toothd
toothd
☠︎︎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ teeth‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ .
16 posts
𝑏𝑙𝑜𝑜𝑑‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ 𝑤𝑜𝑚𝑎𝑛‎ ‎ ‎ ,‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ 𝑏𝑙𝑜𝑜𝑑‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ 𝑏𝑖𝑡𝑐ℎ[‎ ‎ ‎ ...‎ ‎ ‎ ]‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ there's‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ a‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ 𝗰���𝗿𝗼𝗻𝗮‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ swelling   .
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toothd · 27 days ago
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shiori's communications with the lady malgrave had thus far been only written in nature. in truth, she kept open lines of communication with few. house igarashi was both encased in stone and shrouded in darkness. atesia's light struggled to pervade the ornate, yet cave - like design of their ancestral keep. their tethers to the other noble houses of ceago frayed as well, damaged through years of isolation and rumours that swirled above haelstorm like the meanest of stormclouds. a long loyal commissioner of shiori's own work, quyhn is one of the very few nobles in all of ilthoria that would be privy to shiori's craft, let alone familiar with it. shiori did not venture to the market intending to spend any of her family's coin on finery. her parents had always been frugal, anticipating a need for a great amount of coin to arise at any second. unpopular as they were with other fragments, their paranoia had remained largely banishment and ostracism - centric. a large sack of gold never failed to grease the palms and minds of those that may otherwise send prayers to enerin for your demise. now that they were gone, it felt akin to a slight on their memory to spend in excess. instead, shiori is attempting to enjoy the splendour of the morning. " my craftsmanship is nothing without a worthy person on which to display it. " shiori's smile is kind, though her red - tinged irises mirror the same placidity she sees in quynh's. an empty smile is easily recognizable to one who has practiced the same in her own looking glass for years. nevertheless, the malgrave lady's voice cutting through the morning's quiet din elicits a quick spark of joyful surprise in shiori as she abandons her guise of perusing the vendor's goods. she is a social creature, despite her family's characteristic reclusiveness. a conversation has never been amongst the things she feared. " you've done well, " she compliments, though she's aware it's unnecessary. it is the truth, nevertheless. " and such a splendid mix of vendors from the fragments. " a mark of successful diplomacy, comes the thought from the small part of shiori's mind.
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if  the  lady  igorashi's  passage  was  that  of  a  ship  at  sea,  then  hers  was  akin  to  the  shark  beneath  those  very  same  waves.  she  moved  with  ruthless  purpose,  parting  the  thin  crowds  by  virtue  of  her  mien  and  her  reputation,  sparing  few  even  a  glancing  moment  of  her  attention  before  she  swept  through  them.  the  king  lay  claim  to  these  lands,  yet  this  was  unmistakably  her  domain.  more  so  today  than  any  other.  every  brightly  coloured  banner,  every  glint  of  polished  silver  or  gaudy  trinket,  every  stall  and  their  merchant  had  been  carefully  selected  and  curated  by  her  hand.  a  direct  result  of  her  precise  calculations.  she  moved  among  the  crowds  not  as  a  participant,  but  as  an  architect  carefully  appraising  her  work  for  fault  and  flaw.  her  gaze  wandered  idly  over  the  morning  crowds.  here,  a  merchant  from  her  own  fragment,  his  jovial  grin  a  mask  for  his  thinly  veiled  avarice  as  he  tried  to  part  a  young  maiden  from  her  coin.  there,  a  young  noblewoman,  her  own  simpering  smile  a  clear  indicator  of  her  family's  dwindling  fortunes,  yet  she  endeavoured  to  keep  up  the  farce.  spending  coin  she  did  not  have  to  keep  up  the  illusion  of  power?  her  house  might  have  well  been  eissen  for  all  the  similarities  she  yielded.  the  lady  of  witchelm  dismissed  them  and  countless  more  out  of  hand,  moving  on  with  nary  a  second  glance  until  her  eyes  alit  upon  a  more  interesting  quandary.  she  paused,  watching  her  subject  quietly  for  a  moment,  taking  the  opportunity  to  school  her  features  into  a  mask  of  impeccable  civility;  a  faint,  polite  smile  that  never  quite  reached  her  eyes.  "and  yet  they  provide  such  a  pale  reflection  for  your  own  craftsmanship,  do  they  not?"  she  abruptly  cut  in  as  she  approached.  compliments  were  not  a  form  of  currency  the  mistress  of  coin  normally  dealt  in,  their  value  too  ephemeral  to  earn  an  entry  in  her  ledgers,  yet  the  observation  was  fairly  made.  the  lady  igorashi's  work  was  quite  something  to  behold.  she  would  know,  she  owned  several  such  pieces,  wearing  one  even  at  that  very  moment  in  her  hair.  "my  dear  lady  igorashi,  a  rare  sight  indeed  to  see  you  out  in  public.  perhaps  organising  this  paltry  market  was  worth  the  expenditure  after  all."
