a touch of madness;

[aytogifs]

[thaddeusthornton-blog]

coeusxcoleman:

            “Don’t worry, that isn’t my own blood,” Coleman murmured, wiping at the blood and smearing it a little as if to prove his point. “Care to direct me to a well or something of the sort?”

     “You look a right damned mess, Balor,” Typhon furrowed his brow. With a sigh, he tossed his brother a dampened rag. He’d watched Coeus approach and was already prepared. “What happened to the poor soul who’s blood you decided to bathe in?”

[thaddeusthornton-blog]

minalariviere:

She looked at him, eyebrows raised in expectation. Mina held the mug and carefully smelled its content before taking a sip. She closed an eye as the burning liquid made its way to her stomach, and felt how it warmed her cheekbones almost immediately. “More fun indeed,” she chuckled, and drank some more. 

“None of us is. I thought we would be home by now, not stuck in this hellhole,” she replied with a bitter smirk, before joking back. “Maybe we need to find a new pastime.” 

Mina listened to the man and wondered what came after that but, yet her poisoned mind immediately forgot about it. “Yes,” she easily replied and raised an eyebrow. “But the thought of its peace doesn’t attract me anymore. Perhaps I’ll hand the crown to my younger sister and I’ll… Just do something else. Is your kingdom peaceful? ”

     “There we go,” Typhon grinned, nodding in appreciation. Mina seemed to like it --- but could she keep up? Typhon could appreciate someone with a strong stomach, and he eyed the bottle she’d tended to earlier with a smirk. ( seemed like she would have no issues with that. ) “Maybe we could arrange a little trade deal, eh? Stonehallow’s liquor for Waywyn’s . . . what? Spices? What do your lovely temples offer besides beautiful priestesses?” 

     Typhon chuckled and lifted his cup to his lips. “New past-times, indeed. You know, I’ve always wanted to learn how to play chess.” He raised his brows, nodding to her. “Do you happen to play?” 

     His eyes widened in surprise. She didn’t want the crown she’d earned? Was it truly so unappealing? “My kingdom . . . has its’ charms,” he said with a shrug, sitting back in his chair. “Peace isn’t necessarily one of them.” Perhaps that explained some of his eagerness to return. This idle wait was more irritating than he’d expected. “Thinking of a little vacation? I may know of someone who can accommodate you.” 

[thaddeusthornton-blog]

minalariviere:

She chuckled tiredly and gave an amused look at the man. No fool could be entertaining enough to drag her out of boredom, and no drink was strong enough either. That didn’t stop her, however, of filling her cup once again. “This is the only fun I require,” she joked, briefly lifting her wine. 

Between heavy blinks, Mina observed Typhon and tried to remember when was the last time she had spoken to him. “And yet, this Kingdom has never seen brighter days,” she replied, chuckling again at her own words, “with no Vitellos to pester it.” 

Only for a short moment she had forgotten about the escape of the remains of their lineage, but before it could upset her and ruin her peace, she chose to change the subject. “Do you long to go home, King Typhon?”

     He cracked a smile, possibly the first all day since he was surrounded with idiots. Sniffing, Typhon leaned across the table to peer into the jug. “Is that wine?” He asked, pushing his own mug towards her. “How about a bit more fun, yes? Try this. It’s from Stonehollow and will knock you right on your ass if you’re not careful.”

      Typhon sat back in the chair, crossing his ankles but stretching his legs out beneath the table. For effect, he took his own drink. A long, long . . . long drink. “Certainly,” he nodded, unable to deny that she was right in that respect. “Then again, I never thought I’d be so bored with no one to hate.” ( he was only half serious. ) “I just wished we’d thought more about sleeping arrangements before letting those wildlings burn the Keep down. I am not made to sleep in tents.”

      His grumbling quietened for a moment, a bit surprised by the shift in her discussion. ( he PREENED, like a proud peacock as his title fell from her lips. ) “More or less,” he said, though it wasn’t quite as convincing as he’d like. “I’d like to see my children, rule my kingdom --- but ---” Typhon stopped short, shooting her a sharp look but there wasn’t any malice in his eyes. Only curiosity. “And you? Queen Lariviere? Ready to return to your temples and your gods?”

[fuzzielogic]

[thaddeusthornton-blog]

minalariviere:

Time had passed while she remained secluded, away from the outside world. Lazily slouching on her chair, the priestess limited herself only to listen to the soft wind playing with the thin fabric of the tent, just as she’d been doing for the last couple of weeks. It was clear how many of the visitors and the very own citizens of Westedell had vanished into thin air after the battles, the fires and the executions, giving place for peace and silence to finally settle in these unholy lands. 

