crownviper-blog

[crownviper-blog]

           “Who is that?” Frodo asked, when he got a chance to whisper to Mr. Butterbur. “Him?…. I don’t rightly know. He is one of the wandering folk — Rangers we call them…. He was in and out pretty often last spring; but I haven’t seen him about lately. What his right name is I’ve never heard: but he’s known round here as Strider.”                                 An independent Aragorn RP blog. View and read.

[crownviper-blog]

theeternalsun:

for @crownviper​ / @sheerwaters i h8 ur face happy birthday u butt

Scarred hands move up to his face, cupping his jaw for a split second before her body turns to wrap around the side of his body. Even with her eyes closed she can already feel that the sun creeping from the middle of the half closed shutters. Her hand only moves from his face to scratch her own face, moving up to the scarred scalp and short hair, this before her face buries itself on the side of his body, between the white sheets and his skin. She stays there for a few moments, deep breathes taken as short nails dig gently into his arm only to feel his body shift with a displeased groan. If she really tried to focus her half-asleep mind she could almost imagine how his short, grey hair looked in the rising sun. She didn’t even have to focus a whole lot to imagine the displeased expression as he turned towards her. Her face, now instead of resting against his arm rested against a soft beating heart. 

It was perhaps an alien sensation, to think that either of their hearts was able to beat so slowly without the panic that perhaps their time was coming to an end. The priestess liked to think that they would both die, when it came to be, with their hearts racing and adrenaline playing the drums on their ears. Other’s perhaps might think the thought too grim.

Warm hands rest against her waste pulling her closer and the only thing that she can do is give into the relaxed sigh that leaves through her nose. She can hear the tiny puppy paws running outside of the bedroom from one side to the other. Head tilts up and she lets her black eyes open only slightly as teeth bite his chin gently.

   “Happy birthday, Commander.” her voice is hoarse, barely audible and perhaps he had even missed it but considering how light their sleep was, she highly doubted it. She feels his hands pull her closer and a small smile forms on her lips.

The first thing that Roche probably would notice is a paper on top of his phone, Manala’s handwriting is far prettier than that of the priestess’. 

Happy birthday, hope you like your new case cover for your phone. If not… Well… Good luck! Manala ❤︎

His case cover is covered in small stickers of cute animals, cupcakes, hearts and butterflies. Some of them are shiny and glittery while the others simply have the brightest colours. There are also some things glued to it, like a small rabbit heat with small laces sprinkled around.

[crownviper-blog]

magicbound:

   Several coins were slapped onto a recently washed counter top, the transaction marked by the sharp note of metal on wood. A few seconds after, a sigh followed, the familiar sound of DEFEAT. The bartender took the coins, giving a quick glance between the two men now taking their seats, before turning to begin pouring their drinks. Orsino shifted to look at Roche, expression a little sour in the wake of losing, but also soft with friendly amusement from competition. 

   “You cheated,” he accused without any serious weight, pointing his finger towards Roche’s face. “How else would you have made such a strong comeback?” 

He huffed a breath at that, something smug yet brief as it rumbled deep in his chest. Why, by rough approximation, was that a laugh, Vernon Roche? How typical of him to revel in the expense of another... Yet, with the graceless way Orsino handled this loss, one could scantly blame the man. “I suggest you keep to your magic tricks, mage,” the commander returned, unflinching before his mild scorn. “It’d save you the humiliation.”  

Appearing more relaxed than he oft was, Roche then moved to take a sip of his drink. Truth be told, it tasted far better on the enchanter’s coin. Harmlessly and near companionably, he then remarked, “Though were you clearly not so starved for it, I might’ve thought to spare you.” How many more losses would he willingly endure!

[crownviper-blog]

+ @wroteheart

The city night hummed under veils of distant stars, decency long since faded with the setting of the sun. Vices soon ran rampant. It was all quite fitting now as he approached, Roche catching that familiar voice ring near this temple of sin. A brothel blessed with the sing-song lilt of one Dandelion the bard… Typical. “You haven’t any restraint,” Vernon blandly admonished as he approached the Passiflora. Fading shouts were heard– Had the poet again earned some woman’s ire? “Someone’s ought to teach you better.”