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toothd · 29 days ago
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the corners of shiori's placid smile quirk upwards a millisecond, falling back into place shortly after. slim fingers reach to pick up a particularly gem - laden necklace. she runs her fingertips over their settings, searching for imperfections that may cause the jewels to tumble out in movement, never to be seen again. " you are very kind, my liege, " ever respectful, she addresses the ruling liege of house albeze in kind. it had never been shiori's prerogative to lean into the negative reputation bestowed upon her own house. with every breath, act and word, she intended to counteract it. " the comb is my own work, " she admits, replacing the necklace on the the tabletop. " it would be no trouble to write to haelstorm and have one sent to redhearth, if you desire. " a small part of her brain wonders at how long a raven would need to reach her mountainous home from belveil keep — if it could endure flying through the ceagoan deserts for more than a few days' travel. " i make them so that they may be worn, after all. "
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"They  are,  yes,  but  you  Lady  Igarashi,  rival  the  beauty  that  ALL  of  this  jewelry  eminates,  "  Vik  says  easily,  a  warm  smile  on  their  face  hoping  that  the  greeting  isn't  too  forward.  But  if  it  was?  Who  were  they  to  care.  To  be  on  this  soil,  to  inspect  these  marketplaces,  Vik  had  not  been  able  to  sleep  so  while  the  morning  was  early  to  some  --  it  was  late  to  them.  Eyes  go  from  Shiori  to  the  jewelry,  scanning  all  of  the  items  and  finding  themselves  not  sure  of  which  purchase  to  make.  It  would  be  for  their  sister,  not  for  them  and  though  Vik  liked  to  think  they  had  taste  --  they  also  knew  theirs  was  often  gaudy.  "You  didn't  happen  to  buy  the  comb  in  your  hair,  did  you?  Don't  tell  me  I'll  have  to  get  back  on  the  boat  to  Ceago  already."
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toothd · 1 month ago
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in doireann's voice, chiding is welcome. tarah cannot help the sickly smile that slithers its way onto her usually downturned lips, quiet and stealthy as an eel on an ocean bed. she endures the onslaught with her gaze unmoved, brown irises locked on the green of the ardoran grass. it was so rare a colour in their home fragment. so rare a colour in her life. even the deciduous trees in the mountains were covered with grey - white snow and sleet and ice. " who is to slaughter them, doireann? will it be the squirrels or the rose thorns? " her voice is coated in wry boredom, and she finally turns her gaze upon her fellow sereen. she knew of the other's stance on keeping wolves. she know most things of doireann. " i would instil torture upon even myself if it would end your incessant lecturing. " the smile remains upon her features, contorting them into something that would not be a familiar sight to many in the realm  — amusement.
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                          the  evening  brings  a  less  harsh  aspect  to  this  upside  down  world  of  gallantries,  greed  and  deceit  —  she  has  always  preferred  the  daylight,  where  one  can  attack  their  opponents  head  on,  yet,  it  feels  fitting  that  she  can  not  put  her  guard  down  as  the  sun  dies.  in  a  way,  to  be  in  this  place  is  no  different  than  to  be  in  a  forest,  surrounded  by  those  that  can  pounce  and  rip  at  flesh.  she  feels  more  comforted  around  actual  animals,  but  you  would  not  be  able  to  tell  with  the  way  her  face  contorts  at  the  sight  of  her  overliege.  "you  have  brought  your  pups  to  slaughter,  tarah."  distaste  is  clear  on  the  reprimand  on  her  voice.  doireann  had  never  thought  it  seemingly  to  keep  wolves  as  if  they  are  mere  dogs;  beasts  as  such  belong  in  the  wild,  roaring  and  biting,  not  soft-bellied  and  melting  under  the  heat  of  a  land  unknown.  the  flame-haired  makes  no  motion  to  join  her  friend,  nor  does  she  step  to  leave.  "do  you  feel  so  outflanked  you  instil  torture  upon  your  own?"
