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Hiatus Notice! Given my non-existent activity I am sure this comes as a surprise to no one. I have recently felt my motivation to be here dwindle, not because I do not enjoy being here and writing my characters, but because other creative projects are simply taking more of my energy and my focus. And since these projects are quite important to me I have decided to leave Indie-Rp for the time being (if you still wish to write with me you can do so through a group, just hmu on discord or IM) and put my energy where it serves me best, focusing on my current book project. I am sorry if this is an inconvenience to my writing partners, I loved writing and plotting with all of you wonderful people and I wish you nothing but the best.

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Celeste d'Corbin - The Raven

perpetual darkness and the sweet smell of rotting roses… Darling, dearest, you should have known, I will not stay buried for long.

If you ask her Celeste will claim that she does not know where and when she was born, has no recollection of her life before she was turned. She will tell you that she does not know where her name comes from or who gave it to her. Her mother? Her maker? She picked the other one for herself, the raven. For that is what she is. A raven eating corpses left behind by wolves, holding grudges for generations - too much intelligence sparkling in dark eyes.

She flutters from one place to the next, never standing still for long.

The last time she stood still she lost her heart and ended up in a coffin made out of glass. Her own personal prison.

If you ask her how long she stayed in that coffin, displayed for the hold world to see - a dead angel fallen from heaven - she will tell you. For that she knows, that she remembers, that she will never forget. A hundred years.

And for just as long will she hunt down Pierre's bloodline, destroy them just as they destroyed her. So that the lock around her heart may finally be lifted.

Celeste was cursed by her former lover Pierre and spend a century locked in a coffin made out of glass and silver, dragged around by a traveling circus. Her ghostly form haunted dozens of small villages and cities until she was saved by a young woman, a few years after the Great War.

She spend the roaring twenties first in London and then in Paris before she had her eyes on America. The second world war made her stay in Europe longer as she joined the Resistance and found many a battlefield as the perfect feeding ground.

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Nella's eyes are still focused on the work at hand but she does raise an eyebrow at the other's words. "Sneak into the afterlife and get you out of there? Those are not things you should joke about. Death is a heavy burden and no one leaves it behind unmarked. The price they will pay to find you will be high. Do you truly wish that upon them?"

It is something she has considered many a time, the former princess admits that only to herself. To search for the door to the Underworld, to go look for her father there if she cannot find him in this world. But as all the other realms it seems the world of the Dead is lost to them, too. And Nella does not wish to know what that means for Death itself.

Her gaze darts to Khione's once more as she considers that answer. She is not supposed to talk to strangers. Lancelot will not like it. But this girl does not seem like the kind that stays put for long, peacefully waiting for someone to save her. So will it not be better if Nella is the one to show her around? To keep an eye on this stranger that fell into their world? Into their little piece of safety?

"If you feel up to walking I can show you around, yes.", she offers another small smile, "But do not get your hopes up. There is not much here that can be discovered. We try to survive. And that is all there is to see."

That makes sense. Khione nods as Nella explains the rules. She's glad for it. Then she watches as Nella unwraps the bandages, carefully, ever so carefully, nodding as the words of warning are received, reaches for her ointment and puts it onto the bandage.

You also owe it to the people you love to stay alive, Nella says, and Khione nods again. There is no sense in running into danger headfirst, with or without the light of day; your loved ones will not thank you for it, once you join them in the afterlife.

"They'd probably find a way to sneak in and get me out of there. There's plenty of stories about that." Plenty, Khione says. She only knows two. "But yes, I hear you."

And she also hears what Nella doesn't say. Khione knows how to read between the lines. The last question may have remained unanswered but even a non-answer is an answer if one knows where to poke and prod.

For now, though, poking and prodding doesn't help.

Especially if the person that's being poked and prodded is the one with the healing salves and the knowledge of this strange world she's landed herself in.

So she leaves it be.

"Will you be the one showing me around after this or should I find someone else to do that?"

There. A question that is a little safer. Khione hopes so, at least.

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HAILEE STEINFELD in SINNERS (2025) dir. Ryan Coogler

"You keep dancing with the devil, one day she’s going to follow you home.”

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she bit her lip as her brows were raised in confusion. a strange answer for a strange place, she should not have expected anything in else. in the years after the war Celeste had seen many places, met many people, most of them peculiar. but not as peculiar as this.

or maybe that was just the hunger speaking.

