#enidrhena

[vanbredevoort]

Lydia, my ego is hurt, I need my daily ego boost. I was rejected by this damn woman once again. Imagine I want to settle after 600 years for an HALF elf and she keeps gushing about her godess of darkness instead. Tell me I am pretty

"Lady of Sorrow guides us---

I'm kidding you are beautiful amazing astonishing smart capable regal elegant and what does she know tho, she was in a cult, i smell pyramid scheme right there, BE YOUR OWN BOSS AND BRINGER OF SHADOWS, ASK ME HOW kind of stuff and also did you look at the company she has? a teddy bear with rage issues, a wizard who dies of 1d6 'Being my ex girlfriend's leftovers' damage, a man with daddy and evil-devil-mommy issues, a toad with somehow similar rage issues, a giant who smells of bear crap, and a fucking vampire who doesn't die OR shine with glitter under the sun. preposterous.

also her hair is horrible."

[recitedemise]

@enidrhena asked: ❛  when  you’ve  been  fed  lies  for  so  long ,  you  eventually  lose  your  appetite  for  love .  ❜ (𝑺𝑶𝑭𝑻 𝑻𝑯𝑶𝑹𝑵𝑺 STARTERS: still accepting.)

"Or alternatively, you begin to crave all the more."

One look at them, and one might learn where they both stand.

Gale, preparing dinner for their party, doesn't quite meet her eyes. Rather, focused on his important task--mincing garlic, fragrant rothé in the air--he catches her lingering like ghosts at the door. She's colder than him, something like the tundra or a petulant winter. And yet, all ice that she is with such frost in her bite, she's still, he's discovered, like a midday sun. She's fierce and angry. She's a bristling peacock. Still, she's hungry, too, for the meagerest of things, and with a wedge of garlic slipping up his nails, he wonders what else was torn from her.

Love, apparently, a deep, deep one. Unlike her, Gale, unfortunately, still soppily wants it.

"I can't do much about the appetite for love," he segues, "but I can serve you the finest dinner this side of the Surbrin. At the very least, I can guarantee that one plate will hardly satisfy. If you're in need to be voracious, look no further." That sounds weak even to his own ears, but he still smiles, half a laugh spilling out of him. "Unfortunately, sating one hunger, in my experience, is no substitute for tiding another."

[taleswritten]

@enidrhena sent [ HOLD ]: while close to the receiver, the sender wordlessly takes a hold of their hand, for no other purpose than to be holding it. - Orin

"Can I help you, my pet?" Comes an near purr of a response from the murderous woman when her hand is taken in the others. Her head tilts at her, curious eyes drinking her in by allowing her gaze to trail over the woman's body in its entirety.

Still, Orin does not yank her hand away, she's rather curious as to what the woman plans on doing from here. Her fingers curl around the other's hand before nails dig slightly into the back of her hand, a quiet warning, that if she is not careful Orin will draw blood.

But oh, Orin looks forward to the chance she gets to see this beautiful woman painted in such a pretty color, and because of her as well.

[oathwilled]

033.   the dark depths of an abandoned mine . @enidrhena ⇢ setting prompts

This  place  is  crowded  and  dark,  the  ceilings  low  enough  to  make  him  have  to  duck  here  and  there,  and  he’s  not  particularly  tall.  This  was  the  easiest  and  fastest  way  across  a  chasm;  the  mine  had  been  cut  through,  and  it  was  either  this  or  spend  days  walking  around.  It’s  well-crafted,  old  dwarvish  structures  holding  firm  even  after  so  many  years;  even  so,  being  under  the  damn  earth  so  deep  sets  his  teeth  on  edge.  It’s  like  he  can  feel  the  old  mountains  breathing  around  him  ——

It  opens  up,  though,  into  broader  caverns  and  old  railways.  Most  anything  of  value  has  been  stripped  out  over  the  years,  and  he  steps  'round  an  old  mine  cart  that’s  broken  down  and  crowding  the  path.  "  How  long,  "  he  says  at  last,  dry  and  not  quite  resigned,  but  knowing  enough  of  how  these  things  usually  go,  "  until  we  find  the  reason  this  place  was  left  to  rot  and  it’s  somethin'  horrible?  "

To  the  left,  the  path  narrows  into  a  sharp  slope  and  then  a  drop,  and  he  feels  a  cold  sweat  creeping  down  his  spine;  he  keeps  his  eyes  firmly  on  the  path  ahead  and  as  close  to  the  wall  to  the  right  as  he  can.  "  These  places  always  have  somethin'  fucking  horrible  in  'em.  "

[roguerolled]

@enidrhena liked for a starter

"You want me to WHAT NOW?" Nashira blinked , failing to disguise the look of shock coming over her face. "Just to make sure I am hearing things right , you want to go on a crusade against a Goddess - not just any Goddess - but the Goddess of Magic?" The words , then , left her lips in a low tone , only AUDIBLE ENOUGH for the other to hear.