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toothd · 1 month ago
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it had not occurred to tarah that she would attend the ball. such pomp and circumstance was not the custom in geimreadh, and even then, she often strayed from the raucous feasts on roast boar and ale - laden gatherings that did occur in her home fragment. there was no amount of familiarity that could combat her natural inclination towards solitude. decor and tinkling music would not suffice to change that. " hardly ever, " tarah answers the query with a succinct shake of her head and nearly uncharacteristic honesty, dark auburn hair shifting over her shoulders. she is privy to the other's attention on the half - slumbering wolves, having returned to their state of relaxation, unable to sense any tension from their master. " they will not harm you, " she relents, " though if i were in your place, i would not attempt to stroke them as if they were hounds on a lap. "
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she   shakes   away   the   residuals   of   leaves   left   from   her   exploration   of   the   keep's   garden   .   thin   silk   draping   her   appearance , as   if   to   catch   the   whisper   of   the   breeze   that   flowed   through   the   garden   at   dusk , shimmering   softly   like   a   veil   of   fading   dreams   .   her   appearance   not   of   one   who   should   be   enjoying   the   garden , but   of   obvious   reluctance   to   continue   attending   the   ball   inside   .   after   all , she   was   a   woman   who   could   not   sit   still   for   too   long   ━   or   simply   untouched   by   the   fervor   that   so   many   poured   into   these   grand   celebrations   .   still , she   advances   with   steady   grace , her   journey   unfolding   like   some   quiet   poem , weaving   through   hidden   trails   that   brings   her   to   the   one   before   her   .   their   words   stirring   a   quiet   curiosity , especially   as   the   woman   sat   like   a   living   poem   amidst   the   dusk-veiled   garden   along   with   the   beasts   at   her   side   .   " do   you   always   welcome   strangers   into   your   quiet   company   ?   " she   inquires , drawing   nearer   with   delicate   tread   .   though   umber   hues   flicker   briefly   to   the   wolves   nearby , whose   eyes   held   a   ripple   of   mild   curiosity , though seeming to mirror   the   unspoken   question   between   them ━ friend   or   foe   .  
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toothd · 1 month ago
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there are moments when tarah regards her own family members as something akin to strangers. years had slid past since she'd last spent any significant stretch of time at the black keep. she returned only when summoned by raven - borne message, preferring to reside in the obscurity of geimreadh's mountain range. even then, she made it her business not to remain within the ash stained walls for long. a ghost in the woods, she'd become more of a frightful story to tell geimreadhian children than a member of the ruling family. still, she beckons to frostbite with an outstretched hand, quieting deora's pup - like growl at the other wolf's approach with a single hush. " they fare decently, " she admits, at last sparing a glance for her younger brother — his colouring marking him as unmistakably of the same flesh and blood as she. " deora is quicker to adjust than fola. she is of old bones and old ways. " 
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rickard  was  not  much  a  stranger  to  this  place  as  the  others  but  he  had  visited  this  place  as  a  child  and  as  an  adult  many  of  times.  the  gardens  where  a  place  he  enjoyed.  it  was  a  contrast  to  the  cold  and  gloomy  winters  of  home  but  it  was  not  as  comfortable.  still  as  he  made  his  way  around  with  frostbite  by  his  feet,  always  present  like  a  shadow,  it  had  seemed  he  had  found  his  way  to  his  sister.  "you  do  not  have  to  ask  me  twice."  he  said  as  he  took  a  spot  on  the  grass,  close  enough  but  not  enough  to  disturb  her.  it  reminded  him  of  when  he  was  a  child,  trailing  after  his  older  siblings.  "how  are  you  by  the  way,  dear  sister?  how  are  fola  and  deora  fairing?"  his  own  wolf  had  gotten  accustomed  to  the  ever  changing  weather  due  to  his  travels.