"the shool for the young and the gifted?", her tone was almost mocking, "but if you have eternity at your fingertips, you do not need school to learn. there is a grander world out there."

she turned her head slowly, watching the others around them. most of them were young people, and so many had beating hearts. the sound urged her forward and Celeste let out a low growl. "well, someone's after all of you. town stinks of vervain, football players or not, and I am damn hungry now."

"---thea? i'll have to call you back. please let me know if blaise circles back around. if not, i'll have wade run a search on our end of things." no sooner did she hang up the phone or one of her own appeared, out of thin air, as if summoned.

"hi," floribeth said, voice soft and demeanor softer. "this, um, this is the salvatore school for the young and the gifted." a beat and then: "i didn't pick the name, i promise." a nod of the head followed suit: "and this quaint little town is mystic falls. home to, well, a great many people. including a very sucky football team, and i say that as someone who doesn't know anything about sports."

that's all jed's thing.

god, she misses him.

(and she misses her best friends, loren and mia, too.)

"my name is floribeth, but most people call me flori. what's your name?"

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@floripire gets the vampire girlie

she had followed the scent out of town and towards what seemed to be... a school? hunger made her stomach turn, already threatening to eat itself, and her thoughts were dancing to the same tune. she had looked around town but every mortal she met smelled the same. Vervain. and here they were, her kin. walking side by side with witches?

"excuse me", Celeste stepped towards a girl, a vampire. her own fangs were showing as she fought for control inside, "where am I here?"

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"It has been a long time, indeed. But the people of this land still sing your praise." It is meant to sound like a compliment. No one in Burgundy has forgotten what Siegfried did in the war against the huns, how he helped bring them their queen and her warriors. A story close to legend that has fostered curiosity in Herja. And something darker, whenever she thinks of how this man made her father look.

His touch comes as a surprise to her, but she does her best to not flinch. Never show your heart, was the first and only lesson her mother taught her. The way he squeezes her hands is far from being gentle and Herja wonders if a man like that is even capable of kindness. His warm smile does not fit the rest of him.

And she holds his gaze now, courtesy be damned. Herja has been trained by her mother, she knows how to endure pain, even if her own strength feels like nothing compared to his she dares to squeeze back. Just a little. "I would never allow for one of our guests to go hungry, your majesty. Worms will always welcome you." And with that she lets go, turns to the side so that the king might walk in front. "We have food prepared in the great hall already."

most rulers would take it as a disrespect to not be greeted by the king himself, to have the king not even present for their arrival. but siegfried is glad not to have to see gunter. and he'd be content to have it stay that way.

❛ herja. ❜ he greets his niece with a broad smile. siegfried too has heard the rumors. and guilt stabs at his chest when he imagines how they must make her feel. to possibly be the consequence of his missteps so many years ago. but for now he will remain silent, if only not to break kriemhild's heart all over again. and to not stir up more trouble for his wife's and herja's sake he shall feign ignorance.

❛ you were still so little when i last saw you. you likely don't even remember. ❜ the king steps closer, unable as he has always been to hide emotion. he reaches for her hands and squeezes them with both of his. his grip is too strong to be comfortable, as if he were trying to find out if her mother's strength, or someone else's, sleeps in her as well. ❛ i'm not exhausted. only starving. i'm sure we can begin a feast without gunter ? ❜

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"I do not care for the others", his words were a blatant lie but he had gotten used to that already. Riley had left all truth behind. Here in this foreign country, in these foreign battles, all he could wear was a mask. And the sins that would have haunted his past self were now a mere aftertaste of his actions. "And I am not afraid of death in battle. Not if I am fighting for the right thing."

Fear. It lay buried beneath truth, in that graveyard back home.

"I do not like being called a boy", what he carried with him still was the anger, the rage his mother had planted in his heart all these years ago, "So I shall not answer your question, it seems quite obvious", the mage motioned towards ashes and smoke, "But instead I ask: Why are you here? You are too late to stop us and if you wish to kill me, you should have stayed on that horse of yours."

Wilhelm couldn't care less about another monastery burning and its treasures falling into the hands of those who fought for their freedom. But in spite of personal feelings, he had to keep up appearances and so he gestured for his companions to stay behind. Better to handle the matter on his own, without the others overhearing.

