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[dovaeh]

#sanguinebard : public nuisance. 21+, spoilers tagged. ©

[dovaeh]

i finished revulsion's carrd:)

[dovaeh]

falling

you can get a print here: inprnt!   

[dovaeh]

unfinished drabble regarding: mirmulnir & the dragon waking.

       through her spiritual connection and faith in the gods,    maesena’s dreams were always quite vivid.    the general palette and flavor of them never truly changed:    clouds of golds and pinks hazed over fields of color,    lakes shimmering in sunlight.    few words were ever exchanged and instead she found peace in what she dreamt    ——    quiet days in the sun,    contentment in her mother’s arm draped over her shoulder in the cold.    

      in the first months spent in skyrim,    that hadn’t changed in any substantial way.    her dreams seemed more anchored    (   she liked to believe it was both her father’s connection to this land and the new amulet always hung on her neck,    a parting gift from her mother    )    and grey,    somber in more ways yet more exhilarating in others.

       the last she remembered of mirmulnir,    his head reared towards the sky and his bloody,    slashed maw opened in a scream.    the words clashing between his teeth seemed disbelieving and she didn’t yet realize that the  dovahkiin  he called to was her.    suddenly from the very root of his being a spectrum of energy rushed her    ——    just as the world became dark around the edges,    just as she felt her bones grow too weak to hold her skin.    the gash in her skull and blood running down her torso seemed all too damning until the energy of the dragon’s soul rushed into her being.    it hit her skin in a hot,    almost unbearable blaze and she fell to her back,    knowing nothing but that she felt not quite so weak once it filled her.

       by the time they got her to the temple of kynareth,    she was almost to the state she’d been in before.    the soul that entered her had revitalized her enough for her to be carried back to the city without incident,    but not enough to undo what damage had been caused.    still she bled,    still she was torn.    the guards gave out when the temple doors swung open and their arms,    jelly from the fight and the fear,    dropped her to the stone.    she slept.

      and she dreamt of the sky.    the open blue twisted with white and golden pink at the edges of the horizon,    the wind tangled under her arms.     her wings.    she looked back and saw them,    stretched wide as the sky itself.    blue and gold poured into each other and mixed through the fabric of her wings,    across the muscles that lead to her back    ——    ridged and horned,    scaled.    

      like a dragon.    she remembered briefly,    somewhere in the very back of her mind,    what it felt to grasp mirmulnir by the neck;    his hard scales unforgiving and unmoving beneath her fingers,    her feet leaving the ground as he through his head to the air and dropped her onto his back.    the impenetrable strength and the blazing heat brewing inside him seemed all so familiar now that it was what she was made of.

[dovaeh]

SKYRIM SCENERY [ 9 / ? ] ► whiterun (part II. winter version)

[dovaeh]

dialogue prompts. " i’m trying to fix your hair, so hold still. " @ulfhrafnx.

it reminds her of when she was small — her mother raking fingers through her hair and tugging painfully at the roots, making neat and pretty braids of once messy hair — and in that it is a great comfort to maesena. especially where her stomach is a thorny bundle of nerves that only grows with time sat still, snaking and twisting in anticipation for the coming march to battle.

and even the scolding is a little nostalgic, voice holding the same touch of softness behind reproach — no real bite to the bark. still, maesena silently obeys and her knees snap together, hands disappearing beneath her legs to keep her energy locked in. it's a nightmare on the inside, wormy and restless, but she tries to simply focus on the little pinprick pains of individual hairs getting pulled too tight, cool fingers raking her scalp as lira divides the thick mass of hair atop her head.

were she not so electrified, she could easily fall asleep to this... and has before. instead she fiddles with the loose string at her knee and sweats until lira steps back, immediately standing and running the tips of her fingers over the hard edges of each knot. "so..." she grins, bright and only slightly pained from the firmness of it. "do i look like a proper nord? or will i have to dunk my head in a cauldron of cheese first?"

[dovaeh]

! ! !

