#chartedworlds: asks

[chartedworlds-blog]

“There are no good choices here.” // the priestess!

meaningful sentence starters // ACCEPTING

There are no good choices here, she had once said. The Scoia'tael's cause or to die slowly in silence, snuffed out by dh'oine. No good choices.

It was a small village. Iorveth and his unit were already on their way out, their tattered shoes crunching over the charcoal and the cooling, cooling cinders. On their faces: nothing. No remorse. No regrets. Maybe a smile or a gleam of joy, perhaps, but he could not see their faces nor hear their steps nor feel their presence, the unwanted chill. He could only see the bodies. He could only hear the silence. He could only taste the ash, the burning earth stuck to his throat, and feel a swell lap against the walls of his hollow chest like a stirring, heavy wave.

Not that long ago he saw her grow life with her hands. Since then he wanted so badly to see her as the sun, this bright light...

“'Feainn,'” he echoed. Her name came with no warmth. “...I had been blind.”

A boy's hair tousled in the wind. Valathaan would not turn to face her.

[loveforsook-a]

@chartedworlds replied to your post: 

[I feel that way, too, and I think it’s something a lot of us feel at least once, but you are shining! Golden! Please do keep doing what you’re doing. It’s such a treat and, judging by these asks you get, this is a universal sentiment! :,)]

you’re right, and i know you’re right. and i don’t want to seem ungrateful to the people sending so many asks because i appreciate it beyond belief! sometimes the insecurity will come from no where. its and internal thing that needs work i guess. but thank you, thank you so much.

[chartedworlds-blog]

“Do you wish you could have done it differently?” :>

meaningful sentence starters // ACCEPTING

Candles laid in front of them. A stream of incense smoke, ashy thick, drifted back into their faces, and the breeze that slipped through the window leeched away whatever was left of this room’s fading warmth. Her gaze latched onto him, this soothsayer with her wild, black eyes. He thought back to a time four hundred years ago with a battle, a cry, Aedd Gynvael falling behind his back–

“For what purpose?” he asked, his voice deep but calm. A candle flickered and a shadow danced, hidden in the corner. The orange glow rippled over his face. “Neither I nor you, one who foresees, can undo what has past.”

[chartedworlds-blog]

Question: Do you miss her?

It was a clear night tonight, unseasonably warm. A breeze lifted the fragile page of his journal where the words had smeared but not the memory. He was almost afraid to touch it.

“Not a day has passed where I do not,” he said.

[chartedworlds-blog]

Does Valathaan have any fears?

He does. Valathaan’s two greatest fears are 1) being forgotten, both on a personal level and concerning the whole of the Aen Seidhe and 2) losing his own memories. 

The first has gradually been happening for a long, long time, unfortunately. Elven culture is being erased by humans and has been for centuries. Their way of life and their very essence are disappearing to the cruel hands of time and Man and, understandably, it isn’t something he takes easily especially since he has been alive before all of the turmoil started. As for he himself being forgotten, he knows what it’s like in a more immediate way. It is a pain he would not wish to relive.

[chartedworlds-blog]

3, 5, & 6!

Sensual Sunday

3. Is there a kind of music they associate with their loved ones or time spent with them?

Elven music, the chant of druids–they both make him think back to his home of Aedd Gynvael and to all his family, friends, and people. In part, it’s because they’re all in Elder Speech, the language of his kind, but it’s also more personal. With old, old elven songs and especially lullabies, it makes him think back to the days when all was well and when his mother sang him to sleep.

Birds in general tend to stir his memories, too. It reminds him of the days he accompanied his father when he hunted and also of Gwendolen, who was twittered at by angry birds for having destroyed nesting places. Women singing to themselves remind him of when she used to fill the lull with a tune whenever she was working or lying peacefully, closing her eyes with her head on his lap. It also reminds him of when she sang absentmindedly, sitting down, gazing blankly out a window.

5. Does your muse enjoy any specific scents? Are there any that bring back fond memories? Any that they associate with certain situations?

I touched upon this is a similar headcanon, so I’ll copy the answer there to here!:

Aedd Gynvael, his family, friends: The smell of evergreens in the bitter cold air and the earthy scent of wet dirt by a freezing riverbank. The smell of fresh cakes and fermented wine and even of burning ash and wood, bringing him back to the days when his people celebrated Belleteyn, the elven fertility festival, around cackling bonfires. He remembers when one of the young maidens dared him to jump the flames of love with her. But they also make him think of destruction, of death, the fall of Aedd Gynvael. 

His mother smelled of a fresh river, even the mountain air. His father, of the woods. 

Gwendolen: The sweet, light scent of vanilla and soap, crisp and clean. The salty brine of the ocean. Flowers. Herbs of all kinds, but mainly thyme, still fresh with soil. She was an herbalist and so their scent brings back memories of her, memories of anything and everything. There’d be too much to list. 

6. What terms of endearment might your muse use for their loved ones? Is there a theme, or something special for everyone based on their relationship?

He does use terms of endearment, but there’s no overarching theme connecting them all. For Gwendolen, he called her "en'ca minne," which is Elder Speech for “little love.” He also called her “my love,” “my moon,” and “my Northern Star,” also all in Elder Speech. He calls Tauriel (@fcrestmaiden) “little bird” or “milva,” which means kite (the bird), because of her desire to see the world and go beyond the confines of home. For the most part, aside from his love, he only uses terms of endearment for the young. Friends are usually, and quite simply, “my friend.”