#kingroun

[thedailyhundred]

We talked. Now we fight.

[unasscmingarchive]

              her sword is a weight in her hand as she sags, her shoulders curving in and her breaths a heavy pant. she is dripping in sweat, her hands are sore and she feels as if she has been stuffed inside a barrel and rolled down a hill. still as she raises her sword once again her face is set, determination in her eyes as she looks across to her partner. she had been coming for weeks now and she HAS improved, but it has been fought for. her fears had been partly correct, they had LAUGHED at her terrible stances when she had shown up and displayed what she knew. still, she enjoys it here. there is no TALKING, and for once in her life she does not have to be a RUSE. she can simply move, and hit, and use the anger that is a well so deep she doesn’t believe there is an end inside her. of course there is always AFTER training when she makes sure to take a moment to speak quietly with HIM. her target has not changed, but that does not mean she can not take this SERIOUSLY. she refuses --- cutting the thought off she swings her sword, her feet carrying her forward and into the attack.

@kingroun plotted starter

[zosimekomazgeda-blog]

@kingroun​, Closed starter

Life in the bunker really wasn't so bad once one went past the infirmary. The dull grey of concrete walls was offset by wooden paneling that gave the place both some physical and aesthetic warmth. Likewise, the large living spaces outside of the bunk rooms were soft and comfortable, covered in wood flooring or short, dense carpet and full of various couches, chairs, tables and benches. Wall sconces and hanging fixtures lit the rooms softly, set on timers to emulate the rise and fall of the sun.

The place had been designed with comfort during extended stays in mind, and if one could ignore the lack of windows, sometimes one could forget they were almost a mile under the ground. A good-sized library, a comfortable mess hall, a light therapy room, and several corners tucked away with slightly more lavish furnishings meant as get-away spaces when the confined living became too much. Certainly more luxury than anyone born on the ground in the last hundred years had ever experienced. There was even a stock of 'brand new' clothes, never worn before and lacking patches or tears, readily available to all who wanted them. Zosime's favorite amenity, however, was the gym. She had come across it during a walk after Roan was released from the infirmary, and had spent some time speaking with the members of Skaikru who seemed to know how to use the incredibly strange equipment. There was a machine that one could run on for hours and not go anywhere; that was her favorite. She'd close her eyes, picture home, and run until her legs were jelly before bedtime. It was good for the soul. On this particular day, she had tucked herself into one of the quieter spots in the Azgeda common room, in her under-armor tank and a pair of light sweat pants from the stores, with a pack of cards she had bartered for after playing a few rounds of one of the skaiyongon's games. Here, she was trying to teach herself how to shuffle, hair twisted out of her eyes in a loose bun, tongue poked out from between her lips in concentration, spilling the cards here and there as she tried to riffle them on the table. So wrapped up in this, she had entirely missed the others heading off for lunch. No doubt, her absence would be noticed.

[saviorbuilt]

                            ;; @kingroun for a smol thing

         she really did have her own apartment, one that she liked and refused to give up on for the sake of owning her own space. she had made that mistake before and wasnt going to do it again, even if she knew that roan had the means to support full rent. the blonde happily sat in the large rather extravagant bathtub, her bath bomb turning the water into a soft purple color, filling the room with the scent of lavender. she was already a chapter into her new book when she heard the front door open and close, “in here!” she called.

         clarke leaned over the edge to pick up her wine, her messy high top bun tipping over a bit, rebel strands stuck to her shoulders. her tub wasnt as nice as his, that was fact.  

