#saurn

[vairuler]

' one day, all this will be yours. '

｡ﾟﾟ                    𝐅𝐎𝐑          𝐓𝐇𝐄         𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐃𝐀𝐍𝐓          𝐊𝐍𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐒          𝐀𝐑𝐄          𝐇𝐄𝐑          𝐇𝐀𝐒𝐒𝐎𝐂𝐊       ,          𝐓𝐇𝐄          ᶠˡᵒᶜᶜᵘˡᵉⁿᵗ          ˢᵖᵉᶜᵏˢ          ʰᵉʳ          ᶜˡᵒᵘᵈˡᵃⁿᵈ          ᶜᵃⁿᵒᵖʸ       ,          ᵗʰᵉ           𝑏𝑒𝑟𝑦𝑙          ˢᵗʳᵉᵃᵐˡᵉᵗˢ          &          ᶜʳᵉᵉᵏˢ          ʰᵉʳ          ⁿᵃᵗᵘʳᵃˡ          𝒃𝒆𝒓𝒄𝒆𝒖𝒔𝒆  .          ᵃ           ᵗᵘˢˢᵒᶜᵏʸ           𝗘𝗟𝗬𝗦𝗜𝗨𝗠           ᶜʳᵃᵈˡᵉˢ          ᵗʰᵉᵐ          ʷᶦᵗʰᶦⁿ          ᶦᵗˢ          ᵇᵒʳᵈᵉʳˢ       ,          ᵇˡᵉˢˢᶦⁿᵍ          ᵗʰᵉᵐ           ʷᶦᵗʰ          ᶦᵗˢ          ａｌｌｕｒｅ           ᵒᶠ          ᶜˡᵒᵛᵉⁿ          vales          &          ᵃʳᶜᵃⁿᵉ        𝕗𝕠𝕣𝕖𝕤𝕥𝕤          ᵐᵒᵗᵗˡᵉᵈ          ᵃᵐᶦᵈ          ʳᵉᵈᵒˡᵉⁿᵗ          prairies  .          ᶻᵉᵖʰʸʳ          ᵐᵘʳᵐᵘʳˢ          ᵗʰʳᵒᵘᵍʰ          𝐦𝐨𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐝          ᵖᵉᵗᵘⁿᶦᵃ       ,          &          ᵃ          ᵖᶦᵖᶦᵗ  -  ⁿᵒᵗᵉ          ᵈʷᵉˡˡˢ          ᵒⁿ          ᶜʳᶦˢᵖ          𝖽𝖺𝗒𝗌𝗉𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀          ᵃᶦʳ  .          [          *          𝙷𝙴𝚁𝙴         𝚈𝙾𝚄          𝙼𝙸𝙼𝙸𝙲         𝚆𝙷𝙰𝚃          𝙼𝚈          𝙵𝙰𝚃𝙷𝙴𝚁          𝚂𝙰𝙸𝙳          𝚃𝙾          𝙼𝙴          ]       ,          ᵒᵇˢᵉʳᵛᶦⁿᵍ          ᵗʰʳᵒᵘᵍʰ           ᵃᵘʳᵉᵒᵘˢ           ᵉʸᵉˢ           ᵃ          ᶜᵃˢᵗˡᵉ’ˢ          ˢᶦˡʰᵒᵘᵉᵗᵗᵉ  .                ❝             -----     ----     --         it          all          𝗮𝗹𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝘆          is  .          ❞

❝             someone          else          is          simply          𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗺𝗶𝗻𝗴          𝙼𝚈          𝚃𝙷𝚁𝙾𝙽𝙴          for          me       ,          ᶠᵒʳ          ʷʰᵉⁿ          ᵗʰᵉ          ᵗᶦᵐᵉ          ᶜᵒᵐᵉˢ  .         ❞

[jediance]

