#wnresponse

[hair-like-stardust]

                                        The Mad Princess

                   [ A MIX FOR SOPHIA CADDOCK ] : [ LISTEN HERE ]

          “She says nothing at all, but simply stares upward                into the dark sky                    and watches, with sad eyes,                    the slow dance of the infinite stars.”

                                                                  ― Neil Gaiman, Stardust

[hermia-higgenbottom]

Hermia Cordelia Higgenbottom

Age: 19

Occupation: College Student, Ice Cream Shop Manager

Favorite Book Series: Harry Potter

Favorite TV Show: Lost

Hermia comes from a very wealthy family, so of course she’ll be seen at quite a few events you wouldn’t expect. But at the heart of things -- and almost every day -- Hermia hangs around the college town she currently lives and works in.

As you can see, her fashion sense leaves much to be desired. If it’s rainbow, yellow, cute, or utilitarian, it meets her standards and, while she doesn’t enjoy using her parent’s money for much, she won’t hesitate to “borrow” some to fill her ever-growing closet that looks like something out of Disney Chanel in the 90s.

She currently is a full time student with a business major and a religions minor. When given the chance, Hermia prefers the latter, but she knows the importance of good business tactics, as she fully intends to start her own design business when she graduates. Until then, she works as a floor manager in a small ice cream shop’s second location. The first is a few miles away, and she remains in contact with the CEO often. However, Hermia has proven her competence time and again, so the CEO doesn’t worry much.

In her free time, Hermia plays tabletop games, fails at video games, and volunteers at a pet shelter, since her apartment complex doesn’t allow pets. She bikes everywhere, and spends a good amount of time on the nearby lake. She plans to study abroad next year, and learn how to cook complicated foods. A girl can’t live off of experimental spaghetti forever.

[ritari-nimelta-lavinia]

L A V I N I A G A R D E N E R

Age: 28

Occupation: Police Officer

Notable Features: Blonde Hair Pulled Back, Gold Eyes, Rare Smile

Lavinia is all but married to her job. Despite her many friends within the department, and her popularity in the precinct, she never attends social events nor seems to have any fun ever.

She lost both her parents and her uncle in a car crash as a child, and went into foster care for the rest of her childhood. She was a difficult girl, traumatized and serious, and no family could manage her for long without getting frustrated. While she didn’t move around between families much, Lavinia still did not quite feel like she belonged.

Once she graduated college, she joined the police force, moving up through the ranks quickly. She proved her skill and competence quickly, having a clear knowledge of the law as her parents were both lawyers, and her uncle was also an officer.

Her wardrobe can be summarized with this question: Wow, Lavinia, don't you have anything interesting to wear? And the answer is a blunt no. She has no clue when it comes to fashion, and so she resorts to the one thing she knows works -- black and white. 

[sybil-marlowe]

Mina's Day // Self-Para

Sybil lay in bed, her thin hands curled round her stomach, as she fought the urge to vomit. She had woken from a fitful sleep only to realize what day it was. Mina's Day. A day which she wished with every passing year was erased from the Norn tradition.

But Sybil's most sincere wishes never came true.

They were putting on two plays today, plays of love and the most sincere affection, the sort which Sybil had never experienced in her life. She knew of trysts, of secret passion and desire, but love? Love was a sentiment which had always been just outside of Sybil's grasp.

She turned over, shielding herself from the light which filtered in through her windows. She did not want to greet this day, could not greet it with any joy or excitement. Her heart was filled with sorrow, the sort which she would be hard pressed to hide.

But she would do it, and no one would be the wiser.

The words of Tristan's play echoed in her head, the words she must recite as the handsome prince tearing at the flesh of her heart.

And I shall love you for all time, From this moment until my last. My dear lady, all you need do is say the word. I am already yours, so please say that you will be mine.

She shut her eyes, curling tighter into herself as her lines rang in her ears. Gods, if Tristan had been naught but a boy when all this happened, there was no way he'd have cast her in such a role. But as it was, the only people who knew of Sybil's failed attempt at love had long since passed.

And the child which she'd bore and lost for that failure.

There was a lump forming in the back of her throat, damnable tears which wanted to force their way up and out. But Sybil would not let them escape, for if she started to cry now, she may not stop. Yes, it hurt to be unloved. It hurt to know that no man could bare the thought of calling you his. But so what? There were plenty of other miserable spinsters in Nore, ones who had probably suffered a great deal more than she. But this thought did not bring her comfort either. Why should anyone suffer such as this? Why should anyone be burdened with such loneliness? As a child, her mother had told her that there was someone in this world for everyone, and as long as she was patient, she would find that special person.

