#( edith. )

[sadecstaticcc-blog]

it’s been years since i first met the girl in that picture, and fun fact: she didn’t always look like Elsa. it’s wild that i get to spend another one of your birthdays with you even though we’ve been through hell and back approximately 17 times, and you still don’t hate my guts or vice versa. you still talk to me until 4 in the morning about literally everything under the sun, you still bake for me and you still put up with me narrating the home shopping network to you. but above all, you’re still one of the most important people i’ve ever had in my life and i’m thankful that we haven’t lost each other, even when we were presented with that opportunity multiple times. but i suppose that’s the world’s way of telling us i’m supposed to be bringing you banana bread to celebrate another year of your life on earth every single year for however many more birthdays we’re both here for. happy birthday, nerd. don’t get a brainfreeze with the ice cream cake tonight. @heartinabodybag

[madefate]

dnd night !! made some self indulgent picrews of my barbarian light of my life, my main of four years ( ´ ∀ `)ノ～ ♡

[madefate]

‘ i tried the world; good god, it wasn’t for me. ’ (Ismark & Edie) / @furys-burn

❛ I don't blame you. ❜ Edith's fingers curl a little; the gloves are thicker than what she's used to, but she pays it no mind. It's frivolous, wearing the white, lacy gloves that Annalise insisted were all the rage and absolutely in style no matter the season. They would shred instantly if she picked up the sun-axe's hilt. They'd already been started to shred and fray back -- back home. Her tunic is as nondescript as her new breeches and her cloak. There is no one here to make a face at her disregarding her signature color.

Edith is struck by the urge to hide, even though no one would know what she was hiding from.

Instead, she focuses on ignoring the urge to take Ismark's hands. They have done away with some of the propriety and manners, given the circumstances, but it still feels strangely and ridiculously taboo to reach across his desk and touch him. How utterly stupid, to worry about a thing like that with an ancient and terrible god's eye in the sky looming over them.

❛ You say that, but I see you have not yet given up. I see the fight in you -- and there is so much more world out there. ❜ Hope cracks in her voice. She wants it to slice her open -- it hurts, it hurts to talk about it. To say that it's real -- that there is a home to return to after all this is over. That they might live to see it. But Ismark needs her hope more than Edith needs to protect herself. That is what a leader does: they give all they have and if they help one person with that giving, then it is worthwhile.

She smiles. ❛ I promise you, you are going to see a sunrise over Waterdeep. You are going to watch the jeweled roofs light up in the dawn. I want your opinion on their structural integrity and the city planning and all of those details, alright ? ❜

[madefate]

& my dnd / OCs! edith, my human noble lady barbarian / sandrine, my brooding aasimar bloodhunter

[madefate]

"truthfully, i'm travelling right now. because i had to stretch my wings. i was supposed to something of a socialite and then a dancer. now i'm a rogue. honestly, i think that was really calling." / celeste for edie / @zhonde​

       ❛ Really ? I suppose if it all works out for the best, then you’ve found the right path. ❜ Her fingers tighten a little in her gloves -- a dark grey, as functional and nondescript as the rest of her. It’s strange, to feel like she has a spotlight on her in clothing meant to deter attention, but if it’s just a little uncomfortable Edith can swallow the feeling. Now is not the time to whine about the little things. ( not that there is ever a time to whine about the little things, but still. ) 

       Partially to have something better to do with her hands, and partially because it’s a shame to not drink the tea one has ordered, she delicately grabs the mug and brings it to her lips. It’s warm and steadying, and she breathes a little easier. The tavern is nice, too. It’s cozy and dark, and they are tucked up at a table in the corner, away from prying eyes. Edith forces her shoulders to relax and tries for a halfway decent smile. 

