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sif nearly began tapping her foot out of impatience. time was running out and once that sand emptied from the hourglass, her time would be up. the woman slowly sat down across the other, figuring this conversation would take longer than initially expected.

"so you require no coin then? easy enough" she responds, securing her coin purse to her side. she stared at the oak table, the scratches and stains from years of use. "i need to make it to titans landing, through the green mountains." a pause. "i know the journey is dangerous and nearly impossible but...it is necessary."

Eldrin did not look at her at first. Instead, he took another slow sip of his ale. The noise of the tavern washed around them. Boots on wood, the crash of laughter. He let it all pass like wind through the trees. Finally, he spoke.

"Coin is for men who need things." His voice was dry, rasping. "I have no needs. And far fewer debts than the rest of the ilk in here." His silver eyes lifted then, fixing on hers beneath the hood. "You say you want passage. Through what? Or to what?"

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"forgive me, my lady" louis paused his steps, attempting to look anywhere but the young woman's watery eyes. "in your...haste, your shawl.." he cleared his throat and lifted the silken material. "the wind has no mercy some days." he offers the other the shawl, his weight shifting from side to side. "are you quite alright? may i assist you in any way?"

open: m/f/nb

plot: just historical drama & romance vibes tbh

muse: hazel miller, perpetually disappointing eldest daughter of very wealthy parents

“why have you come here?” wind whipped her face, salt air making her eyes sting. “why did you follow me?”

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he continued to take mouthfuls of the stew. it was mostly vegetables and what scraps they could use from rabbits. he ate silently, but he was keenly aware of the woman in front of him. he didn't matter much to him if she ate, though he thought his king might take note if she arrived all skin in bones.

he raised his brows and chuckled, setting his bowl to the side once it was scraped clean. "i call that an employed man. a man of the king." aksel spoke with pride.

the man watched her take a spoonful, waiting for some sort of grimace or shudder. when she didn't react, he was impressed. while it was not some rotten stew, it also wasn't prepared by the best cooks the wealthy could afford.

he leans forward, curious then. "and how much, my lady, do you think the king values you? should he not have sent a golden carriage or a hundred men? or perhaps come and retrieved you, himself?" it was cruel, aksel knew it, but he wasn't always the best at polite conversation.

he leans back, listening to the distant sound of men laughing and the wind howling against the trees. "i am a knight to his majesty. that is all."

Xandria said nothing at first. She merely followed, silent but not subdued, her steps measured and regal despite the cold biting through her skirts and the ache in her calves. The mere fact that she had to travel with only soldiers as company was insult enough. But to be mocked for wanting freedom? That was nearly intolerable.

Once inside the tent, she lingered near the entrance for a moment, her eyes adjusting to the dimmer light, her jaw set. When the bowls arrived, she accepted hers without a word, but made no move to eat immediately.

Instead, she settled herself opposite to the man with practiced poise, smoothing her gown as if it were still silks and brocade rather than wet wool and twigs. Her eyes lingered on her guard, watching how he moved. A creature of the cold and dark, perfectly at ease in discomfort. How convenient.

"You speak of wolves as if you are not one of them," she said at last, voice soft but edged. "What would you call a man who tracks down a woman fleeing to save herself and threatens to bind her to a tree?"

She took a spoonful of stew and paused before tasting it.

"As for nobility... I must believe you are noble, ser. Exceptionally so. Because the alternative —that the king sent some dishonorable brute to drag his future bride through the woods like a runaway servant— would say far too much about how little he values me."

Only then did she taste the stew. It was better than expected, though she’d never admit it. She glanced at him again, more curious now than scornful. "So, tell me, ser. Which one is it?"

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reyna was used to looks that were less than kind. she'd been a servant for a long as she could remember. people either looked at her with distaste or not at all. still, she remained in her post, eyes drifting around the table of men before returning back on the ground. it always interested her that decisions that affected her people were always made by a bunch of well-dressed yelling men.

she listened quietly, considering the options. though she was not well-versed in the ongoings of other houses, it was easy to see that this caused a lot of distress for these men. at her name, she turned and nodded her head. there were a few ladies maids and kitchen staff she could speak to. perhaps she could offer to take some chores off their hands?

reyna paused in her exit. he wanted to speak with her? what more could she possibly offer him? reyna tilted her head to the side. "forgive me, my lord. but...if someone wanted your head...do you think this attempt would be the end of it? you have either offended someone or pose a large enough threat to have some sort of bounty on your head." a pause. "another attempt may not be soon, lest the culprits have to regroup and plan. but...i do think it will happen again." she pauses, thinking it over for a moment. "i can be your food tester. should they resort to poison instead."

