#wreathcrowns

[konohans]

❛⠀allow my brother to heal yours, ❜ even in a request, tobirama's voice bloats in superiority. butsuma's curse; a rotted contradiction to elder brother's own modest approach, and bright-eyed dream.

❛⠀and have your dream. ❜

@wreathcrowns ♡'d smol starter call !

[mvndrvke]

@wreathcrowns ( continued )

There's something deeply romantic to Halsin about seeing the concern on Ketheric's face. The Shadow Druids have been a thorn in his side for too long, and a rough scrap with them had led to victory for the time being. Patching injuries was simple enough, and some healing spells had him feeling pretty good about the whole thing until Ketheric had arrived to admonish him.

"You would not," he says, but the words are softly spoken. It's nice, though. To be worried about, to have someone care when it's a man who holds little in his heart for care beyond his goddess. It's what makes him step forward, closing the distance between them to press his lips to Ketheric's. It's not a long kiss, but it feels overdue on Halsin's part.

He raises his eyebrows slightly when he pulls back, regarding Ketheric carefully for a reaction. "You worry far too much," he tells him. "Does it truly matter that I went if I've come back to you now?"

[noldclante]

@wreathcrowns liked this starter call ; for Oropher ♡

˗ˏˋ 𝐒𝐈𝐋𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐄𝐘𝐄𝐒 𝐆𝐀𝐙𝐄𝐃 out onto the endless ocean beyond the new coastline of Lindon. His former home, the graves of the ones he loved, so many stories told upon Beleriand... all now lay destroyed beneath the sea.

He knew not how many tears he had shed ; but he had not wept today, that was something.

There was hope, now that Morgoth was gone. Perhaps now, there would be peace.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤThe sound of footsteps pulled him from his thoughts, & he turned to find a face he recognized : Oropher, of Doriath (or what had been Doriath, before his father and uncles had seen to that...). It was no secret that he disliked the Noldor, a sentiment shared by many who came from Doriath. Celebrimbor could hardly fault him. And he — the very son of a kinslayer! — was possibly the least liked of them all, or so he felt. The sins of his fathers lay heavy on his shoulders, and he felt that he had to try twice as hard to prove himself worthy. To be better.

He offered a faint smile, almost apologetic for even being here & a bow of his head in greeting. Then, after a beat, ❝I would say well met, but I confess I am not certain anyone is meeting well these days.❞ It was a (weak) attempt at half-jest, meant to invite friendly conversation.

His gaze drifted back toward the horizon, where the sun was slowly beginning to sink into the western sea.

ㅤ❝I imagine Doriath's people have thought of sailing. After everything your folk have endured... and at the hands of mine, no less…❞ His voice faltered for a moment before he found it again, long fingers absently toying with a loose strand of wavy raven hair.

ㅤ❝. . . Has the West called to you?❞

[audaciiaearch]

@wreathcrowns said: "Words are easy, like the wind; faithful friends are hard to find." Diomedes' gaze upon Odysseus is at once soft, but still wary.

"Indeed they are, friend Diomedes! Aren't you, then, glad that we have each other?" Odysseus grins, clasping his hands behind his back. True, it is difficult for anyone to trust Odysseus for his honesty is hard to come by. The man weaves lies like a tapestry, but at least he doesn't tangle himself in it.

Even still, Diomedes is one of the few people he finds himself being completely, or well...mostly honest with. Isn't that strange? Not that he's complaining. To have a friend that he can actually trust is a rarity in war. "You and I compliment each other quite well. What would my wit be without your strength to go with it, hm?"

[ordinariums]

@wreathcrowns asked: " I have no quarrel with you … " Diomedes (Odysseus' bestie ,,, ) to Poseidon. " Do I … ? " still humble enough to take care before an Olympian. Diomedes just wants to make it back to a human settlement safely, while carrying a festering wound in the middle of the forest. (hello i hope this is okay?)

he knows who this man is. he is well aware of those who were acquainted with the ~ infamous ~ odysseus. but to come across one of them all the way out here, far from the ocean - it is unexpected. to say the least. nonetheless when considering the wound the man is so obviously clutching. he considers the mortal. blood and all. "what happened to you?" the words twist as he projects them, stepping closer - but not making a move. as much as the hatred of odysseus lingers, so does a certain amount of respect. and odysseus cares for this man. "quite the distance from home, aren't you?"

