#nvvrrmorr

[ryoshan]

     the stuffy smell of damp wood permeated the air, assailing winter’s senses with every footstep she made, like the rotten old house itself was fighting back against her intrusion despite her careful steps. on the upper floor, she was all too wary that the wrong amount of weight on her leading foot could spell a worse fate than the one she whispered through the dark actively seeking. 

     a flutter of wings to her right had her turn sharply, and wince in her second breath as though winter expected the floor to collapse under her feet. when it didn’t, her eyes followed the shadows that danced in her torchlight until they settled on the form of a bird, sitting atop a dilapidated bookshelf. it had bright crimson eyes, and around its neck hung a white charm. winter didn’t need to be closer to know it was made of whalebone. 

     her free hand settled on the pommel of her blade, and she took a step in the direction of the corvid, calling out to it with a clarity and volume she swore rocked the very walls. 

     “you are her pet, are you not? take me to your master, bird. i have wish to speak with her.”

joke’s on you winter, she’s the bird | @nvvrrmorr 

[ryoshan-c-blog]

@nvvrrmorr​

   Yang didn’t remember the last time she got a full night’s sleep. It never used to be a problem back in the days where waking up at night just meant she needed a breath of air on the porch before settling down for her second batch of sleep. Now, her sleeplessness came with hot sweats and an inability to breathe. Going outside wasn’t a whim, it was a necessity to choke back the cool night air and clear her lungs of the smoke that’d entombed them. This night, the eve of their journey to Atlas, was no different. 

   Her bare toes dug into the gravel at the bottom of the stoop she was perched on, and Yang’s eyes gave a haphazard glance upwards. She might not have noticed the silhouette of a bird against the shattered moon had it’s wings not fluttered under her glazed scrutiny, but it did. Maybe it wanted to be noticed. There was no mistaking the red eyes, and Yang came to the stark realisation that it wasn’t just at the bandit camp, or at Haven Academy that she’d seen this bird before. Yang stood up, arm loose at her side and the other craving the prosthetic she’d left in her room. 

   “You’re following me again.” She called out, eyes on the bird. It stepped from foot to foot, but otherwise didn’t react. That angered Yang even more, her fist curling so tightly she could feel the crescents of her nails digging into her palm. 

   “You gonna show your face, or are you too much of a coward for that too?” 

[ryoshan-a]

◤ ONE-LINER.┊ @nvvrrmorr

        “So, I’m seventeen now.” 

[remnesque]

( sc. ) @nvvrrmorr.

                      “ I TRUST YOU’VE PREPARED WELL   for our plan, raven. ”  topaz hue lingers on the bird’s visage, smirk crawling upon eager lips.  “ your reputation as a powerful leader is no mistake from what i’ve seen thus far. ”

[dadjckes-blog]

@nvvrrmorr​

          “raven,” the last place he expected to see the woman was in his front yard but now that she’s here, the back-seated anger he’s always kept like a pocket-watch dampens at the sight of her. red eyes ( not like they normally are, at least. ) puffed cheeks. distress. has she...been crying? 

           he should ask why she’s here, why now, what happened, what changed, but instead, “...are you alright?” comes out first.

[unfxxful-blog]

                                                                                𝕒 𝕕𝕖𝕒𝕝 𝕗𝕠𝕣 𝕥𝕨𝕠                                                                                             ⇾ @nvvrrmorr​. /.starter/

This was... Dramatic - even by Roman’s standards. Quite possibly the most irritating amount of effort put into a simple meeting he’d ever experienced -- and that’s saying a lot considering criminals usually have a reputation to keep up when it comes down to it. 

Smoke plumes from his lips, a roll of his eye follows the flash of a blade in the direction of his throat. ‘Savages. Can’t even greet a man before threatening to cut his throat.’ A gesture towards his cane, grip tightening ever so slightly on the hilt of the knife directed at the thief’s throat has Roman sighing dramatically into the fresh cloud of cigar smoke surrounding the both of them. He knows there are more. He also knows that even the slightest wrong move could lead to a fight that outnumbered Roman seven to one. 

He likes those odds.