The council looked at Reyna with a sort of highborn distaste. House Masbeth was always made out to be a house friendly to the common people, their founder having once been a commoner himself. Rodrick smiled, his pointer finger pressed to his lip to stifle a chuckle. He took no insult in Reyna's suggestion, but alas, it was not an option he could take. The real issue laid with House Godwin and their more than illustrious seat of Ellingar's Landing. The biggest harbor this side of the country and a large navy to match.

"You think the Godwin's have turned traitor, cousin?" Richter spoke, his eyes planted on Rodrick as he spoke. Rodrick was aware that this would have horrible implications for Lord Godwin. This could be a way to frame a neutral house, a scheme to cause in-fighting so the rebels can gain some ground. Or...Rodrick might have more enemies than he thought. "We cannot be sure of such a thing, your grace!" His treasurer piped up. "Duncan Godwin has always been a friend to your father, both of them!" He exclaimed, eyes on both Rodrick and Richter.

"Loyalty is a fragile thing these days." Richter retorted. Before any other words could be exchanged, Rodrick raised a hand. His head was slowly but surely beginning to welcome the first pains of the day, so he really could not take any screaming at this moment. "I agree with Reyna that attacking me in my own home is a rather bold thing to do. Someone is trying to tell us something." He said, turning his gaze toward his savior. "Reyna, speak to your connections...see what goes on with the servants at Ellingar's Keep." He said. "Should you have a proper assessment of the situation, return to me tomorrow night. Then...we pay a visit to Lord Godwin." Rodrick spoke.

Exclamations of protest followed and Rodrick simply shook his head. "It's done. Now, get back to work.'' Rodrick ordered, before turning to Reyna. "I need to speak to you. Stay." He said and once again, it was only them.

"You...you truly believe that I am at risk of another attack?"

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only starters for now while i figure out my tumblr. hopefully it's back to normal tomorrow!

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his quest was simple - find the witch and kill her. the end. it was what he was paid to do. now cassian wasn't known to be a man of honor, but he was a man who enjoyed coin. he wasn't scared of the witch, not really, but he'd heard tales from folks in taverns- half of them merely rumors, of course.

naively, he expected that he would be able to simply walk up to the witch's hovel and dispose of her. he never expected to be waking up on her couch.

cassian's eyes fluttered open after several minutes of trying. his eyes quickly took note of everything around him- the scents, the sights, the woman. he let out a grunt as he attempted to sit up, greasy hair falling into his eyes. "what is this place?" his voice was deep from disuse. "what happened to me?" cassian winced, feeling the tenderness of his side.

Open Starter!

Do not, under any circumstances, like my starter! READ RULES BEFORE REPLYING!

Open to all! (M if romantic, no taboo!!)

Summary: Your muse winds up unconscious in the woods near their village, only to be found by Helena...whom they had been sent to kill.

Helena tended to the fire before she took the soaked rag in her hands, dapping at the intruders forehead. Her warning spells had worked, though she did not expect to find someone unconscious near her home. Their little quest might have proved more tiring than she thought. Gently wiping away at the sweat at their brow, Helena pondered over this stranger.

Were they another assassin, sent to kill the witch of the wood? Or were they just a poor, wayfaring soul that wondered too far and got themselves hurt? Only time would tell, Helena supposed as she walked toward the pot of stew she had laid to boil. Just then, the person laid on her couch began to stir, their eyes landing on Helena, who greeted them with a warm smile. "Welcome back. Do try not to stand up too quickly, you'll rip your stitches."

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this was very thing she had been preparing for. years of articles and lectures and papers- god, the papers- maia was more than ready to get out on the field. blonde hair tucked away in a ponytail, it was barely holding on after the hours of travel. maia's heart beat with anticipation, yet her stomach kept her in reality, threatening to spill her meager lunch with every jolt of the car.

at the feeling of elliot's hand, maia offered him a sheepish smile. she wondered if she looked as motion sick as she felt. at a sudden dip in the rode, maia couldn't help but release a surprised gasp. she'd never been a fan of roller coasters back home for that very reason. there was no way feeling her stomach sink could be fun.

maia nodded her head and closed her eyes, waiting for the ride to stop. she focused on her goals, the journals in her bag, and all the supplies she backed for this journey. "surely, we're almost there, right?" she opened one eye and glanced in his direction. "right?"