       ❛ I’m glad you’ve found something you enjoy. I can’t imagine how hard it is to be a rogue -- all that speed and dodging and stealth. My strengths are a little... blunter. But they get the job done. I suppose that’s also why I’m out on the road. Trying to do some good work where I can, if I can. ❜  

[madefate]

me & my character! edith von cordelia, my noble lady barbarian (o˘◡˘o) 

[madefate]

❛  all my money’s been a long time spent.  ❜ (@ Edie) / @furys-burn​

      ❛ I know, I know. ❜ It’s so painfully, immediately obvious, and Edith knows that her party is... less than informed about these things but gods above, can’t even they tell ? From the peeling front doorway to the few chips in the bannister -- the rugs growing more threadbare, the wilting front lawn, how vibrant the magically-infused back garden is compared to the rest of the home. Even in its height, it’s still small compared to what Edith knows has always been considered proper for nobility. She’d thought her own home was on the smaller side of things; Constance, her family a few tiers below her own, has an estate almost twice the size of the von Cordelias’. 

       And maybe there’s some vanity in it ( gods know her own ancestors were spineless and frivolous until her father’s aunt and then her father took it all on ) but there is also the image. The image, the image -- the image that lets everyone you care for know they can depend on you. Your home is an extension of you, and the size and grandeur ( without the ostentatiousness ) is a message to those under your wings: you will protect them. You are strong enough to protect them. That is why, even when you labor alongside your people, your hair remains in place and your expression remains calm and your back remains straight. 

       They are counting on you. You cannot let them down, even in appearance. 

       So Edith knows how dire things must be for Ismark’s estate to be in such a state. She’s in no way surprised that they’ve given all of their money to the town -- to the most desperate matters, to the things that cannot be ignored. Amongst the guilt and the -- ( that’s it, she feels nothing else thank you very much ) she also feels a swell of pride. He is far worthier than her to hold his position, that is for certain. But she cannot let that show; she must still do her part here in this world that she’s been tossed into. 

       ❛ Which is why you should take some of the treasure. ❜ Her voice is as soft as it is firm. ( She doesn’t think about who she’s trying to emulate and how much she is failing. ) ❛ And whatever you need while we’re staying here, just tell me, My Lord. I’m stronger than I look, and it is the very least I can do to help after everything you’ve given us. ❜ 

       A home base of sorts -- what little gold the family had left. A bed. A refuge. Guidance. In all of this vast emptiness, Ismark’s home has become a single bastion of safety. 

// memes ! & accepting. 

[madefate]

"the man who sleeps with a machete is a fool every night but one." for Edith from Dain! / @fortunefavcred​

       ❛ Oh ! Well. ❜ That’s not the first time Edith has heard something like that. From her father’s lips, it’s the kind of sentiment that she hadn’t quite understood -- the kind posed in euphemisms. Always be prepared, Edith. That is our job -- to always know what can happen, and to brace for anything that might come our way. That is what our people count on. That is what this family counts on. We live for them, and it is a fool who allows themself to forget that. Are you paying attention? Let me see your notes. And she’d heeded him, she had. Perhaps her records and notes and memorizations and recitations hadn’t been good enough for him, but she’d thought she’d understood. 

       She hadn’t. Not really. 

       The world is so much larger than she had ever realized, and so rife with a kind of danger that she had never known. As dire as her father had made it all seem, she had seen her first glimpses of true horror, now, and it was nothing like the home and the title and the responsibility she’d left behind. 

       But she’s not going to tremble in the face of it. Pride rushes in, and that is her momentary strength. She has her own blade at her side, and if there’s one thing she’s halfway decent at -- if there’s one thing she hasn’t yet failed at -- it’s using it. If she needs to, she can unsheathe it in moments. She’s already prepared for what it feels like to cleave flesh and bone with it, too. If she must. If diplomacy fails. With all the grace of her family’s lineage and her own pride, she straightens her spine and lifts her stubborn chin. 

       ❛ You are correct, ❜ she says primly. ❛ And, as an apology for startling you, I will take that as a warning in good faith and not a threat, sir. ❜ 

// memes !