#corprusik

[inerevarine]

𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚑𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚌𝚑𝚎𝚍 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚖, 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚢 𝚏𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚌𝚑𝚎𝚍.  by reflex as much as it was by vulnerability ; their own mask had been destroyed, broken and discarded through the turmoil it took to come here.  they’d been dreaming of this moment for longer than they’d ever care to admit, and though their indifference was practically a key part to their persona as the nerevarine by now, it took everything they had just to stand here without shaking.  it felt as if they were going to crumple, and in the face of it and dagoth ur himself, the hortator forced themselves to stand strong.

jaw set, and their voice was hard as they demanded;   ❝ no. let me, first. ❞

@corprusik​ for u

[rsdaynia]

               HOW ODD IT WAS TO RETURN.    no  longer  indoril ,    no  longer  elmmon.    he  is  only  defined  by   moon    &    star ,   only  as  great  as  azura  will  bless  him  to  be .     he  remembers  the  last  time  he  walked  through  this  hall —   eerily  silent  with  echoes  of  disappeared  friends .   yet  all  there  is  now  is  the  screeching  of  bones ,    &   the  words  of  an  old  friend  reminding  him  of  some  harpish  melody  never  truly  forgotten .    upon  sight  of  him ,   that  golden  mask  from  his  dreams ,   everything  moon   &    star  planned  to  say  is  plucked  from  his  thoughts .   all  he  is  left  with  is  reciting  some  memory  from  an  era  passed .

             ‘    sometimes ,    i  still  feel  my  flesh  sizzling ,   ‘    he  says ,   hand  moving  to  cover  his  side   in   some  residual  instinct .    ‘   &  i  see  my  blade ,    stretching  through  your  chest .    &   i  remember  how  i  died  hating  you  with  every  drip  of  blood  coursing  through  my  veins .   ‘   tears  prick  at  his  eyelashes ,    but  in  both  lives ,     he  has  always  refused  to  acknowledge  them .    ‘   i  don’t  want  to  hate  you  anymore .  ‘   his  voice  trembles  under  the  weight  of  forgotten  eras ,    grief  dangling  from  his  ribs  for  the  tribe  unmourned .    he  drops  his  sword  to  the  ground ,   letting  it  sift  into  the  rubble  of  destiny  around  them .

            ‘   i  loved  you .   my  friend ,  ‘  he  whispers , sounding  much  like  he  had  back  then .    ‘ please  let  me —   let  us  destroy  the  heart .   together .    &   we  can  bury  these  tools ,    &   we  can  go  against  the  oath - breakers ,   restoring  morrowind ,   restoring  resdaynia . ‘    he  sounds  desperate ,  like  one  so  foolishly  choking  on  the  sour  ash .    nerevar  has  never  cared  about  appearances  around  volyn ,    &    has  no  idea  how  they  should  act  now ,    with  these  different  names .

          ‘  or —  ‘   his  breath  hitches  in   his  throat .   the  lord  moon    &   star  knows  he  is  being  selfish ,    &   decides  to  continue  anyways .    ‘  at  least …  let  me  see  your  face .    it’s  been  so  many  years   &  —   i  just  wish  to  see  you ,    before  fate  has  its  bitter  way  with  us .   ‘

@corprusik !

[edilaith]

Shal says kiss kiss 😘

        𝔠𝔩𝔞𝔴𝔦𝔫𝔤  𝔥𝔢𝔯  𝔴𝔞𝔶       out  of  eternal  slumber  bore  a  curse  of  isolation,  damning  her  to  prowl  the  earth  as  a  blood-hungry  beast  by  her  lonesome.    poison  concocted  by  newfound  bitterness  flows  cold  in  her  veins,  replacing  the  vigor  once  bloomed  from  her  center     /     trust  acclimated  within  her  hands  lay  limp  between  her  strangling  fingers  until  it  was  pried  away  by  shal’van  and  resurrected,  ownership  reclaimed  by  him  forever.

        a  phantom  ache  haunts  her  stilled  heart  with  every  kiss  they  share     /     though  lifeless,  it’s  also  in  his  possession.             sometimes,  she  thinks  their  crossing  fates  was  a  gift  given  to  her  by  her  divines  as  a  thank  you  for  her  devoutness.     like  stolen  saccharine,  she  would  become  hollow  if  starved  of  him.

