#ofspvrta

[ofvoidx]

continued from here for @ofspvrta .

the goddess of love will always love the amazons and themyscira, she does it so selfishly like diana had loved kassandra so selfishly. THEREIN LIES THE PROMISE THAT ISN'T A BAD THING . sometimes love needs to be selfish to be good, sometimes it needs to be possessive like anything that needs to be loyally taken care of. LOVE SHOULD ALWAYS BELONG LIKE A HOUSE BELONGS TO SOMEONE . that's how it becomes a home. the clay and dirt of the earth forms into a familiar bronze skin tone. a head of the darkest and thickest hair forms under the tiara, one of the prized possessions to remember who diana is. PRINCESS OF THE AMAZONS, OF COURSE . beloved sister.

and it had to be so terribly frustrating watching the love of your life literally fade away, no body to even hold, disappearing into the earth she was born from. KASSANDRA LOOKS SO DELECTABLY GOOD WITH THE SHIELD ON HER BACK . a daughter of a greek empire, she easily fits in with the amazons. even if she wasn't greek, she still would have been greeted to a land of paradise for the trauma she struggled at the hands of men. DIANA OF THEMYSCIRA TAKES A DEEP BREATH IN . it didn't even sound like a struggle or a gasp, it just sounded like a woman remembering to breathe in the salty hair of themyscira.

diana's last thought simply becomes one of her first again, except this time she isn't fighting with a an evil boy who's pretending to play dubious god until they were both melting away at a hit that only the sun rivals. IT DOES, INDEED, TAKE THE HEAT OF THE SUN TO EVEN KILL DIANA . immortality comes in so many forms, but if she didn't have people that loved her, that would have been her end. AS IT STANDS DIANA KNOWS LOVE . the love of a hero sacrificing herself for a world that needs her. a love of a daughter that will miss her mother. the love of a sister that still needs her older sister's advice. THE LOVE OF A SOULMATE WHO UNDERSTANDS PEACE LIKE NOTHING ELSE .

finally, at last, ocean-blue eyes open.

the shouting of the laughing tyrant fades away, guilt from selflessly seeing only route to finally end the war and taking it with only an apology that's telepathically casted in kassandra's direction. DIANA'S SOUL WILL ALWAYS BE ALIVE . that is what makes her immortality so effervescent.

[1defense]

@ofspvrta & asta

ʜɪʀᴄɪɴᴇ ᴛᴏᴡᴇʀᴇᴅ ᴏᴠᴇʀ ᴛʜᴇ ʜᴜɴᴛʀᴇꜱꜱ. The daedra stands on cloven hooves, with antlers adding to his beastly height. The order is given ; the prey hides in his sanctuary. Find him and rip his skin from his bones! Asta follows, not because she is a worshipper of the prince of the hunt, but for justice. It is what has been demanded by those who still mourn in Falkreath.

And the jarl, too young and arrogant for his station, called for the death of Sinding as well, for the werewolf had escaped a Falkreath prison and embarrassed him.

ɪɴꜱɪᴅᴇ ʙʟᴏᴀᴛᴇᴅ ᴍᴀɴ'ꜱ ɢʀᴏᴛᴛᴏ, Asta finds three dead hunters just inside the cave's opening. The wildlife has remained untouched and the flora runs throughout as a small stream cuts through the space. An argonian in leather and hide armor speaks. FOR THE GLORY OF LORD HIRCINE. No. For the new grave that had been dug. Hircine's favor was a bonus. The argonian dies from his wounds. She murmurs. Stiff-scales.

A roar is heard from deeper within the grotto. A spriggan appears and fills her ears with buzzing, vibrating her head, but is swiftly cut down. Another woman - a hunter? - but one who still stands. Asta leaves chillrend by her side. The woman did her a favor, after all. "Well met, hunter. Have you come for the thrill of the hunt as well? The prey has not made it easy, by the looks of the bodies."

[clawedxmoon]

Oh, by the great gods was she scared. Terrified. Words could not explain the fear the feline was feeling. That man who hunted her down she killed, yes, but there would be more. There will be more. And this might just be her end, by this strong looking woman who stands taller than her. Zeza swallowed thickly, attempting to swallow back her fear, before she spoke up once more. ❝Y-Yes... I didn't mean to kill that man. I was hoping he'd leave after I tried to scare him off. But he persisted, and I... I did what had to be done. But you were sent to kill me, yes? I'm ashamed of how I look... Maybe it'd be for the better.❞ Her voice cracked slightly with emotion, sharp eyes seeming to soften more than they were. A flick of a tail, causing a candle to alight. A few more after that, until it revealed her. The isu cursed woman stands before the Greek, her lithe frame a 5'2 size, with a humanoid cat like look. The tail in question was small and somewhat fluffy. There were blood still on her claws, up to her wrists. Slowly, she makes her way down towards her, and turned her head to look away. She hasn't set her eyes on a human that has yet to hurt her. She might not be alive to know another kind look, is what she thinks. ❝But maybe... You don't have to..? I'll run away from here. I promise. They won't see me ever again.❞ She slowly looks back at the woman, then back down again. Ears flickering back.

cont. x @ofspvrta

[torntrutha]

emily as the soft eldritch horror for @ofspvrta .