𝖔𝖕𝖊𝖓 𝖙𝖔: m/f/anyone 𝖕𝖑𝖔𝖙: Elliot & y/m were invited/summoned to an archaeological dig (whether separately or together is up to you). Elliot is an ancient histories/artifacts professor that also sells shit on the black market. He’s intending on doing that at this dig. Literally open to going with the flow or if you wanna plot feel free to hmu! This could be sci-fi ish (maybe it’s aliens?) or just straight up spooky ancient magic or something idk. 𝖈𝖔𝖓𝖓𝖊𝖈𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓: student assistant/archaeology student, colleague, researcher, anyone that would fit~

The flight on the airplane was nothing compared to the car ride from the small airport. Elliot and his companion landed at a tiny airport in the middle of nowhere and Elliot wasn’t entirely convinced it had been an airport. The only reassuring thing was that they were expected and that fact alone managed to keep Elliot’s jet lagged anxiety in mild check. His knee bounced with nerves as he held on to the door handle not just to help calm him but to actually keep the damn door closed.

The small vehicle had his tall, 6'3 frame, crammed uncomfortably just as the tiny plane had and he was eager to get to their destination so that he could stretch. He jolted and reached over, grabbing hold of the other’s hand and wrist out of reaction more than anything but he didn’t let go as the vehicle jerked and jolted down an unused and rough road.

“I suggest we walk back to the airport,” he said as he caught their gaze, shifting his blue eyes outside the window and gripping that door more as it nearly jerked open as they hit a particularly rough patch of the road. He groaned in discomfort, ready to get out and walk the rest of the way.

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"i didn't think i stuttered," she spoke calmly, flipping a page in her journal. if her calculations were correct- and they were always correct- the amulet of eshiryxih was just within her grasp. she glances up at him, dark eyes narrowing on his face. maybe he wasn't up to the task. jasmine closed her journal with a snap. "do you think i'd send you on a wild goose chase for nothing?" a pause. "of course i've found it."

Open Starter

PLEASE READ MY RULES BEFORE REPLYING! OPEN TO: M/F/NB (+25 only! , F if romantic!) SUMMARY: Slightly based of the Uncharted games! Roy is a professional thief, and Y/M wants to hire him to steal something for them.

“You want me to do what?” Roy wanted to make sure he heard them correctly. He had ludicrous requests before, but this one surely took the cake. “You do realize what you’re asking me, right? Nobody knows for sure if it even exists, and you want me to steal it?” It was an artifact thought lost long ago. Roy had heard of it, in passing on the lips of bazaar merchants or curious art dealers. Roy was offered a lot of money, and while he loved money, his love did not blind him from caution. “I’m guessing you’ve found it?”

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open to: ladiessssss 28+ verse: period OR modern plot: simple song starter- based on doomsday by lizzy mcalpine. could be exes, friends, coworkers, somethin angsty. we can always build it up past one line! could be modern or historical!

"i would have married you, if you had stuck around."

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i sat down to do my replies in my drafts, but i suddenly can't trim reblogs? i have xkit enabled...is anyone else having issues?

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everything’s GNARLY 💚 #KATSEYE

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my weekend is jam-packed so replies will have to come next week! just a heads up if you’re waiting on one from me! also, check out my starters (I have a few brand new ones)!

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the last thing he remembered was the serpent who cornered him, dark red scales and coils like the blood in his veins. the rest was a distant memory- a bad dream in the recess of his mind. frankly, jun didn't expect to open his eyes until he was guided into the afterlife. it turns out monster hunting- though lucrative- was extremely dangerous.

when his eyes finally did open, the world felt too bright, too harsh. he shut them again and let out a low groan. he flinched at the sound of a voice. he was not alone. admittedly, it was nice voice. soft, soothing. "three days?" was all he could muster, voice thick from hours of unuse.

jun grunted as the cool cloth hit his burning skin. "who-?" his brows furrowed in confusion, which only deepened at the threat. his eyes opened. first she saved him, then she threatened to kill him? his chest rose and fell steadily as he nodded, finally focused on the woman in front of him. his body tensed momentarily with distrust, but eventually thirst won him over. jun drank heartily, or at least, as heartly as he can. afterwards, he finished the thought that was on his mind. "who are you? where am i?"

open to: m/f/nb (warrior, royal, traveler, etc.) muse: tian linyue. plot: linyue is a witch living in a secluded corner of the forest to stay safe from persecution against magic users. one day she came across your muse unconscious and mortally wounded in the deeps of the forest, so, against all reasonable thoughts, she took them to her home to heal them.

