#starreflected

[snarkomancy]

'You must ubderstand, Philippa, that I hate you from bottom of my heart. There is nobody as hatef in my life as you and I hope said feelings is mutual. It would break my heart to know there is someone else, someone dearer to your heart. Please, remember of those wordd when opening my gift. From your esteemed nemesis, Vilgefortz of Your Heart.' it's vial with new poison he found but looking like perfume shhh

A small package is delivered to his chambersalongside a card with an intricate design of entwined flowers.

The package contains a carved wooden box insidewhich rests an ornament made of a sliverbright metal that is somehow fluid inappearance, as if it was alive, shimmering and shifting. It depicts a viper,its eyes set with rubies, every scale perfectly crafted.

It comes to life if touched, rearing up with ametallic hiss, baring fangs like needles that drip venom. A beautiful,treacherous, magnificent thing. 

The card reads 

Esteemed Rival,

I thank you most kindly for your thoughtful gift.The substance caused an utterly delightful cardiac arrhythmia that truly mademe feel alive – no one has ever managed to make my heart beat quite as fast.Why, I shall savour the memory of it for as long as I live, which owing to theantidote that my physician has provided shall be quite some time.

Delightful. Completely delightful. I was,however, a little disappointed that you neglected to add any substanceaffecting the respiratory system. Did you omit this on purpose, knowing howvery fond I am of the sensation of slow asphyxiation? How cruel of you todeprive me of such delights. I am hoping you will do better next time and I amlooking forward to the next occasion on which you will grace me with one ofyour thoughtful gifts.

In the meantime, please enjoy this trinket frombeyond the Korath desert. I’ve had it imported just for you, at significantexpense. I trust that you shall cherish it. 

Your Beloved Nemesis,

Philippa

[snarkomancy]

'Philippa. I know you are gay but please, marry me. I need intelligent wife to show off when I become old and can't charm ladies with my youth beauty anymore.'

“How about: NO! Listen,Vilgefortz, do you see this?” She raises her left hand – her dominanthand, her fingers trembling with barely suppressed rage. “This is my hand.And I would rather cut it off and feed it to the dogs than become some prettything reduced to being shown off and paraded in front of people like somesort of prize. I will not be controlled, I will not be owned, andI will not submit. Especially not to you.”

[snarkomancy]

They both felt wonderfully with dancing through lies&fake smiles&even more fake friendships. This time, though, Vilgefortz visited Philippa at her place and almost instantly get to the topic. 'I need help at next Northen Kings' gathering. Someone to pretend to be my partner, a partner eager to betray.' tilt of head, a sigh 'I pay in informations.'

The sorceress lifts one perfectly shaped eyebrow,carmine red lips parting slightly in a half-smile, part incredulity and partamusement.

“What, just like that? No exchange ofpleasantries? Not a single word of flattery? You come into my castle andjust throw such a proposition at me without at least commenting on myundeniable magnificence first? Why, you must find yourself in quite the predicament,to be asking for my help so eagerly.” A mischievous glint in her eye, asnap of her fingers. Two glasses appearing out of thin air, filled to the brimwith a smooth, amber liquid from which a thin blue smoke rises.

“At ease, Vilgefortz. Have a drink.” Shesmiles, winks at him as she tosses her hair over her shoulder and plucks one ofthe glasses out of the air, impatiently indicating for him to take theremaining one.

“Go on, drink. Nothing to be worried about, it’san illusion and as of yet not even I have found a way to poisonillusions.” A little chuckle at her own wit as she sips from her glass.

“Well, you got my attention. Tell me more aboutyour plan, and I might just accept.”

[snarkomancy]

'Ah, Philippa! Stunning as always.' Vilgefortz voice ringed as he swayed himself quickly to other, charming smile of a devil on pretty face 'Tell me, dear, did you see Geralt of Rivia around? You are closer to Yen than me and well, he follows her steps.'

“I am not criticising your interpretationI am merely urging you to consider-“

Oh.

It takes all of her already tenuous self-controlnot to physically recoil at the sound of his voice.

“Excuse me.” She nods graciously before she turnstowards him, her movement a little too fast, too reactive. Herheart is in her throat, her mind is working at the speed of lightning, herpalms are clammy, her hands are threatening to start shaking again. There is somuch at stake tonight, so much, and here he is, so boldly, so brazenlyreminding her of the fact that maybe, just maybe, she has overreachedherself.

Philippa counters his smile with one of her own,equally charming, while she busies herself with adjusting the heavy jewelleryaround her neck – lest the trembling of her hands betray her.

Only one of us is going to survive the night. Andit is going to be me.

The alternative is unthinkable.

“Why, you flatterer.” She laughs, a littletoo bright, a little too loud, advancing in on him, slipping her arm throughhis, casting her gaze upwards in a mockery of adoration.

