a scene from my muse's past in which they sustained a significant injury
send AFRAID for a scene from my muse's past in which they were scared / under threat
send HELPED for a scene from my muse's past in which someone helped / saved them
send CAUGHT for a scene from my muse's past in which they were caught doing something they shouldn't
send BLUSHED for a scene from my muse's past in which they received a compliment that really got to them
send VICIOUS for a scene from my muse's past in which someone said something cruel that really got to them
send SWOONED for a scene from my muse's past in which they were infatuated with someone
send PINNED for a scene from my muse's past in which they were stuck somewhere, literally or figuratively
send GRIEVED for a scene from my muse's past in which they had recently lost someone / something
send MORTAL for a scene from my muse's past in which they had a brush with death, either themselves or someone close to them