                       MUSTAFAR:              ᵇˡᵃᶜᵏ       ˢᵐᵒᵍ       𝗵𝗮𝗻𝗴𝘀       ʰᵉᵃᵛʸ       ᵒᵛᵉʳ       ᵃ       ˢᵉᵃ       ᵒᶠ       ˡᵃᵛᵃ,       ᵗʰᵉ       v͟e͟n͟o͟m       ᵒᶠ       ᵗʰᵉ       ᵃᵗᵐᵒˢᵖʰᵉʳᵉ       ᴮᴵᵀᵀᴱᴿ       ᴼᴺ       ᵗʰᵉ       𝘭𝘶𝘯𝘨𝘴      ᴸᴵᴷᴱ       ᴮᴬᴰ       ˢᵐᵒᵏᵉʳ’ˢ       ᶜᵒᵘᵍʰ.       ᵗʰᵉʳᵉ,       𝙲𝙰𝚂𝚃𝙻𝙴       𝚅𝙰𝙳𝙴𝚁       𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙣𝙙𝙨       ᵗᵃˡˡ,       ᵉʳᵉᶜᵗ       ᴼᴺ       ᵗʰᵉ       𝗹𝗶𝗽       ᵒᶠ       𝒈𝒂𝒉𝒆𝒏𝒏’𝒔       ᵗᵃˡˡᵉˢᵗ       ᴹᴼᵁᴺᵀᴬᴵᴺ       ⁻⁻⁻       ᴵᵀ       is      ᵃ       𝗰𝗿𝘆𝘀𝘁𝗮𝗹𝗹𝗶𝘇𝗲𝗱         ᴹᴼᴺᴼᴸᴵᵀᴴ       ᵒᶠ       ᵀᵂᴵᴸᴵᴳᴴᵀ       spires       ᵇˡᵉᵈ       ᴵᴺᵀᴼ       ᵃ       𝘧𝘪𝘦𝘳𝘺       RUNOFF:       ᵗʰᵉ       𝐠͟𝐨͟𝐭͟𝐡͟𝐢͟𝐜       ᴾᴬᴳᴼᴰᴬ       𝙚𝙣𝙜𝙧𝙖𝙫𝙚𝙙       ᴵᴺᵀᴼ       ᵗʰᵉ       planet's     𝘂𝗻𝘀𝘁𝗮𝗯𝗹𝗲       ᶜᵒʳᵉ.      ❝     ᵗʰᵉʳᵉ       is       ᴺᴼ       𝗰𝗵𝗼𝗶𝗰𝗲.       ᵀᴴᴱᴿᴱ       𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳       ʷᵃˢ.   ❞            𝗗𝗘𝗔𝗗𝗟𝗢𝗖𝗞:         ᵗʰᵉ    ˢʰᵃᵈᵒʷˢ     ᴬᴿᴱ    𝗱𝗼𝗰𝗶𝗹𝗲,       𝘵͟𝘳͟𝘢͟𝘪͟𝘭͟𝘪͟𝘯͟𝘨͟     ᵗʰᵉ    ʰᵉᵉˡˢ       ᴵᴺ       ʷᵃᵛᵉˢ      ᵒᶠ      𝙱𝙻𝙰𝙲𝙺    ˡᵒᶜᵘˢᵗˢ,         𝙨𝙥𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙞𝙣𝙜        ᴾᴸᴬᴳᵁᴱ    ᵗᵒ   ᴬᴺ      unsuspecting     𝒈𝒂𝒍𝒂𝒙𝒚.       

