Úlfur Blóð

≼ Úlfur blóð ≽             This is a closed roleplay account for an OC that belongs to St Deveraux roleplay group.       Single ship and single verse. Blog may contain nsfw/triggering material that will be tagged appropriately.                      Tracking: varuulfur ≼ Wolf blood ≽

[palpattine]

superman // clark kent

[celestineroberts-deactivated201]

"I do?" Celestine said, wondering how she hadn’t noticed yet. She reached for a mirror, looking at the small yet noticeable mark on the lower part of her nose. Licking her thumb, she made an attempt to scrub the ink away. She turned to the man who pointed out the vicinity of the pen mark. "Is it gone?"

[varuulfur]

          Fourth comes a small pause, a hesitant one as the werewolf observed her actions, trying his hardest to maintain his composure when azure optics registered that instead of disappearing, the dark, inky spot spread further onto the pale feature, refusing to leave. When she throws a query his way, Marceau can't hold back his laughter. A small shake of the head follows the trail of quiet tittering :

                                                                                               ❝ No ❞

[elijahsfate]

"Are you sure you’re not seeing things? I mean, nobody is actually close enough to me to mark me with a pen.” He couldn’t stall the roll of his eyes nor the fingers that lifted to his nose just in case. Elijah grumbled and sneered when his gaze from away from the smiling idiot. “Whatever. It’s washable, it’s hardly anything to be amused about.” His last part is a snap, accentuated with a glance towards the dark haired male.

[varuulfur]

       Completely unfazed by the other's rather unfriendly demeanour did the man allow one last chime of laughter be heard, trying his best to focus on anything but the peculiar stain upon the tip of the other's nose. A soft exhale later did he manage to utter a coherent sentence, only to then indulge in yet another fit of quiet tittering:

                                   ❝ That may be so but the placement of the ink

                                                              Makes it appear as if you've a cat's nose -  ❞

                             ❝ Okay, I owe you an apology for bursting out like this, 

                                                              Not the greatest first impression I'd imagine.  ❞

[varuulfur]

                                              ❝ …Excuse me but you have a pen mark

                                                                                                 On your nose. ❞

          With a bashful smile blooming upon the sun kissed portrait did the werewolf draw attention to himself, unable to prevent himself from finally speaking out. A slender index digit was quickly drawn upwards to the tip of his own nose as a way of indicating the whereabouts of the source of his amusement. 

[henrycavilldaily]

[varuulfur]

Forgotten Memoirs || Marceau & Enzo ||

          The journey from his childhood abode to this lavish place was nothing short of taxing, causing an unusual, darker streak to surface within the gentle undertones of his portrait. Marceau was hardly thrilled by the prospect of leaving behind the people he grew so accustomed to; the people who resurrected hope inside the dull, grey ashes of his then childish heart, making a life he came to loathe so once a much more bearable, even beautiful, experience, but nothing could be done to prevent such an unexpected turn of events. If it was up to him, Hell, he would have stayed back in Paris, even if he was forced to lay low for a while, only to remain in the delightful company of his adoptive parents and Eric —

                 No, on a second thought, perhaps him leaving was a good idea after all? That way it would hurt less, for Eric that is. As for Marc, well, all selfish actions had a price tag and this one hit upon an empty pocket. A sinners toll was a heavy one to pay and lord was it a heavy burden. Alas, amidst a rather unpleasant thought did the man catch a small glimpse of a familiar mop of platinum, a discovery that made the brunet come to an unanticipated halt, the heavy suitcase that previously trailed lazily behind now colliding harshly against the back of the stupefied wolf's calves as gaze remained focused upon the one he thought he'd never see again. Such an easily recognisable presence…

                           Out comes a barely audible whisper —

                                              ❝ I must be dreaming…

                                                                                Is that really you ? ❞

[stdeveraux-rpg-blog]

Marceau Christian Rossignol | Twenty-Four | Born Werewolf | Lullaby Library | Henry Cavill

Schedule

Poetry • Finance World Religions • Astronomy Care of Magical Creatures & Mythology

… and this dashing man belongs to the Remington House!