She was forty now, nearing forty-one with every passing day. Soon she would be unable to bear a child, if she could even carry the little thing to term. And then what? What man would have a woman who could not bare him children? What man would choose her love over a boy to carry on his family name?

No one. No man in his right mind would do such a thing. And Sybil shuddered to think of the one's not in their right mind who she might have to choose from. Perhaps it was because she'd been raised in a family of romantics, people who believed that love could conquer all. But Sybil's love had only ever been a detriment, something in the way, and she wondered now if her parents hadn't been wrong in this as well.

Or perhaps she was just ill-equipped for such things. A bull-headed woman with a big mouth was not any man's ideal for a potential lover. So why should she be surprised? If she could have tempered herself into a more demure thing, one that was quiet and accepted life as it came to her, perhaps she would not have to bare this loneliness. But it was too late for her. Sybil didn't know any other way to be.

And so she lay in her bed on Mina's Day, alone, dreaming of a love she could never have.

[christopher--braxton-blog]

"I can’t take this any longer. Help me."

Christopher gave a sigh, making his way over to his stubborn friend and wrapping an arm beneath his armpit. Alistair had sprained his ankle a good two hours ago during their patrol, and the damned fool had been too proud of admit it. “Hardly hurt at all,” he’d said with a wince.

It had taken everything in him to keep from rolling his eyes.

It looked like he’d finally succumbed to the pain, though, and admitted he needed some damned help. Which Christopher was more than happy to provide. The made their way in silence for a while, their pace slow, as they headed back towards The Barn.

"You should have eased up on it earlier," Christopher said. "You have probably only made it worse by pretending. And badly at that — because for all your talents, my friend, acting is certainly not one of them."

Alistair gave a small laugh. “I’m sorry,” he replied. “I guess I shall have to visit with some of the actors at the Theatre, learn their tricks.”

"If you intend to try and fool anyone, yes."

Another bit of silence, one that lasted for most of their long walk. It was nice, in a way, to not feel obligated to speak. Alistair had heard all of his tall tales, all of the things he cared to share in public, so what more was there to say?

It was nice to have someone with whom you did not have to say anything.

"Do you remember what I said a few months ago?" Christopher asked.

A frown tugging at his lips, Alistair replied, “You say quite a lot of things, Christopher, you’ll have to be more specific.”

"About needing help," he answered, not quite meeting Alistair’s eyes. "I said you did not have to carry burdens upon your own shoulders. I meant that, and not just in regards to our work."

The whistling of wind was the only answer Christopher received for a while. And in truth, it was the answer he had most expected. So when Alistair finally said something as they walked up the steps to the Barn’s entrance, Christopher looked to him in surprise.

"I’m trying, Christopher. I’m trying my best."

Pushing open the door for the pair of them, Christopher replied, “Try harder.”

[thedarkwitch-cynwrig]

WITCH! (for the ask meme)

"There wouldn’t be so many bloody people in it," Cynwrig replied with a shrug. It’s the first answer that comes to mind, but he started to think seriously about it after a few minutes. Was there anything he would want to change about the world that his magic could not take care of?

His thoughts wandered to ideas of glory and power — ruling the Southern Isles, his mother accepting and loving of her son, not her daughter. It sounded so grand, much grander than wasting away in the bitter cold for the rest of his days.

But he’d found contentment in his Sanctuary. It may not have been the Southern Isles, but it was his. He couldn’t let anyone take that from him, even if he could fulfill that wish.

And then he thought of Maeve — her illness, her father (or lack thereof). If he could change the world, if he could bring people back from the dead, he would raise that man from his grave. He would reunite the two of them and bring an end to this guilt that never seemed to yield.

But he couldn’t admit that, at least not aloud. He was already being seen as some soft-hearted thing. Such sentiment would only weaken his already deteriorating reputation. So he narrowed his eyes, glared and said, “What are you staring at? I gave you your answer, now why don’t you go and bother someone else?”

[thedarkwitch-cynwrig]

I think it's dead...