                 ᵖʳᵒᵖʰᵉᶜʸ       ᵗᵃˢᵗᵉˢ       ᴸᴵᴷᴱ       ᴿᴼᵀ       ᴵᴺ       ᵗʰᵉ       ˢᵗᵃʳᵛᵉᵈ       ᵐᵒᵘᵗʰˢ       ᵒᶠ       ᵗʰᵉ       chosen       𝐝𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐞:       𝗙𝗔𝗧𝗘       is       ᵗʰᵉ       ᶜᵒˡᵈ       ᵗᵒᵘᶜʰ       ᵒᶠ       ʸᵒᵘʳ       ᴰᴱᴬᴰ       ᵐᵒᵗʰᵉʳ’ˢ       ᶜʰᵉᵉᵏ       𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘵       ʸᵒᵘʳ       ᴼᵂᴺ,         ᴬᴺᴰ      ᵗʰᵉ       ˡᵒᵛᵉ       ᵒᶠ       ʸᵒᵘʳ       ᵇʳᵒᵗʰᵉʳ        𝗳𝗮𝘀𝗵𝗶𝗼𝗻𝗲𝗱         ᴵᴺᵀᴼ       ᵃ       ᵇˡᵃᵈᵉ       ᵒᶠ       fire         𝒉𝒂𝒄𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒈       ᵃᵗ       ʸᵒᵘʳ       limbs       ᵇᵉᶜᵃᵘˢᵉ       ʰᵉ       ˡᵒᵛᵉˢ       ʸᵒᵘ       ˢᵒ       ᵐᵘᶜʰ.       it's       ᵗʰᵉ       ᵇᵒᵈʸ       ᵒᶠ       ʸᵒᵘʳ       ᴮᴿᴵᴰᴱ       ᴬᴺᴰ       ᵗʰᵉ       ᵁᴺᴮᴼᴿᴺ       𝙨𝙪𝙧𝙧𝙚𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙧𝙚𝙙       ᵗᵒ       ˢ͟ᵗ͟ᵃ͟ʳ͟ᵈ͟ᵘ͟ˢ͟ᵗ       ᵇᵉᶜᵃᵘˢᵉ       ᵀᴴᴬᵀ       𝗶𝘀       ʷʰᵃᵗ       ᵗʰᵉ       𝐔𝐍𝐈𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐄       demands.       𝙵𝚁𝙴𝙴       𝚆𝙸𝙻𝙻       𝙸𝚂       𝙸𝙻𝙻𝚄𝚂𝙸𝙾𝙽.       𝙸𝚃       𝙸𝚂       𝙰       𝙿𝚁𝙸𝚂𝙾𝙽       𝙾𝙵       𝙶𝙻𝙰𝚂𝚂       𝙰𝙽𝙳       𝙻𝙸𝙴𝚂. 

                            (✦)          ——        ...           ❝     𝐰𝐞    ᵃʳᵉ     ᴬᴸᴸ       ᵇᵘᵗ       ʰᵘᵐᵇˡᵉ       𝘀͟𝗲͟𝗿͟𝘃͟𝗮͟𝗻͟𝘁͟𝘀    ᵂᴵᵀᴴᴵᴺ       ᵗʰᵉ       ᶠ͟ᵒ͟ʳ͟ᶜ͟ᵉ,       ᴬᴺᴰ       ᵃˢ       ˢᵘᶜʰ       ⁻⁻⁻       ᵂᴵᴸᴸ       ʰᵉᵉᵈ       ʰᵉʳ       ᵉᵛᵉʳʸ       𝗯𝗲𝗰𝗸𝗼𝗻       ᴬᴺᴰ       ᴺᴱᴱᴰ       ˢᵒ       ᴸᴼᴺᴳ       ᵃˢ       ᵗʰᵉʳᵉ       is       𝒃𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒉       ᴵᴺ       ᵒᵘʳ       ᵇʳᵉᵃˢᵗ.    ❞                                                                         ///////////////////                                @saurn​

[elvcnson]

labyrinth sentence starters

@saurn​​ said:  ' I've brought you a gift. '

A STRANGENESS IT IS. The bleak humor that can arise in the face of ones capture. In the DESPAIR, in the promise of death or doom ETERNAL. Mirth has no place in the stricken decay and vile fettered malice of Barad-dûr but it is mirth that doth find the ellon in this moment. A gift, such absurdity in the idea!  Mirth indeed. It jousts beside grief and a n g u i sh and jostles it asunder, and for a beat replaces it with an unfitting levity, as with lifted brows does LEGOLAS address his observing captor.