While dismounting Cajetan, Wilhelm's eyes examined the scene more closely, discerning the features of the lone figure standing in the smoke. It was a boy, by his estimation barely older than Jonas. The thought immediately softened his heart even further.

"What are you doing here, boy? You and the others should better hurry, before more troops arrive."

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@lenzimanot for the g.o.a.t.

the smoke that still lingered in the air had brought tears to his eyes. but if there was one thing the young soldier was used to by now, it was the sting of fire. it rose into the air behind him, that smoke, mixing with the grey clouds above the monastery's remnants. he could still hear shouting and the sounds of battle, but none of his comrades were in sight.

so it fell upon the young mage to greet the approaching knights, he who did not care about these religions and these battles, he who was only here because he followed a trail, because he searched for someone.

they were too many, high up on their horses, while he stood here in the dirt - one hand still wrapped around the hilt of his sword. he had more than steel to greet them though. "If you come to aid this place you are too late, good sirs. I suggest you turn around and return to your emperor and his troops. God is with us today."

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her royal highness, Princess Herja of Burgundy

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@drachnslayer

the princess rose from her curtsy, a smile painted onto her lips. she had learned to wear that mask, to play that game, before she could even walk. "It is an honor to welcome you in Burgundy, King Siegfried. My father is on a hunt right now, we did not expect you so early. I apologise that it is only me you are finding here."

she wasn't sure whether or not her father's absence was planned, but Herja knew in her bones that her mother's was. She had never met the man now standing in front of her, the famous dragon slayer, the king of Xanten.

Siegfried.

but she knew of the whispers exchanged behind her mother's back, when they thought Herja was too far to hear, too young to listen. she knew of the rumours surrounding this man and she had built an image of him in her head. She already disliked the real version now in front of her, golden hair and all. "Your travels must have been exhausting, do you wish to rest, your majesty?", there it was again, the role she was raised to fill. Despite it all.

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A small smile creeps over Nella's lips as she finds herself nodding along. "Yes, I am certain. Most certain. We are a place of refuge and we will not turn away someone in need. You are not free to go about the camp unaccompanied - simple measures of safety these days, for spies can wear any mask - but you are more than welcome to stay and rest up."

Carefully Nella unwraps the others bandages and then, as a simple nod to the warning given, reaches for her ointment and puts it onto the bandage, so not to touch the other's skin. A part of her likes this even, the healing, the taking care of. Maybe it is the faint memory of her mother that all these herbs and oils conjure up. Maybe it is the heaviness that has settled into her bones from all the fighting.

"You also owe it to the people you love to stay alive." It is a simple sentence, one that has kept her awake and alive more than once. "There is no sense in running into danger headfirst, with or without the light of day. Your loved ones will not thank you for it, once you join them in the afterlife."

And that last question, that is one she leaves unanswered. The border is a dangerous place and Nella will not admit that she has seen it with her own eyes, more than once.

"Just be careful," Kie says, "don't touch my skin directly; I don't want to---" She clears her throat. "---I take people's body heat when skin to skin contact occurs; it hurts them more often than not. Please, be careful."

Nella. A nod of the head follows. "Nella," she repeats, "that's a pretty name."

I am not sure if you will manage to find your way back, whatever was once beyond those borders is now gone.

"If that---if what you say is true, well, I owe it to the people I love to at least try." And speaking of which: "Have you? Ever been beyond those borders? Just to see what it all looks like?"

Call her curious and curiouser but she's got the feeling there's more out there, beyond the borders of this place.

"Are you certain? That I can stay? Perhaps it'd be better if I stay the night and carry on in the morning. Things always seem so bleary in the dark. Perhaps I just need a little bit more light."

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mother would be proud. The thought echoes through her mind again and again. If the great Brünhilde could see her like this, surely she'd feel pride. Her daughter stands in the courtyard, sword in hand, so much anger radiating off of her no one dares to approach. The Valkyrie would not see the bags under her daughter's eyes, the hair a tangled mess of knots because Herja could not be bothered to weave it into a crown atop her head, like she used to do. The Valkyrie would not see the shaking hands, the stomach that turns on itself for she hasn't had appetite in days and no sleep for even longer. The circles under her eyes are dark, her face is ashen. And the loneliness is the worst of all, a gaping hole in her heart - the shape of her father - eating her alive.

still, mother would be proud.

the wood splinters as her sword finds it again and Herja almost winces from the force of impact that travels up her arm. She has been trained in combat, years ago, forced by her mother to pick up one of those dreadful swords. Never had she any reason to use it. But this now? This is not the technique carefully drilled into her by her father's men, this is not the sword fight of a knight. This is her, hitting that wooden figure again and again and again. This is pure rage.