Though… Such calmness was suddenly interrupted by steps, not as delicate as the steps of the priestesses looking after Mina in her idleness. 

A thief, perhaps? An assassin? A child of the Gods, or maybe one of the Gods themselves? Either of them would be annoying if they attempted to take her from her rest. “Hm?” Her eyebrows raised in a sort of welcoming gesture, as she opened her eyes and softly slurred a few words. “I haven’t asked for a jester, yet.” 

     It could be said that Typhon was always meant to be a king. So far, he’d taken to new responsibilities like water, and he was far more productive now than he’d ever been when forced to pay tribute to the Vitellos. 

     Unfortunately, they were stuck. And there was little he could do on plans and preparations stuck in a damned TENT in Westedell, of all places.Grumbling, and perhaps deep into too many cups, Typhon didn’t mean to stumble upon the priestess. Yet, there she was, the stone-maker herself, slurring her words and looking up with as much anticipation a sleepy drunk could. 

     “I have a fool. I am not the fool. But I can call him, if you’d like,” he offered, half-way turning to bark at one of his attendants if she did want one. Typhon swigged from the bottle of liquor dangling from his fingers before he stormed over to one of her chairs, plopping down in the seat before she could say something else. 

    He looked to her, to her table, and then back to her. "Good to see someone else having fun. It’s damned misery everywhere else in this forsaken place.” 

[thaddeusthornton-blog]

casonirvine:

“Did you really have to do that in front of me?” 

“Don’t take kindly to thieves,” Typhon spat to the fool, hands fisting into another’s threadbare shirt before he slammed the offending gentleman into the tavern wall. “If I ever catch your dirty fingers near my person again, I’ll split your head right open and spill ‘ya all over this floor. Understand?”

Satisfied that his warning was heard, Typhon shoved the boy to the side, turning to Irvine as the thief stumbled away quickly. “FRIEND,” he greeted, a smile smoothing away the scowl. Flicking two coins his way, Typhon nodded towards the bar. “Fetch us a few drinks, eh?”

[thaddeusthornton-blog]

celinereece:

“You swear it?” Celine asked, cheshire-grin curling her red lips at the assurance. The man—Lord Something-or-Other, she couldn’t remember, they’d been interrupted last time they had spoken—certainly sounded certain, and who was she to insult his pride? “Not a drop of wine here, I swear by whatever gods you worship. Just curiosity, milord, idle curiosity, and trust in your word.” And his biceps. Celine chuckled to herself and motioned him closer, waiting until he was prepared before letting herself fall towards the ground.

Of course, because she wasn’t insane to trust a man with her life, she caught herself right before she met his embrace; time seemed to slow for half a second as she fell towards him, power glittering along her hands and in her eyes as she landed safely in the cradle of Lord Something-or-Other’s arms. “It seems you’ve caught me after all,” Celine noted, looking awfully comfortable for a woman who’d just fallen twenty feet. The golden glow of her magic faded and she settled an arm around the man’s shoulder cheerfully, appreciating its solidity. Very nice. “I should never have doubted your strength, clearly.” 

Ever eager to welcome a lovely lady into his arms, Typhon stepped towards the walls, waiting for her to tip forward. ( surely she would . . . she seemed the woman to enjoy a little play and risk. ) “My, my. We’ll have to rectify that then, won’t we?" Though he certainly didn’t doubt her ability to entertain, he always found company better when wine flowed. And then the woman leaned --- Typhon’s arms stretching out---

Cradling her EASILY as she landed. ( had he seen a sparkle in the air? a glimmer in the air? ) He shifted, hopefully making her more comfortable against the barrel of his chest, grinning wickedly when he caught her eye. “Clearly,” he agreed. “But what man would I be to allow you to fall without the grace you command otherwise?” It’d been very easy. Almost too easy, as if she weighed no more than a feather. “Now, where shall we go?” Typhon asked, turning fluidly on his heel, the woman still situated in his arms. Of course, if she were to ask, he’d set her on the ground. But why do that so soon? When she seemed so comfortable up close where he could admire her? “A tour? A tavern? I have a fine selection of spirits in my chambers, if you’d prefer to remedy your earlier comment.”

[thaddeusthornton-blog]

celinereece:

Celine crossed her slim ankles together with a hum, lips quirked in amusement. She’d foregone shoes now that there was no one who would be side-eyeing her for not wearing them, and she enjoyed the cool breeze atop the ramparts more for it. “Why would I not be joyful?” she replied coyly, tilting her head. “The slaughter has stopped and I have a few more trophies for it,” she very nearly cooed, looking over her shoulders and motioning for an unseen something to make itself seen. 