[crownviper-blog]

aureasadrisit:

   “Oh!” the exclamation comes with a surprised look as her dark green eyes move down to the cards on her hands and a smile forms on her lips “And I win again!” she chuckles, it was so much fun to play games with the soldiers that always thought that there was no way that a lady would know how to play wicked grace. She played the part, of course, letting them teach the rules. Her hands move to the golden coins that she had no intention on keeping after they were done with the game “Another round or are you scared?”

Scared? “You must think very highly of yourself,” her opponent boldly declared. “It’s making you rather bold.” Truly now, what sort of man did she find him to be? Be it both in battle or mindless games waged for coin, Vernon Roche never took well to loss! Fear didn’t stand much different. Playing his losing hand with some irritation, he added almost tastelessly, “Someone’s ought to humble you.” Oh, wasn’t he charming? Reaching for his tankard of piss-poor ale, it was clear he’d no interest in being further fooled by her sweet smiles. “I’d volunteer were you not clearly meaning to rob me.” ...Pity.

[crownviper-blog]

Bonsoir! I haven’t done a starter call in a while, so consider this the first in ages. I’ll get to as many as possible, and that said, I’m afraid I’ll also have to drop a few threads for sanity’s sake. If you’d rather start something fresh to replace our old one, feel free to like this post as well! Legit, I’m tellin’ you that you gotta because I’m totally down for it. New followers or people I’ve yet to thread with are also, of course, encouraged to click that heart. I’ll most likely set Roche in a shared verse if you haven’t played The Witcher. If you have a Witcher verse, I’ll default the starter to its setting. If you have a preference, though, let me know in a comment!

[crownviper-blog]

was doodling if iorveth was actually in tw3. i read their paths were supposed to cross again and i thought it’d be cool to see them begrudgingly work together. very begrudgingly. i know iorv’s quivers are at the waist but sue me.

[crownviper-blog]

+ @cxrvinae

Battles, sex, and a supply of endless drink; there were few indulgences those at war craved so strongly. Call them a simple bunch. Still, with the promise of peace fast approaching, Roche was quite content to hear the return of drunken, boisterous laughter. Exiting his tent, the commander watched as his men stewed in ale too strong, the joy of war’s nearing end claiming Radha as their victim-- to shared inebriation, at least. “You should quit while you’re still ahead,” he lamely suggested with a pull of his brows.

[crownviper-blog]

+ @acxlyte

The stars burned brightly in the summer night, each one wild and brilliant. Shame Roche had never been the wide-eyed romantic, but, my, one should see how lost he was in admiration, gaze thoughtful with the shine of distant suns. How picturesque. “Tracking our way back? You haven’t much confidence,” in me the commander benignly accused. True, the enemy ambush had set their small unit slightly off course, but at least they remained in very capable hands. His hands. “And to think we were getting along so well.” 

[crownviper-blog]

+ @daggersandpoison

What a helluva greeting to have a drunken fool barreling her way! Mercifully, however, he wouldn’t get very far. With a resounding smack, the poor bastard plummeted to the ground before her, punch drunk and out like a light. Some of his blood splattered quite artistically onto her boots; it looked rather pleasant in the tavern’s dim lighting. “We have to stop meeting like this,” Roche greeted plainly, gaze only then finding her familiar face. Flexing the ache of his hands, it was clear the commander had had far better days.

[crownviper-blog]

+ @daritysdaria

He felt the music in his bones, blood humming under the sway of its tempo. It was rather frantic. Loud. Roche imagined the residents here were damn near ready to lose their bloody minds, though he couldn't fault them with the way his ears roared. Approaching the door at the slightest lull, he announced with a knock, “You restrain yourself.” Gods, waiting there for an answer, he could’ve sworn he felt the floorboards quaking. “Though were you to play any louder, I can’t promise the people will be so accommodating.”

[crownviper-blog]

+ @snarkomancy

“It’d been too easy for you.” Sliding that blade between a cornered man’d ribs... It was as they said: an eye for an eye, right? Few adages could resonate with him so deeply. Still, claiming the life of a king stood apart from that of all others, regicide a step from deicide yet haunting all the same. True enough, no ghost of her crime would ever plague her conscience -- you should’ve heard how vindicated she sounded right after. Watching the Lady Owl, Roche knowingly remarked, “Some might say you’d a taste for it.”

