#realm.starter

[priestcss-blog1]

Confess. You are something greater that they could know. Confess. You are a speck to the planets, a collection of bone and blood that the earth will turn to dust one day soon. Confess. You are nothing, nothing, nothing. She had never cared for the form of confession; it was sticky with falsehoods, yet how the people of the Keep loved their confessions to a priestess they could not understand. ( It made them feel holy, she knew, but they only came to her in times of fear. Pathetic. ) When she heard footsteps approach, she assumed it was more of the same, and she bit her tongue to stop herself from spitting out cruel words. Now was not the time --- not yet. “Shall I prepare an offering?” 

[fortisvenxtor]

starts and ends | holden & el

@holdenvitello

“You look like shit.” 

El hadn’t seen the former-king since the siege of the Lion’s Keep, his eyes raking over the other man. What he was doing there of all places was beyond him; still, he wasn’t going to question it. His mind was working over other things, things more important than a one-time ruler with haunted eyes and sunken cheeks. 

... Still. He’d been told this was a good man, and he looked a little too pathetic to stomach. 

After an assessing look, El pulled a flask from a hidden pocket and held it out to the other man. “Helps.”

[wxtchblood]

Helena wiped the back of her hand over her brow. She was roasted, despite the cold weather outside. The Hut she had just came from had several fires roaring inside and Helena had been working right beside one. 

Blood came away on her hand when she lowered it, frowning, Helena started toward her own home, a small place with an unlit fire in the centre and cluttered with books and scrolls and little vials of things. She found a wet cloth, still damp from her wash this morning. 

Returning to the outside, she rubbed the mess from her face, relishing the walk and the brisk air. It woke her up. Brought her away from the illness and the injuries from where she came. 

[theknightstxle-blog]

hunting | norah & tibalt

Wake up. Hunt breakfast. Wait.

Tibalt’s routine hadn’t varied much in the past week. He’d venture out as far as he thought safe and submerge himself amongst the brush, sharpening his sword on his whetstone. He’d faced beasts and monsters before--these new ones did not scare him. But he needed to know what they were, first, before he could arrange an attack. He knew the Minotaur well before he went out and killed the beast. These ones hadn’t even been seen yet.

He heard a rustling in brush behind him, his head whipping around to face his attacker. Crouching upon his hand and knees, he edged closer, sword pointed at the noise. He pounced at the noise and pinned his attacker to the ground, blade pressed to her throat.

“Gods, Norah,” he breathed before rolling off her. “I thought you’d went to town--what are you doing out here?”

@nenikhkamen

[portia-vitello]

"One moment, love... I’ll be right with you in a moment!”  she called over her shoulder.   Portia had barely managed to get herself a job at the local tavern and that was only because the owner had been fond of her prior to her short time on the throne.   After the rebellion, Holden had gone into a depression –––– forcing her to take on the role of providing for their family.  Two children to feed.  Her shoulders were heavy with the weight of responsibility, but at least she was good at serving.   It was like the old days when she used to be a handmaiden for Lady Alycia.   And now she was a barmaid.  When Portia finally turned to face the customer, she paused ––– surprised to see the other.

“Oh... hello.  What will you be having? An ale?”

[holdenvitello-blog1]

He stood on the edges of civilization --- the edges of his civilization, at the very least. Word had gotten around, warning of monsters and ghouls alike, but he did not heed them. ( For what did a dead man walking have to fear? ) He could not say if he was challenging the fates or dooming himself, but his feet moved of their own accord. When he heard a snap of twigs, he merely slowed his pace. “If you yearn to rob me, I have no gold.” How ironic that the last son of the golden family would have to make such a claim.

[celinereece]

This was it. This was how her life was going to end.

                                   She was going to die of boredom.

Celine sighed as she gazed down at the ale sitting in front of her, ankles crossed neatly beneath her dress and elbow resting on the tabletop. She was going to die. They’d been stuck in Westedell for far too long with nowhere to go, and now... There was nothing left to do. 

She sighed again, heavily, and dropped a couple crumbs to the men she’d turned into mice earlier that night. 

[minalariviere]

Time had passed while she remained secluded, away from the outside world. Lazily slouching on her chair, the priestess limited herself only to listen to the soft wind playing with the thin fabric of the tent, just as she’d been doing for the last couple of weeks. It was clear how many of the visitors and the very own citizens of Westedell had vanished into thin air after the battles, the fires and the executions, giving place for peace and silence to finally settle in these unholy lands. 

Though... Such calmness was suddenly interrupted by steps, not as delicate as the steps of the priestesses looking after Mina in her idleness. 

A thief, perhaps? An assassin? A child of the Gods, or maybe one of the Gods themselves? Either of them would be annoying if they attempted to take her from her rest. “Hm?” Her eyebrows raised in a sort of welcoming gesture, as she opened her eyes and softly slurred a few words. “I haven’t asked for a jester, yet.”