“You’re looking rather sharp yourself. Iwould not have expected anything less of course, given the occasion. At the endof the day we are all here to impress each other, isn’t that right?” Shetwirls the stem of her glass, takes a small sip, wishing she could down thewhole lot at once and then keep going. This is not an option, of course –she is contemptuous of intoxication and the loss of control inherent in it atthe best of times, let alone tonight, but the thought is appealing.Anything, she would give anything to calm her nerves, to silence thatstorm that is raging inside her mind. But some storms cannot be calmed, theymust be weathered. This is one of them.

“It appears that our dear friend Yenneferhas abandoned her witcher for the moment. Thrown him to the wolves, even. LastI saw him he was being positively ambushed by Keira and Sabrina. I havea fear he may not survive the night. What was Yennefer thinking, bringing himhere? But then, who knows what Yennefer is thinking at the best of times?!” Shedraws closer, her voice dropping to a whisper, conspiratorial.

“But why would you of all people ask me abouthim? Maybe you’ve decided that you’d like to become a witcher now, is that it?”

[hdgewitch-a]

SMS : DONT FKIN ANSWER // @starreflected / @aen-consilium

[ → ]  dude [ → ]  its fkin 3 am why do i hear u sobbing [ → ]  are u watching anime again. thts so cringe omfg [ → ]  also can u shut up ur kinda bein FKING LOUD [ → ]  remember how u accidentally sent me a dickpic and how i GRACIOUSLY havent told anyone else abt it. tht can change RLY fkin quick :)

[vanbredevoort]

Vilgefortz unwrapped a little packing and present to Lydia something that came from farest lands. A mask on face, so b e a u t i f u l, nobody would be aware it was wore to hid anything. Made from the best resources ever, colours picked to Lydia's clothing. 'I am still so sorry about what happened with that curse. I hope this little gift will make you happy for a while.'

She was some sort of pride in knowing she hadn’t cried in front of him. That she had stood strong amidst the constant agony of the accident. She knew he DIDN’T, but if some part of him felt guilty for sending her into that expedition, she wanted to wipe all of it away.

Her work had been done dilligently. No mistakes, no miscalculations. Everyone in the excavation recognized her as the pretty, silent, doe eyed, calm sorceress. They were mostly used to the kind of sorceress that yelled orders, apparently. And the only order they heard her scream was “RUN!”, when she noticed the anathema was working beyond their calculations. Three died just when she finished the sentence, and the others were moaning in pain while she lay there, on the ground. Unable to voice her pain, her fear— not for herself, but for her failure to her master.

So when she recieved the present, Lydia smiled. With her eyes. She couldn’t do so in any other way. Her hands ran through the present, the muscles still working on her throat begging to speak so much, so many words that could not be said. The illusion she had casted upon herself worked perfectly.

‘Thank you, sir’, she said through telepathy, speaking inside his own mind that was open for her enough to listen to her chosen words. Her new voice, the one her magic made up, was even more calm than her original slightly high pitched, but stronger than her usual whispering. There was one good thing coming from it— the trembling that usually happened when he was around was completely under her control now, ‘It is beautiful, and it brings me joy. But happiness comes from still being by your side, fighting your cause’

@starreflected

[snarkomancy]

When Philippa killed two sent assasin; after being throw at some of dwimeritum dust - she could find notes in their pockets. 'Bottom of my heart! I hope that little variety from poison would do best to your instincts! I am thinking of new methods&booked you a place on beautiful graveyard in Toussaint. I'm sending you location, check if you wish to be buried there. With despise, Vilgefortz.'

It takes her an entire day, to recover from the unpleasanteffects of the dimeritium dust – a day that drags on and on, the hourscrawling by ever so slowly as she lies quietly, curled around whatever shredsof a soul she still possess in the velvet dark.

Every now and again, she reaches out for the power,becoming more and more distressed when it remains just out of reach, despitethe fact that it never stops humming to her, singing to her, callingto her. Who is she, once magic is taken away? An empty shell, a dry husk, ashadow of her own self.

She’ll never be this careless again. 

Vilgefortz, however, finds a bird carrying amessage impatiently fluttering its wings outside his winter. The parchmentattached to its leg reads

You will pay for this.  

[takivvatanga]

❛ Everyone’s guilty of something. ❜ Vilgefortz @ Granny

 “You be tryin’ to deflec’ now, soldierboy.” There’s a fire burning in the grate of Esmerelda Weatherwax’s cottage,and the flames briefly flare as her voice rises. Coincidence, surely. Purecoincidence, due to the draft coming in under the door. The old woman’s handswork swiftly as she threads the needle, shaking her head as she takes stock ofthe gash in the mercenary’s side. 

“You’re pointin’ your finger at other people,thinkin’ if they be going about doin’ wrong then that’s all the reason you needto be doin’ the same. If everyone else jumped out the window, would you jumptoo? Here, bite down on this, I can help you but it ain’t goin’ t’bepleasant-like.” 

She hands him a piece of wood, worn smooth by time, indicatesfor him to hold it between his teeth and sets to work stitching the wound.

“What ye gotta keep in mind, soldier boy, is thatwhen you’re off pointin’ a finger, there’s always three of yer own fingers pointin’back at you.”