      ❝        𝐦𝐲  𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞,        ❞           she  coos  as  lips  depart,   pallid  touch  gracing  raven  locks  like  snowfall.     an  imprint  of  bloodied  petals  is  left  upon  his  neck  as  her  mouth  meets  his  skin.                                                                                   ❝        𝐬𝐮𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐫’𝐬  𝐦𝐚𝐝𝐞  𝐦𝐞  𝐟𝐮𝐥𝐥       { . . . }       𝐛𝐮𝐭  𝐢  𝐥𝐞𝐟𝐭  𝐚  𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞  𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐦  𝐟𝐨𝐫  𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐭.        ❞

[screamcr]

botanical     /    @corprusik​ inquired :      bay tree, hollyhock .

does your muse seek glory   &   accolades ,   or do they favour a simpler ,   more personal life ?

     nightingale seeks a simple, secluded life above all else and it’s for this reason she travels to skyrim in the first place . she has no memory before she fled the summerset isles and her thalmor captors, which has led to her leading a paranoid filled existence for the past thirty or forty years where survival was the most she could afford to have . she believes there is no pride in survival, no honor in starvation, and this is what fueled her thievery as she took what she needed and scraped by . the idea of her being able to live a simple life, hidden away from her pursuers and where she can comfortably fend for herself with a roof over her head and a warm fire to fend off the cold, is a dream she is just trying to make reality but with all this talk of dragons and the blades and the thalmor, she doesn't believe it will ever be something she can achieve .

how strong is your muse’s sense of ambition ?  what’s something they strive for in life ?  

     this is sort of a continuation, but nightingale has little ambition for things like monetary gain or power, she doesn't even want to be a thane or anyone of notoriety . she collects shiny things like gems, precious metals, and coin simply because she knows they have inherent value, though she is ignorant of their value, and is known to leave piles of these things to people who aid her or close friends simply because its the only thing she's noted that makes people happy . she is a hunter by nature, a ranger / bard by class, and a child of the green . she doesn't need money to survive, she can hunt for her food, for her clothes and weapons, and that's the only thing she is trying to work towards . she just wants to hides away in the dense woods of the far north of skyrim, where the cold is too harsh for thalmor, and where she can live out her days unafraid and free . she strives for safety and security in her life, where she can live the rest of her days unencumbered by the fear of recapture .

[rsdaynia]

📕 from voryn C:

               IF HE WAS TO BE HORTATOR ,     he  must  be  perceived  other  than  the  out-lander  he  is .    where  only  a  mercenary  protecting  a  traveling  caravan  of  merchants  two  months  ago ,   he  now  finds  himself  launching  a  successful  war  campaign  against  nordic  invaders —    &   with  that  must  come  an  air  of  intelligence  about  him .    voryn  is  the  only  person  he  lets  that  air  dissipate  around —    he  lets  go  of  dead ,  scaly  skin    &    displays  proudly  the  forgotten  indoril .   here  he  is  allowed  to  be  clueless ,   here  he  is  allowed  to  ask  questions .

          finding  his  body  naturally  gravitating  towards  voryn ,   he  shifts  closer  to  him ,   gaze  spilling  over  the  same  book .     he  lifts  a  finger  to  a  word   ,   feeling  the  rough  papyrus  against  his  skin ,   &    squints  as  if  that  ever  helped .

         ‘    how  do  you  say  this ?   ‘    he  asks ,    as  he  so  often  does ,   shame  pricking  at  his  tone .    one  day ,   he  wants  to  simply  get  through  a  book  with  voryn ,   not  being  plagued  by  his  own  ignorance .

｡☽☆﹡ 𝐒𝐎𝐅𝐓  𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐀𝐂𝐘   /    𝑨𝑪𝑪𝑬𝑷𝑻𝑰𝑵𝑮 . ﹡✧ *

[agonydeity-archive2]

Disease? Disease.

                absolutely   .    disease   means   the  apocalypse    ,    &    the   apocalypse   means   that   this   show   can   get   on   the   ROAD    !

[wasulfhrafnx]

coughs up some corprus in ur food

/ pees in your mask

[rsdaynia]

“ Don’t move, you’re bleeding. ” // past!verse @ nerevar

        BOLT WEDGED INTO HIS SHOULDER ,    nerevar  quivers  in  that  certain  way  of  a  pinned  moth .    bloodied  hand  wedges  its  fingers  around  the  remnant  of  a  battle  still  warring ,    pressing  into  the  wound .    he  looks  to  voryn ,    silvered  eyes  wide    &    anxious .

         ‘    just  pull  it  out  or  break  it  off —   ‘    he  breathes ,    voice  strained .    ‘  i  need  to  get  back  out  there .  ‘

injured memes !  / accepting :)