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toothd · 1 month ago
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another rose in the garden. that is how tarah perceives the other as she accepts the proffered trojan horse of an invitation. it was almost bewildering to think that their bodies both held the same blood and flesh and rot. that in the end, long after they had been buried or burnt or whatever pompous nonsense it was that ardorans did with their dead, their bones might be interchangeable. the differences between them now are more than stark. they are blatant, even just in their mannerisms. " tarah, " she acquiesces. the wolves at her feet resettle in the coolness of the shade. " you are of the royal family, are you not? " the word royal tastes acrid on her tongue, like a bitter tincture or natural poison. her features remain placid, eternally purple - blue tinged lips levelled in perceived disinterest.
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the  politics  of  the  kingdom  was  nothing  that  dovia  held  interest  in  ,  but  with  the  many  names  and  faces  that  entered  the  keep  she  had  started  to  wish  she  had  paid  more  attention  in  her  lessons  .  it  was  unintentional  to  meet  another  along  the  path  to  the  gardens  that  she  usually  took  ⸻  a  stroll  she  did  often  before  it  was  time  for  dinner  ,  this  time  squeezed  in  before  she  would  need  to  take  part  in  the  dances  .  she  had  wanted  some  alone  time  ,  but  she  forced  a  pleasant  smile  onto  her  lips  immediately  while  she  looked  from  the  animals  back  to  the  woman  .  "  thank  you  .  my  apologies  for  interrupting  you  .  "  they  both  would  likely  prefer  for  her  to  continue  on  ,  but  dove  did  not  want  to  miss  a  chance  to  show  their  hospitality  and  attempt  to  smooth  over  any  ill  feelings  ,  if  there  were  some  .  "  my  name  is  dovia  ,  my  lady  .  may  i  inquire  as  to  yours  ?  "    
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toothd · 1 month ago
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ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤfated for . . . semi - open, @proelium, @parthenopaed, @wintersviper, @wiltveil & 1 other . located in . . . the belveil keep gardens, dusk, in a shaded corner .
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the day had been beautiful. tarah resented it. the balmy breeze, the warmth of the sun, the visual cacaphony of unmuted natural colour — all of it grated. it was perhaps childish, but things that were child - like were oft animal - like. years spent in the mountains of geimreadh had moulded her as such. in the shade, her gaze is trained on the grass where two wolves are sprawled, yet unaccustomed to summer's wiles. fola's tongue lolls out of her mouth in perceived slumber. deora is pressed up next to her in an unassuming ball. regardless, all three she - wolves turn their heads in unison on the approach of another. only tarah bears her broken front tooth in a smile than doesn't quite manage to be inviting. " you may join us, if you wish. " an offer she does not expect will be accepted.
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toothd · 1 month ago
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ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤfated for . . . semi - open, @celcstine, @felledivines, @prophcsy, @bloodslust & 2 others . located in . . . the people's market, early morning, when the streets are not yet too crowded .
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the morning's mist had still been gathered on the ground when shiori had exited belveil palace. her silver slippered feet had cut through it like a ship's helm through water on her way down to the marketplace, meandering in a way that she might usually consider to be self - indulgent. despite the early hour, she was still characteristically adorned, arms lined with thin bangles of hammered silver, mass of dark hair held up by a silver and lavender stardust comb. all made by her own hand, she is perusing the market for inspiration as much as she is looking to purchase goods. " these are impeccably made, " she remarks of a stall laden with jewelry, unable to keep the morning's silence. a modest smile graces her features, unused to launching into conversation unprompted. " certainly worth the purchase. "
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toothd · 1 month ago
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shiori's stomach tightens, as if a malevolent, cruel spirit is pulling her heart down through her body on a string. she is no stranger to existing on the fringes of imara's consciousness. stepping softly on unfamiliar, plush grass, still many feet away from the other, shiori has almost never felt so at home. she keeps her distance, though drawing closer will mean the delicate clink of the silver adorning her braided hair will soon announce her presence. shiori has no doubt that the lady sankaran will know her identity long before she turns dark eyes on shiori's own maroon. they had once cherished a closeness that demanded such recognition, even now —  even years later, miles away from where their affections had first bloomed and wilted. " it is nearly the opposite of haelstorm. " she notes with an even voice, though the comparison diminishes the beauty of neither. in the moment, shiori knows not what else to speak of to imara. her chest still feels raw, unhealed as it was by time and distance. she cannot bring herself to speak to the other woman with familiarity, even as she'd thought she might try on her approach.