A SENSE OF MORALITY WAS NEVER LOST , but it can not be denied that emily lives for kassandra. emily very specifically left the empire FOR kassandra , so there is very specifically one thing you do not do : harm kassandra. whether kassandra will heal or not. the man has void powers , he found the ability to tap in. IT'S NOT UNHEARD OF , but it is one of the ways to get an upperhand over kassandra. just not kassandra and emily at the same time. even though emily is currently not seen. DON'T UNDERMINE A MASTER OF STEALTH .

... one that is legitimately a vessel of shadows.

kassandra is adjusting from the blow and the man with a mask is raising his longer sword to strike again. he doesn't though. there's a streetlight. a patch of moonlight , but he's suddenly pulled through all of it. WITH AN ACTUAL YELP .

[viridanira]

What's the difference between a ghost and a memory?

THE DROWNING KIND › accepting.

IT SO VERY PARTICULARLY CATCHES KRISTEN OFF GUARD WHEN KASSANDRA DOES THAT . not just have a conversation with her , kristen is rather capable of that when she really starts to like somebody. it's talking to her like she has ... an answer. talking to her like she isn't just a funky little weapon in somebody else's funky little war. LIKE THAT .

there's actually this slight twitch in kristen's shoulder / head where she almost , almost looked behind her to see who kassandra was talking to. and then she remembered. they were the only people here. SPENDING TIME TOGETHER .

those black-green eyes flick back to kassandra , just study her face for a few seconds , before flicking to the water dripping down the cave wall just in the distance. their campsites were always such a wondrous find , though. BEAUTIFUL .

" a memory is what haunts yourself and a ghost is the mistake that haunts you. "

[noescapingthepast]

@pltfighter asked: "I'm sorry I couldn't keep my promise; I wasn't able to keep Powder safe." (from pltfighter for the break my heart meme.)

Protect the family, he'd told her; Take care of Powder.

Never in a million years would he have guessed just how heavy the weight of those instructions would end up being. The lump that rose in his throat, a ball of guilt and remorse at having placed that mantle upon Vi's at-the-time already straining shoulders, threatened to choke him.

Though his brows furrowed deeply, and his expression shifted into one of sullenness and heartache, the Hound stepped forward, stepped closer -- placing those large hands upon her shoulders as if to try and lift that invisible weight off of them now.

"Whatever happened back then, it wasn't your fault," Vander asserted, quiet but convinced. "You were just a kid, yourself."

[audaciiae]

"I'm going soon, gonna leave tonight." For Alkibiades

Lonesome dreams || Accepting

"Ah, I see."

The silence is heavy, Alkibiades' looming despair obvious. It feels like it wants to crawl under his skin and consume every inch of him until there is nothing left but a bitter, horrific shell. He really, really enjoys Kassandra's company, and if he's honest...sometimes she feels like one of the only true friends that he has. It comes with politics. He knows this. You can't really trust anyone because everyone has an ulterior motive, something they want, something that they could drag out of you inch by agonizing inch. Yet with her, it all feels so genuine.

He anxiously rubs his hands together and takes a deep breath, the melancholy mood suddenly gone (for how could he ever be so foolish as to seem so desperate?). "Well, I shouldn't be surprised, should I? Ever on the move you are, my dear misthios. Such is the life you lead. Just..promise me you'll come back and see me, hm?"

A pause and then "At least have a drink with me before you go. You know how I cherish your company!"

[swordluck]

⚘ @ofspvrta // cont.

They hovered on the cusp of discovery, of being discovered.

The priestess sighed against the misthios, her breath pomegranate-dark and laden with something molten, nameless.  In the seclusion of the temple’s inner sanctum, beneath the soft glow of oil lamps and the perfumed hush of burning myrrh, Anri pressed herself closer to Kassandra, as if she might pass into her, become one with her heat, her solidity, her sheer force of being.

There was something divine in her – the warrior’s body, sculpted by toil and battle, an altar all its own.  Bronze skin shone against Anri’s buttermilk-pale, the priestess unburdened of sacred robes.  Calloused hands traced her spine, cradled her hips, urging, leaving their impressions upon her.  Was this not a kind of ritual?  Was this not a communion, a hymn sung in the language of flesh and breath?

Hips rolled and rolled and rolled, like the gentle lapping of the Aegean Sea, her cunt slick and wet, made pliant by the ache of desire that gathered in her belly.  

Anri was no timid offering upon the marble dais.  No trembling maiden surrendered at the temple gates.  No, she was the priestess – the intermediary, the one who invoked divinity and called forth rapture.  And so she let her fingers dance their dedication along Kassandra’s broad shoulders, tracing where sinew met skin, where power slumbered beneath sun-loved skin. 

“First I will anoint you in oil,” she murmured, her lips grazing the shell of Kassandra’s ear, her voice a whisper of silk and violets.  “Make praise with my hands.”

She would worship her as she might a goddess made flesh – with reverent touch, with slow, knowing strokes, with all the rose-crowned mysteries Aphrodite had whispered to her since girlhood.  The night stretched before them, languorous and dark, rich with rites yet to be performed, with whispered prayers that might never reach the ears of the gods.  Anri felt her blood grow hot and sweet, burning like fragrant oil at the altar’s flame.

“And then with my mouth, if it please you.”