#blackshadcw

[gellintalah]

[ placement ]

non-sexual acts of dominance | [ placement ] your muse telling mine to sit down 

🗡 — Oh, she despised being told what to do. What the demon hunter lacked in height through his elven form he made up for in, well, everything else. The Illidari were hardly a force easily reckoned with, and Nanthis knew that when he told her to sit, that he very well meant for her to sit down.  But the pride that she had made it all the more difficult. Behind her mask, her tongue darted out to lick her lips, and she glared at the figure over the top of it.  “Why don’t you make me?”

[shamarchived-blog]

"Come on, let me ease your troubled mind."

                                                     █ ▌▐  Murder Ballad Sentences  █ ▌▐                                                                          @blackshadcw

     ❝I need not trouble you with the weight of my burdens.❞

     It was a remark gentle as she, simple and to the point. Within lay subtle impatience, as if the thought of discussing the weariness in her form was off-putting. So quickly had she dismissed him that it seemed to be instinct, something she had been conditioned into a response for. But her bite was dull, as if her attempt to derail his comfort had been done out of concern more so than anger. Euanthe hadn’t truly sought to force the demon hunter away. As sudden as her effort was, the glaring plead in her breaths were all but unrecognizable. There had been so much of her that ached to throw her cards on the table, yet her mind defiantly refused. Her fingers curled around the tensing muscles in her forearms, looking to herself for the peace she knew she wouldn’t find. The shaman coddled herself. Without ruining what dignity she stood with, she had mentally hunkered down over herself as if to protect the fire within her that had long since been shackled to the earth. It did not rage and it did not burn. It could not even form the elemental claws to tear at a mortal’s flesh. The heat had been little more than a glow, flickering —like the spark laying dormant in her eyes. She hadn’t the fighting spirit in her and yet there she stood, fighting the very words Alarin used to coax her.

     ❝You need not waste that effort on this. On me. It is better if you go.❞

     There was force in every syllable and yet it was all weak. Like a child beating frantically on a grown man’s leg. She wanted him to leave. To cut down a horde of demons, to contemplate the things he had lost, to be anywhere else. Anything that would not force her to speak about the things that anchored her in place. It was not worth it. She could not ever be eased when the very thing that held her back was still standing before her. He would not go. The sin’dorei was patient with her in an unforgiving sense. The draenei could very well have up and left him without a word, but something wouldn’t let her. There had been something wrong with the thought. It was unlike her to fervently deny anyone that held enough of a desire to help her as he had. He held no true vision and yet she could still feel him looking clean through her and everything she had been trying to hide from him. Euanthe couldn’t keep herself together like this. So long as he refused to leave her side, she held no other choice. A sharp breath through her nose, both relieved and disappointed, was the sound of her defeat.

     ❝— I do not deserve this, Alarin. This strength, this companionship,❞ Honesty was a gift to a suffering soul. She had not opened it with a smile.❝You are always watching, waiting, for me. When I lose myself, when my faith escapes me. You forsake a deathly image so that you might see me, to relate and leave yourself open to me. You would risk the chance of me burning what humanity you have left in you just to understand. And yet, what have I done in return? I still pry open the earth and run with the waters, but I do you no favors. I listen when you speak and act in ways that would make you feel welcome, but more often than not I am only a burden. I do not deserve your attention. Not once have I come close. And yet you are here again… when I have once again lost my way. Why do you remember me, when I do not even remember myself? Why do you trust me? I… do not deserve you.❞   

[shamarchived-blog]

❝ Don’t listen to what they say. ❞

                                █ ▌▐ RALEIGH RITCHIE SENTENCE STARTERS. █ ▌▐                                                                  @blackshadcw

