huntspeared-blog

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Slowly moving everything over to @acesfight go follow my multi if you want any new stuff

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Slowly moving everything over to @acesfight go follow my multi if you want any new stuff

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The wifi on campus has been acting up so I havent been able to do much. Like this for an ask in your box I guess? Mutuals only please.

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Send 💥 for a starter where my muse is in a blind rage

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This is my first time logging into tumblr on my new phone and god they couldn't make a functioning website but they sure did make the post icons turn into a Caterpillar when you drag em

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Oh-

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Oh shit i have a tumblr

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Sorry for the inactivity. This weekend and a lot of the first half of the week are gonna be busy so I’ll get back online when I can.

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Hircine is very in tune with the natural cycles of the cosmos. His moods change with the seasons, the phases of the moon. The tug of the stars and sea pull him in different directions and make sure that he is never stagnant. He’s like the climate: bigger than the weather, smaller than the world. All that to say that Hircine is not the most humanlike Prince but he does have more mortal leanings. Pieces of him can and do die. They are inevitably reborn eventually, but every death is real and permanent for that version of that aspect. Hircine eats, sleeps, dies, is reborn, and repeats the cycle over and over. Never all at once but in little pieces. Like a whole ecosystem in one being.

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oilonwcter‌:

@huntspeared​ ❤

The Mad Prince loved his little sibling, even though he knew he annoyed Hircine sometimes. And Sheogorath felt he hadn’t seen the hunter enough recently (and what was recent to a daedra? Time was meaningless!) so he gathered some food and fun things and popped over for a visit. The food was whatever he liked the look of from the table in the Palace, and the fun things were Baliwogs and a pair of Scalon.

Maybe Hircine would keep them as pets, or hunt them, or something. Who knew!

Sheo certainly didn’t. He hardly knew what he himself would do the next moment!

With an audible pop (because how else would one cause a stir when they arrive in another’s realm?) he and his beast friends appeared.

“HIRCINE! DEAR SIBLING! WHERE ARE YOU? I have thiiings for you!” The Scalon were already wandering off, the Baliwogs staying close to Sheo, and some food fell from his arms.

Hircine’s first instinct upon hearing Sheogorath arrive was to throw something at him. Not one to deny his instincts, he did just that. Thankfully for the both of them it was a small piece of bone partially carved into a flute and nothing more substantial. Hircine looked down from his perch on a low-hanging tree branch. It had been many seasons since the two Princes had conferred, but he knew better than to expect any particular reason for Sheogorath’s visit. 

“Once again you come unannounced. I will not deny you your nature but I would ask that whatever you have you would permit me to inspect before you release it in my home.” The Prince of the Hunt jumped down from his seat to greet his elder sibling. He poked Sheogorath in the side. “I hope you are this thin because the form suits you and not because you are not looking after yourself.”

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troubledtwins‌:

Boe moved a little closer to watch, as he seemed to want them to learn, but they still stayed out of arms reach, and away from the dog. Boe was tempted to get up and start running again, but as soon as that thought passed through their head, another pang of hunger formed. They moved a little closer again when the fire was started.

Hircine skinned and gutted the hares with practiced precision. He set aside the furs for later and tossed the innards to the hound who had been waiting so patiently for the treat it knew was coming. The dog swallowed the meat almost in a single gulp and came snuffling over for more. Hircine stroked its coal-black fur from tip to tail then pushed it away. The dog laid down in his shadow, ever hopeful, as the Prince prepared the meat with herbs he had gathered earlier. If he was to take his time he might as well make something worth the effort. He looked up from his work as the little Dragonborn came closer. 

“The hound does not bite unless I command it, and I do not bite except to kill. Nothing will harm you this night so you might as well lower your hackles.” Then, almost as an afterthought, “The hound’s name is River. And I am sure whatever name you have for me is sufficient.”

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troubledtwins‌:

Boe looked at him in confusion before slowly shaking their head. They were scared of disappointing the daedroth more then they already had, but they had no clue how to prepare a meal.

The knot of hunger in Boe was growing more noticeable by the minute, it had gone from almost unnoticeable to almost painful. They wrapped their arms around their stomach, and kept the whine that had formed in their throat quite.

