Chaos and swordfights.

Welcome to the roleplayblog of my main OC Sigfrid Brahe and other creations of mine. I'm your host Oliver, a roleplayer born 1988 and thus grew up in the early Pokémon era.

[swordduels]

Sigfrid's appearance

I've been playing around with doll maker games to get a sense of Sigfrid's clothes style or what he sort of look like, or what he wished he look like. I've done some victorian styles were he is dressed feminine vs masculine. I also made him a vampire, a vampire angel and a pirate. I've added a hand drawn picture I made some time ago as well.

The picture below was my attempt to do a modern version of Sigfrid. The doll game had two characters standing side by side. I decided to make one version as a less confident version av Sigfrid. The one with longer hair is him masking as cis gal and feeling uncomfortable. I picked the red shirt as it had straps that could be viewed as a binder. The character with short hair is Sigfrid as he embrace his identity. I used paint to fix the eyes so one eye is brown and the other green.

Here is a drawing I made some time ago which depict Sigfrid as a pirate.

[fallesto]

He was a vision of divinity, standing before her, newly formed in the body he had always yearned for. For far too long, he had been ensnared in the guise of a woman, but now, as a man, he possessed everything he had ever desired. His life was to be devoted to her, to fulfill her every wish and whim. There were no hidden agendas, no elaborate traps; the agreement was straightforward. He was hers, and she was not just his wife but his master. Every command she issued would be met with unwavering obedience. The power she wielded, drawn from the sin of lust, was formidable and perilous.

The past held no significance for her now that they were united in marriage. What mattered was the present, her desires, and the new bond they shared. She had acquired yet another partner, another lover, another husband to add to her growing collection. She was the last of the sins, the others having met their demise, and she had absorbed their powers, hoarding them for her own use. Greed was her primary strength, yet she had access to the abilities of all the sins. He had witnessed her capabilities; she was a goddess among mortals, unmatched in her might. Yet, the echoes of her past lingered in her mind, a reminder that this power was not entirely hers to command. 

Using it was a gamble, one she had taken before with mixed results. Some had been transformed successfully, receiving the bodies they desired, while others had become mere beasts of burden. Some had morphed into horses to draw her carriage, others into donkeys to toil in her fields, and some had turned into monstrous sentinels patrolling the borders of her realm. Each transformation was a testament to her will, but also a reminder of the risks involved, as some had become creatures of terror, forever bound to her service.

She listened intently as he spoke, absorbing every word. She had a keen sense for truth and deception, and all she heard from him was the joy of a man content with his lot in life. It could have been so much worse; she could have ended his life or twisted his desires for her own amusement. Instead, she had shaped him into a man, just as he had requested, when she could have easily turned him into a mere beast to add to her collection. Here he stood, a remarkable man, and she gazed at him in awe, impressed by every facet of his being.

Yet, beneath it all, a hint of greed lingered. His hand gently cradled her face, and she leaned into his touch, feeling his fingers weave through her silvery hair. As he bent down, his lips met hers, and her golden eyes fluttered shut. She leaned closer, rising onto the tips of her delicate toes, as he pressed in, deepening the kiss. It sealed a bond that felt both exhilarating and bittersweet, as she sensed the weight of loss mingling with their connection. In that moment, as he deepened the kiss, she realized how deeply she loved him—how could she not? After all, she had brought him into existence.

[swordduels]

Sigfrid closed his eyes as she opened her mouth and tip toed against him. Carefully he kissed back. His tongue slid inside to rub against her own before coiling around. A sweet and sour taste increased as their tongues began to dance ever so slowly. Each breathe through the nose made his chest heave against full breasts. Hands began to explore along the back before landing on her butt.

They were married now.

He had a ring on his finger and she had a similar one. It was Sigfrid's second marriage in life but this was his first and last honeymoon. There would be no others for him and if she decided to bed others it would be her right. No matter how many she married he would proove himself worthy with every touch and kiss. Every act of devotion would be Sigfrid's way of reciprocate everything that was given to him.

Fulfilling his duties as a husband was the least thing he could do towards someone who could get everything she ever wanted. Someone like him could never compete when it came to riches or intellect. What he had was his own body and a starvation for love. Derrick would surely forgive him for moving on after all this time, no matter how desperate he was to get between Regalia's thighs.

Sigfrid kept their kiss alive while grabbing Regalia's hand and hip before moving backwards towards his bed. Clumsily he fell on his back with her on top. "You are so beautiful."

@fallesto

[fallesto]

Kylo gazed down at her, truly gazed, for the first time since he had entered this frozen tomb. Not at the possible weapon, nor at the trembling girl lost in her visions, but at her. The blood trickling from her nose contrasted sharply with her pale skin, a living entity inching toward the hollow of her throat. She had stopped shivering. That was even worse. The frostbite had numbed her into a state of stillness, while the fever within was burning her alive. His fingers twitched, recalling the heat of her touch, the way her mind had sliced through his defenses like a comet through glass.

Kylo had anticipated many scenarios when he ventured into this icy cave, a confrontation, a trap, or perhaps another desperate soul pleading for mercy, but not this. Not Echo, half-submerged in her own visions, frostbitten and feverish, yet still holding onto consciousness like a wounded creature refusing to succumb. He crouched beside her, steam rising from his gloves as he grasped her chin, lifting her face toward the dim light. Her pupils were dilated, the gold of her irises splintered like broken glass.

"You're a disaster." He remarked, though his tone lacked its usual sharpness. There was something almost detached in his voice, reminiscent of a surgeon examining an intriguing case. Her skin burned under his touch, yet her breath still formed fog in the air between them. A contradiction. Much like him.

