#riviaborn

[iithildim]

⧼ ☾✦ ⸻ The horrors of basic survival, every day it was getting harder and harder to even breathe. Ever since the mortals took her father's hand and eye, getting the herbs and medical attention he needed was near impossible. She knew how to heal with the right items, but it was near impossible to find or get without being surrounded by the human race. She searched the forest for hours and hours and there was nothing to be found. That was when she spotted him, the white wolf. She had heard the song from the bard named Jaskier. The verse was riddled with lies, the bard's lyrics only made elves seem like a true threat when in reality it was the humans that were bringing the plagues upon her kin. She slowly reached for the dagger that was attached to her thigh. As she crept through the woods, the crunching of twigs under her foot.

❝ Geralt of Rivia. The famous white wolf. ❞ Her voice filled the air, as those darkened orbs never left the silver-haired man. ❝ The witcher, who has the song of vicious lies and to be delivered your coin you so desperately deserves. As if you were a loyal dog to the mortals, you play a trick and they reward you. While we suffer in the shadows, barely surviving on scraps. ❞ She lowered her head as she was mocking him in unearned respect. ❝ They were correct when they said The Witchers have quite the unique scent ... However, it would be my greatest honour for the name of Filavandrel aén Fidháil, that I shall rob you of your finest things. ❞ She gave The Witcher a smile that was filled with the facade of fakeness. ⧽

@riviaborn | ♥

[chaosgone]

 @riviaborn​   liked   the   starter   call   !

 THE   MONSTER’S   UGLY   FORM     lays   in   a   heap   of   blood   and   viscera   on   the   rotting   leaves   and   moss,   head   crushed   under   the   weight   of   the   shimmering,   ethereal   lollipop   ;   the   weapon   hovers   over   her   shoulder   when   she   freezes,   before   disappearing   out   of   sight   with   naught   but   a   silent   glittering   mist.   even   covered   in   grime   and   sweat   as   she   is,   when   she   spins   around   to   her   unfortunate   co-monster-slayer,   her   grin   is   bright   and   excited.         ❝     OH   MAN   !!   did   you   see   that   ?!     ❞         jubilant   is   perhaps   a   word   too   small   to   encompass   all   that   is   miss   jester   lavorre.   in   the   gloom   of   the   dark   forest,   she   shines   like   a   beacon.         ❝     you   totally   saved   my   life   out   there,   but   i   saved   yours   right   back,   so   we’re   technically   super   even   right   not.   that   was   so   cool   !!     ❞

[rozpustnik]

                 >> 🌟 <<            ❝          GERALT    !!    goodness gracious you gave me a scare,   what’ve i told you about    SNEAKING UP    on me like that    .  .    !!      ❞                

@riviaborn​  |  🌟

[avras]

@riviaborn​     asked     “ heroes are a waste of time and breath. ”

                                                the  cruel  tone  of  the silver  -  haired  lone  man  ,  it  was  easy  to  tell  his  soul  was  quite  the  lonely  one  yet  ,              it  wasn’t  as  cold  as  she  would  of  expected      ...     a  laugh  came  from  her  ,  nerves  maybe  ???  probably  ,  zeus  had  granted  her  the  title  of  hero  many  nights  ago  ,  yet  here  he  was  cursing  out  heroic  actions  and  myths  .  she  couldn’t  feel  offended  by  his  statements  ,  most  days  men  just  called  themselves  heroes  for  murdering  the  innocent  ,  painted  with  fake  facade  of  justice  .      ❝     most  heroes  are  seen  in  a  stereotypical  way  .  i  waste  my  breath  on  them  ,  because  my  ideal  hero  is  the  mother  who  died  on  the  birthing  bed  or  the  little  boy  who  sells   flowers  in  a  busy  town  to  feed  his  sick  father  .   it’s  not  all  about  fighting  ,  winning  the  girl  .        any  man  or  woman  can  pick  up  a  sword  but  it  takes  a  hero  to  witness  the  reality  of  mortality.   ❞       she  took  a  step  closer  to  man  .  he  fought  monsters  for  a  living   ,     must  be  a  hard  life  .    you  either  crave  the  scent  of  freshly  slain  blood  or  grown  bitter  for  the  world  that  allowed  your  sword  to  raise  high  in  the  air.  her  body  was  now  by  the  side  of  the  male  ,  a  goddess  in  disguise  that’s  all  she  was  ,  her  blood  was  a  different  colour  to  the  orbs  of  yellow  ,  she  was  toxic  for  him  .  hues  the  coloured  of  the  earth  looked  to  the  side .  before  a  lingering sigh  made  itself  known  to  the  air.       ❝              remember  though  ,  the  smallest  ant  can’t  do  much     ...    but  when  that  small  ant  stands  with  others  it  can  become  as  strong  as  man  if  it  so  desires  .     ❞      