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open   starter   for   :   𝚒𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚊   𝚜𝚊𝚗𝚔𝚊𝚛𝚊𝚗   &   𝚘𝚙𝚎𝚗   [   accepting   six   replies   ] location   :   the   belveil   keep   gardens
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there  was  a  first  time  for  everything  and  stepping  upon  ardorian  soil  was  a  first  for  the  sereen  of  atesia  .  to  think  this  place  held  such  importance  to  them  all  ,  the  throne  which  was  occupied  by  the  unworthy  ,  the  way  that  crown  held  them  all  in  a  tight  leash  ,  wanting  for  different  reasons  someone  or  anyone  to  wear  that  crown  .  so  far  ardora  was  a  disappointment  ,  especially  after  seeing  the  king  filled  with  glee  at  the  umbrian  ships  .  she  had  no  need  for  them  ,  they  held  no  importance  ,  unless  they  could  be  persuaded  to  see  the  truth  .  walking  in  the  garden  created  for  the  former  queen  she  cannot  deny  the  beauty  it  holds  ⸻  after  all  ,  the  creatiosn  of  enerin  all  served  their  purpose  ,  plant  ,  man  animal  .  "  to  think  such  beauty  exists  .  "  she  muses  more  to  herself  ,  unaware  of  the  approaching  companion  .
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toothd · 1 month ago
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the slight smile that touches shiori's lips is locked in frenetic combat with her sense of propriety. she approaches her sister, hands clasped loosely in front of her hips — a girlish gesture, all considered. she struggles to keep her red - tinged irises clear, untouched by the mild alarm she truly feels. " peace, kari, " shiori insists, though it falls from her lips in the form of a quiet plea. it nestles itself in the grass at her slipper - clad feet, right by the small of her youngest sibling's back. " we cannot afford to make cads of ourselves so early on in the celebrations, can we? " this much is an understatement. the upturn in shiori's inflection near the end of the sentence softens the blow, making it more camaraderie than chiding. at least, that is what she hopes. she had never been suited to the role of disciplinarian.
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𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐒:  OPEN    ✱       ╱   UNCAPPED!  𝐋𝐎𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍:  BELVEIL  KEEP  GARDENS.
Eyes  closed  for  a  moment  as  she  lies  in  the  grass,  there  is  nothing  like  it  and  Hikari  is  more  than  glad  that  she  went  on  this  venture  with  her  family.  To  sit  in  the  grass  with  the  warmth  of  a  temperate  sun  against  her  skin,  in  a  garden?  EUPHORIC.  "The  only  requirement  to  keeping  me  company  would  be  to  lay  in  the  grass  with  me,"  it's  said  as  if  they're  the  ones  in  the  wrong  for  being  on  their  feet,  she  knows  this  display  could  be  improper  to  some  but  she  simply  does  not  care  (  for  once  ).  "Or  sit.  Whichever  you  prefer.  Otherwise…you  are…DISMISSED."  A  joke,  as  evidenced  by  the  curling  of  her  lips.  This  was  where  the  queen  resided  most  of  the  time,  afterall.
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toothd · 1 month ago
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OLIVIA COOKE as ALICENT HIGHTOWER — 2.07 | "The Red Sowing"
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toothd · 1 month ago
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.¸¸.•`  [   OLIVIA  COOKE   ,   CIS  WOMAN   ,   SHE/HER   ]   the  almighty  has  blessed  us  once  more,   it   seems   TARAH  LAICESTRE  has  come   to   ilthoria.   the   LADY  OF  HOUSE  LAICESTRE,   brings  with  them  such  glorious  fortune  and  they  are  known  for  being  devoted  but  also  pragmatic.  joy  will  spark  when  the  THIRTY  year  old  comes  to  court.  what  songs  would  be  sung  in  their  name  ?  [  BLOOD  BITCH  +  THE  COCTEAU  TWINS   ]  for  in  the  decades  to  come  they  will  sing  of  :  carrion  under  a  heavy  snowfall,  no  one  witnesses  you  in  death  until  spring's  great  melt;  a  grin  that  is  more  an  animalistic  bearing  of  teeth  than  a  sign  of  joy;  skin  of  a  sickly  grey - blue  pallor, "last  year,  i  abstained.  this  year,  i  devour”.  may  enerin  bless  your  soul,  welcome  to  ilthoria  child.