Kylo disregarded her and lifted her up. The weight of her in his arms felt insignificant, nothing compared to the burden of the visions still gnawing at the corners of his mind, but her feverish skin burned through the layers of his gloves, contrasting with the ice trickling down her sleeves. She didn’t resist. Couldn’t. Her head rested against his chest, her breath shallow and erratic, but her fingers twitched once, as if even in her half-dead state, she was reaching for something invisible. He adjusted his hold, fingers pressing into the damp fabric of her back, and for a brief moment, he contemplated dropping her. Let the cave claim her. Let the ice engulf her completely.

“Hm ..”

The cave exhaled as Kylo Ren stepped out, carrying Echo, who was limp in his arms, with steam rising from his boots where they touched the icy ground. His TIE whisper awaited him in the clearing, its sharp-edged hull covered in snow, the ramp already lowered as if it had been expecting his return. The ship emitted a hum, not the ordinary drone of lesser crafts, but a deeper resonance, a vibration that pulsed through his bones like the growl of a predator.

“There is no waiting.”

He ascended the ramp without any formality, his cloak leaving damp trails in its wake. Inside the ship, the air was thick with the scent of ozone and aged leather, the aroma of a space that had been inhabited but never truly owned. As he neared, a single med-bay alcove flickered to life, its soft light illuminating Echo’s frostbitten skin. He carelessly tossed her onto the cot, observing as her head lolled to one side, her breath escaping unevenly through cracked lips.

“You are mine.”

Kylo made no move to secure her. There was no need. Where could she possibly go? The ship was already ascending through the atmosphere, the forest below diminishing into nothingness. He removed his gloves, tossing them onto the console, and watched as the veins in his hands throbbed with restless energy. The visions she had forced into his mind still lingered, fragmented, incomplete images, like shards of a shattered holocron. Yet one truth remained, as sharp as a vibroblade: she was now part of the First Order. She belonged to him.

“You are my new apprentice and I your master.”

[swordduels]

Echo imaged herself melting into water and becoming one with the cave. Just a tiny snowflake buried in a long forgotten world. Alone to face a path without hunger or thirst. A place where skin and bones were no longer needed. No more heartbreaks or fear. It called to Echo with a gentle tranquility that made her eyelashes grow heavy. There was a tremble in the chest as a small transparent figure with pointy ears appeared beside Kylo. She wanted to reach for them but her arm was too heavy. The pale figure shook it's head with clear dissappointment before fading away.

Eyelashes moved ever so slightly as Kylo tilted her head back. The grip was firm as he stared down with his bottomless eyes. His deep voice prevented her mind to wander too far away. All Echo could muster was to give him a strained smile. Kylo searched for a deadly weapon but instead he found a lonely girl who barely could keep her own mind from bursting with noises. Long ago it took all of Echo's siblings to even keep her focused during their practise games and afterwards they complained to mother.

It was unfair of mother to put the responsibility on a group of children as it almost dragged them down as well. As a child she could sense everyone in the city and even point out exactly where to find them. But gradually her mind expanded to reach further away. So far away that mother felt both fear and excitement. Tragedy struck down on those who couldn't find their way back from the dark abyss of fear.

If Echo was a disaster then Kylo embodied destruction. His mind still frozen in that exact moment of utter betrayal while fire burned through heaving lungs. Compared to him she had lost her way and purpose. There was nothing but fearful confusion and loud voices.

Lips opened ever so slowly with a wheezing noise as he picked her up. Water dripped from her drenched clothes and dangling hair. Small clouds seeped out of Echo's mouth, her fingers clumsily grabbed at Kylo's shoulder while he moved out of the cave. The large boulders blocking the narrow pathway had turned into grovel and cracked under Kylo's boots.

It didn't take long until pale blue ice turned into a grey looming sky with howling sounds. Each wind came with a promise to bury them. Echo lay limp like a doll in Kylo's tense arms while letting out weak noises as a whilrwind of snow clashed with his face.

Everything started to get blurry. Shadows grew larger before shrinking. Whispers tickled her mind like ants crawling against skin. "Don't follow him. There is a better way." Something salty laced upon Echo's tongue as sounds of waves grew stronger. Fingers twitched uncontrollably as a shadowy figure lit up from above stared down with one hand reaching for her. "Skywalker." Somewhere far away she could hear Kylo claiming her as an apprentice. Instead of taking the outstretched hand she swatted it away and ran off among rock formations. Luke's voice called her name with urgenzy until it faded away.

Kylo's voice was followed by electric pulses that lay against her slow heartbeats. A smell of wet leather, metal and burned wood filled her nose. "I heard him." She blindly tried to reach for Kylo while coughing violently. The electric light blinked with intensity.

@fallesto

[swordduels]

"Nunnally..." Circe inhaled deeply before speaking up again. "I don't know how to be when I'm sober and It'll take some time before I figure it out." While speaking she began to peal a clementine. "And what if the new me is too boring?" So boring that Atarion would never speak to her again...

The clementine turned into a sludgy mess in her trembling hands. @lured-into-wonderland

[lured-into-wonderland]

“What’s wrong with being boring? And what does that even mean?”

Nunnally probably should have tried harder to understand Circe, but empathy had never been something she was taught. This was difficult. She had never been in this position before, and every instinct she had was telling her to leave.

And yet, she stayed.

“I don’t think you’d be boring, though. Different, maybe, but not boring.”

Nunnally hesitated. That wasn't enough, was it? She was doing this wrong. Right?

“Unless that's how you see yourself...”

No. Still not right.

“I think you're strong.” - Nunnally said at last, her voice quieter. - “I think you just stopped believing in yourself.”

[swordduels]

"What do you think?" Circe struggled to keep the gnawing annoyance away from her voice. How detached was Nunnaly from human experiences? It was as if she couldn't connect to someone else's emotions or grasp socializing. As if she never was allowed to listen to people who struggled in life. "I'll be the dry driver while everyone else get plastered."

