#sxmethingtoprxve

[the-cerwyn]

Just read the second issue of Haven, had me thinking...

Cley would probably be medical student before the apocalypse, but I don’t know if he’d be traveling alone or along with his Whitehill pals.

[terrarosas-blog]

(*tackle hugs*)

ALL THE HUGS

[gcldenscaled]

@sxmethingtoprxve​

“ G r y f f...” 

Hands clasped behind his back, Karl leans forward, looking the DEMON right in his eyes. Seeing the fear there pleases him --- to know this monster is afraid of something. The mottled skin of his cheek cracks further as he smiles, pointed wolf teeth a glint of white. 

A tilt of his head as he says, “Do you know what day it is, brother?”

[terrarosas-blog]

STARTER --- @sxmethingtoprxve

WHAT HAD COMPELLED HER to run after him? Perhaps it was pity --- or maybe guilt? She knew little of the Whitehill’s past, but from what Gwyn had told her, Gryff and his brothers had not the most amiable of relationships. It was not her place to say anything --- she was a foolish girl who had ended up here by CHANCE. Still, she had followed him. 

“W-Wait!” Her pace was not as quick  “Ah ---- Gryff?” 

Boot caught on the hem of her dress, and the lady fell, HARD, on stone, banging her chin against the floor. 

[forresterdaughter]

(Mira must be saved from evil Morgryn!!)

I know!! She needs to escape, kill him in his sleep or something. I don’t think anyone will come to her rescue tho :( my poor babe

[morethanjustwords-archive]

@sxmethingtoprxve

His heavy footsteps echoed in Ironrath’s halls, more deserted than ever following the siege. Surviving Forresters were confined to the cellars - after spending quite some time there himself, it felt damn satisfying to see them locked up in the darkest place of this godforsaken keep. Whitehill soldiers were still licking their wounds and dealing with the dead of their own, taste of victory bittered by their lord’s fate. He was supposed to feel as much, if not more, but frankly, weariness and worry were the only things burdening his mind (not to mention the freshly sewed wound on his jaw). That was a habit, an instinct, almost - quieting his own emotions when the only man in the world that truly needed him was in necessity of his support.

Approaching lord’s chambers - lord Gryff’s chambers, he slowed down, recollecting his thoughts. He’d need all his strength and composure now - with the loss still that raw, there was no telling what state he could find him in. The thought made him uncomfortable, memories of his own condition after experiencing parent’s death plaguing his mind. Hopefully, they’d also be of some help now, bits and pieces of what ser Harold did to help him could really be of use.

Opening the door slightly, not coming in yet, just in case he wasn’t ready for a visitor, Harys knocked up against the doorpost softly, announcing his presence. “…Gryff?”

[txghut-blog]

sxmethingtoprxve got anger.

Sitting across from the fourth-born, his lips drew back into a taught frown. Of course it was a plan, playing and bending to make false security. Still; Asher did not want to be there, having to share a table and a meal with the boy who tailed after his father like some dog. Actually, he found that an insult to dogs everywhere, and he grinned at internalized comment. 

Resting his elbows on the table, he leaned onto his right hand. Forrester eyes admired the handiwork his elder brother did to Gryff, the eye-patch was really an improvement as it covered a decent portion of his face. He’d have liked to do something, perhaps drive a blade into subtle flesh and carve the Forrester sigil into Gryff’s cheek. 

Now that would be something!

“Tell me--” He started, idly trailing a finger along the table-top. He’d forgotten how suffering it was sitting at a table with hard chairs, the lord's seat had always been the softest; it was a shame Ludd’s fatass sat in it. “--how is your eye?”

[morethanjustwords-archive]

@sxmethingtoprxve

Lifting eyes from his work - he was patching a saddle - Harys spotted a small figure near the stabling's door. From the looks of his, the child wasn't smallfolk - more like one of his lord's sons, the youngest one, maybe - Harys couldn't remember his face, which meant the boy was still a baby when the war started. He didn't really care about who the boy was - the last thing he needed right now was some little highborn shit getting under his feet with all the chores he had to finish. From what he knew about lord Whitehill’s other sons, they were nothing more than that - arrogant highborn little shits.

"What are you doing here?" His voice was grumpy and cold, probably not the best way to speak with a young lord, but again, Harys couldn't care less. Last months he found it extremely hard to hide the fact, that he didn't really want to talk to anyone. It got him in trouble, but he didn't plan on mending his ways. If the boy wasn't smart enough to leave him alone fast, he might have had to learn that the hard way.