#celys saintmont

[czernyss]

:: FROM GRAVES ::

⤨ celys saintmont

Atop the grassy knolls of Saint’s Hall at the edge of the Stormlands, Celys of House Saintmont grows up with muddied knees and hands callused from the weight of both a sword and sewing needle. Her father names her wayfarer, feet straying across the fields and forests, but she can never seem to go too far before the pull of home calls her back.

Until the family with a name as old as its land is widdled down to nothing. 

It starts with her uncles on their journey back from Dorne, necks snapped during a nasty fall. Then her cousins and their children, slain on rumours of infedelity. Day by day, word arrives on sorry lips. Day by day, the looks shared between her parents grow more grave. She’s fourteen now, and forbidden to go past the rickety old bridge at the edge of their keep. Her father’s rages grow like wildfire, and the warning in her mother’s eyes –usually so warm, so free–, are foreign to Celys. 

It’s only until trouble from the stepstones reaches Lord Saintmont that Celys gets her first taste of blood. On the day her father and brother’s bodies return from the fighting –one missing his legs, the other his head– red is all she can see. The rest pass in a blur, until death becomes a passing shadow, a glimpse instead of the full truth. From the corpses comes a sickness, and for weeks Celys lays rotting beside her mother and sister, tended to by only the strongest and most loyal that remain. When the last of their sworn swords, the bastard knight Qoren Sand pulls Celys and her baby brother off the day-old corpses, the Triarchy invade her lands. 

With no other choice, Celys flees the only home she’s ever known, journeying to King’s Landing to beg for the King’s aide in claiming back Saint’s Hall. But even in the light of the Red Keep, Celys is hunted by wandering eyes and selfish intent, her grief shackling her to a life where she must decide whether to continue standing her ground, or to let all the devastation wash her away.

[czernyss]

:: FROM GRAVES ::

⤨ celys saintmont

from flames of ruin she emerged, bearing the strength of the gods and a determination wrought from the lives that had been taken from her. celys saintmont may have been young, and perhaps a little naive, but through her grief she had fashioned herself a plate of armour. they could try and defeat her (and oh they would try), but the last heir of saint’s hall would emerge victorious no matter what, because she had something that the rest did not: nothing left to lose. 

coming soon

[czernyss]

:: BOOK COVER :: 

⤨  from graves 

Celys is wearing a white gown the day they leave, only a slip of uneasiness mingling with her pride. The day they come back, that pale ivory gown is stained red as she falls over the bodies, festered and barely recognizable underneath all the blood. 

“My Lady!” Celys steeled a breath, and turned to where Qoren Sand stood over the mounds. He pursed his lips, but with the barest shake of her head, went back to what he had wanted to tell her. “The ground has unfrozen.” He needn’t said any more. 

It was time. 

Celys nodded, more to herself than anything, and went to wrap both arms around the bundle which lay beside her. She could no longer smell the effects of after-death, the rot like another perfume she wore around her neck. He’d been gone for days, yet his features were mostly in-tact. That only made it worse. She’d covered him with a blanket, smothering his perfect round lips and wide eyes from sight. 

In life, Martyn Saintmont never cried, not even when his mother left him in the care of the Septa, not even when Gared would poke him to get a reaction, not even during the worst of the summer storms. The 1-year-old only smiled and hiccuped and continued on as he had. 

But the night they left Saint’s Hall burning behind them, Celys cradling her brother too tight as Qoren reeled them away from the invaders, was the first time Celys saw tears on her baby brother’s cheeks. That night until his last, Martyn cried for their family, for their mother, for their father, and Celys cried for him. 

coming soon

[czernyss]

𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐜 𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐫 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐩𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐨𝐜?

i was tagged by the lovely @zoyazenik to take this uquiz for my ocs!! this was really fun and helped me get to the core of my characters. i’m tagging: @arrthurpendragon , @babyroblns , @fragilestorm , @prosemoireia , @hiddenqveendom​ , and anyone else who wants to take this quiz!!

frankensteins monster ⚰️

this plight is the simplest of them all: you did not ask for this. you were never given a choice. no part of yourself feels human, just a collection of traits you've picked up from mirroring anyone you could, even the people you meet through a television screen. it's alienating to live that way- yet someone has called you the alienating one. maybe too many people to count. maybe they treated you so uncomfortably inhuman that it's all you can understand now, or you've dug yourself into such a deep hole in an attempt to keep safe that you can't remember a person living in the home of your body at all. being alive is confusing and painful and lonely and loud but living is all there is to being human- you're already there. just take air into your lungs and breathe. close your eyes and picture a beautiful sky. you made that. you painted that yourself.

the one who opened the door 🕯️

you turn the door handle. you call out, “who’s there?” and the crowd has the audacity to groan, to get frustrated with you. as if the gift of hindsight was something you had. how the hell were you supposed to know you were born into a horror movie? no one bothered to tell you. say, if instead this was an action film, or a fantasy, would they still be telling you how silly of a mistake it was to press further on your quest? they would’ve commended you for your bravery. you thought you were going to be saving a princess in a tower, not getting stabbed in the back by a killer in the shadows. how is that fair? it isn’t, and none of that was ever your fault. it is not wrong to believe things are good. your trust, your optimism, it shouldn’t ever be mistaken for ignorance or stupidity. we need more people who open doors. how else are any of us gonna move forward?

the ghost 🪦

it’s an odd thing, to feel so far from grounded and yet trapped. tethered, unable to escape. there’s more you have to do! so why can’t you move? i’m sure you have an answer to that, at the very least in the back of your mind. people love to say that ghosts hold grudges or haunt for revenge but they always get it wrong; you’re stuck because something or someone chained you down and left you there. you try and reach out to all those bright people who pass through your life, but it rarely feels like it does much more than knock a cup off the table, blow some papers into the air. i need you to trust me- they see it. they’re listening. they’ll keep looking for you and, eventually, they’ll be able to see you too.

the harbringer 🧨

the harbringers have been through fire. you’ve got the scars to show for it. some people say that harbringers are jaded- scary, even, to people who don’t understand that the harbringer has seen the edge of the world and survived it. but being the harbringer means you’re cursed to watch younger, brighter eyes fall for the same traps you did. trying to help isn’t enough for you; you know what they’re getting themselves into, and you want to protect them the way no one ever protected you, so why won’t they just listen? it’s frustrating. it’s terrifying. no one should have to live through what you did, and i hope you know that you can’t protect everyone but it’s damn noble of you to try. it’s not your job to save the world but i hope you know you’ve already made a difference to everyone who has taken your words to heart. 

[czernyss]

𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐣𝐞𝐰𝐞𝐥 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐛𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬 𝐦𝐚𝐝𝐞 𝐨𝐟?

i was tagged by @samwilsonns to take this uquiz for my ocs! thank you so much, this was so interesting! i’m tagging: @hiddenqveendom , @folkloreik , @zoyazenik​ , @prosemoireia​ , & @arrthurpendragon​. character banners are inspired by @kingsroad​!! 

ONYX

reserved ( by choice ), decisive, self-sure and self-contained, selective, resolved, close-minded, intuitive, deliberate ⍚ opaque - my secrets are not for you ⍚ scrying - i can see more than you know ⍚ sharp - i know where to cut

AMBER

you hold in your heart fragments of everything that has ever passed through you. the good, the bad, the utterly mundane. ⌾ you catch it all and keep it. ⌾ you have a singular talent for holding on tight ⌾ collector, scavenger, hoarder, keeper ⌾ core: memory