Different felt like a polite way to tell someone they were odd or strange. It was probably not Nunnaly's intention but Circe could still feel the weight of what was said. She remained silent as Nunnally tried to be comforting again. The clementine was barely hoding together in her hands.

Eyelashes fluttered as Circe looked down and took a deep breathe before facing her again. "That's very sweet of you, my dear." With a short nod she spoke again. "But I don't feel strong at the moment."

@lured-into-wonderland

[swordduels]

It was unclear if Nunnally was ready for motherhood but with each visit she grew more confident. The prissy princess attitude scaled down one layer at a time with each meal and

burp. Food stains and drool were dried off without protests. Being dragged by the hair caused no visible annoyance. However she did notice that loud crying weighed heavily on Nunnally. Circe gave her a soft smile while putting down the sippy -cup further away from the edge. “And I will never be as rigid as you are.” There was a moment of silence before she  added. “I’ve been a bit harsh lately but in all honesty I feel less alone when you are here.” Despite how frustrating their conversation turned out, she came to life whenever they spent time together. Sharp bickering turned into a cleansing storm that rid her of buried feelings. Directing her anger towards Nunnally felt easier than wishing death on Regulus who was never around. “I know, but these are my requests regarding your role as a Godmother. I need signatures from you and Astarion ready before it can be legally binding.” Circe tilted her head while listening. “What are you on about? I am doing just fine.” It was quite warming that Nunnally did care about her well being but being told to do self caring acts felt odd. As if she had threatened to harm herself. This wasn’t one of her binge drinking moments. She didn’t smoke weed or chew on magical mushrooms. For once there was sober clarity as Circe made decisions for the twins. 

Echo began to wriggle before flailing with her hands. Crayons fell freely as her face wrinkled  into a sour frown. Narkissos on the other hand threw a banana at her which of course led to ugly crying with snot and tears. “Oh dear.” With a sigh she picked up Echo and began walking around in the kitchen. One hand rubbed gently against Echo’s back. “Cry no more, my little snot goblin. Time to dry away your tears. Are your arms okay? Do your legs work?” Circe’s voice had a sing-songy tone as she loosely wiggled each limb. “How about your little tummy?” Bubbling laughter erupted and legs kicked air as Circe tickled Echo’s stomach. “I’m fine mama.” As a response she was tickled back before getting cheek kisses. Circe returned to the kitchen table before speaking up again.“Is that so? Let’s see. You have nothing in your eyes. No bump on the head, just a little banana in your hair. Do you know what I think? I think Narkissos was a little angry when you threw crayons.” When pointing towards the crayons she felt Echo shift to get a better view. Messy white locks moved slowly. “Oh. I’m sorry.”

@lured-into-wonderland

[lured-into-wonderland]

“I’ll... I’ll talk with Astarion...” – though perhaps it would have been better if Circe approached him alone, but Nunnally was not about to mention that to her. She was worried, and she didn’t like that feeling; all this talking only made her more anxious.

For most of her life, Nunnally had depended on others. Not always by choice, but her life had simply been built that way, and after a few attempts at quiet rebellion, she had accepted that this was how things worked for her. Yet although she understood the reasoning behind Circe’s thinking, she still didn’t fully approve of it.

“Though I still think you should rest and focus on yourself. Even the best godmother will never be as good as your own mother.” – and she didn’t even presume she could ever earn the title of the best in that regard. Though Nunnally often appeared naïve and unaware, sometimes even purposefully ignoring reality when it did not suit her – (which she did) – she was well aware of her shortcomings and of the way she had been raised and shaped.

“I lost my mum when I was about six, and though I can’t say I remember her much, or even miss her much at this point, it wasn’t easy for me. And my mum... well, she was nothing like you...” – Nunnally said, watching the other address the situation with the twins. No, Nunnally didn’t really feel like discussing her own mother. She had lied to Circe when she claimed she remembered very little. She remembered enough for it to still hurt, but the older she grew, the clearer it became that there had been far more to her mother than anyone had ever revealed to her.

“So, stop pretending you’re not tired and just take a few days off...”

“I’ll pay for the trip, if it’s a matter of money.”

[swordduels]

"That's sweet of you." A smile flashed by as Nunnally offered to bring it up with Astarion. Though she was still confused by the odd concern for her well being when there wasn't much of a problem in sight. Circe attended AA meetings every week and had Astarion take her alcohol bottles. There had been times of struggles but for now she was in control. Instead of sipping on wine she was drinking smoothies and looked at receipts for mocktails.

"Why don't you believe me?" The question was a bit harsher than intended but it felt off putting when someone insisted there was something wrong with her. As if happiness somehow made no sense or was impossible for Circe. Didn't Nunnally realise how insulting and hurtful it sounded?

After putting down Echo she told her to pick up the crayons and gave Narkissos' forehead a kiss. Soon the twins sat down to draw again withour a fuzz. She watched as a gentle calm returned to the kitchen. A strange sense of warmth spread through Circe's stomach. Something that havent been felt for many yeats. A sense of peaceful existense.

"Is that, positive or negative? My parenting, I mean?" There was a gentleness to her tone as she tried to engage without digging into something uncomfortable. With how strange Nunnally acted there was no telling how she would react if Circe tried to unwrap her past.

"What do you mean...?" Eyebrows furrowed as she faced Nunnally. "Don't you want me to be happy?" Tears began to build up as the sudden realisation hit her. "Or, do you want me to be miserable so you can feel better about yourself?"

@lured-into-wonderland

[fallesto]

She strolled through her castle, if you could really call it that. The hallways twisted like intestines, breathing out warm air that had a faint scent of rust and rosewater.

The walls weren’t made of stone but something alive, veined with gold that pulsed under her fingers as she ran them along the surface. She had crafted this place herself, of course. Shaped it from the tortured flesh of a hundred failed experiments until it learned to maintain its form without weeping.