Modern!AU ——> Maeve & Cynwrig

"Fuck," Cynwrig cursed under his breath, smacking the side of his phone with his palm. "Fucking shit. This is the bloody third time this month…"

Maeve stood across the counter, watching as Cynwrig abused the phone he’d only bought a week ago. She didn’t understand how he went through them so fast — probably something to do with whatever odd things he got up to in his basement. She’d never gone down there, but she wondered just went on down there. Sort of.

"W-what happened?" she asked quietly.

"I had it out while I was in the basement," he said absent-mindedly, trying to force the thing to come on. "Had my music playing and then all of a sudden…nothing. How do they get away with selling this shit?  It’s fucking robbery, I swear."

"Y-You didn’t…d-do anything to it?"

"Of course not! I told you I- Well, it was awful close to some magnets I had down there. Might’ve fucked up the battery." He turned the phone over, doing his best to pry open the metal casing. "I can probably fix it."

Maeve thought to herself, "That’s what you said the last time."

"Eh, I’ll probably have to take it down to the shop to fix it," he said with a shrug. "Worse comes to worse, I’ll get a new one. Now, what were we talking about?"

"Y-you mentioned t-that…that you needed help around the shop…"

"Oh, yeah, right. I’d been thinking of hiring someone on, but I dunno. Seems like a hassle. I’ll probably end up doing all the work myself anyway."

"M-maybe…" she said, her eyes cast downward.

Cynwrig raised an eyebrow. “You weren’t thinking of applying, were you?”

"I-I… I mean, if you don’t want the help… I-I wouldn’t want to be a burden. A-and I get busy at the bakery sometimes, s-so…so maybe I’m not the best person-"

Cynwrig held up a hand, stopping her short before she could stumble over anymore words. “So that means you won’t be in my space all the time?”

She shook her head. “N-not unless y-you need me.”

"And you’ll do anything I say? No questions asked?"

"W-well, I-"

"It’s a yes or no answer."

"Y-yes?"

Cynwrig dropped his hand and nodded. “Alright. You got the job then. Come in tomorrow 'round noon. I can probably get you started with some inventory. Something simple that you can’t fuck up.”

"R-really?" A little smile started to work its way onto her face.

"Yeah, did I stutter? Wait… Forget I said that. But yeah, I’m not shitting you. Show up at noon tomorrow or don’t show up at all. Your choice."

She nodded, her smile blowing into a full-blown grin. “I-I’ll be here.”

And if she didn’t mention the muffins she intended to bring with her, well, they could deal with that in the morning.

[frozen-earth]

also this ✿

Future AU: Victor is aged forty

The light is burning his eyes, but he is smiling. He stares up, up, up and the sun’s rays blind him. It is midday, the first day of spring — the first spring that Nore has seen in over twenty years.

And he is crying.

Victor, like many other Norns, had settled into the idea that their land was trapped in an eternal winter. But this morning, Victor had awoken from his slumber to find that he was hot. Hot enough that he’d begun to sweat, his clothes dampened with it. At first, he’d thought himself running a fever. And then he’d heard the commotion…

Now he is standing in the sun’s light, beaming for all the world to see, and there are tears rolling down his cheeks. He is so happy, happier than he could ever remember being. Spring had returned. Mina was with them once more.

He forces his eyes away from the sun only when he finds he can no longer bare it. The smile is still spread across his face, his eyes taking in all there is to see. There is a group of children running about, their little feet bare. Bare. When was the last time he’d seen that?

Too long. It had been too long.

There are women, roughly his age, who appear just as moved as himself. With hands over their mouths or resting upon their chests, you can tell they know it too.

This was a new beginning for all of them.

It is easy for Victor lose himself in the chaos surrounding him, greedily taking in the sights and sounds and smells. It is not until he feels someone bump into his side that he looks over…

Princess Sophia is standing there, looking as if she were about ready to jump for joy. Maybe she knows it too. Her hands are cupped together before her, and when Victor looks down curiously, she opens them up.

Flowers. Small and probably quite weak, but they are flowers all the same. Where had she gotten these from? Had they started to rise up as the snow began to thaw away? Victor grins widely, reaching out to touch the stem of one, but she stops him.

She reaches up, and he kneels down to meet her. She places one of the little buds behind his ear, tucking it there carefully before she pulls away again.

Victor smiled, his fingers lightly caressing the spot her fingers had just abandoned. “I… Thank you, your Highness.”

She smiles back, and moves on, stopping a young boy to give him the same treatment.

Yes, this was a new beginning indeed.