#stcrmhund

[gaerlhoss]

eliana does not mind the gruffness of the man sent to fetch her, nor is she cowed by the blade upon his back ( which she has no doubt he is more than skilled in using ). all that matters, all that truly registers, is that he’s to take her above deck. that she can leave. not leave the ship, of course, but eliana hadn’t contemplated that since her arrival, quick to accept what fate she could not control. but she could leave the room, leave behind the walls that had seemed to press in upon her ( for all she had never been claustrophobic ), the chain that had bound her ankle.

she makes him wait as she places her harp, which she has played since left alone however many hours before, carefully back into its case, lies it upon the floor out of the way where it should neither be stepped upon nor fall, but then it’s only his fingers wrapped about her upper arm that keep her at a steady pace. her balance is off, for it had been several months since she had last traveled by sea, and if anything she finds herself grateful for the support he offers.

as they step into the afternoon sunlight, she pauses, for the first time slower than he as she blinks against the light, as her eyes recalibrate to the outside world, to the open sky. as light crystalizes into solid forms, however, she runs to the rail, breaking the grip upon her arm ( which slackened in complacency while she stood still ). her escort’s shout of protest rings out behind her, but she ignores it as she leans upon crossed arms against the rail. whatever he might have feared — perhaps that she intended to leap overboard ( and leave her harp behind? never. ) — remain unrealized. she merely breathes in the salt sea air, the warmth of sun upon her skin, blue water stretching out to the horizon. the familiar feeling, the freedom of a new place and unknown, new destination ( even if no more than an illusion of freedom, in this case ) brings back a smile to her lips, and she nearly laughs.

her guard comes up, grumbling, behind her, something about how she shouldn’t have done that, but she scarcely hears him. it doesn’t matter, after all. none of it matters.

. // @stcrmhund.

[obrechenniye]

⤷ ✧ @stcrmhund said, ❝ i made a very poor introduction of myself to you. ❞ for eliana.

dusk has long since faded to night,  the sea lit by ripples of cloud-streaked moonlight.  it is peaceful,  the sea calm for the first time in days,  and their rough return through the lion’s tail fades further and further into the safe obscurity of memory.  her thoughts drift,  losing track for a moment of the thread of conversation, though not of the press of the railing against her back as she leans against it, staring up through rigging and sail towards the moon,  nor of his presence steady beside her. 

his wry reflection cuts back through her thoughts,  and she glances at him with a grin and light laughter. ❛ did you,  now? ❜ it doesn’t sound like a question. she straightens from half-lounging against the rail and steps close,  reaching to the back of his head to weave fingers through his hair and tug him down to her.  he is too impossibly tall,  and she could not otherwise kiss him, even balanced on tiptoes. 

she pulls away just enough to murmur the rest of her words against his lips,  her smile unwavering.   ❛ I think you made an accurate introduction of yourself.  brazen.  unrepentant.  self-important. ❜ a laugh. ❛ delusional.  and utterly infuriating… ❜ upon the last she kisses him once more, lingering a moment before releasing him.

[mcgnificat]

⤷ ✧ @stcrmhund said, ❝ does this look nice on me ? ❞

she had planned on ( admittedly feigned ) petulant indignation that, rather than coming to her himself, he had dispatched tolya to fetch her to him. ( though, really, was she more indignant on tolya's behalf or on her own? ) she's yet to figure out why he's here in this particular shop, of everywhere in the town he might have chosen to wait, but she does not look too closely at the apparent sense of such things. though she might have asked, the question is gone as quickly at the sound of his voice as her prepared petulance is.

elia cannot say how he knows it's she who entered the room, and perhaps he doesn't, for he stands before a mirror without seeming to so much as glance in the direction of the door. with a quick look around, she snatches something swiftly, surreptitiously, from its rack, holding it behind her back in her right hand as she half walks - half darts the distance between them. she purses her lips in an ever-futile effort to resist a smile, and her free hand grasps at the front of his shirt to tug him both around to face her and down so she can kiss him. smiling against his lips, she sweeps the hat held behind her back around to place it, askew, upon his head.

it's a flamboyant thing, the height of ridiculous, bright red paired with peacock feathers tucked into the brim that are far too long to be remotely practical. she laughs as she pulls back, looking him over as if evaluating in order to finally pass judgment on his question. ❛ better. ❜

[bronzebtch]

rhea has never been envious of the life at sea.

it has never meant for her, not unlike how seafaring is to her dearest sailor friend. one day, when rhea willl surely ascends her father's seat, she will have to know — if not a lot, then certainly some — in order to best navigate or manage the trials with which the sea and its sailors and its voyagers bring. still, there isn't much she gathers that would easily convince her to leave the roots in which her homeland has taken hold of her.