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⋆ BASIC INFORMATION .
full name:  tarah phia laicestre.  pronunciation:  tah - rah.  official title:  lady of the black keep.    moniker(s):  the frostmother.   age:   thirty.    date of birth:  the first day of winter. gender & pronouns:  cis woman, she/her.     allegiance:  house laicestre and geimreadh. spoken languages:  the common tongue. religion:  blessed by and devoted to itris, the banshee.
⋆ PHYSICAL TRAITS .
eyes:  dark brown, nearly black.   hair:  dark, dark auburn, always worn loose —  here & here. dominant hand:  right.    height:  five foot five.   build:   willowy, looks taller than she truly is and weaker than she truly is. notable features:  dark features that contrast with her pale skin. she suffers simultaneously from an eternal near deathly pallor, lips tinged blue. she is missing a large chunk of one of her front teeth, and has a silvery scar that runs over her lips to her chin starting below her left nostril. both were obtained on the same day in the recent past — here & here. abilities:  sereen, blessed by itris —  control of ice statutes, frostbite inducement and manipulation of the cold. wardrobe:  here.
⋆ PERSONALITY TRAITS .
positive:  pious, cunning, exacting, devoted.   negative:  pragmatic, ruthless, demanding, duplicitous.  moral alignment:  chaotic neutral.  favoured weapon:  two bastard swords, dubbed pale fang and thaw.   likes:   the ominousness of the woods, training hounds and wolves, horsemanship, the feeling of fur on bare skin, bitter teas, the thick and lingering smell of lilacs, scalding hot baths, retribution, well cooked fish, needlepoint and embroidery.   dislikes:  the heat, people who speak if only to hear the sound of their own voice, mirrors, defensive fighting styles, greasy meats, unoiled blades. inspirations:  the white witch (the lion, the witch and the wardrobe), skade (the last kingdom), shauna shipman (yellowjackets), freydis eriksdotter (vikings: valhalla), arya stark (asoiaf).
⋆ FAMILY TIES .
father:  former ruling lord hatanar of the black keep.   mother:  former ruling lady melriel of the black keep.  siblings:  lord rickard laicestre, tbd. birth order:  fourth born.   extended family:  n/a. marital status:   unwed, unbetrothed.    children:  none. pets:  two she - wolves, named fola and deora. it was fola who gave tarah her scars when she was twenty and two. rather than have the wolf's life, tarah chose to train her alongside the black keep's houndmaster. deora came to her as a pup years later, and tarah has scarcely been seen without the two wolves trailing in her shadow since.
⋆ BACK STORY .
when she was just a babe, an icy, wailing hand weighed heavy upon her shoulder. none would know it, though, until the coming of tarah's twelfth year. she had taken to military teachings as well as any young lord who hailed from geimreadh. a childhood ruthlessness that had seen her both praised and penalized sat like a heavy, black stone in her stomach —  one that she could not excise, no matter how tirelessly her mother and caretakers worked to do so. emotion, for tarah, had always been scarce. there was but one that she knew inside and out, having laid intertwined in furs in her childhood bed at night with it sitting on her chest, weighing her immobile. fear. an angry animal could use sense as its balm. a fearful one had no such privilege. she spent hours practicing at the sword and dagger and bow as a child because she feared what lay outside of the torch smoke - blackened walls of the keep. at first, she feared the creatures of her fragment's ruthless mountains. the wolves, the bears, the leopards. as she aged into adolescence, she feared the banshee, feared enerin, and feared what would happen should she not be capable of the revenge that itris willed. still, she took up the wanderer's torch with ease. fear, it seemed, was not so different from hatred, or a desire for retribution. so resigned to that hatred, that retribution, that fear  — tarah has risen to become one of the greatest shield maidens and military strategists that geimreadh has ever borne witness to. mastery at her diety - bestowed gifts has come to her slower. still, her manipulation of the cold that she was born unto to has earned her the moniker the frostmother. it is rare to see tarah at the black keep in her adulthood. she will oft disappear into geimreadh's mountains for days or weeks at a time, trailed by her two she - wolves. she remains as ruthless and cold as she was in her childhood, boasting few long - term connections with the people that she grew up with. she is as much a stranger to her people as she is the rest of ilthoria. a mystery, a wives' tale, a shadow across your window at night.