How tiresome, to have architecture with manners.

When she pushed the door open, the hinges didn’t squeak, they giggled, high and breathy, like the laughter of strangled maidens. Her bare feet left sticky prints on the fleshy floorboards, each step tugging at her soles with the wet insistence of a lover's tongue. The cage was centered on a table carved from what looked like fused spinal columns, its gilded bars pulsing in sync with the castle's irregular heartbeat.

Inside, a magpie sat on a swing made of braided sinew, its head tilted in a way that suggested curiosity rather than reality: its neck had been broken and healed incorrectly three times already. Her reflection distorted in its glassy eyes as she leaned in close enough to fog the bars with her breath. "Did you miss me?" She crooned, tapping one sharp nail against the cage. The sound echoed through the room like a tooth being knocked loose.

This was a great gift to her, it had been a month now, since this creature was found and the witch had gifted her to the strongest of sins.

Quickly her fingers wrapped around the bars of the gilded cage, her manicured nails clicking against the metal like a spider testing its web. The magpie inside remained still, perfect. Pandora's gifts always arrived damaged. She took a deep breath, inhaling the scent of lightning-struck oak and dried blood that clung to its feathers.

"What lovely little sounds you'll make for me." She whispered, tracing the shape of its beak through the bars.

The castle creaked around them as she stood tall, her hips swaying in sync with its heartbeat. She moved the cage to her vanity, a mirror encased in fused vertebrae, its surface gleaming like liquid. As she set it down, she observed their reflections blend together: her golden curls resembling a crown of flames, the magpie's ink-black feathers absorbing the light.

 "Shall we enhance you, darling? Do you want to be able to speak, huh? Tee-hee! Easily done, as long as you serve my interests now, you belong to the witch cult, you belong to me."

[swordduels]

The last thing Circe could remember after pleading to Pandora was to stare at a lifeless magpie from above while being carried towards an open door by Hermes. He spoke gently and promised nothing would ever harm her once the door closed. Hearing it had felt rather peaceful. There was nothing left for Circe anymore. Everything she once knew had been washed away by Zeus and Poseidon. Her soul had been trapped inside a bird without the ability to speak like a human.

Though as Hermes was about to step over the treshold she felt a heavy tug in her chest. A golden thread vibrated between Circe and the blood covered bird. Pandora herself dragged at it as if she tried to reel in a thrashing salmon from violent water streams.

Since then there was a large gap of nothing until she woke up to a heavy scent of flesh, rost and screaming memories. There was a throbbing pain in her neck that intensified before dulling down. Circe could vaguely remember hearing a cheerful voice while slender fingers poked or prodded around. One time she saw Hermes and the door again. Though she couldn't tell if it was a dream or another near death experience.

With time she started to recognice the voice and who it belonged to. Or, at least she knew what her captor looked like. It was much harder to connect them to a name. At least I have someone to talk to. There was no one around who could read Circe's mind or understand bird sounds. She couldn't transfer her soul either. The only option was to play along and and learn more about these strange beings who worked for Pandora. What kind of things they liked or disliked. How their powers worked and what drove them to act. This time around she had to be more cautious.

Circe opened her beak but found it difficult to make any sounds. At most came a raspy sound that stung in her throat. It was tempting to bite at intruding fingers but she restrained herself from doing so. Talons firmly gripped at the swing as her cage was lifted and carried away. It felt as if everything tilted from one side to another. Low raspy noises escaped her open beak until the cage was put down. She carefully moved her head from one direction to another and studied her mirror image while being illuminated by light from below. It looked as if she had rolled in mud and blood. I need a bath.

Enhance?

There was a shift to look at them. One step at a time she closed in to the side bar before knocking at it with her beak. Anything would be better than being trapped in a dark dungeoun and covered in dirt. What do I need to do?

@fallesto

[fallesto]

Slowly he smirked and listened to her speak, really listened, not with the perfunctory patience of a lord humoring a subordinate, but with the sharp focus of a predator dissecting the flutter of a bird’s wings before deciding whether to snap its neck. Her voice was steady, but he caught the tremor beneath it, the way her breath hitched just before she mentioned the ship. Interesting. That wasn’t fear. It was anticipation.

"Yes."

He murmured, dragging a claw along the edge of his goblet, watching the wine ripple. "You have done well." The admission was rare, almost reluctant. Praise was currency he seldom spent, but the sight of her flushed cheeks, the way her pulse leapt at his words, that was worth the expenditure.

“Very well indeed, I am impressed.”

A knock at the door shattered the moment. The steward entered, bowing low, eyes fixed firmly on the floor. "The Aeae delegation has docked, my prince. They await your pleasure in the outer courtyard." His fingers stilled. The ship had arrived sooner than expected. He exhaled through his nose, the sound a slow, deliberate hiss.

He did not rise so much as unfold from his chair, the motion fluid and deliberate, like a serpent uncoiling in the sun. The steward flinched back, though the prince had not so much as glanced at him. Echo remained where she was, fingers still curled around the discarded edge of her parchment list, her face carefully blank. His fingers tapped against the armrest, once, twice, before he finally turned away, the silence stretching taut behind him like a bowstring.

“I’ll see you later then, yes?”

His chambers were dark when he entered, the curtains drawn against the afternoon light. The air smelled of charred wood and the faint, metallic tang of dragon’s breath, his own doing. He had ordered the braziers filled with embers from the pits beneath the Red Keep, their heat kept alive by some forgotten Valyrian trickery. The glow pulsed dimly now, casting long, jagged shadows across the walls, each one twisting into the suggestion of wings. He stripped off his outer robe, the fabric sliding from his shoulders like shed skin, and tossed it toward a waiting servant. The man caught it soundlessly, then froze as his gaze flicked toward him.

