#i-nsubordination

[gzeidraws]

Commissioned by @pieman1112 for @i-nsubordination and @i--gnis

Robin and Olivia family picture, featuring Naeva (Robin’s mom) :D

[indumasname]

For a moment, she has to gather her thoughts-- to determine whether or not the sage heard Celica's request correctly. It is one thing to hug someone so renowned-- it is another thing entirely to do that for the same person, but one whose air reeks of dread only found in those caught in possession. Naeva's arms eventually move to bring Celica into a gentle, motherly sort of embrace, yet they remain lightly trembling for a handful of moments. After all, the girl could kill her so easily like this.

 I got really annoyed by having to constantly edit the formatting of my posts so I moved this reply here, thanks for understandi

[valorandgold-archived]

@i-nsubordination

Morgan when grandma Naeva gets mad at others like:

Meanwhile, Naeva around Morgan like:

[regaldisaster]

i-nsubordination replied to your post: “All you guys ageing like wine, while im here...

“How unfortunate for you… but not undeserved,”

“...Don’t smile too much, your wrinkles are going to show up.”

[drylic]

♘- grima (I FEEL BAD FORTHIS ONE)

♘ = stabbing them.

@drylicu @i-nsubordination (tagging both of them, because this is in regards to something I talked to jessica about some time back!)

also, putting under a cut because this contains some pretty uh, wild stuff.

trigger warnings as follows: tw; gore, tw; violence, tw; abuse tw; blood

      “ Whelp, you dare defy me?! Tell me now— Where has your sister fled to? “ Thick, claw-like appendages squeezed around the throat of the weak boy that Grima held up in the air. The tips of his razor-sharp nails pinching in a little too deeply as droplets of blood rolled down the boy-puppet’s neck. A gasp, both out of pain and need for oxygen clambered its way out of his tightly held esophagus. Marc’s teeth gritted in order to focus his tension somewhere, a tendril of drool being loudly ‘slurped’ as he tried to keep himself together as best as he could. 

      Just days prior Marc’s beloved twin sister had ‘ magically ‘ disappeared from the castle. Was Marc aware as to why? Not at all, as the twins grandmother had kept her plans hidden all along to get her grandchild away from the ferocious monstrosity that had become their father. The time to strike and scurry from Plegia had came with not enough time to prepare them both and thus, the older sorceress had been forced to make a choice on who to save and who to leave behind. Morgan would have surely died, that much was obvious to all of the grimleal around. In fact, it was often heard in quiet gossip that the sole reason the girl was alive was merely because their Master liked having a ‘ toy. ‘ Now, with his boredom setting in, it was obvious that without Morgan around to treat so cruelly the Fell Dragon would need to find someone else to take his frustrations out on.

      This brings us to Marc held up in the air like some sort of ragdoll. It did not matter if he was a master of Dark Magic or that he could properly cast the spells learnt from within Grima’s Truth. To the Fell Dragon he was nothing more than a useful puppet to do his bidding and quell any foes that dared to stand in his way. Morgan was just a bartering chip to keep the boy in line. And without her, Marc was as much of an asset as his sister; worthless and easily disposable.

      “ M-Master… I— hnngh… “ The redhead’s voice was husky and hoarse, barely capable of forming a proper sentence. His Master’s head cocked to the side, a smug and snarky grin spread widely on the Dragon’s features. The tight grip around Marc’s throat squeezed tighter, more blood dripping down before the creature’s hand relinquished its grip and dropped Marc to the floor. A resoundingly loud thud echoed through the chambers of the hall as the princeling landed flat on his back. Oh, how his back arched forward in pain as he gasped sharply and nearly screamed in immediate pain. It was over; he could catch his breath. As quickly as he could bring his arms up to his neck, Marc was covering his bleeding neck with the palms of his hands.

      For a brief— very, very brief moment, Marc felt relief. His master was giving him a moment to speak up and explain himself. Taking another deep breath in, Marc lifted his head to stare up towards his Master. Though when his maroon eyes met that sharp, crimson gaze Marc was staring back to the floor; unable to face the monster that lived within his father’s body. “ Morgan… Grandmother… I have no idea as to why they would leave, Master. Please… forgive me for not knowing… Should I go find them? “ Oh, a mistake so grave of him to have asked… Naivety in regards to their master was always going to be the downfall of Marc & Morgan…

      “ Find them? Oh, yes… You will hunt them down, and you will bring them back to me on their knees; begging and pleading for forgiveness. “ As Grima spoke, he stepped closer to Marc and hovered above his so-called ‘ successor. ‘ What a truly pathetic, useless being. At the very least he had his worth stemming from his loyalty and capable skills as an heir… Squatting down to be on Marc’s level, Grima’s claw-like appendages once again took a hold of their puppet. This time, of Marc’s chin and cheeks as he cupped the boy’s face almost ‘ lovingly ‘ like a father would. “ And when you do, I will make them scream louder than they have ever screamed before. Just, like this. “ With his opposing hand, Grima reached for a small ritual dagger that hung off his belt. Just before the pause in his speech, the Fell Dragon jammed the dagger straight into Marc’s shoulder. The teenager’s eyes went wide with a mixture of fear and agonizing pain. His jaw swung open as he went to scream in anguish; his hand rushing to clutch his arm though Grima prevented him from trying to remove the blade.