In the far-away wilderness, lions and tigers were masters of the grass and bush. Here, they were her playthings, large paws and heads appearing above the stones as they peered down at the man standing below. Celine idly petted the tiger nearest her, looking back down to Lord Thornton yards below. “Tell me, milord, you look an awfully strong man. Do you think you could catch me if I were to tip forwards?” she teased, bracelets clinking with the sway of her body and the whirl of the wind. 

Typhon caught his eyes drifting, and once more reminded himself to keep them upwards, away from the tempting glance of a delicate ankle. ( or even better, the sight of a slender calf. ) He nearly missed whatever it was that she had to say, but then she turned her head and he squinted his eyes against the sun. “Trophies?” He questioned, chuckling. “Has the lady found herself a few souvenirs from the battle, then?” He could almost imagine her plucking a few knives or spearheads once the crowd disappeared. She seemed . . . different enough to do such a thing. ( what a curious woman! ) And to speak of slaughter so happily! 

He stood a little straighter, uncrossing his arms in case she did try to catch him by surprise. "Did you dip too deeply into the celebratory wine?” Typhon raised a brow. “But of course, milady, it would be an honor to see you safely on the ground. Why don’t you jump forwards and test my strength? You won’t so much as brush against the ground, I swear it.” 

[thaddeusthornton-blog]

mnxmosyne:

Perhaps a blossoming smile at her brother’s violently-worded threat wasn’t the most appropriate response - evidenced by the flash of terror in the young guard’s eyes - but Magdalena couldn’t help herself, her leaping pulse settling as soon as Thaddeus made his presence known. 

“Tis’ nothing, Lord Thornton. I’m afraid I merely overreacted, that’s all.” Magdalena dipped into a shallow curtsy, her tone apologetic as she turned to face the man in her brother’s hold. “I’m sure this guard meant me no harm whatsoever.”  

“Hmph,” Typhon grunted, shooting a glare back to the boy. Rather disappointed that he wouldn’t be able to reprimand him ( --- with his fists before a venture down to the vitellos’s newest home ) on groundless causes, he released his hold, pushing the knight back a few steps. “Make it known that Lady Percival is and always will be a friend to our houses. Now, go,” he barked, though his eyes lit in amusement as the other scurried off elsewhere. 

“A perfect ending to a perfect day.” Tyhon turned on his heel, facing his dear sister once more with a beaming smile. “Now, why are you all the way out here and not in the Keep with the rest of our family? Surely you want to rejoice?"

[thaddeusthornton-blog]

mnxmosyne:

“I am a friend of the Balors.” 

Magdalena tried to inject steel into her spine, imperiousness into her voice, but her instinctive, fearful step backwards from the guards that had been tasked to clear the Keep spoke greater volumes than her words ever could. 

“Please-” 

Typhon stepped in between the two, Magdalena at his back, and a sharp-toothed grimace at the boy. Reaching forward, he grasped the man by the shoulder and hauled him forward, letting him stagger as he grumbled blasphemies beneath his breath. Letting the knight’s widening eyes watch his lips contort into a snarl, he turned them both to face his ( dearest ) sister. “I’m sure he was seconds from scampering off, but I simply couldn’t wait that long. Did he dare to harm you?” He asked her, flashing his teeth at the man. “I’ll have his hide as a quilt if he so much as touched a hair.”

[thaddeusthornton-blog]

sonofdanae:

@thaddeusthornton

How ironic of their own situation? The dungeons once guarded by House Argo’s men, was now full of them instead. If the heads of the houses were as just as they seemed, they would not shed blood without reason, but the wildlings were another thing entirely. Preston attempted to recollect any memories of the Argos wronging them, and he was comforted by the lack of one. He hoped his family could be released unscathed. They had escaped their own prisons in the north, and he believed they could do it again.

A figure approached him in his cell, and Preston had half a mind to yell at whoever it was. The other half made the knight keep quiet, his eyes reflecting his aggravation instead. The situation was not in his family’s favor, and he would not be the cause of pushing them further into jeopardy. “Lord Thornton,” he greeted, his tone icy.