Slowly he reclined in the obsidian-carved chair, its edges smoothed by generations of restless Targaryen fingers, and let the satisfaction coil through him like smoke from a freshly stoked fire. He had everything, not the superficial comforts of gold and silk, though those draped his chambers in obscene abundance, but the deeper, more intoxicating pleasures: fear, anticipation, dominion. The Aeae delegation would kneel, Echo would burn brighter than any bride before her, and soon, so very soon, the fire in his blood would finally erupt into wings. His fingers flexed against the armrests, claws leaving hairline fractures in the polished stone.

The servant by the door trembled, a fluttering moth trapped in the gravity of his gaze. He considered him for a moment, the way one might study an insect pinned to parchment. "Bring me the chest from the eastern alcove." He murmured. The man scrambled to obey, shoulders hunched as if expecting a lash. As he sat there alone, everything was going his way, for once he would have all that he wished for and so much more.

[swordduels]

The warmth upon Echo's cheeks burned stronger as Aerion praised her efforts. Each breathe came in heavy huffs. Shoulders started to relax while her features softened. Even if Aerion didn't think highly of his bride to be he occassionally made an attempt to deliver a kind word or two. Though the most important thing was that he listened, he truly listened while staring at Echo as if they were equal. Something in his purple eyes shifted during their conversations, they carried a sharpness she couldn't fully understand. It didn't live there when Aerion spoke to servants, soldiers or knight. As if it was reserved to these intimate moments between them.

It has to mean something. That's what Echo convinced herself to believe when her nights were haunted by visions of claws scratching from inside her stomach and the voices whispered about dragon fire. Most nights she was covered in cold sweat while letting out animalistic screams that alarmed her handmaid. The only release from these terrors was to touch her flat stomach. Feeling it was a reminder that her womb was still empty.

Though it wouldn't be empty for very long...

Eyebrows furrowed as he said nothing about his women or acknowledged her demand. Echo decided to let it slide for now as duties called for them both. Aerion had to discuss the final details of a peace treaty while she should act as a good hostess to their guests.

Papers became wrinkled in her hard grip as a choir of whispers grew unruly. One hand rose to clasp around the ear. "Later." It was a quiet murmur void of the intense search for validation moments earlier. Echo had to get up. This was her moment to proove everybody how responsible she had become. A real princess who had arranged an engagement banquet and found allies for Aerion. Another knock was heard but Echo remained seated as her handmaid and the maester stepped inside. "Queen Circe of house Malos is asking for you, my princess." There was a clinking sound as a goblet was put down by the maester before being filled with warm milk and sprinkled powder. A sweaty hand was pressed against Echo's forehead followed by her handmaid's trembling voice. "My princess?"

Echo stared at the maester who offered her milk before slapping him hard. Before he had time to react she was straddled on his stomach and delivered violent punches. "I'm not drinking your poisons. I don't need it. I am princess Echo of house Malos, Aerion Targeryan's future bride. I am not sick. I am not mad. I am blessed with the voices of reason. I see the future and I am the only one who can bring the dragon's back to these lands. So don't you dare treat me as a sick and frail little thing." Echo bit the handmaid's hand until it started to bleed and laughed as she fled.

@fallesto

[fallesto]

He looked at her, really looked, not with the lazy, predatory amusement he usually wore, but with something deeper, something that bordered on fascination. Her fingers traced the ridges of his collarbone, the heat of her touch lingering like a brand even through the thin fabric of his tunic. He caught her wrist, not to stop her, but to feel the pulse beneath her skin, rapid as a hummingbird's wings. "Musicians?" His voice was low, almost contemplative.

"Bards sing of history. I'd rather make it."

His grip tightened slightly, claws pressing just enough to tease the threat of breaking skin. "Or do you prefer songs about doomed lovers and weeping maidens?" He leaned in, close enough that his breath stirred the loose strands of hair at her temple. "We could give them a new verse. A dragon and his queen, burning the world to cinders." His lips curled, slow and deliberate, as he watched her reaction, the way her pupils dilated, the faint tremor in her lower lip. Not fear. Anticipation.

“I am fine with anything truly.”

He cared little for the wedding preparations, the draping silks, the scent of roasting meats, the endless debates over which shade of red would best flatter Echo’s complexion while still honoring Targaryen tradition. These were trifles, the flutter of moths around a flame. What did it matter if the wine was Arbor gold or Dornish sour? What difference did it make whether the guests were seated by rank or by the whims of some ancient, dusty protocol? The true spectacle would not be the feast, nor the vows, nor the hollow cheers of sycophants. It would be the moment the fire took them.

Yet, he indulged Echo’s meticulousness, her lists and samples and fretful adjustments, because it amused him to watch her play at sovereignty. She moved through the chaos of preparation like a general marshaling troops, her voice firm, her gestures precise. The servants scrambled to obey her, their fear of his displeasure lending her authority a borrowed sharpness. He reclined in his chair, a goblet of untouched wine in hand, and observed. Let her have this illusion of control. Soon, it would be ash.

“Continue onwards with everything, you don’t need me to do anything truly, you have it all well in hand.”

[swordduels]

Fingers moved in slow circles along Aerion's collarbone. Eyes lingered as his heat skin and steady heartbeat warmed her open palm. Instead of flinching at the trapped wrist she met his gaze with a playful warmth while her lips kept curving upwards. Echo noticed that there was no pressure in his grip. There was a growing curiosity visible in Aerion's eyes as she approached him with more than questions regarding their engagement. Perhaps he was curious to see where his bride to be would take this sudden attempt of affection. Silence lingered as she patiently waited for him to respond.

Despite being given free reign to plan everything it felt better to hear his opinion as well. To have him involved or simply hear words of encouragement meant a lot to her. It was the first time she was given a meaningful task and working alone would have crushed her spirit. Echo knew that Aerion didn't care much for traditions or rituals following it but he had nonetheless watched the growth of his bride's decision making. As if he was interested to see what would become of her.

