#puppetoire

[faithfcll]

“Look, you’re either going to help, or you aren’t. Which one is it going to be?” Come fight a shardbearer pls.

First Impressions sentence starters

     IT WAS THE BLOODY AFTERMATH of said assistance that concerned erias, for he knew well that a shardbearer's demise would beget the gravest of repercussions. “and what exactly dost thou intend, after thy foe hast been felled? with this land deprived of its demigod ruler, dost thou seek to take the throne for thyself? art thou prepared to defend it from those who would challenge thy rule? or shalt thou leave this place without any semblance of authority, to descend even further into complete and utter anarchy?” he questioned relentlessly, hollowed-out gaze locked onto the recipient of his morbid curiosity. “...dost thou even realize that thine actions have consequences?”

[weiidafeng]

Fighting through the foes leading up to the Capital's western gate would not have been the easiest task, but upon approach, the sight of two massive knights clad in golden armor, atop their great steeds, may have proved an even more imposing sight. The Tree Sentinels were not foes to be taken lightly, and it would initially appear that to advance, Thomas would have to fight their way through both of them at the same time….

Only, upon taking notice of Thomas, the two Sentinels appeared to clear away, and in-between them, a mighty funnel of air would shoot up from the ground, Tong emerging from it shortly after.

"I've been wondering about you for some time now." Tong casually starts off, slowly, but surely, approaching Thomas as he speaks, the funnel of air behind him dissipating. "Ever since you handed my lord 'Margit' defeat at Stormveil Castle, it's been hard to not keep tabs on you." Morgott hadn't been at their full power, but defeating them was not something just anyone could accomplish-- not that besting Morgott had been the only notable thing Tong saw Thomas do, oh no they had impressed him countless times since.

"The cynic in me thought it maybe could've been luck, but then you crushed Godrick, bested Rennala, and cast down so many other souls who made this land tremble at their every step." Tong, now standing right in front of Thomas, looks up at them from behind his mask, and while his face was obscured, the glow of his green eyes was well evident. "It didn't take long for me to figure out you're the one, the next Elden Lord, the one I've been awaitin' for ages."

Tong extends hand to Thomas, "The name's Tong, Tarnished, and I wanna help you reach your potential." // @puppetoire

[lunaferrous]

📂 📂 📂

send “📂“ for a random yet completely useless headcanon I have | accepting.

Her favorite flowers are begonias. Red and purple, specifically.

Ironically, given the nature of what she is, one of the best places for her to roost and set up her rig as a sniper are in church bell towers and steeples. They work similarly to castle turrets, especially with her background in medieval siege warfare, and provide a wide and unobscured view of the land below.

She can’t cook, mostly because she has no sense of taste for ordinary food. The most she ever does in the kitchen is make coffee or espresso, and help wash and put away dishes if she has company over.

@puppetoire

[aithreachas]

@puppetoire​ // starter call

         It was not the first place Atreus would pick when it came to shelter—in fact were it not for the fact the wind was howling up something foul and there was a storm on the horizon line threatening to blow over from Stormhill Atreus would’ve chosen to sleep outside what meagre shelter a few piles of stones and lack of roof offered. 

The church might have been beautiful once but the stained glass had long since been shattered from it’s frames and the walls worn down by the constant onslaught of time. There were no fine floors and the decorations plundered long before Atreus stepped foot into the THIRD CHURCH OF MARIKA. With no one here for upkeep like much of the Lands Between it became a shell of it’s former glory.

The statue of Marika stared down at him, burning holes in his back as Atreus tossed a few logs onto the fire and flecks of gold danced inbetwixt the embers that were stirred up. He watched them float upward towards, turning his head just until the ever present sight of the Erdtree moved into his vision.

He looked away instantly.

There would be little sleep for him this night, there was something so deeply unsettling scratching at the back of his mind—the feeling that he did not belong here anymore. 

Would claiming sanctuary even have any meaning anymore when you cannot be contained between four walls of a church? ( because the church didn’t have four walls to begin with. )

A sound to his left—footfalls—and Atreus was torn from his musings suddenly alert.

“Announce yerself,” he called out, hand instantly moving to his blade. “Do unto others as you wish them do unto you. Be ye friend or foe?”

[lunaferrous]

Garnet shadows.

stonework headcanons | accepting.

Garnet Shadows: Is your muse apt to stab someone in the back in any way? If so, would they admit to doing so or would they lie to cover it up?