[fourmarksmage]

@riviaborn​ asked: repair. being confined to bed due to injury or illness and hating every second of it.

rest prompts | accepting

Sorceresses weren’t supposed to get sick, but curses could certainly still be effective on them. And so there she was, in bed with aching muscles and even the indignity of a congested nose. “Really, Geralt--” Then she was interrupted with a sneeze, ruining the effect of the argument she was about to present, but she pressed on nonetheless. “Other people get sick all the time. Surely I don’t have to stay in bed, when I’m wasting precious time figuring out who did this to me.”

[cxmplicatedbynature]

@riviaborn​​ || starter call 

okay. So he’s probably found a problem he can’t sing his way out of. How was he supposed to know that his most recent lover - and damn it, why is it always the average looking ones that come with the most problems - had two very large brothers? And how was he to know that they knew what tavern he was meant to be performing in?

pox on it all, he thinks, as they approach. But at that moment the doors swings open and a familiar figure looms there - a dear face that he hadn’t even known was in town (but he won’t complain).

“Geralt!” he cries happily, swinging his legs.

The troubadour is perched atop a table in the tavern, his lute in his lap and a rapidly growing smirk on his lips. “What excellent timing my friend! What brings you to Oxenfurt? No, don’t mind the rather frightening looking brutes that are menacing my person. They were just leaving.”

[maimedaffaira]

FLEEING  FROM  A  BEAST  was  not  something  she  imagined  she’d  ever  have  to  do.           but  when  the  nunnery  was  wiped  out  ,  what  choice  did  she  have  ?      so  she’s  sought  out  someone  she  knows  can  help  ------    A  WITCHER.           she  knows  very  little  of  them  outside  of  what  the  nuns  were  willing  to  teach  her  ----  they  aren’t  fond  of  magic  to  begin  with  ,  much  less  those  who  use  it  to  kill  even  a  beast.       (  great  lot  of  good  that’s  done  them  now.  )   

❛      ---------------  EXCUSE  ME  ?      ❜              her  voice  is  crisp  in  the  morning  air  as  it  carries  over  the  snow  ,  hoping  to  reach  the  white-haired  man  before  her.         her  arm  is  bandaged  from  a  long  cut  along  the  forearm  ,  lain  by  the  beast  itself.          she’d  pretended  she  was  dead  to  escape  it’s  wrath.           ❛      can  you  help  me  ...   ?     ❜    /   @riviaborn​

[iithildim]

@riviaborn​  asked:  [ invite ]  your muse inviting mine to sit on their lap . ( reverse ) (  ACCEPTING  |  DOMAINTING  )

⧼ ☾✦ ⸻ She had no idea which one allowed their pride fall and their true feelings be exposed, but being in the place where they would train young witchers, it brought her a mixture of feelings. As her eyes stayed upon the pendants.   THE  MANY  THAT  HAD  FALLEN  ,  maybe by human or monster  ...  To Hedona they were both the same. Her eyebrows were knitted together, as her hand reached up to touch one of the necklaces, from  what  Geralt  had  told  her   ...  It would warn them when things of ungodly horrors would appear. Her attention went to a sudden thud, her orbs turning slightly to see The White Wolf upon a wooden chair. A grin on his face, now that was rare. HE  MUST  BE  A  JOLLY  GOOD  MOOD. However, as soon as she heard the slapping of his thigh, a gesture that she didn’t see the comedy in. She rolled her eyes at him.

 ❝   I may  of  admitted  my  affection  for  you , but do not think me so lowly that I would gladly sit on your lap in a public setting.  ⸻  I may have come to terms with you, but I do not wish for your Witcher brothers to even have the slightest  sensual images of us.  ❞  She commented, as she took a step closer to the white - haired mutant. Her hands fall upon his shoulder, as her head titled to look at him. That shit eating grin never disappearing. Her hand travelled up to his neck, until her index finger lifted up his chin so she could truly see the thoughts of Geralt Of Rivia.  ❝   you are playing a very dangerous game, Witcher   ...     ❞   She gave The Witcher a smirk, before taking a step back away from him.  ❝  One  where  destiny  will  always  be  in  my  favour.    ❞                    ⧽