[crownviper-blog]

thesxmmersword:

“How do you know I look smug? Hiding in my shadow like that.” She asked, turning just enough to allow a shaft of light to lance into his eyes. Oh yes, she was still allowed to be smug. Of course, her height hadn’t been a handicap even when she was younger and shorter. But out growing all her peers (and especially Vernon) had been a point of immense pleasure at the time. And she’d made sure they all knew it. “And here I was trying to reminisce with an old friend..”

How odd to see the great Cauthrien herself not above waging silly games! Turning away from the sun’s glare, Roche wore a look that would’ve been scathing were she anyone else. “The years apart have left an impression on you,” the commander returned with ease, focus dead-ahead and strides steady. Much has changed since they’d last seen one another, but to think she’d grown tender enough to think of olden days. “It’s made you sentimental. If you can’t be subtle about it, the men may riot.” 

[crownviper-blog]

czarowniica:

           ‘  ——— black and white is a FASHION CHOICE, i don’t work for nilfgaard. do you really think a sorceress would ever present herself as a walking banner?  ’    just so happens she is, now, but the temerian doesn’t have to know it. otherwise, she fears that he will stop being a minor annoyance and turn into a real obstacle.       ‘  besides, what use would my head on a silver plate be for your dead sovereign?   ’

Riled by her gall, Foltest’s ever loyal soldier frowns impatiently. Yennefer of Vengerberg couldn’t have made a lower blow. “You ask pointless questions,” Roche crisply deadpans. “There’s never been any danger for that sort of bloodshed, though I believe fire will do.” Those starting Novigrad’s pyres would must agree, mustn’t they?  “Never saw much of an appeal in it myself,” he adds, “but you won’t be so fortunate with the others. I hear there’s been sightings of you in Vizima. You’re a sorceress-- It’s enough to make one wonder.” And justly so with recent events! His implications are blatant enough: with you ilk in hiding, why risk your neck coming out here?

[crownviper-blog]

theeternalsun:

She had forgotten how that piss poor drink made her feel, she was sweating under the heavy black robes and the scarf. Despite all that, she could feel the sharp wind against her scarred skin as she glared at the white sheets between dark mountains. It just seemed never-ending, snow that could go on and on forever. A cold shiver passes through her spine as she leans forward, bare feet danging over the fortress’ walls. How she would have paid a fortune to find this place when it really mattered, now it did not have traitors but considering the misfits that called this a home she wondered if that had something to do with how uncomfortable she felt in those stone walls. 

Scarred hands wrap around the bottle, pouring it to the wooden cup. She at least knew that the cup had once been clean. Had the bottle been hers, had it been what they now call rivaini wine, she might have thought of drinking it straight from the bottle. As things stood, as she swallows the liquid, she started to wonder if it would not be better to just see the liquid flying with the wind. Her fingers go to her braids, pulling them forward to prevent them from flying with the wind. Ears twitch under the heavy black hair as steps approach, her attention however, does not move from the snow while placing the bottle back down over the stone.

   “This spot is taken.”

“You’ll just have to compromise,” rose the timbre of his voice, distinct even through the wind’s chilling howls. It was cold up here. The sun offered warmth like empty promises. Yet, wrapped in veils as dark as night, The Priestess would take what little of it she could, cold to the touch with words like winter. How frigid. How biting. Still, interestingly enough -- or perhaps infuriatingly enough -- Roche came forward all the same. “It won’t be too difficult,” he consoled before propping up against the scaffold. “You’ll find I can be quite convincing.”

Brave was he to disregard her dismissal, but to make himself her company? The daredevil. Vernon crossed his arms as he overlooked the mountains, brows pulled and shoulders curved. His frustrations were blatant, and truth was, he wasn’t about to abandon this escape even if she came at him with bottle in tow. ...And, maker, the drink she had! “I never pinned you as one with shitty tastes,” Roche coolly admonished, gaze lingering on the faint tremors in her body. She must’ve been freezing. Rifling through his cloak, the commander lowered his own poison beside hers, the bottle’s clink jarring in the silence. Sadly, it was not to be Rivaini wine, but Chasind Mead was the sort of liquid fire she craved. Needed. Eyeing her expectantly, Roche dryly quipped, “Surely you can do better.”

Shame he came up here to find the space occupied, but this would suffice.

[crownviper-blog]

does ves is crave that mineral ?

if she’s in dire need of sodium, look no further ;)))))))))))))))))))))))))))))#hellosaltdaddy #atraderinminerals

[crownviper-blog]