One thing particularly made Typhon happy: gloating. Venturing into the dungeons now became his favored activity, and he realized he preferred this vision of Westedell far better than any other that came before it. Hypatia’s cheekbones were even lovelier behind bars, and he’d never seen so handsome a sight as her foolish sons meandering about without their exquisite finery. ( surely his houses’s taxes would lessen . . . typhon made a note to speak to iapetus when the moment struck. ) Crossing into the damper holds, he stumbled upon a vaguely familiar Knight . . . upon closer inspection, he realized who it was. ( stoneshire. )

“Knight who’s name I don’t know,” Typhon returned. It baffled him how knights such as this one didn’t simply renounce and save themselves the headache of wasting away behind these bars. Couldn’t they see the Vitellos were ruined? He reckoned they stayed for some ridiculous notion of honor and duty . . .  youths romanticized themselves so terribly much . . . --- “The cell is to your expectations, is it not? It appears rather . . .” His sight bounced around the stone walls, a low whistle emitting, “cozy.”

[thaddeusthornton-blog]

celinereece:

Celine hummed softly to herself as she sat on the ramparts of the long-since invaded Lion’s Keep. The edge of the city, silent as midnight in the middle of high noon. The bodies had been dealt with—a lot of crying had been involved—and she’d sent a prayer for good winds to come in. And come they had, sweeping away the stench of death, though there wasn’t much that could be done about the bloodstains still on the ground. Shame, that. 

The witch stopped swinging her legs when she saw someone approach where she was sitting from down below, a smile spreading over her lips. She gripped the stone edge of the wall she sat on, leaning down to address them. “Fine day, aye?” 

The sudden voice gave him pause, and Typhon slowed his quiet stroll along the defensible walls. After a moment of thought, he glanced around before turning his face up skyward, taking a step back to get a better look at the woman propped on the ramparts. He answered the welcome sight with a grin. My, my, he was quite fond of how the Keep was turning out. ( lovely ladies around every corner and the vitellos tucked away out of sight where they belonged --- ) “Fine day indeed,” he replied, good-humored. 

“Good to see a lovely lady in such high spirits.” Typhon clasped his hands behind his back. He took the moment to look about the yard once more, though nothing was near as intriguing a sight as the adventurer. “The sight from up top must be mighty magnificent to inspire that smile of yours. Tell me: what is it that gives you so much joy today?”

[thaddeusthornton-blog]

MEMBERS OF THE ALLIANCE:

Before participating, please ensure you have read the event.

The hour for the alliance to reveal itself has arrived. The free folk are creeping into the Keep, and the only armies to assist the Vitellos are the Pemberleys. While the members of this scheming group may be scattered, they know what must be done; they recognize that while it is the free folk who are the spark, they are the flame that comes from it. What are they thinking as the moment for their reveal ticks forward? As lords and ladies are being gathered in the throne room to await judgement, what is it they want to happen? For all the speeches and words these individuals cling to, it is now that the rest of the world learns who they really are.

“the throat after the scream, bloody, ripped raw— i know, i know, i’ve been there. i’ve called it home.”

PARA RESPONSE: you're never fully dressed without a smile

         One grape. Two grapes. Three grapes. Four–                    One stupidly ‘brave’ lord down, and the Vitellos to go. 

Typhon popped another into his mouth as he watched a distant knight fall, laughing in delight when another donned in the Vitello colors was ran through with a spear. A mockery of a smile twisted his lips, bright against the sun as he watched the chaos unfold down below. The wildlings didn’t disappoint. The damn savages made a fantastic show, hacking their way through the crowds, and bitterly he thought of how he’d have the unfortunate circumstance of missing their slaughter. Still, grimly satisfied, he chuckled in DELIGHT, turning from the window to sweep up a goblet full of his finest wine, downing it in a breath before carelessly tossing it to the carpets. 

“You hear that, GIRL?” He shouted, pure of joy — bursting at the seams with an unnatural gleam in his eye — whirling to face the lone servant tucked beside the pitcher’s table. “You see what’s happening outside those very walls? What the Vitellos have brought upon this city? See the rage in their eyes and their thrist for blood? They’d have you—me!—all of us! and who shall be to blame but none other than that DAMNED royal family themselves?” He grinned, wicked. “They will be cursed for centuries..”

She hesitated, unsure as fear showed itself, but he was already off, cackling as he flung the door open and stormed into the hallway. The dark grin remained, unsettling in the torchlight yet he wouldn’t dare let it waver. Fueled by the drums, the screams, the rage, THE HORROR, Typhon felt every inch a Titan. Felt every bit the monster he was born to be.

It awoke deep in his bones.

Oh, how he wished he had the power to open the gates of hell and drag Zeus’s hide back to this world, force the fool to his knees and turn his eyes upon the sight.