      “ They will scream just like this, only louder! “ The blade was twisted within his shoulder, encouraging the boy to scream louder just as the Dragon wanted to hear. “ And when their voices are too hoarse to scream any louder, I will silence them for good. Their heads will roll and their bodies will lay limp on the floor. You can even have the honors of burying them after. A good lad such as yourself deserves a reward, doesn’t he? Always following my orders, so obedient. “ Grima cackled as he released Marc’s face, his hand gently ‘ slapping ’ the side of his cheek before standing up and walking away. “ Clean yourself up and get to work. You’re bleeding all over the granite floor. “ There, Marc was left alone in the grand hall as he attempted to pull the dagger free his shoulder.

[letsriddlemethislucifer]

He is aloof. He is cold and unfriendly-- someone who, for whatever reason, seems to want nothing more than to push the sage away, or that is how she sees it at the very least. There is so much the woman wishes to say-- so many things that she would yet have to discuss with his mother, her daughter-- and yet, when Naeva goes to speak, no words follow. Instead, she bites the bullet and dares to brings him into an embrace; one light enough to be broken with ease. No-- she cannot tell him. Not yet.

@i-nsubordination

From: Naeva

To: Astarot

             --- Visit after visit, it became harder to show his fangs like he used to.  It wasn’t impossible, persay, only if he threw his own feelings to the side-- But he couldn’t. Whether she was his grandmother or not, he still had manners to let her in to rest her feet. He would still serve her some tea or even a bowl of food. However, when she tried to grow close, he drew a line. 

Distancing himself by doing dishes, cutting wood, or just reading and deciphering scrolls. It was in his nature to, ever since he was younger. The moment she would lift a hand to reach out to him, he would sub-consciously flinch, no matter how far away he was from her. 

Because he wasn’t familiar with a kind touch. Whether it was the orphanage, the foster parents, or when he used to live on the streets for a time -- no hand had been seen in a good light.  

So when he started to cover a sickly cough, and a shadow came to view, he was quick to strike at her fingers.

       Like a cornered animal, the mage glared daggers at her. However, when he noticed how taken aback she was, he grew uncertain. Why would she reach to him? Was there something to gain? He highly doubted she would go to strike him, but he wasn’t sure as to why he thought that.  He didn’t understand.

                What could he do? Just flat out ask? But he had no reason to. In the end, he only looked away and covered his mouth with a handkerchief. He needed to settle his coughing down, first.  Maybe by distancing himself some more, she would leave, right? 

That’s what he had hoped.

That’s what he wanted.

But even after he stabled his lungs, the shadow cast on the floorboards remained still. She remained right were she’d been. Right beside him. Why? Why stay? There was no reason to, was there? He couldn’t understand what there was to gain. 

He knew nothing of his mother’s whereabouts, nor if she was conscious of his existence. Even if Naeva had never asked such things, he had only assumed as such. He was nothing grand like those of the shepherds. He had lost control of his own casting when he was in the academy, and was nothing but an outcast to the main capital. So what else could he think of? That this woman he barely knew, chose to visit for worry of him? That seemed too unrealistic to him.

The more time passed in silence, the more frustrated he grew of his own thoughts. He grew angry, and decided it best to send her off--

Yet when he finally raised his head to snap at her to leave, his tongue took to a tight knot. Because she closed the distance, he thought to try and shrink away. Because she took to raise both arms, he wanted to guard himself.

Because he found himself in a foreign warmth, he froze up.

His pulse was quick at first, enough so to the point it felt like thunder was continuously clogging his ears. His trembling was all the more felt, causing the tips of his grandmother’s cloak to flutter. They stayed like that, even as his eyes stayed shut tight. No matter how long he kept them shut, nothing else happened. 

He peeked an eye open, if only to see why there was no other movement. When he saw that her guard was completely down, he was going to push her off of him--- that was.. until he noticed her expression. 

Why are you sad?

That single thought caused him to hesitate. He clenched his teeth, his brows furrowing as stress lines grew visible under his eyes. 

What is this? A tactic? But she was completely unguarded.

Really, what is this?

If you want me to answer your questions, just ask!

If you want your daughter, find her yourself! 

Isn’t that why you’re here? For information?

Just ask me already! Don’t just--

           His face heated up the more he was kept close.  Why is it warm here? Why is it warm? What is this? Again and again his thoughts were flooded with the same questions. 

                    His suspicions of any ulterior motives died away, along with the tremors and heated pulse. Fists lazily began to uncurl. A sharp heat grew from his nose up to his eyes, and his shoulders slumped down.

                  ....You don’t understand?

                           You liar.

                 You just don’t want to be abandoned anymore, right?

                            ----

                                      ----

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                                              -----

----- 

                                        --------------------

                                  It’s warm.

[svarmodiig]

@i-nsubordination liked for a starter!

“ Nana, how was that? I choreographed that dance just for you - it was inspired by Plegian dancing I saw while travelling! “

[exalted--zealotry]

( ooc. I am forever a constant source of disappointment for Jessica/@i-nsubordination And I’m okay with that )