[tempercd]

                                  “oso laik mou yuj ogeda”

                     “ Because brothers don’t let each                              other  wander  in the   dark alone. ”             roun kom azgeda . caed kom azgeda . roan kom azgeda

[headstrongblake-a]

                        @kingroun liked for captured o & banished roan

through her journey octavia’s watched too many suns rise and one too many evenings filled with stars. each new night that passes breaks a little more of her scarce hope because at this point, she’s not even sure she’s heading in the right direction. however, octavia’s finally made it to green forests instead of wandering aimlessly through the cold snow that threatened to freeze her feet off after her escape. there’s been many times over the last couple weeks ( months ? ) where she’s convinced if she didn’t have something someone to fight for she would have just laid down to die. for the last seventeen years she’s been a fire cracker, even when forced to hide beneath the floor but after her captivity in queen nia’s hands she’s barely holding herself together.

          fear is a demon. Close your eyes and tell yourself that you are not afraid. That is how you slay the demon.

her mother’s voice keeps ringing in her ears, pushing her forward while her body pleads with her to simply give up. the sun beams down on her through breaks in the trees but it’s not enough to keep her eyelids from fluttering closed while feet continue to drag with exhaustion. her eyes are only closed for a second, but it’s all she needs to take a misstep and come tumbling down as her feet tangle with roots. “ah!” a sharp gasp leaves her lips. her hand digs into the soil, trying to breathe away the pain pulsing all over her body. octavia’s silent for a moment, unable to shift herself back up onto her feet just yet. and that’s when she hears it -- heavy footsteps against the forest floor.

         get up octavia. get up. no, lay down. if they catch you again -- you’ll never make it out of azgeda alive. but then it’ll be over. bellamy and lincoln will only be memories. the pain will stop.

there’s a war raging inside her head between the girl desperate to survive and the scared little girl in her begging her to just wait. even though her will to fight is stronger, when octavia tries to push herself up from the ground another wave of pain hits her halting her movements.

[seakept]

@kingroun gets our canon divergent-ness

As she lay there, pooled in black blood, Luna was certain she was dead. After all, she had no energy to move, even as they brought in the deceased. Even as just a whimper would alert them to the fact she still breathed, pained, uncomfortable gasps so undetectable that the fallen of the conclave were laid around her. Those she’d slaughtered. Those she’d seen slaughtered. Their blood cold and bodies limp. Death, all around her, just what she’d said she’d wanted despite the fear bubbling in her stomach.

After a few hours she knew she was alone, the grounders having dispersed to deal with their untimely demise, and laying there, she accepted her death. Accepted it with the weight of guilt so heavily on her shoulders. Perhaps now, she would be free...

Until she heard a stirring. A movement so small, but so loud against the absence of noise as the world began to slowly burn. She managed to turn her head to look- just to see, to give in for a moment to curiosity before giving up entirely, but what she saw...

It was Roan. A few bodies down, covered in black blood and unfortunate lesions. At first she thought the blood was her own, but... it seemed from wounds previously washed by rain and water. Painfully, she turned over, letting out a groan as she pushed herself into crawling position. His life, it seemed, was giving her energy. Spurring her own. Letting her borrow just an ounce of strength to ignore the pain in her abdomen that kept her from standing upright.

Finally she let out a loud gasp, heaving a breathful of air into her lungs. Body moving, body healing. “ Roan ? “ Luna needed to know if she’d imagined him to save herself, or if he did, in fact, still breathe.

[idcntmiss]

       ani had often WONDERED what it would be like to meet nia’s children. it’s something she dreamed about constantly, but never thought would come to fruition. she could never go back. that was the deal, but now, it seems, her family has, in a way, come to her. SHE SELDOM GOES TO POLIS, knowing that her resemblance to the fallen queen would almost certainly get her killed, but needs must. she tells his guard that she wishes an audience, and when it’s GRANTED, she’s not sure which path to take. to reveal her face or not ? deciding to see how he responds to her voice ( a bit higher than the gruffer tone nia’s had taken on, but similar all the same ), she speaks first.

       ❝ THANK YOU for agreeing to meet with me your highness. i’m sorry i couldn’t come sooner, but...i’m ouskejon. arranging a meeting with you with the markings of my clan is...DIFFICULT to say the least. ❞

               { @kingroun }