     So many things remained so simple to say and yet so difficult to do. It was a deeply layered list of things one said and expected to become the truth in the snap of one’s fingers. But there were so many pages, so many little things that would not surrender themselves in the way of her words or the trills from her throat. There was nothing she wanted more than to ebb the pain of the world’s thoughts regarding who she had become. To quite simply block her ears and cleanse the mind of the discord that came with incessant babbling and constant berating. It pricked at her ears until she heard little more than disappointed static and she found herself promptly disconnected. Even in the silence she would always hear it. A small string of words, a chorus of thought. To escape it all would be to mute herself entirely. Euanthe had never been a woman to frown, to be hung up on little snags that caught her by the wrist only enough to keep her in place. Mental chains were always far more detrimental to her than any physical burden. One could burn her down to ashes and when the smoke of it all settled even they would settle in the shape of a smile. To see anything less than a pleasant curve of the lips where their corners pressed deep into her cheeks was not befitting of her. Jubilance was not a fleeting presence, but when the weight of the world finally came crashing down upon her, it wiped it all clean off her face. And he could so plainly feel it  — the dimness of the light that usually gave her away, the lack of warmth and the loss of color in her face. The shaman was a candle in the rain, despondent and flickering. She fed off what remained of her wick just to keep herself burning. To most it was a sight most pitiful. But perhaps Alarin had caught wind of her attempts, in some attempt to preserve what was left of her fragile little fire. He hadn’t ever needed to say much to catch her attention. The very core of her prowess pivoted, just as she looked to him with the fingers of her hand curled against her cheek, the tip of her middle finger grazing against her temple.

     ❝The truth does not cease to exist because it is ignored,❞ for a moment, she smiled. But it shook, as if forced in disbelief and in attempt to seem accepting. ❝I might put aside every word they say… but if it is true, then it will always remain.❞

     What they had spoken to her, however, had been ever far from the truth. But to the shaman that carried the burdens of many, who lived in the light cast down by the family she grew up with, it was all slowly becoming the truth. There was nothing she might have done that could’ve saved her parents and yet every second another idea came to her mind. I could have said something to HER, she thought. I could have stayed home with HIM. She could have told them both how much she cared for them one more time. But she hadn’t. She couldn’t. She had left them without a care in the world in her pretty little face. It was all smiles. All happiness. In truth that was all her parents ever wanted to see out of her and neither could ever bare seeing her cry. They left on the visage of her smiling in both instances and yet to her it was sinful. She had paid no mind to their state of mind or their conditions and in turn it cost her being able to show them how much she had really loved them. She would never know her happiness was but another form of her affection. It remained an oblivious taunt to them as people, as HEROES. In short it made her no better than the ones who cast them aside to begin with. What sort of person did that make her?

     ❝ —— Not every monster in this world bears a maw filled with gnashing teeth and sharp claws. Some are laced in gold, with fair skin and a graceful form. Perhaps with dainty horns and hooves… and a weak heart… with an irritating smile.❞ She chuckled. Quietly. Had she been mocking herself? In the midst of her devastated entertainment her hand had slid down the side of her face and down to her chest, falling down the middle of it until it came to rest in her lap. There was no optimism or chirrup in her tone. It was almost as though she were speaking as a different person, a thin sheet of herself. Someone had hurt her. No blood stained her skin but her heart gushed with every word she spoke. And he had seen naught more than a small light, slowly dying down, as her hope quietly sank into the dark that had her locked up. Such a thing had no business being within her. But it nestled comfortably in her regardless, feeding on her self-hatred. It ate at her even then, and soon it threatened to swallow her joy in its entirety. 

     ❝I wished for nothing more than to bring peace to those that would go a lifetime without seeing it. I thought, perhaps, I could always be there for those less fortunate. To make them smile in this… ugly place, filled with horrid things. But the truth is… I am the ugly one. I have smiled in the midst of many solemn moments and brought disdain upon myself. It is not happiness I have bestowed. It is apathy.

                                          I am — below that of the man’ari…                                                                                   Are I not?❞

[shamarchived-blog]

❝ Feats of wonderment are at the tips of your fingers. ❞

                                          █ ▌▐ Bioshock Infinite Sentence Starters █ ▌▐                                                                       @blackshadcw

For a moment she had been reclusive. Quiet, perchance. A sliver of silence had graced her that night, for but asecond, as she rested in her thought. Lithe fingers caressed the insides of her thighs, softly as her attention drifted off into nothingness. For some time she had mused about the very things that happened around her. And even within the storm’s EYE, a distant beat of a heart yet untouched by the invasion, everything seemed just a hair out of perspective. What was it that unsettled her so that it might BLUR her vision within even a time of peace? Such negativity was a seed of darkness and yet despite every attempt to usher it out it remained planted firmly within her mind. 