She remained still as the grip hardened and nails pressed into skin. Aerion's voice sank as he inched closer and warmed Echo's ear. It made her grin widely before turning to whisper against his lips. "Hear our song of the mighty dragon rising again. Blessed by dragon flames for all to see, the ruler of you and me. Enemies beware, our Targeryan king is finally here. When all has turned to ash and despair, his chosen people will still kneel and loyalty swear." While whispering she traced Aerion's cheek with one hand. "A bard, yes, we need a bard to write a song for our wedding." Another thing to add into the long list of wedding preparations. Slowly she closed the distance between their lips before biting down at his lower lip. A dust of dark pink grew upon Echo's cheeks before she parted.

"I know, I know what you truly want. But until I can fully give myself to you I give you permission to bed others." There was something distant in Echo's eyes as if she was lost in deep thoughts. Slowly she stole a chaste kiss before climbing onto the furniture to stand on all four. Hair dangled down as their gazez locked together.

Echo knew he had a few women to keep him company and to acknowledge their existance did stung. But ignoring it didn't feel right either. Aerion's seed was too precious to waste on women who could never turn him into a dragon. "And once the wedding is over your bed is mine too and I will keep you there until my stomach is growing and you are covered in beautiful scales."

The sound of someone clearing their throat after knocking loudly made Echo turn her head before climbing off Aerion. A man stood by the open entrance and bowed before standing tall. "I'm sorry for interrupting, my lady, the guest chambers have been prepared according to your wishes and a ship has been sighted with the Aeae flag outside the coast. They will arrive in about an hour or two."

@fallesto

[fallesto]

The past.

Was a dark and amusing little thing, it was something they have let go off as well, they had no idea to cling onto such things anymore, not when more than enough time has come and gone, the fact that they where a sin, but slightly different, they could grow, they could learn and how they could change as well, there entire purpose.

Was to seek out a witch.

While it was true there was one here with them, it was not the same, they had their chance and they had missed their chance to be there one and there only, it had come and it had gone, in another life, within another loop, maybe, but for now they were nothing to them.

Maybe a friend.

Who was to say if that was such a thing that could even be possible for one such as themselves, they were not all too sure with that, but what they were sure about, was this world has changed so much for them.

Too much.

There was nothing left for them here, but within the other world, it was like how things had once been, where things make more sense and the rules and laws, have not changed, where magic was lord and master, where power didn’t have to be hidden, where the strong rule and the weak obey.

This was nothing.

Showing them, there was no threat at all, because what were they going to do anyway, it was far too late for them to be stopped, there authority was on people and it spread like a plague, already they almost had the entire country, this city was the start and it spread, when the country is their own, it would spread across the world and they will gain the power they needed.

To open this gateway and depart.

What this one does afterwards, was down to them, there was enough relics, books, weapons, magical items for them to sue as they see fit, because they were not taking them with them when they went, only themselves and nothing other than that, it was a one way gateway, you enter and then you shatter the connection and break it, so that no one can use it again and do the impossible and form a bridge not merely through worlds, but through time as well.

“Get some rest.”

As she would lay down for the moment, resting her head upon the pillow and finding comfort there for the time being and turning and closing there eyes, making sure she was comfortable as well as she would allow some form of sleep to wash over them, there was nothing to worry about, because there was nothing they could do anyway, even if they wished for it, they could not access anything here, it was all frozen within place, all trapped with stillness of time, all kept for them to use and none other, no plots, schemes, anything will work.

For now then, they slept the night away, they had a witch here with them now, a shame that it was not the right one they were working for and towards gaining access to them, but it was again, it was hardly a problem for them as well, it was just how things came to pass, but with this being within there life once more, they were aiming to ensure they remained connected, loyal, devoted and they would work with them.

Rather than against them.

[swordduels]

Once in a while her ears twitched as the lightest sounds of tapping was heard along with faint whispers. Whiskers vibrated as she tensed up. Circe rolled onto her side with paws resting under her chin. Ignore it. Whatever it was they were protected by magic spells and runes. Regulus was the only real threat and they were bound by a deal now. Her half lidded eyes faced the mirror but she saw nothing out of place. A thick layer of silence fell over the room as Circe's eyes gradually closed. It must have been her imagination running wild with fears. Trapped with a vulnerable host and too weak for confrontations. Slowly she nudged against Regulus while thinking of Cassandra.

Warm winds carressed her sunkissed skin while she saw Isabelle tumbling around with a ball of yarn in the grass while Cassandra tried to knit a purple shawl. "Don't do that." Cassandra giggled while gently nudging at the cat with one foot. In the next moment Isabelle tensed up before running off to chase a white hare. "Ugh, I'll have to start over, it'll never be finished before your birthday." Hearing the complaint made Circe snort loudly before embracing her. They both laid down on a azule blue blanket with bunny motifs while being surrounded by olive trees. An orchestra of cicadas was sounding close by as well as a bell noise from a cat collar. The purple yarn lay forgotten as Circe stole kisses and whispered love confessions. As they undressed and moved together she saw Regalia who filmed them with her cellphone.

Then she was somewhere else. In a darkly lit room where Regulus' mirror started to glow with a blue light. Runes melted away like coal. Circe tumbled back as the glass opened like a door to the sounds of heavy wet footsteps. Black ink dropped from scarred legs and turned into puddles on the floor.

There it was again. A feathery tapping sound. Circe opened her eyes to stare at the mirror but found nothing unusual about it. There was no glowing or dissapearing runes. The glass was intact. Even so she felt uneasy. As if there ought to be something unnatural going on. Her ears lay flat as all hair stood on end. A hissing sound escaped out of pure instinct as she noticed a purple ball of yarn next to Regulus' bed. Illuminated by sunlight from the window. It had an awful smell of rotting flesh.

