#maegtig

[scmildanach]

@maegtig​ ❤’d for a starter 

❝ Christ, because if it ain’t the Scandinavian Hippie, it’s his uglier, moodier, far less environmentally-friendly brother: Bobby the Berserker. The fuck you want? ❞

[helreginn]

The sounds of hooves trudging through soft earth was not overly loud but loud enough that Hel kept her gaze on the treeline. At a distance, she could see the glow emanating from the spiritual centres of all who lived nearby, even if she could not physically see beyond the trees themselves. This was fine enough until one of them became brighter, closer. She clicked her tongue against her teeth as she hopped down from her horse and gently brushed her hands over it’s side. It was not a normal horse. Or rather, not anymore. Where there should’ve been fur and hair and eyes and ears.. there was only bones. Unbound by flesh or muscle or tendons.. 

As she passed her fingers over it, the appearance of the horse shifted. Starting from it’s muzzle and ending at it’s tail, redish brown fur manifested itself where it should’ve been from the start. If anyone looked upon her horse then, they would see nothing wrong with it. Not even a leg out of place. She moved to the horse’s face and gently patted it’s cheek before whispering, “Bare with it, darling. You will not be an Omen today.” 

Just as the figure of a man broached the treeline and came into view, Hel looked up with a polite and innocent smile. 

@maegtig

[elvened]

@maegtig​ | MAGNI

DISEASE AND SICKNESS rotted away even the very air of the forest. It was almost SUFFOCATING to breathe in now. But Thranduil led Magni through the forest’s path. Lest they loose themselves to the darkness that had overtaken it. A fog seemed to settle in the morning allure. A faint light trickled in from the treetops above. A TAUNT that even the light of the sun was not enough to heal the crippled roots and vines that decayed before them now. The forest had been grande once. A great elven sanctuary. Lush with greenery and alive with the woodland spirits who inhabited it. The forest held an eerie silence. For the only sign of life they encountered on their venture was the distant echo of a crows call, and the buzzing of flies that had collected on the decaying carcass of a deceased fox.

Thranduil remains poised, his expression steely and untelling of the profound grief that ached at his core. And the FEAR he felt for his people. For they had pushed far back against the northern reaches of the forest. It was no longer SAFE. It appeared now nothing more than a vast wasteland of rotten sticks and wood. For they had not yet encountered the vile BEASTS possessed by the very sickness that surrounded them now. But Thranduil does not dare venture too far, lest he puts Magni at risk. When he reaches the borders of his own elves guard, Thranduil halts with a raised hand he flashes to Magni.

❛ We will go no further. There is a nest of SPIDERS to the east of this place and I do not DESIRE to encounter them. My guard keeps close watch on this border, to ensure the spiders do not stray TOO CLOSE to our residence. Though they have been quite the burden as of late. ❜ There is a deep frown pressed against perfect features, an icy stare turns to address Magni directly. He paces forward, and leans in close. His tone lowers to a whisper, as though the forest might be LISTENING.

❛ Radagast has done, all that he can. ❜ He pauses, and when lips part to speak again, there is the faintest note of FEAR upon his tongue. ❛ I KNOW it is him. I know it is the EVIL ONE whose claws have ripped at the roots of this forest. I do not speak so CANDIDLY to the woodland elves. But they have their suspicions, of that I am certain. ❜

[waswilczmin]

 geralt  was  certainly  not  someone  who  liked  to  fight  in  the  wild  when  there  was  no  promise  of  coin  behind  it  .  but  he  would  if  it  meant  he  would  have  peace  and  quiet  and  not  have  to  worry  about  sharp  teeth  in  his  neck  while  he  slept  .  there  must  have  been  something  nearby  ,  for  his  medallion  to  shake  as  it  was  now  ,  tapping  against  the  leather  strap  across  his  chest  .  something  was  here  ,  and  he  intended  to  find  it  .

 for  what  it  mattered  now  ,  it  seemed  he  had  to  .  he  could  feel  the  hair  on  the  back  of  his  neck  rise  and  reached  up  to  draw  the  silver  sword  from  his  back  .  next  to  a  tree  he  squatted  ,  cocking  an  ear  up  to  listen  ,  frozen  in  place  .

                      *  ━゜   starter  call   /   @maegtig​  .

[apogexnarchive]

                     SENTENCE MEME || ACCEPTING !!