Their fever had broken sometime before dawn. She could tell by the way color had started to return to their face—not much, but enough. Enough to say the worst had passed. They still hadn’t stirred, but their breathing had evened out, softer now, quieter. Still, she didn’t let her guard down. Not as she ground more willow bark into powder, nor as she wiped the edge of the blade she’d used to cut away blood-crusted cloth. Not even as she poured more water into the copper basin and watched the firelight ripple across it like gold.

Witches who let their guard down didn’t tend to last long.

She was hanging a bundle of rosemary to dry when she heard it—a groan, rough and uncertain. Her eyes flicked toward the pallet. They were waking. Crossing the room in silence, barefoot over worn floorboards, she knelt beside them. Sweat clung to their brow. Their eyes fluttered, unfocused.

“Easy,” she said, her voice low, even. Dipping a cloth into the cool water, she pressed it gently to their skin. “You’ve been unconscious for three days.” A slow blink followed. No recognition in their gaze—just confusion, fear, pain.

“I stitched your side,” she added, brushing damp hair from their face. “Reset the bone in your leg. I don’t know who did this to you. And I don’t need to know.” A pause. “But if you scream, if you run, if you draw anyone to this place—I will let the forest take you.” It wasn’t a threat. It was a promise, spoken like a truth carved in stone.

She reached for the wooden cup on the bedside table and gently tipped it toward their lips. “Drink. If you can.”

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she moved like a wraith through the tavern, narrowly avoiding spilled ale or loose punches. dark hair spilled down her shoulders like a waterfall of smoke. her eyes were trained on the mage on the other side of the room. he seemed different from the other members of the tavern.

smoothly, she sat across from him, a cloak covering half her face. "i require passage. you could grant it." she murmured, words like silken honey. "i have coin, if you require."

Open To: All fantasy muses Muse: Eldrin Malakar, 38, mage Possible Plots: Gimme dodgy dealings, throw anything at me. Also open to romantic plots, but would love to discuss those in more detail.

The tavern stank of stale ale and sweat. A far cry from the silence of the forest Eldrin called home. This wasn’t his usual haunt, but a looming storm and a hunger he couldn't quite name had driven him back into the realm of men.

He slouched at a worn wooden table, face hidden beneath the shadowed fold of his hood. As he reached for his tankard, the firelight caught his hand. His fingers were blackened to the knuckles, the inky stain fading like smoke as it climbed his forearms.

He drank and the bitterness bit at his tongue.

His silver eyes flickered across the room. His ears alert to an array of rumours, bargains and warnings. He wasn’t there to be seen, but he was always watching.

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open to: any vampire hunters 30+ (m if romantic)

verse: period/modern

plot: bellamy is a vampire and has been since like 1764. your muse is a vampire hunter and has been on the hunt for him for quite some time. they're reunited and things ensue!

he could identity them by scent alone. the salt on their skin, the mint on their tongue, the tinge of witch hazel. it was intoxicating. bellamy's biggest fan. the vampire smirked to himself, fangs poking through his red lips. "well, well...hello darling. it's been a long time, hasn't it?"

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ANNA SAWAI as TODA MARIKO SHŌGUN — 1x09: "Crimson Sky" (2024)

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the ballroom felt considerably smaller than the ones back home in france. that is not to say that this one was any less worthy or elegant, it was just filled up with people that louis didn't know. he searched for his sister's eyes in the crowd, but neglected to find her. it was her fault he was here, anyway. though he supposed he should be grateful that his sister and her new husband invited him to their home at all.

louis nurses a glass of lemonade as he weaves through the crowd of energized dancers and fast talkers. he is almost through when a gentleman bumps into him, causing the lemonade to spill on his cravat and coat. "merde-" he curses, stepping away from the crowd of people. he double takes when he sees the young woman besides him. "my apologies," he utters, french accent thick. "i did not expect to ruin a coat on my first attendance."

open to: m/f/nb ! muse: emma dunster

She’d been lingering near her cousin all night, chattering away about the newest bachelors that had debuted this season. Emma was surprised by how hopeful her cousin seemed and she hoped that Belle would find a way to round out the season successfully. Emma, on the other hand, wasn’t so expectant. She didn’t care about marriage. She had no interest in shackling herself to anything other than her work and the family business. Even so, it didn’t stop her family from insisting she accept dances with any gentlemen who asked and engaging in polite conversation. Such a thing was hard to do, however, when her cousin had been whisked away to the dance floor and Emma was left alone on the side of the dance floor, wondering how easy it would be to slip away and hide from potential suitors.