"What?", she turns around, gripping the hilt of the sword so tight her knuckles glow white beneath pale skin. "She has heard him approach, even through the anger beating in her ears like a war-drum. And now she forces herself to listen to him, puffing air out of her lungs to get rid of the strands of hair falling into her face. Cousin. She hates that word already. "And what is it that the prince of Xanten wishes to talk to me about? How your mother came here and slaughtered my father? Killed our king? Or shall we discuss your coronation?"

He is a stranger. He is one of them. He is the only family she has left.

@feuerfliegen for obvious reasons

It is strange to walk through these halls, feeling history bearing down on him. This is where his mother grew up, where his parents met and courted. Gero tries to imagine them here, but they are both strangers to him, far too hard to grasp. For a long time the young prince has asked himself why they never visited the family in Burgundy, but by now he understands. His mother made her hatred for her home and its rulers abundantly clear. Shame fills his heart once again as he thinks about the bloodbath and how the Burgundians must feel about him, Kriemhild's son ( for once it isn't Siegfried's name that defines him ).

It takes Gero a while to navigate the castle and find his way, but eventually he spots who he's been looking for. Princess Herja ferociously slams her sword against the wooden soldier in the courtyard and judging by their first encounter Gero has an inkling of who she imagines. The thought makes him even more hesitant to step closer and he stops, putting his hands behind his back and wringing them together.

"Cousin? I am afraid we might've gotten off on the wrong foot earlier and ... I was hoping that perhaps we could talk?"

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NPC - Herja of Burgundy

Heir to Isenstein, Queen Regent of Burgundy

headcanon based and heavily affiliated with @lenzimanot

Flora and I have been toying around with the idea that Sigfried has, canonically, a child with Kriemhild, depending on the source it varies whether that child is a boy or a girl. So we ran with it. At the end of the movie Kriemhild tells Hagen that she is carrying Sigfried's child, Gerold - or Gero for short, his son. But unbeknownst to all of Burgundy Brünhilde was also pregnant at that moment

While no one in the kingdom could deny the fact that the young princess shared a great liking with the Dragonslayer such thoughts were seldom spoken out loud. And throughout almost her entire life Herja believed herself to be the daughter of Gunter, the princess of Burgundy. Anything else was nothing but lies and slander against her father, the king.

But growing up in the castle was not easy. Herja loved to be treated like a princess, to sit at her father's feet and listen in on conversations, to have the newest fashion at her disposal. As a child she loved dolls and jewels, always preferring her toys over wooden swords, and as a teenager she learned that intrigue and cunning could be weapons just as sharp. But her mother had named her after a famous and fearless Valkyrie, hoping to find a companion in her quest for freedom. Brünhilde took to the woods often, unable to hide how much she disliked her daughter's love for court politics.

After the murder of the dragon slayer - Herja never calls him by his name - the hatred between her parents grew and grew. Gunter was unable to match the idea he had of Brünhilde with the woman in front of him, whereas the queen could not forgive what had been done to her and longed for Isenstein and the comfort of her home more with every passing day. Even the name she chose for her daughter was an affront against the king, going with a traditional name of her country instead of Burgundy. So while her parents fought and her aunt and cousin were sent away, loneliness became Herja's constant companion. She longed for a family, never realising how much she shared this longing with her true father.

Was Gunter aware that Herja was not his by blood? Yes, yes he was. At least in my headcanon - and as far as the movie shows us - the marriage between Brünhilde and Gunter was never consummated, so he was very much aware of the fact that she was Sigfried's daughter and not his. The death of his former rival lay heavy on his conscious and had turned both Brünhilde as well as Kriemhild against the king. With Burgundy still not safe from outside forces he chose to do what he can do best and closed his eyes, looked away. At first he told himself he was doing this for the kingdom, but as Herja grew she became his daughter more and more.

Herja claims that she is her father's through and through, wishing to uphold whatever twisted idea of his legacy she has. After all, she was never enough for her mother, yet Gunter welcomed her with open arms again and again. She says she has nothing in common with the dragonslayer, but she is quick to rise to anger, makes decisions within split seconds, and always rushes into situations head first - even if that stubborn head has to go through a wall first. She is dressed in fine silks, but she is a force to be reckoned with and just like her aunt Kriemhilde's, her very gaze can be poison.