@fallesto

[fallesto]

She smirked, the edges of her lips curling like smoke from a dying fire as the magpie's vision fractured into her consciousness. Through Circe's eyes, the world unfurled in jagged shards—a mosaic of rooftops tilting at precarious angles, the distant glint of armour in sunlight, the shuddering breath of a marketplace below. How quaint, she thought, to see humanity from above.

Like ants scuttling around sugar cubes. Her borrowed gaze caught on a flash of crimson near the eastern gate—just a merchant's garish scarf, but Circe's pulse stuttered all the same. The Witch tasted that momentary disappointment like blood on her tongue. Oh, little thief. Did you think it would be that easy?

Her vision fractured into a thousand splintered perspectives—each one a window into Circe's frantic flight. She saw through the magpie's eyes as rooftops blurred beneath them, the world tilting drunkenly with every wingbeat. The sensation was dizzying, intoxicating; like standing at the center of a shattered mirror where every shard reflected a different sliver of existence.

She could taste the metallic tang of Circe's fear on her own tongue, feel the frantic hammering of the bird's heart as if it pulsed within her ribcage. How deliciously intimate, to wear another creature's senses like a second skin.

Then she saw the sword saint through Circe’s eyes—a slash of crimson against the dull canvas of the world, moving with the lethal grace of a wildfire. The woman’s hair was not just red but the color of a fresh wound, and her sword gleamed like a sliver of ice under the midday sun. Every step she took left no imprint, as if the earth itself recoiled from her presence. Pandora’s borrowed vision lingered on the sword saint’s hands—calloused, yes, but with fingers that curled around the hilt like a lover’s embrace. How amusing, she thought, that humanity’s greatest warrior carried her devotion so openly.

The trees bent like worshippers as Pandora materialized between them—not stepping into existence, but unraveling the forest itself until the space conformed to her presence. Moss-blackened oaks shuddered as their roots withdrew from her bare feet, leaving perfect circles of sterile earth where she stood. "Little thief, come." She sang, the syllables dripping between her teeth like sap from a wounded tree. The words weren't loud, yet they slithered through every hollow and thicket, vibrating in the marrow of sleeping foxes and the hollow bones of nightjars.

As the bird was in her hands, for it had always been there.

Her fingers traced the ridge of Circe's spine with the precision of a sculptor admiring their work. "Such diligence." She murmured, her voice honey-thick with approval. She saw the magpie's feathers trembled beneath her touch—not from fear now, but from the visceral pleasure of praise delivered by lips that had shaped empires. Watching as Circe's beak parted slightly, a silent plea for more that made her smile deepen. How quickly the rebellious thing had learned to crave her words like seeds.

“Take flight, and warn me of danger, well I welcome the hero of the world, into my embrace.” 

[swordduels]

Talons lay close against her tiny body as winds bristled through stained feathers. Every flap of the wings brought a great distance while Circe passed a landscape of wild forests and villages. The thundering heartbeats gradually slowed down even though she was painfully aware of Pandora’s constant presence.

Their minds were intricately connected as if it had always been that way. Every thought lay open to be read and Circe's secrets could no longer stay hidden. Each impulse of simply crashing into a tree or getting attention from humans toppled like a sand castle being dragged away by crashing waves. All the while she could sense Pandora's smug grin growing wider.

Before landing on top of a tree bransh she was circling the crimson covered field where lifeless bodies lay. Ruby colored hair danced along tense shoulders as the warrior swung a steel sword. Each move was swift and calculated while sweat broke out along her forehead.

Seeing her dance was hypnotic and made Circe's heart flutter. Not out of fear but pure admiration. It reminded her of the ancient Amazon women who protected their land with swords. Once long ago she had an Amazon guard for a lover and it had been a tumoultous affair filled with intense love making. Unfortunately her Amazon lover returned to her precious queen out of duty.

Watching this red headed warrior almost made Circe forget Pandora's orders. She felt her heart longing for those callous hands to spread her legs apart. Fluttering images of their bodies tangled together while breaking into a moaning choir appeared for a moment before fading away.

Then she sensed Pandora moving behind her without a sound. Circe turned around to watch as the forest itself moved and shifted. As if it let her pass by. The gentle tone tugged at Circe's heart and despite not moving an inch she was suddenly in Pandora's hand. Fingers pressed ever so lightly along her trembling body. A pleased sound escaped. Yes, she did do well. She found the mysterious warrior and deserved praise. Praise and carresses.

I'm sorry. For desiring someone who's not mine to desire. The sudden plea for forgiveness was dragged out with another touch. Her head rubbed affectionally against Pandora's thumb. Anything for you. Though the thought of leaving felt almost suffocating.

@fallesto

[kitxkatrp]

That scream was absolutely terrifying--but then she heard Vincent's voice. She pursed her lips and looked up toward the keyhole, green eyes narrowing slightly.

This wasn't Vincent. She knew that. Even if Circe hadn't given her a rundown before they started this, she would have known instantly.

Because Vincent's real, miserable self was always written into his face, into his smiles, his eyes, no matter how hard he tried to pretend. He walked around like a corpse. The air from this being felt very different.

"I will find you," she promised, voice quiet but firm and determined. "...But not here. I will find you...and I will show you how beautiful this world is..."

Her voice lowered to a whisper. She was ignoring the question about her companion, instead choosing to reinforce her own feelings.

"...Because I love you."

[swordduels]

The being carrying Vincent's features giggled at her words. "Sweet, innocent Ada, how are you going to find me behind a locked door?" His voice was a sugary taunt while his eye shifted in size. Something cold and calculating settled into it while another giggle was heard. "Why don't you show me?"