and rhea loves this land, loves the grass and the hills and the valleys and each sheep the shepherd tends to, or each horse her country folks breed, and even the stony side of the beach where not much but stray crabs and old shipwrecks live. apart of her is antsy from the thought, thrilled to hopefully one day bring her house name some honour, some pride, and yet — for the rarest of times, twiddling with her hands, rhea wishes she could go with him. anywhere, truly, except here.

they could have all the adventures he is always speaking to her about, and she could see the world beyond the perimeter of runestone she has known all her life. with him, perhaps, just maybe, she could extend their lives as children with nothing more than the need to explore, and play, and tussle, and make up with, and to do it all again the next day. but life is coming fast, adulthood with it; she has begun bleeding only last year, and the older staff of her keep had brushed her hair and spoke to her aplenty of what it could mean. she could fit to bear a child now, does he know ? she would one day carry children who would bear her house's name.

it is an honour, they say. it is tradition.

❝ oh, klaus, ❞ she smiles now at him, one hand coming up to touch at his cheek, and pinches the chin there. he has grown so tall, so handsome the ladies around runesport would giggle and gush, but he is ever only to her, her klaus, the boy from the sea, coming to play each time summer comes. where he is from, is he expected to marry, she wonders ? or could he grow old and older, and he will ever need a bride when he decides for it ? rhea is, once again, enraptured with the thought of envy. ❝ i am afraid i must keep our time short this year. i have been summoned to the capitol of my kingdom, you see. ❞

@stcrmhund → younger rhea sc

[highaver]

@stcrmhund asked: if you're gonna stand there, you might as well give me a hand.

ㅤ“ Uh... ” Balfour was hardly about to say no to a prince, was he? Even if the look on his face betrayed the fact that he had absolutely no idea what could be expected of him with... all of this. The Prince was too clever for him, and Balfour eyed the strange creation that he was working on as he made his way closer. It was as if he was watching a wild animal, something that might jump and strike at him at any moment. Foolish of him, maybe. “ I -- don't know if I should, my prince. I would hate to break something. ”

[ada1r-arc]

@stcrmhund said ' bruises can say quite a lot. '

" have to be able to read them, though. " she speaks thoughtlessly, attention mainly fixed on healing the deep, dark bruises that are littering the other's skin. " i think these mean that you got your ass kicked. " her hand is gently placed on one of the largest, so wide she was honestly worried about internal bleeding. she's not a healer, normally, but it needed attention. wouldn't do for him to keel over. " how close am i? "

[korolevnas]

@stcrmhund : ❛ do i look like the kind of person who dies? ❜

no, alina thinks. nikolai seems larger than life, too sure of himself for death to touch. too practiced and capable of wrangling himself out of tricky situations to be caught in any net, too calculated not to see his demise approaching grimly from miles off without a meticulously pre-made plan for how he'll go around it. alina stands on shaky grounds but nikolai never seems to falter. hesitant as she might be to admit it, she's began to look to him for stability, for something solid and sure. an airy laugh puffs out of her at his question ( and how very nikolai this line of inquiry is. ) thinking about it even as a possibility has the tendency to make her nervous.

her laughter dissipates like fog on a clear morning. alina looks at him with a mildly troubled expression. ‘i don't think there's a standard look for the kind of person who dies.’ everyone dies, the sun summoner thinks. the people she's lost bore no mark before they were cruelly taken away. regardless, she hates the thought of nikolai dying. there is too much that hinges on his survival that the mere probability is unfathomable. ‘— but i believe that if there's someone clever enough to evade death itself, it would be you.’ a smile fixes itself on her face, brittle but genuine. she bumps his shoulder against his with playful intent. ‘sometimes i think you're tricking me into paying you all sorts of compliments.’

[obrechenniye]

⤷ ✧ @stcrmhund said, ❝ I... I saw a huge spider in there... ❞ for tolya.

eyebrows raise, somewhere between a challenge and a display of incredulity. there’s no concern to register upon his features, and his at-ease posture — chair tilted back, legs propped upon the crate before him — does not shift. he takes another candied walnut from the bag in his hand to toss it into his mouth before he responds. ❛ I’d offer to take care of it, but I figure it’s best we not start the rumor that our formidable captain is terrified of big bad spiders, eh? ❜

tolya might not know what it is that caused the man’s rapid retreat, but he doubts the story. he also doubts that, were it anything truly serious, his captain and friend would be quicker to spur him to action. he may yet, and for all his apparent nonchalance, tolya watches him with a hawk’s keen intensity, seeking any sign of true trouble.