[dovaeh]

[dovaeh]

▷               in the name of being   brave

     though it’s just   another   word

                               -  for  -

                        being   a f r a i d

[dovaeh]

thinking about her fc5 alt verse where she's 'corrupted' to join their cause & her fcnd verse where she becomes the judge and how her experience shapes her in different ways. the torture she endured was different in a few key ways.

john put her through hell but it was mostly a physical torment that aided in skewing her mind. and she cried then and cried after, but hasn't cried since joseph forgave and welcomed her. she never really cries again honestly. what happens breaks her mind and her will but it rebuilds her into something stronger, which was ultimately the point.

meanwhile in fcnd, she's been broken in spirit and mind. my description is joseph tearing her down to her bones and rebuilding her, and she feels kind of like an exposed nerve from there on. the guilt eats at her until she's nothing but despair, being allowed and even encouraged to lose herself in her depression and self-loathing, and the effect is that she's almost always crying and despondent. her will to live is solely reliant upon the desperation for absolution rather than any real will to live.

[dovaeh]

it is good at keeping her on edge, feeling to the depths of her soul how wrong it is to speak with such an otherworldly thing as if merely discussing the weather. but such is the life of a dragonborn, evidently, and she finds it easier when she instead focuses on the drifting snow ( that seems to disappear when it comes between them, or is just perhaps lost in the murk ) or the swirling black aura from which it emerges. she shakes her head — unbothered by the slight and in fact happy to know so little that she is not consumed by the madness of power.

with so many dragons inside of her, it would be all too easy to fall into and is felt even now; this faint stirring in the core of her chest — curiosity born and immediately choked back. "that is almost comforting." to know that her life is only secured because it would be boring for the prince to decide otherwise. she could spit at the ground were she not already so unsettled by the tendrils laying there, shifting her weight back and forth restlessly. "what information could i possibly provide you with now? with alduin and miraak gone, there is nothing further that i can offer that another warrior cannot."

`THE OLD ANTECENDANT COULD FEEL THE DISCOMFORT SPAWNED FROM SELF. It had a way of PLEASING him in some baser fashion-- - they could further it, twist it, CONTORT IT UNTIL COMPLETELY UNRECOGNIZABLE // but the current remained fixed as was beyond a smallest slip-- - blood from corpse dripping upwards. A few strands like ruby threads of a marionette (TO DISTORT REALITY IN THE PRESENCE OF THE PRINCE). “&– - Of course-- - however, a wise individual knows how to use what they have at their disposal regardless of limitation. My choices are my own, absent of limitations that require them. Yours, however, are due to an unwillingness to use otherwise, a lack of knowledge on how, or because you do not wish to admit you prefer the methods you decide. Often these three work together. Only one of those aspects I could change with ease”

`HERMAEUS MORA HAS DETERMINED THE LINE OF GIVE AND TAKE WITHIN THIS. A structure of combination // BELITTLING PAIRED WITH AGREEMENT PAIRED WITH OFFER // it is aware their hook is not being bit, but still the great Tide King recasts yet again. “&– - An unspoken suggestion is a request is an exchange. But an exchange is not always a contract. All beings request trade-- - a conversation expects returned words, venting demands a listening ear, a task desires a payment. On this ground we are still exchanging-- - if words, if time. And yet your freedom remains, and your wrists unbound. Caution is smart, but misplaced.” A tentacle strays, slithers and curls upon the snowy ground. The atramentous and green tainted limb encircling loosely where her feet lay // IT DOES NOT TOUCH, HOWEVER. “&– - And is based upon the perspectives of the past. History may repeat except where I am at its center- the reasons are numerous. I will speak of one simple and plain- I do not enjoy repetition. There is nothing for me to gain in such things. The information borne would be of little difference to what came before.”

[dovaeh]

this was so......

[dovaeh]

her name is revulsion and she fucks

[dovaeh]

her name is revulsion and she fucks

[dovaeh]

i love u guys 💖

[dovaeh]

Warrior Queen Princess Aethelflaed in every episode - s04e02

[dovaeh]

i don't know if i added it to my rules for mae yet but i wanted to say it here: due to my venephobia, please refrain from mentioning veins or wrist biting / injury in threads / replies to me. i don't care if it's tagged or not in writing with other people - as long as images are - but specifically directing it toward my eyeballs, pls don't.