⋆ EXTRA FACTS .
she has kept no mirrors in her chambers at the black keep since she was attacked by fola ten years ago. it is less the result of insecurity in how she looks, and more a feeling that she no longer recognizes herself.
she struggles with using her sereen abilities for defensive purposes. offensively? no problem. in terms of her physical combat abilities, she's rather the same. although she can proficiently parry and deflect blows, she would much rather fight on the offensive, and do so viciously.
she's very withdrawn and definitely hard to pull a friendly conversation out of. she's always been this way — any friends that she had as a child were due to the other person's efforts, not her own.
she keeps a modest estate in the mountains in geimreadh — the locals believe she's just living amongst the snow and ice out there when she disappears from the keep, but that's not the case.
definitely morally grey, operating mostly in the pursuit of her own wishes and unattached to any person in a significant way (for now wink wink). despite being a sereen, she's still managed to become a bit of a pariah amongst the nobles. she does what she wants when she wants to, regardless of repercussions.
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toothd · 1 month ago
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.¸¸.•`  [   SONOYA  MIZUNO   ,   CIS  WOMAN   ,   SHE/HER   ]   the  almighty  has  blessed  us  once  more,   it   seems   SHIORI  IGARASHI  has  come   to   ilthoria.   the   LADY  OF  HAELSTORM,   brings  with  them  such  glorious  fortune  and  they  are  known  for  being  fastidious  but  also  submissive.  joy  will  spark  when  the  THIRTY  FIVE  year  old  comes  to  court.  what  songs  would  be  sung  in  their  name  ?  [  TELEVANGELISM   +   ETHEL  CAIN   ]  for  in  the  decades  to  come  they  will  sing  of  :  the  shimmering  of  ambient  dust  in  sunlight,  dark  hair  adorned  with  hammered  silver,  an  absence  of  faith  that  looms  no  matter  how  fast  you  run  from  it,  and  gauzy  white  fabrics  carried  on  warm  wind.  may  enerin  bless  your  soul,  welcome  to  ilthoria  child.
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⋆ BASIC INFORMATION .
full name:  shiori herminia igarashi.  pronunciation:  shee - ohr - ee.  official title:  lady of haelstorm.    moniker(s):  the silver lady.   age:   thirty - five.    date of birth:  the twentieth day of spring. gender & pronouns:  cis woman, she/her.     allegiance:  house igarashi. spoken languages:  the common tongue, the sandwalker tongue. religion:  devoted follower of atesia, the lightbringer. reveres the almighty.
⋆ PHYSICAL TRAITS .
eyes:  dark red —  here. hair:  black, wavy and often braided with silver pieces incorporated that she forged herself —  here & here. dominant hand:  ambidextrous.    height:  five foot nine.   build:   tall and slim. notable features:  the red of her irises is a result of her father being a member of the sandwalkers, a group of nomad ceago natives who roam the fragment's dunes without ever settling in one place. their red eyes are a result of generations of bodily adaptation to atesia's bright sunlight reflecting off of the sands and into their eyes. as a result, shiori can see in even the brightest of lights, but sometimes struggles to see in the darkness — here. abilities:  n/a. wardrobe:  here.
⋆ PERSONALITY TRAITS .
positive:  observant, generous, kind, fastidious.   negative:  subservient, self - doubting, preening, indecisive.  moral alignment:  true neutral.  favoured weapon:  she keeps a sandwalker bone knife in her possession, but does not carry it on her and has never used it to draw blood.   likes:   silver smithing, jewelry, heavily spiced tea or coffee, the heat of sand under bare feet, the coolness of stone, chilled water.   dislikes:  mess of any kind, heavily perfumed flowers, thick fabrics, feeling cast aside, disappointing people. inspirations:  sansa stark (asoiaf), paul atreides (dune), susan pevensie (narnia), astoria greengrass (hp), beth march (little women).
⋆ FAMILY TIES .
father:  former ruling lord of haelstorm, isandro of the sandwalkers (birth father).   mother:  former ruling lady of haelstorm.  siblings: igarashi chiyoko, igarashi goro. birth order:  second born.   extended family:  the sandwalkers of ceago's dunes. marital status:   unmarried, unbetrothed.    children:  none. pets: none.