@maegtig​ said  ❝  perhaps you shouldn’t drink alone.  ❞

Her gaze was critical, even when paired with the faintest upward curl of one corner of her mouth. As though she were amused by his audacity and simultaneously sizing every square inch of him up. Weighing parts of him together with his suggestion to determine if he was worth a second of her time or would be more befitting a future meal. It took mere seconds, if that, to complete such a study and if she was pleased with the result or not did not show on her face. 

“No? I quite like drinking alone.” Her tone was light, casual, potentially welcoming. As she raised her beverage to her mouth and drank those icy blue eyes did not leave him. Once it was lowered, she offered a shrug. “I won’t turn you away should you stay.”

[ofvergen]

starter for @maegtig​ ♥

She could fly. She could always fly, as far as the rocky peaks would allow her, cutting through the blizzard like a red-hot sword, and shortening her journey from long, tedious days to a few hours. Yet she treasures this, the opportunity to travel alone, trekking through the knee-high snow with her fur-lined coat billowing about her frame. It’s freeing, and it reminds her of home.

The Skellige Isles have been good to Saskia. With the illusion of her humanity shattered, she has nothing left to hide, and, for once in her life, it feels like she doesn’t have to hide. Winged-maiden, they call her, and instead of seeking to destroy that which they fear, they raise their weapons to the sky and shout their battle cries when they see her flying overhead. The weathered warriors of these lands accept her in a way the mainlanders never have: they welcome her inside their homes, around their fires, share their ale and their stories with her.

It was one such story that brought Saskia up here, where the wind is swift and the air cold and harsh. A story of a mighty warrior, more wolf than man, wandering the world while wearing the face of a human. It sounded... familiar. Above kinship, though, she seeks allies.

After Nilfgaard had conquered her country and slaughtered nearly all of her people, Saskia flew over the sea and to the islands of Skellige, with one goal in mind: to rebuild her army and reclaim her homeland from the invaders. She’s made significant progress, rallying warriors and veterans, pirates and raiders to her cause, even several druids joining in, all eager to push back the Nilfgaardian invasion, knowing all too well that if the rest of the Northern Kingdoms were to fall to the Black-Clads, the Isles were next. 

Still, more than brute force is needed to accomplish such a feat, and so here she is, seeking magical figures of legend in remote and forgotten places.

She continues her journey upwards, in the companionable silence of the snow-capped mountains. Wild animals give her a wide berth-- because they can recognize what she is or because these creatures are somehow different from the ones she knows, Saskia cannot tell. She can sense, however, that the ambient magic is more potent here, nearly replacing the blizzard in the way it surrounds her and whips against her skin. 

At last, she comes to a halt. The wind stops here and the snow falls vertically, almost gentle-like. Saskia looks around her. There is no altar here, no place of worship, no man-made construction, but the small plateau is a Place of Power all the same. Strong enough, Saskia hopes, that she can somehow contact him, the wolf from the legend, and ask for his help. 

So she waits, blinking against the blinding white as snowflakes stick to her eyelashes and turn her cheeks pink. 

[gulldrengur]

@maegtig​

               ❝ Long live the King! Long live the King! ❞ ( from Magni post ragnarok because I HAD TO )

The voices of the one’s who are present fill the room, the torches warmth the place and there’s a smell of mead and food, they drum their foot to one sung ‘long live the king’ they chant over and over again. A prayer that he almost hates, -- almost.

He stares at the faces that surround him and so many are missing, lost forever, siblings, parents, uncles. Lives whose fire has been extinguished, is this the choice of the Norns?, For him to sit where his father once sat to rule over  kingdoms and watch over them? -- He looks from his golden throne, down where his three nephews are, Thrud, Modi, Magni. and there’s this smile on them, bright, radiant. to the point it makes him want to weep. His son Forseti at his right, with his hands tied together with a stern look.

He can’t handle it, he can’t hear the voices any longer so the now king, brought back after a tragedy looks at his people with sorrowful eyes. He presses his nose bridge and sighs and the world hold its breath when they see the god of peace mourn for what he had lost. “Instead of celebrate my name” he says softly, voice thundering and he remembers his brother. Whose thunder and smile has been a beacon for him. “And claim me as king, lets remeber those who we lost, your father, my brothers, my father. All those who fought in a terrible war. They are all gone, and I cannot forget them, none of us should. Their lives most always be sung, Their deeds spread around the nine kigndoms, do not let them die a second time”

[odisn]

Magni sends a raven but it’s just a note that says: get a phone

“   I  HAVE  A  PHONE ,    ”   he mutters impatiently ,  gesturing to his broken Nokia .