The cane is handed over without an argument - the bandit given a hard glare before backing off with what she wanted from him. “Come alone she said. Neutral ground she said. Criminals these days - there’s just no trust!” 

The sun is setting behind him as Roman takes confident steps towards the tent sat at the edge of the clearing - sensitive hearing picking up the scrapes of boots over gravel and grass surrounding him. Okay, make that ten to one. Still, not bad odds at the end of the day. He’d prefer to have Melodic Cudgel by his side though - shame he didn’t think that would be happening. Though, at the end of the day - this deal between Bandit Chief and Criminal mastermind would be a lucrative one for both parties involved. That at least makes this effort and annoyance worth it. 

A lazy hand taps the ashes from the tip of his cigar to the ground before the entrance to this woman’s tent. A head is tilted in the direction of the closest bandit, gesturing as if to ask what to do next out of nothing more than a want to irritate those who quite possibly hold his life in their hands. The barrel of a shotgun against his spine pushes Roman through the entrance - causing him to stumble on his way in.

Well, there goes making good first impressions.

“Ah--A little birdie told me I’d find you here! Something about needing my services as a humble criminal mastermind I think? Lovely people you have there - under the four layers of grime, I’m sure. What can I do you for ma’am?” His tone is chipper - far too bright for what’s actually happening as Roman straightens himself out and adjusts the hat atop his ears out of more habit than anything.

[feubrulantis]

@nvvrrmorr

           “N-Not... like this...”     The battle between the two Maiden’s had certainly left it’s mark on the ceremonial vault that protected the relic. Boulders and rubble covered a bulk of the passageway between the elevator and the main door, the lasting remnants of a battle in which two determined forces had stood in direct opposition to one another. 

       As with all great conflicts however, there emerged a winner and loser....                                --And Cinder? She definitely ended up as the latter.         Her good eye slowly opened, her blurry vision focusing on the cold ground she found herself laying against. There wasn’t a part of her body that wasn’t stricken with pain, and a few particular gashes on her gave the all too sickening, warm feeling of blood trickling down from them.         “Gggh....” With a hiss caused by the physical anguish she felt leaving her lips, Cinder managed to work herself up on her hands and knees.. though even that fickle strength left her after a seconds, her body slumping back down against the ground yet again.        She turned her head to glance up at the victorious maiden that stood no more than a few feet from her, the sight causing her blood to boil. Cinder’s breaths were slow and labored,  but even now she yearned for Raven’s destruction... she managed to form her weapon back up to it’s hilt before it faded into nothingness once more.          “C....Coward....”

[heartlxssxne-blog]

ʀʙ . spoils of battle

The sensation of feeling was terribly unpleasant. It had been nearly an hour since his Aura had recovered enough for him to walk without the constant, lancing pain that danced tiny patterns over his spine, weaving deeply into the muscles && bones of his arms as though it belongs there. With so much of his body no longer protesting the vicious attack, he supposes that it does belong. The prosthesis is incredibly crude, barely more than a hunk of poorly shaped metal cradling his thighs with primitive affection.

Such primitive touch against a barely healed wound would supply him no relief. Mercury keeps his face impassive, staring ahead as he slowly worked his way around the clearing, unable to move faster without potentially reopening the scab that lay healing under the cotton wraps. His Aura remains slow to return, but little, steady pulses of healing would surely make him truly battle ready.

Regardless of the attempt of his breeder’s to set back that pace in favor of an obedient, docile combat drone. He would not subject himself to such a disadvantageous position without the promise of appropriate gains in the future. A shake of his head brings him from the calculations of the future towards his current efforts of recovery. Nothing could be done until he healed himself appropriately enough to formulate a valid escape.

“You can rest boy.” His sire’s words are met with a single swift nod, && the boy limps carefully to a shady tree. It’s bereft of its usual flock, instead housing a single raven. It was high up enough that he couldn’t discern whether or not it was a Grimm, but given that the wildlife had not silenced itself, it was safe to say it was one of many natural creatures. Allowing a measured breath out, he looks up at it. His father was near, so Mercury did not consider it prudent to attempt calling the corvid where it could be seen - && shot - by Marcus.

Might is right, governed by a blade && feathers of steel,             She, @nvvrrmorr, reigns above the family she calls her own.