Nails scratched into the wooden door. His breath was a loud exhale before he spoke again with a harsh tone. "What do you know about the world when you keep fleeing into your precious books? You do not care for the world, you cling to innocent make beliefs. Pretty stories with happy endings. Well, where is your happy ending, Ada? Sad and alone in a cage of childhood memories."

The being gasped loudly while moving the door handle. "That's not funny, don't ever lie about such things." More nail scratching sounds were hard as Vincent's voice turned frantic. "You, you. I want to see your delightful collection of torture devices. I'd like to see it. Wouldn't that be delightful?"

@kitxkatrp

[swordduels]

Frustration only grew stronger as Nikolai remained seated while finding a way to keep his knees protected from biting teeth. The horse moved his head while neighing loudly in protest. Each movement was a desperate attempt to break free and knock off the human from his back. But it had no effect.

All control had been taken away by this strange human and his restraining rope. This human clung to him like a hungry tick bit down on bare skin. Horsehair whisped. Hooves stomped in protest. He tried to take charge towards his prey but felt pressure from the rope. His jaw moved in an attempt to bite through but to no prevail. Wild fury had been tamed as if it had been nothing.

Circe heard the struggle as it progressed before ending with Nikolai tying him to a door handle. The peacock was still trembling and shifted when she heard sounds of footsteps. Feathers ruffled despite calming whispers of safety. Talons lifted. Beak opened to reveal a loud sound of warning. Fluttering heartbeats echoed in Circe's ears as Nikolai spoke. Burning sensations where brittle bones and flesh had been torn.

"She wont survive long with a broken wing." But treating it would be difficult with their feathery friend's agitated state. If only she was a bit stronger. Commanding angry birds wouldn't be such a hassle then. "That sounds reasonable." Nikolai probably had some modern medicines and tools that would come in handy in these kinds of situations. "Long and flat. It should be easy to find."

"We probably should move her before setting the horse loose." It would be unnessesary to bring more stress to the situation. Circe slowly moved to the side in an attempt to go behind and in that way force her to move forward. Towards the direction they came from.

@clown-demon

[clown-demon]

"She won't die from the broken wing. That is not the issue. It's the surroundings that might cause her end. A flightless bird is bound to the ground. Without the freedom of the skies, it's a sitting meal for many predators that are bound to the earth. All we have to do is protect her. And I am fully capable of doing so~."

Nikolai did manage to get the fanged horse captured and away from killing the avian. But they did need to make sure the bird was safe before releasing the horse.

"I'll come back here later to untether him once we get the bird somewhere safe... But.. if I may ask-- You agreed you would come with me to my world.. and you mentioned that this world would be no more when you leave.. If that is the case-- is it worth saving the bird?" Nikolai pointed out.

It was sad, but if the world were to be no more, saving the injured bird would be meaningless if it would die in the end anyways..

He gently picked up the bird, cupping it's body in a manner that could be most comfortable. Nikolai didn't make any sudden movements and ignored any pecks or noise from the injured animal.

Following after Circe, he hummed softly.

[swordduels]

"I agree. A broken wing in of itself is not deadly, but fleeing from predators will be quite difficult." Circe eyed Nikolai while moving slowly. Nikolai's question and reasoning held sound truths. Their decision to save the peacock from danger made them responsible for her safety. Though this temporary solution did seem pointless since they eventually had to leave and let fate take its course. Which in turn would lead to a violent death for all living beings. Saving one life for a little while almost felt cruel from a broader perspective.

"You have a fair point. It might have been a mercy to let her be devoured instead."

Sounds of talons against stone was heard as the peacock moved to one side before tripping forward. Its neck shifted from one side to another. A startled noise erupted as Nikolai carefully picked her up. Feathers bristled. Talons dug into Nikolai's arm while her sharp beak picked at his shoulder.

"It gnaws at me to know that all of this will sink to the sea and I know that we can't save all beings. But perhaps we can take her with us and find a place for healing." While speaking she collected a few items before moving out of her palace.

@clown-demon

[swordduels]

I've been feeling kinda off for some time. Creativity has been on the low side and I'm trying to get back into writing again. I did some attempt of making a writing system for my fictional worldbuilding and today I scribbled down ideas for my own version of the seven sins. Not surw what I'll do with the sins but it was fun to just spitballing ideas :3

We'll se when I return to roleplaying but it feels good to take it easy too.

[swordduels]

Its officially summer now as the sun is still beaming despite it being 11.12 pm

[swordduels]

"Am I a dressed properly for your summer party now?!" @estarion Image taken from: Moonlit Masquerade | Rococo Dress Up Game and PFP Character Creator

[swordduels]

Happy birthday to meee :D

One year older and still trying to figure out my life. My dad is gonna pick me up later so we can buy a birthday cake.

Funnily enough I got free cake slices yesterday when picking up a food package at church ^.^

[swordduels]

Circe wasn't sure what would happen once she spoke with sincerity about the struggles of being sober. A heavy silence lay between them until Nunnally carefully asked if she wanted help. "I want to be sober." Talking about sobriety made her grab the fruit bowl. "I'm just, scared of who I will become..."

@lured-into-wonderland

[lured-into-wonderland]

Nunnally had been drunk exactly once in her life; or rather, tipsy. It had ended badly for her: with a one-way trip to boarding school.

Just don't drink; Nunnally wanted to say. But of course, that wouldn't help.

"Does it really matter who you became? Surely it will be a better version than the one you are now..."

It might have been an unfair thing to say, perhaps even a cruel one. Yet maybe it was also what needed to be said.

[swordduels]

"Nunnally..." Circe inhaled deeply before speaking up again. "I don't know how to be when I'm sober and It'll take some time before I figure it out." While speaking she began to peal a clementine. "And what if the new me is too boring?" So boring that Atarion would never speak to her again...

The clementine turned into a sludgy mess in her trembling hands. @lured-into-wonderland