Hircine felt an odd, uncomfortable sensation in his gut. He recognized it as the same feeling he got watching a fellow hunter needlessly torture his prey but with a strange twist of something softer. Perhaps this was the feeling that drove a wolf to nurse a child of Man abandoned in the wood. Pity? Compassion? The feeling was something deeper, an unnameable instinct as deep as blood. He turned away from the little one and set about making a fire. If they could not care for themself then he would be forced to do so. The thrill of the hunt, for once, could wait.

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troubledtwins‌:

Boe didn’t take their eyes off the dog. They watched the dog with eyes wide with fear. Pressing themself into the tree Boe pulls their knees up to their chest and tucks their chin is so they can still keep an eye on it. They figure they can’t run anymore so they at least could sit comfortably.

It was not long before the Prince returned. The hound’s tail thumped against the ground twice in greeting of its master. Hircine knelt to scratch the dog between the ears and laid two dead hares on the ground just out of the creature’s reach. “I trust you at least know how to prepare a proper meal, little rabbit? If you do not eat soon you’ll be as dead as your kinfolk here.”

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omngd‌:

Smirk twitched onto celestial face, eyes like white hot suns piercing the dim, red light of the Hunting Grounds. A bleeding moon shone brightly in the deep, deep skies. Something Talos hated to look upon, so unnatural & menacing as it was. Most would think Him amused, smile barely creasing Aetherial expression, but alas, nay. He was quite dark in spirits, though not because of the Prince. 

No, humanity frustrated Him with their wars in His name. As though war were sport and not tragedy. Oh, he almost missed the days when he could look at a battle and feel only pure excitement and valor. Now he looked at such things with many aspects. Aspects the common warmongering Nord oft’ miss.

“Well they are when it comes to I. Every day, all day, I must hear people using my image to repeat my past mistakes. It’s haunting, like a shadow ne’er to leave my royal backside.”  

Hircine barked a short laugh. “Of course they do! They do the same thing to each other-- word meets ear meets mouth meets ear and by the time it reaches you again there is no telling what it shall say, or if even you can recognize your own voice. Take it from one who is younger than most of my like but still older than you: your followers will always disappoint. That is why I am no king of Men or Mer. They are no fools, but they are quick to forget what they do not like to hear.” 

The Prince settled himself into a cross-legged position on a wide stump. He gripped the bone of his mask in one hand and shifted it so that a sliver of a face was visible. Bright-eyed Atmoran, like the god before him. “The warrior who fought the battle that made them,” he shifted the mask to the other side, revealing the strong jaw and brow of a Nord, “and the Emperor who crafted the laws that bind them,” back to the other side, this time a stoic Imperial, “and the deity whose worship divides them all mean next to nothing compared to the stories they tell to justify themselves. The way I see it you can either choose to be a salmon that fights the stream of mortal misunderstanding, or you can be the bear who eats the salmon. I choose to be the bear.”

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“Are they following me because they’re interested in rping or do they just need the follow-back follower count?”

I’ve been seeing this a lot lately and I understand if people get miffed about it. I would be too. And I think it’s a good call to try and interact with folks by calling attention to it.

let it be known though

if I follow you but we never rp, it’s not that i’m using you to get my follower count up.

I’m just rlly bad at making the first move.

Follower count doesn’t mean squat to me since I know that it usually ends up being like, dead blogs I’ll never see again. So yeah. 

This is a post where I’m encouraging you, the reader, to make the first move. Just try and talk to the people you follow, even if you don’t think they’d be interested in rping ( provided you follow their rules on contact, mutuals, ect ). Maybe they wanna rp? Maybe they don’t. Your chances can only increase if you come with an idea to bring to the table, so just try it!

Maybe a friendship will happen, maybe it won’t. But at the VERY LEAST you can say you tried.

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Hircine: and that’s why dogs should be in charge of everything instead of people

Hermaeus Mora, reluctantly writing everything down: please leave my house

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Hircine has a pack of hunting dogs. They’re actually a mix of magical creatures native to the Hunting Grounds and the spirits of mortal dogs that were just really darn good boys in life. The spirit dogs bear the names they had in life. As such you’ll find Hircine hunting with the likes of Wulfrud the Swift, Falon Greysnout, and Speckles.