          /Stabbing someone in the back implies that they wouldn’t see it coming, or that she intentionally withheld information that would lead to their downfall, which is just patently not true in her case. She may not tell whole truths, she may only reveal small snippets here and there, details that will keep you guessing as to what her true identity is (right before scaring the living daylights out of some poor human for sticking their nose in too far); but she does lie not in such a way that would be deemed harmful or detrimental to her clients. The terms of the contract are simple and non-negotiable, one wish in exchange for selling her their soul, and she makes no allusions as to what will happen to them once their allotted ten years are up. Or if they try to leave and skip town without paying their debt.

          If they feel like they’ve been robbed or cheated, or stabbed in the back as it were, then tough shit. That’s their problem. They knew what they were getting into going in, they knew the price and that she would hunt them down for it if they refused to pay and give her her dues. And she takes the hunt very seriously, lining up her shots perfectly, relying on her hounds to track and close in on her prey before flushing them out into the open. It’s a careful, well-oiled system she has all laid out, to ensure that her hunts go off without a hitch and end with the highest rate for success. And rarely has she ever been unsuccessful, having never missed putting down a target.

@puppetoire

[vilestblood]

@puppetoire​ said: “  a little blood never hurt anyone.  ”

Blood || accepting.

“No. Certainly not.”  The so-called Bloody Crow turns to face him, a deceivingly slow motion, albeit seemingly justified by several wounds received during his most recent hunt. His eyes --- his face --- remain concealed by the foreign helmet he wears, matching gauntlets and sabatons of untarnished silver contrasting with black feathers.

Little love or solidarity ever find a home in his heart, not even for fellow Hunters of Hunters. Then, he’s often realised this frigid sentiment does tend to be reciprocated twofold. Nevertheless, he won’t usually attack other Crows without a reason --- despite any nefarious rumours of brutality (and insanity) suggesting the opposite. 

“On the other hand, self-restraint is a great virtue,” he adds, waving off the offered vial in tacit refusal. In truth, any wounds should heal quickly enough by virtue of his own inhuman blood, which he won't mention. “I appreciate your generosity, yet it shan’t be necessary.” 

[hhemeraa]

“T̀̑́͗ͯ̀o̝̟͇͇̒̓̉̀̃ͥͩ͠m̶̻̼̜͇̃̄ͨ͆͗ĕ̷̩̝̺̝̟̱͕ͫ̃͑̏͂o͇̠̬̔͗̈̔̓”

           Finger’s snap and the horrid thing behind them perks up alertedly and then rapidly bites down onto its prey, dragging it gurgling across the floor into the next room with nothing but a red smeared trail in its wake. Deity stepped back into the warm room that smelled thickly of copper and burning wood, the fireplace casting long moving shadows across the floor, but welcoming smile did its best to be nonthreatening to this small tortured thing he’d found. Hand waves for little thing to come near so he can better see them in the light.

          “Tomeo.” God repeats again, eyes finally settling to a gold color, blond hair pulled back out of his face, but his features are hard to settle on - seen but unable to recall. Even his clothes seem odd, dark colors like a hunter, form fitted leather, but contrasting to the darkness with an uncanny veil that rippled with thin lines of gold -- or was it red?

          “I was asked to come here. I was told that h̺̊͋͌ḙ̰̲͍͙͙̞͠ was an u̮̰̫̱͋ͤ̅́̀n̫̪ͅp̷̗̤̜̜̎̒́̈́l̸͓͚̩͍̘̤̼͋ͨ̄ͫ̆̋è̖̥͎̩̝͑̍̔̽͗a̴̻͚̜ͩs̵͙̓ͣa̤ͤ͝n̍̓̌ͨ̉̄̂҉̝͍̫̮̩͓t̙̯̻ͬ̑ͧͣ man doing u̮̰̫̱͋ͤ̅́̀n̫̪ͅp̷̗̤̜̜̎̒́̈́l̸͓͚̩͍̘̤̼͋ͨ̄ͫ̆̋è̖̥͎̩̝͑̍̔̽͗a̴̻͚̜ͩs̵͙̓ͣa̤ͤ͝n̍̓̌ͨ̉̄̂҉̝͍̫̮̩͓t̙̯̻ͬ̑ͧͣ things,” he sits, another chair sliding out in offering for Tomeo to sit if he even decides to come closer, “Unfortunately, he was picking children whose parents didn’t care - if they had any at all. Do you have parents?” Eyes kaleidoscope again, piercing in the darkness. “Do you know how many more of you are still here?”

@puppetoire​ from here. 

[lanternfading]

" You can't seriously sleep on the floor. "

"... I-It's quite alright," Gilbert insisted, putting on a smile of reassurance.

"... One of us has to stay awake anyhow... Especially on a Night of the Hunt."