⋆ BACK STORY .
in the land of eternal summer, there is but one dark cloud. lingering overhead, it shades the mountain - carved keep of haelstorm in the form of a great and unyielding curse. for generations, house igarashi had lived in darkness, untouched by atesia's light. to bear igarashi blood was to resign oneself to a life devoid of it. there would be no peace in the act of perishing for a house that had not borne the blessing of the lightweaver for lifetimes. balmy winds carried whispers of sacrilege, heresy and black omens across ceago. only the igarashis themselves could truly know that their deep devotion to the almighty had never shaken. desperation was more motivating than any coin, vice or desire could serve to be. the lightweaver's blessing, to those who hadn't felt her warmth in eons, could hardly be considered an inevitability. as such, the first cry for her blessing came with the birth of the heir to house igarashi. the second cry came shortly after, the lord and lady's contingency plan to bear an igarashi sereen one way or another. perhaps it truly was their blood, in truth, that made house igarashi unfavourable to ceago's deity. in response, the lady igarashi, having earned her current house name through marriage, sought a father for her second child that did not carry their burden in his veins. ceago's vast dunes play homeland to a nomad group that call themselves sandwalkers — those who traverse the fragment through sandstorm and drought, who live in the desert's golden rock caves and walk upon its weaving dune crests. to know the ways of the desert is to master the harshest of climates ceago has to offer. despite their unrelenting ability for survival, the sandwalkers are best known for their red - tinged irises — evolved over generations to adapt to atesia's unrelenting light bouncing off of the sands of their home dunes. when the igarashis' second daughter came unto the world, her eyes' first opening revealed her true parentage. the ruling lord igarashi would not dream of treating shiori as anything other than his progeny. ceago's open minded view towards bastards allowed for non - traditional lines of succession – and until his oldest child's blessing became obvious, it was unclear if he would ever have a child bear the blessing. only young shiori, devoid of the blood carried by the igarashi ancestors, could be relied upon in a manner that was not considered openly foolish. only shiori was pure  —  pure of blood, pure of conscience, pure of heart. only shiori could gain the favour of the lightweaver for the good of her house. that was, until atesia's own light spilled from her eldest sibling, who bore igarashi blood. whose eyes spoke not of their parentage before their mouth did.
⋆ EXTRA FACTS .
since her youth, she has been preoccupied with the idea of being good — of being pious, of being kind, of being generous and servile and devoted overall to the almighty and atesia. for that reason, she's very much a people pleaser to a fault.
she is an extremely skilled metalworker — her best work is reserved for jewelry, hairpieces or garment adornments. however, she has been known to make exceedingly beautiful weapons for a select few people. she learned the skill of small forging during the years she spent visiting with the sandwalkers and learning their ways of life (without having to brave the perils of the desert).
she does not by any means resent her sibling for being sereen —  in fact, she is glad that their house is no longer ignored by atesia. in her childhood, she was incredibly fearful of her own death. still to this day, an unblessed death is her greatest fear.
she is religious, as is the custom in ceago. she finds herself being very judgemental towards those who do not respect and worship the almighty alongside their fragment's deity, though she tries her best not to show it.
in a way of honouring her relationship with atesia, she often dresses in light colours as a symbol of her closeness to her fragment's deity. she's almost never seen in a colour other than white, silver, or cream.
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toothd · 2 months ago
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Your Grace. What you cannot do, let others do for you.
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toothd · 3 months ago
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Alicent Hightower HOUSE OF THE DRAGON —2.07 "The Red Sowing"
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toothd · 4 months ago
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☠︎︎ THE NUMB SENSATIONS, CREEPING SLOW, REPLACE THE WARMTH I USED TO KNOW. MY PULSE, A TREMOR, FAINT AND WEAK, AS NATURE'S COLD BEGINS TO SPEAK.
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#TOOTHD  ,     a     dependent   blog   written    by    paige     —   @   ikeaslut   on      discord    —   for    ilthoriatm.   dni    if    you    are   not   affiliated    with    the    group.
𝑖. LADY TARAH LAICESTRE : introduction , pinterest 𝑖𝑖. LADY SHIORI IGARASHI : introduction , pinterest
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