But he couldn’t. So, Typhon would watch, PROUD with his blessed, knowing smirk as Zeus’s legacy — his families, supposed beloveds, and kingdom —- was stripped of everything that gave them power. As they were tossed, weak and desperate and ALONE to the ground. Ripped of their pride, of everything that could even offer comfort in this world. The histories wouldn’t remember the Vitellos as the Great House or rulers. No, they would be remembered as the HALFWITS who invited serpents into their homes.

Outside the doors to the throne room, his allies waited and he strode towards them with strong, sure steps. Iapetus clasped his shoulder, and emotion choked deep in his throat at the look in his brother’s eyes. Iapetus succeeded. His brother, and Medusa, Leanne, the others who Knew, uniting together to usurp a bloodline that possessed no damned right to rule. At long last, their moment arrived, and Typhon fell into step behind his brother, Medusa, and Leanne. He was ready — more than ready to see this finally through and done.

Typhon would watch them fall by his brothers’ and sisters’ side, with all the heavens and hells witnessing their glory and TRIUMPH. And he would do so with glee.

[neverthere17]

Visit Original Link

Don’t you ever, tame your demons But always keep them on a leash…

[thaddeusthornton-blog]

minalariviere:

“The smart one, yes,” she answered with a smirk that faltered all too quickly. “But no, this is no ordinary circumstance.” 

Mina tilted her head back, giving him a wry smile. “Surely,” she repeated softly. “You referred to my sister and to Zion by their former names. If you remember, it’s rather obvious you have talked to your brothers at least once. Surely you are aware of the engagement of the oldest Balor child.” The woman went through the facts out loud, still smiling. “Isiah has said I must wait,” she explained, idly and briefly gazing at his chest moving as he breathed. “Should I wait for Marcellus to marry her? Or perhaps when they have children?” Her tone was daring and her voice somewhat husky, yet there was no actual anger in her. It was more of a mixture of bitter disappointment and insecurity. Gods knew she appreciated the Titan and that her idea was not ill-intentioned —at least not towards her allies—, but this was the one subject she dreaded. “He might forbid me of taking her, but I doubt he’d take this chance away from his own brother. It would benefit us both. I would understand, though, if you chose not to. I’ll find my own way.” 

To be quiet honest, Typhon hadn’t considered that Mina would be held back by the words of his brother, their common ally. He’d misjudged a relationship, and his lips thinned with a frown at her insinuations, even when his resolve wavered at the huskiness wrapping him in comfort. Typhon blinked. Broke the spell. Crossing his arms across his chest, he swallowed thickly. “And you would have me earn the wrath instead,” he said. “If Iapetus forbid you from taking her life, then I doubt it would earn me favors if I did so myself. I am no longer in the business of disappointing my family.” Typhon thirsted for Olympian blood . . . and he could only imagine Medusa’s hatred, her pact with Iapetus must’ve burned her so. ( though this may be his only chance to truly strike against Zeus . . . ) 

“I will speak to him,” he said after a moment’s thought. His lips cured in disgust. “Marcellus’s infatuation with the girl is damned regardless, and he deserves far greater than she, no matter how bright she appears now. But I will not go behind my brother’s back for vengeance, not when it’s yours I’m taking.”  

[thaddeusthornton-blog]

faithfullyyours-prisca:

The corners of her mouth turned upward just slightly. “I am glad to hear it, my lord,” she said sincerely. She loved hearing of families prospering, of children growing. Hers was a small family, so she reveled in the growth of others’.

Watching him out of the corner of her eye, she laughed, not having missed the subtle suggestion in his words. “What stops me from taking a husband?” she repeated, a smile on her lips despite the lack of mirth in her eyes. “Because mine still lives.” She looked out over the city, eyes dancing across the horizon, as if she could see him from her place in the castle. “Somewhere out there, Lord Deyes is still alive.”

A flash of heat---familiar pain---twisted at his mind, and Thaddeus swallowed bile rising to his throat as his knuckles whitened. “Yes, I’ve heard of his unfortunate fate,” he managed to say, clearing his throat. The white spots in his vision receded with the pain, and Thaddeus sighed in short relief. The nightmare abated, at least for now.

“I can’t imagine what would be worse. Not knowing, holding onto uncertainty for years and ears, or knowing that your love will never return to you,” he said, voice softened with false lamentation. When he thought of his Elinor, his eyes didn’t mirror the yearning in Prisca’s. “Have you heard of him at all since he left? letters, tokens? messengers?”