‘ A gift? Aye. May it be perhaps the gift of freedom? ’ Arms lift in tandem illustration, fair elven wrists weighted with heavy shackles GRATE coarse as a pointed gesture for the sole observation of the LUMINESCENT stare beyond the corroding presence of the bars that kept him. How fear creeps along his spine! As if the caress of icy fingertips dance along it. Yet to be so boldly audacious, GREENLEAF finds a rush of air stretch his lungs. A pleasant heady sensation offered among the oppressiveness by the d e f i a n c e . A note of daring flippancy in the princeling’s level timbre. ‘ Or indeed perhaps you have come to offer your surrender and defeat? ’

[myrlin-archived]

✧ ˚ · . ✦  ›  @saurn  ›「 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐚 𝐨𝐧𝐞-𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐫 」

                    ❛  Power shouldn’t be feared. It should be respected & earned.  ❜

[elvcnson]

@saurn​ said: ‘ what good is power if you cannot protect the ones you love? ’

THE SLIGHT TO THE FATHER DOES NOT PASS BY UNFELT. Indeed. Perhaps felt more the keenly in this FORESAKEN, accursed place. For it cinders and BURNS neath fair skin and bone and sinew. As though such a statement were instead truly the  s p i k e d  prong of an iron brand that sought to SCORCH it's way, glowing and phosphoresced, forever embedding into flesh. Sought sear it's path to an already much burdened heart. Seizing tightly the ellon's lungs. 

Such bold and  U N F E E L I N G  a declaration of his family's losses upon the DECEIVER’S tongue! It rises a millennia old anger. Vibrant  h u r t  inside the THRANDUILION’S veins in it's wake. One that rivalled aside the fear and exhaustion ever constricting in the dankness of the Princeling's dire circumstance.

' Yet what good is POWER if you do not have loved ones with which to protect? It is folly. MEANINGLESS. A mere distant, weak echoing of a shout long past. '

Legolas' astute cerulean eyes that so often more naturally contained a  g h o s t i n g  forbearance homed within their edges, shift to something sharper. A grandfather's lineage on display in an advancing step and the GRATING of great chains. A father's likeness caught in the elevation of a jaw. ' An echo that will fade as is every an echo's end...an echo that will fade into nothing and it will be forgotten. As all distant echoes are. '  

[lanidaes]

❔

send ❔ and I’ll list a couple muses that I’d like to throw at yours.

there’s the standard array of éowyn as a fellow lotr muse of course,  and a fantasy combination of helene,  sarkan,  edelgard,  maybe howl,  and aramis as d&d is just the perfect thing for lotr.

[radiantcrown]

        @saurn​  sent  :    “     don't sit with your back to any doors.    ”

        such  words  could  perhaps  be  a  friendly  warning,    were  they  said  by  any  other.    but  annatar  has  set  her  ill  at  ease  since  their  first  introduction,    this  lord  of  gifts  with  a  honeyed  tongue.    all  of  her  life,    galadriel  has  seen  far  into  the  hearts  of  others  —  only  with  this  stranger,    she  can  see  little,    as  if  a  shroud  lay  about  his  soul.    and  so  she  finds  herself  searching  every  word,    every  action  for  some  glimmer  of  his  true  intent.

        they  have  never  before  been  truly  alone,    and  this  rings  with  a  heavy  air  of  menace.    sharp  eyes  turn  to  the  lord,    her  frame  taut  as  a  bowstring.        she  does  not  fear  annatar  —  but  she  does  not  understand  him.    and  that,    is  a  position  in  which  she  is  unused  to  finding  herself.        

        “    if  one  did  not  know  better,    they  would  find  such  a  statement  alarming.    ”