[natureswarden]

Ketheric is holding a white rabbit in front of his face, staring into its eyes with deep contemplation. What does Halsin do?

No matter who he found holding a rabbit as Ketheric did, he would find the sight most befuddling. Though, perhaps he would consider it even stranger for the man before him.

" I imagine you do not intend on senselessly harming this creature, correct? "

[wcrshipcr]

@wreathcrowns got a starter for ketheric from x !

bile   burned   at   the   back   of   his   throat   as   the   urge   moved   further   into   moonrise   ,   his   skull   aching   with   a   sharp   ,   relentless   pressure   (   a   knife   splitting   his   skull   -   bleeding   him   out   )   .   memories   flickered   -   echoes   of   a   time   when   these   halls   bent   around   him   ,   when   he   was   more   than   this   .   (   more   than   a   servant   .   .   .   nothing   )   .   now   ,   he   was   watched   .   questioned   .   reduced   .   guards   lingered   .   believers   whispered   .   and   still   ,   beneath   it   all   ,   there   was   something   else   -   a   sensation   ,   faint   but   growing   .   something   old   reaching   for   him   .   calling   him   back   .   (   for   a   moment   longer   ,   the   dark   urge   lifted   a   hand   to   his   temples   )   .

claws   dragging   more   than   soothing   as   they   scraped   against   his   skin   .   there   was   a   temptation   -   to   sever   himself   from   this   warped   ,   twisted   reality   entirely   (   sever   bones   from   flesh   .   .   .   skin   himself   for   his   lord   and   father   alone   )   .   and   yet   -   the   lord   of   murder   was   watching   .   waiting   .   beckoning   him   forward   as   he   drew   ever   closer   to   baldur’s   gate   .   alas   ,   the   upper   levels   of   moonrise   opened   before   him   ,   and   the   urge   found   himself   slipping   into   memories   -   (   older   still   ,   tangled   with   distant   voices   that   would   not   quiet   )   .   until   ,   at   last   ,   he   came   to   rest   against   the   stone   of   the   balcony   .

and   though   his   vísion   remained   as   ever   darkened   ,   peaked   his   sharpened   senses   at   the   familiar   sound   from   heavy   footsteps   .   ❝   .   .   .   you’d   do   well   not   to   approach   me   from   behind   .   ❞

[hatredcurse]

Entry { @wreathcrowns } —

A dark, uneasy alliance has been formed in the depths of Tobirama's lab. Something unseen by the light, but it provided a strange coil of familiarity whenever Madara sought aloneness from the world. How despicable of the Uchiha lord, to seek comforts with the enemy, instead of a home emptied of brothers. Tonight, he just laid on the couch, with none of the lights turned on. He could sleep here, he could die here, he thinks. That's what swam in his mind, doing none of the projects he first intended to do when he arrived here before Tobirama. When the man enters the vicinity, Madara says, " I don't want to do anything today ... I just don't. " There was barely any strength as he held the pale hand next to his form. The two have performed many acts in this space between them, less scientific, more skin. And Madara hates that he craved such a companionship. But such soft thoughts do not belong to the scalpel that Tobirama wields. So, no one blame him when he tries to coax the cold man down, for a kiss.

To assume Tobirama would achieve any goals this evening was a blundering thought on his end. His lab had once been a place of solace, of invention && progress. However, he was seeing so little of this as of late, trapped between the emotional whims of an Uchiha lord and his own useless search for self-gratification. The carnal part of him sought proffered pleasure, wherever it came, it was almost shameful.

Tobirama never felt much shame. Couldn't. Everything he had ever committed to was with full intention. When his pale hands dart from the darkness of his shrouding cobalt cape, they were meant to grab Madara at the waist, reeling him in all the flagrant ways it had before. " Your interest of our work has been declining, " he quipped in honest observation yet with fraudulent reason — pretending as if he weren't an enabler of the clan lord's distraction. The kiss that came with, Winter cold and uncomfortably stiff, as it layers over Madara's lips, siphoning the beguiling warmth from him.

He stays here for many long moments, exploring all the ways his other might accept him. Madara was a conquest to him, his affections a trove he ardently desired, in whatever way he could seize it. His touch glides from the strong slope of his toned back down into the pinched dip of his waist, the heel of his palm pressing in, urging him back against the still-vacant tabletop. Instead of tomes and scrolls, tonight it will hold something else equally as important to the Senju.