#c:saskia

[reefinanddrinkin]

@resplendentdare

One of Nick's day jobs was working in Star Court Mall. He was coming from one of the restraunts. He mainly had jobs in the food service. Since his first job ever was bussing, and then learning how take orders as a waiter. "Hey, you work in the record store right?" He'd seen her around stocking records. When he stopped by to get his little brother the new Alphaville album for his birthday. "Can I sit?" He asked, meandering in the cafeteria.

[farplane]

DAY 7: PAWN

The high summer sun blistered down upon the palace grounds, and Saskia hoped beyond hope that the Censor would not feel her sweating through the stiff fabric of her gown when next he found some pretense to touch the small of her back. The royal terraces were crawling with legionaries in red and black and white-robed dignitaries, all arranged in perfect lines; the soldiers faceless under their helms, like puppets awaiting the tug of command on their strings. 

Saskia had chosen for her own armour a somber dress in the current Nhalmascan style—a gift from the Censor himself—far better suited for the dreary Ilsabardian mountain climes than the dry highland summer. Miserably, she hoped her mother would never see what imperial taste had wrought upon her homeland’s traditional fashions.

She was not alone in wishing the assembly would end before it had even begun. Behind her, a bureaucrat complained of the heat and openly longed for home; his neighbour muttered back snidely that “we wouldn’t have gotten this horrid little posting if not for your indiscretions with Lord Nerva’s favourite, Magnus,” which Saskia committed to memory in case it proved useful. She lifted a hand to her forehead under the pretense of shielding her eyes from the sun as she looked about the terrace, and surreptitiously wiped sweat from her shining brow.

“I hope you’re not feeling faint, my dear,” said goe Tullius; how artfully he spun himself a fable to justify his steadying hand on her back.

“Thank you, Censor. It is quite hot today.”

“Indeed. I have been invited to the palace by the viceroy’s entourage after this little display; you should join me for refreshments. I shall see to your every need.”

He had worn his most expensive cologne today, likely for her benefit; Saskia could smell the notes of vetiver on the breeze. She smiled, as she always did.

“You are too kind. I wish I could accept, but surely the viceroy—”

“Would be a fool not to wish to be graced by your presence. You have been a staunch ally to his rule; a provincial flower grown beautiful under His Radiance’s sun.” A traitor and a liar and a seductress. A Resistance spy. “I must insist, for your company is the sweetest of my days in these uncivilized lands.”

“Then I would fain accept, my lord.”

The Censor nodded, showing his most handsome smile, and tucked her hand into the crook of his arm with a pat that was almost paternal. Heat drummed inside Saskia’s ears, but she forced herself into closer contact with him.

“Ah. At last,” he said as the viceroy’s airship landed.

The commander of the XIVth Legion came shadowed not only by his tribuni, but by soldiers in uniforms Saskia had never seen before. Imperial black plate showed on their torsos and arms, but the arrangement was piecemeal, reminiscent of a mercenary’s mismatched armour; the colourful sashes and fabrics they wore as accents reminded her of the Arroways, which brought on a sickening lurch of her stomach. They were not helmed like imperial soldiers; their heads were covered by beautifully adorned turbans, and their faces hidden by horrid, beaklike masks. Ala Mhigan colours and fabrics corrupted by imperial austerity.

She scarcely heard the specific words with which the viceroy introduced his new force, comprised entirely of young Ala Mhigans who had traded service for citizenship. A fresh sort of panic underlay her shaken state: she was meant to listen, not to lose her cool like some frightful little novice.

The commander of this new Crania Lupi was just a slip of a girl, but her gaze was cold as stone.

“Van Baelsar is certainly eager to make us forget his little debacle with the Agrius,” said goe Tullius amusedly in her ear. Did he feel her shiver? “A bit late on the draw, perhaps, but cleverly done nonetheless. Obedience comes easier when loyalty is instilled from a young age; and what good is insurgency when one’s children wield His Radiance’s authority? They will only break themselves.”

Saskia simpered and watched the young commander and extinguished Morgana’s memory from her mind every time it welled at the sight of the girl’s hard eyes. She envisioned, distantly, punching holes with the blade of Neesa’s needle into the Censor.

When she freed herself come eveningtide, she went straight for the theatre. She opened the trap door underneath the stage with shaking fingers and descended into the hidden room that housed the Palm door, sat down on the bed, and hugged the pillow tight to her chest until it puffed into pockets of resistance. With her right hand, she slowly drove the needle into the pillow, over and over again, until she was covered in feathers.

[bornofbloodandwater]

@ofvergen​

An aesthetic for Saskia and Xiomara!!! Took longer than expected! Who knew it was so hard to find medieval and dragon related pngs hahaha

I hope you love it!

[bornofbloodandwater]

@ofvergen​

A fair amount of coin for the head of an insurgent, half of the price already resting in her pack. The siren had considered refusing the emperor’s offer, preferring to keep herself removed from major political events. Attention brought scrutiny and enemies. Unfortunately her hesitation was met swiftly with the subtle threat that they know where and how she operates and can very easily let slip to the local lords who she is.

If she wanted to keep her pleasant life she’d have to accept, the florens weren’t enough to soothe the disdain for her employer, but a deal is a deal and Xiomara lies in wait for her target nonetheless.