After her father and her uncles are killed in the bloodbath caused by her aunt, Herja loses herself in grief for days. The kingdom her family sacrificed so much for is falling apart around her and her entire world is turned on its head, spinning out of control with a speed she cannot even begin to fathom. Then, out of nowhere, her cousin Gero appears and everyone celebrates him as the only surviving male heir to the Burgundian throne. For the first time in her life Herja can understand how her mother has felt all her life - cast aside to watch men play at something she believes herself inherently better at. If her mother could rule Isenstein, could be queen of people as strong and fierce as the Valkyrie - can she not rule on her own, too? Bloodlust mixes with pride within her blood and Herja is not ready to stand aside and give her father's kingdom to Gero, to the son of the dragonslayer. To the son of the woman that killed their king. She will fight for the throne her mother hated, she will pick up the sword she tossed away so many times. She shall be a queen and they shall fear her, as they feared her mother. As they feared her true father.

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He cannot help but chuckle at that. "You should, from time to time. It gives life a bit more edge." If there is one thing Riley Ashford has had an abundance of, it is edge. Danger. Bad decisions. One could say the last three years were nothing if not a bad decision.

He has come to embrace it though, the secrecy, the being different. The thirst for power. "Makes me feel alive, to mess with those things. And cloaking spells are quite easy. I can teach you a good one."

Riley nods at her explanation. He knows of magic in the Netherlands, but they are too close to Hanse territory for him to consider. Messing with the big boys would be a terrible mistake now.

"I am never running from things", he leans back, his ego almost vibrating off of him. "It's things and people that run from me." Again he laughs, clearly joking. Or is he? "And I am far from free. I had a coven once, you know. But these things aren't as easy in Britain as they used to be, say a hundred years ago. They're drawing battle lines everywhere now." His eyes darken at the mention of his former coven, at the memory of what he has lost.

Then Riley shakes his head, both in response to her and to chase away those memories. "Nah, it's too good to let go. I mean, do you have comics of yourself and stuff? The whole secret identity and costume thing?"

"So I've been told."

His handshake is careful, but firm. And then he laughs, and she knows exactly what type of person she's dealing with. One of those with an abundance of power and the (not so quiet) confidence to match.

Hard-won, perhaps. Or perhaps not.

"I don't know," Kie says in response, "I don't make it a habit of getting into cloaking spells with strange boys."

"My dad is Dutch," she tells him, watching as he pushes the now empty milkshake glass to the side. It's only fair. A morsel of information for a morsel of information.

"Considering I'm not a magic user, no. You strike me as the type of person to run from one. A free spirit and all that jazz." And speaking of which: "You're not gonna let the superhero thing go, are you?"

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Her gaze is a watchful one, brows slightly furrowed as she listens to the other girl and slowly - gently - lifts the bandages to examine those bruises. "May I?"

Nella may not be convinced of her own skills but if there is one thing she has learned from the story of her parents it is that doing something is always better than doing nothing.

"My name's Nella", she introduces herself with a nod. No reason to throw around her real name or her royal title. No one on the island knows of either and she intends to keep it that way. "No one is from around here", her voice is still gentle, "We all found this island after the ogres attacked. After the curse took most of our lands. I am not sure if you will manage to find your way back, whatever was once beyond those borders is now gone."

And sadness creeps into her eyes. For she, too, is longing for home. Back when she had left Corona she had not imagined that such a moment would ever come. That she would be willing to sacrifice every adventure just for a chance to get back to her parents.

"You can stay here if you want. But if you truly need to carry on, we'd be happy to help."

She's going to sue Regina Mills when she gets back. She doesn't know how, yet, but she will. However, thoughts of suing and potential revenge need to be put on the backburner. After all, it is much more important for Kie to get home first.

"I like tea, thank you."

Vaguely, she's reminded of Layla, who insists anytime anyone has anything that they ought to drink tea.

"As much as I would want to, and believe me, I do want to, I... I must find a way back home. As you can probably tell I---I am not from around here."

At least, not anymore.

For a moment, she's quiet, slowly draining the tea in her cup. "My name is Khione," she says, then. "Khione Goossens. May I know the name of the person who is currently, and kindly, patching me up?"

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