Yet as it willed itself to sprout, the shaman found her thoughts abruptly halted in the span of a statement. Euanthe had been remiss to recall her company, though fairly he had veiled himself in the same silence as her. And it had startled her, momentarily, enough that she might lean up and look at him. It must have been so hard to tell that she had still been there; so hard to see in silence. Yet he had spoken to her, as if he had watched her energies change before him. But was it really so peculiar that he would say something? The Draenei was an avid speaker when it came to being in Alarin’s presence. So typically was she calming fears or speaking of hope, it must have been unsettling to sit with her in such an elongated silence. And yet, what he had said…

     ❝I think you are mistaken…❞ There was heat, for a moment. Warmer       than what energy normally surrounded her. It seemed to gather quiet       heavily in her face.❝I… am but a simple shaman. I am only capable       of so much.❞

          Her form shifted slightly, in a direction further away from him, a single hand           reaching to touch the heat upon her face. A tint of lilac would be a shade of           orchid, enough that it would blossom without warning against her cornflower           skin. And that silence returned to her once again, with a grasp around her          throat that refused to let her respond any further. For once, a part of her felt           that perhaps a lack of breath might be a beneficial thing.

[rctchild]

❥ : Describe a verbal way they would express complete trust.

If the child accepts a task from someone he trusts, when he returns from that task he will be excited to go back to that person and it will show in his voice; as well as pretty much everywhere in his body language (including a cinnamon roll smile that is otherwise very rare).

[shamarchived-blog]

❝ It’s a thankless job, but somebody’s got to do it. ❞

                                    █ ▌▐ “Repo! The Genetic Opera” sentence meme █ ▌▐                                                                       @blackshadcw

She could only imagine. And even one’s imagination would not be enough to understand exactly what sort of a task it must have been. To endure, to sacrifice, to do things on a whim that might very well change the very COURSE of one’s life. Even though she had experienced things that could be considered similar, none of them could ever compare to the things the other had experienced. For good reason. Already the shaman struggled to constantly keep a smile one her face. Day in and day out she struggled, and she had lost at the end of every day. Euanthe was strong, prevailing, but there were always days where she crumbled under the softest bit of pressure pressed up against her frail figure. But even where she was unwelcome, there were places where she would always be welcome and she still had a family. When she had NOTHING else, she had a family. There were people that trusted in the shaman and very few truly looked upon her with s h a m e for the choices she made. But when it came to the Sin’dorei before her, such luck was nothing more than a fever dream upon which not even the immortal could recover from. It was constant distrust, the very thought of eyes being upon you and not being able to see more than the faint outline of a shape at any given time. It was a hiss under everyone’s breath, the consistent feeling of disdain dripping down your back no matter the good one brought to the world. Such had always been shameful in those sweet little doe eyes that sat so NAIVELY upon her face.

     ❝… Thank you.❞

          And there was not another word out of that pretty mouth. Not an           utterance, not even so much as an audible breath. But with          shortness came a tone of gratefulness that could not have come          from lips that spilled words like a fountain. That was all she said.          That was all that could be said.

[shamarchived-blog]

❛ There is nothing I can do. ❜

                     █ ▌ LYRICS STARTERS [3] ( VARIOUS BANDS/ARTISTS )  █ ▌▐                                                                @blackshadcw​

     ❝Nonsense.❞

Uncertainty settled into her frame as though it were a nest. It nestled uncomfortably there, jerking about as though attempting to sit in a lopsided pool of twigs and feathers that was already in two pieces from use. Euanthe was unsure of the man she had come across, or his intentions on speaking with the form of a person before him, but it hadn’t stopped her from speaking. He would sense how still she had been by the lack of movement. A draenei was meant to hold little concern for the demon hunter before her, but a despondent call never hesitated to prick at her ears. The words almost stabbedthem like PINS and needles, stacked one after another as the syllables touched them. They were the words of a man who’s pride wouldn’t let those words so easily slip from his throat. It was like a gargled mess of a growl, as if one didn’t want to BELIEVE in the truth of things. Such a nature frightened her, if only slightly. Yet the shaman stood there, the heat of fire that popped off of her enough to fill the gap of spacebetween them.

          ❝There is always something that can be done.           When there is a will, there is a way. You simply           have to find yours again.❞

     Hooves dug warily into the dirt. A lack of sight did not equal a      lack of sense. Euanthe experienced such more than one could      ever expect. Her eyes wandered across his figure in some      attempt to decipher what could cause such pride to b r e a k      like bitter metal. It was clear she was unsure, a rabbit staring     at a fox that knew she was there. But despite her meek      demeanor, her voice had been strong and persuasive. She     was not weak before the situation — only aware.