Trailing their cavalcade through Upper Aedirn, the siren decides to make her approach in the deep forests between their recruitments in the villages. Less than a day’s march from the Dyfne. Tales of Saskia the Dragonslayer foretold her to be a kind and just leader, set on building equality between all races, the stories not settling her gut on the matter at hand. She’d hoped to hear of misdeeds, a foul temper, cruelty in her preachings but none came.

Suddenly her life of warm waters and sweet pastry was donning a thin veil of self-disgust, the knowledge of what life she is seeking to take will surely taint even the sweetest memories of her little paradise.

              What are you willing to give for your home?

                                          How many are you willing to sacrifice?

The thoughts interrupted by calls from the road, a flash of blonde and the dispersal of the ranks she followed here. Tearing through the silk of her shirt Xiomara takes her blade to her own side and lets out a yelp of pain, dispersing the knife and stumbling just close enough to the tree-line to catch the eyes of her target. Filling her eyes with pain and fear, easy enough to bring to the surface with certain memories of childhood.

Retreating after she’s certain she’s been seen, trailing herself out into a clearing away from the new camp, being sure to make small whimpers and stuttering breaths as she takes her place, collapsed in the centre of the meadow, tears dampening her cheeks she lies in wait. Hand pressed tight to her side, her shirt stained red and darkening by the second, the siren snaps her head up to meet the stranger’s eyes as they break the forest’s edge. Her voice shaking, golden eyes gazing up into deep blues from her place on her knees.

            “Please, I don’t want any more trouble.”

[bornofbloodandwater]

“  look at me. you’re gonna be okay.  ” - @ofvergen​

Dragonslayer my arse.  The first thought echoing around in her head when she’s back on solid ground.

Her breath coming in shallow fits, eyes all golden fear. Seized in shock. The very last thing she had expected from the grand title was a true Dragon. One knee in the cold dirt, her weapons dissipated “I- you’re...” a laugh airy and lost the siren grabs for the solidity of the woman beside her, daring to look up into her eyes. A steadying breath and she breaks their gaze, focussing on the bloodstained dress pooled around her.

 “I won’t fight you. Every single thing I’ve learned about you makes me want to pledge my skills to you. It’s-...” A hum of adrenaline and her chest curling into itself, trying to protect herself from the shaking buzz of anxiety and the numbness of loss. “It means I have to give up on the paradise I’ve worked for, all I have, but that's just what has to be done.”

[bornofbloodandwater]

“shit, i left a mark..” - @ofvergen​

Panting. Head tipped back, a shudder caving her shoulders. “Leave all the marks you want, Beloved.” Eyes hazed and lidded with desire, running the back of soft fingers across Saskia’s cheek. “I feel winged when you touch me.” A delicate sigh and a smirk on her lips, Xiomara slipping from beneath her lover, pressing herself to the blonde’s back, kissing along her shoulders with nips and bites. An echoed thanks for the bruises and bite marks left across her own body. “I could spend my eternity thanking you for every mark you bless me with.”

[bornofbloodandwater]

℧ 👀 - @ofvergen​ asked for a randomly generated scenario!

Saskia and Xiomara get caught up in a storm and must stay sheltered together until it passes!

Preferring to go on her rounds with Saskia, since joining the fray, the night had set fully in and they were a mile or so from their encampment. There was no chance she was going to get a sound nights sleep in the din of camp anyway, may as well be productive and simultaneously close to the one person she cares to know. Attempting to learn what she can about this mysterious Goddess of a woman she’s accidentally become a loyal supporter and protector of. Not that she really needs protecting.

Their route coming across a few scattered abandoned homes, small and dilapidated, some caved in completely, others seemingly newly left to the wilds.

Dressed tightly in wools and leather, arms wrapped around her waist, Xiomara remains freezing. Cursing her breath drifting white in the air, the north is no place for a child accustomed to the warm waters of Toussaint. A perpetual pouting frown on her lips and red blush sweeping her nose and cheeks. Tonight the winds are howling fierce and savage. “How can you stand this chill so easily?” shouting over the roar, a shiver straightening her spine, eyes scanning the trees for signs of life.

The woods creaking around them, a growl of thunder preceding a crack of lightning close enough to raise the hairs on her arms. As golden eyes raise to the sky, the sky sighs itself upon them, half ice half rain, freezing and searing in how it whips the skin. Arms flung wide in exasperation she calls to the air “WHY DO PEOPLE LIVE HERE!?” as if in answer the nearest tree flings down a weighty branch for her, sending her dashing for cover in the nearest little home.

Shouldering the door open and shuffling inside. Muscles seizing in her legs from the cold she lets out a frustrated sigh “Saskia?” the tone a hinting warning as well as a question.

[unsunguard]

if this ends with pizza, it was worth it.

"Out running Hawkins cops. I'm a bit of a pro now." Eddie joked. His jokes were usually disguised as truth to some degree. " You're speaking my language. Lets go get some pizza." He took her through the woods around the police cars. In the direction back to town. He got to know the Hawkins woods when he was wanted. "Hey, at least we're not dodging the military."

@resplendentdare