[witchereyed]

@enidrhena said: ❝ you allowed your heart to falter. that is the quickest way to fall on the battlefield. ❞

GERALT HAD NEVER BEEN overly fond of the colorful language that surrounded the heat of battle. Hearts faltering, passions waning, and all the like. Turned fighting for one's life into a poetic act.

❝ The fastest way to die is hesitation, a lack of resolve, ❞ the Witcher argued. ❝ I've seen what people would call the most heartful fighters fall in battle before. Battlefields are strewn with them. ❞

[wildskissed]

@enidrhena liked this for a starter

Honestly, when it came to Francesca, Eve still wasn't sure what she was in for, or what to expect. She was a limitless source of knowledge and while Eve didn't follow her as the ruler that she clearly was, that was only because of the way she was raised here in Faerun. Here, where the rulers of Elves and the self proclaimed Gods and Goddesses shaped the way that they grew up. Recognizing Francesca with the respect she deserved was a given, but Eve had her own rites to follow.

Still, the more Eve learned about her, the more she did wonder what more was out there. There were portals to other planes, there was magic of a different source, and as someone that was made up of pure magic, it was hard not to be enthralled. Not to look at Francesca when she spoke, with nothing but pure AWE in her eyes. So, when she seemed to notice she was being watched, Eve had the decency to be properly embarrassed and her cheeks tinged red.

"I'm sorry," she managed, shaking her head a little before she looked at the campfire. "It's just the way that you speak sometimes, captures my attention."

[luckhissoul]

casually lets a snowball being thrown from outside into her working room, straight into his face while sipping onto her tea, glaring him down over it, using some telepathy.

it's just a blast of cold, hard and then wet as it slides down his face. he's left just staring at her, his lips parting. he lets out a small noise of surprise as he looks at him, his eyes moving between hers. he closes his mouth once he tastes some of the wetness of the snow. he lifts his arm to wipe some of the water from his face. the rest of it has fallen on the floor, over his boots. "if you do that again i swear i'll ---" he says, pointing his finger at her. he sucks in a breath, against the cold. he shakes his head as he looks out the window. "that wasn't uncalled for." - @enidrhena

[dionadaiiraaa]

Eden sang a melody as sat upon the saddle of his old riding horse, Lenore. The dapple grey mare meandered down the dirt road. Winter was looming on the recesses of Autumn and very soon he would have to make the journey back to Kaer Morhen. Though, he could fit one more job before taking that plunge.

As he came down the hill, he noted a young woman. He nodded to her in greetings.

❝ Guid day, mistress, are ye alright? Are ye lost? ❞

@enidrhena liked for a starter.

[vanbredevoort]

@enidrhena

The beautiful way the sunlight of Toussaint illuminated the room, Lydia thought, did not quite reach the perfection Francesca was. Not even her frown as she stared at the pictures Lydia had so diligently drawn for her could take away the ethereal perfection she carried in every single gesture and movement.

Athena slept peacefully in her crib, ignorant of the one-sided conversation that was being held in Lydia and Vilgefortz’s living room. Lydia had never been one to talk much, but her second attempt at life had changed a lot of her demeanor, and that included her self imposed silence. For an hour, an entire hour she had spoken, explained, with patience and politeness—because some things just don’t change.

“And that, Lady Findabair… is how babies are made”, she finished, “That’s how Vil and I made that one over there, the one you so passionately avoid. Questions?”

[recitedemise]

@enidrhena asked: ❛  in  another  lifetime ,  we  have  definitely  done  this  before .  ❜ (𝑺𝑶𝑭𝑻 𝑻𝑯𝑶𝑹𝑵𝑺 STARTERS: no longer accepting.)

He laughs, small and rumbly. "If we had, I argue it's the reason for its ending, too. Though I suppose there's worse ways to go than death by sherry."

How right. Gale, purveyor of rich meats and lavish wines, is a man that's familiar with a spot of extravagance. He fancies his drinks, can be found with whiskey or red or white wines, and as a Dekarios man from those coasts of Waterdeep, alcohol, as it were, swam in his veins. He's pleasantly warm, loose in his body from just enough sips. However, Francesca is different, more awash by the sugars of their delectable sherry, and somehow, seeing her talk so freely, so glib and openly--it's a shift, he confesses, that he quite likes. Distantly, he imagines she'd never much indulged before. She's a name with fierce weight, some pillar of an era of that might of elves, and she is but finery and class and well-chosen words. No. Respite, leisure, are not her fancies.

But here, she comes--with benumbing novelty--to taste it a little. He'd only meant to share a cup, a humble celebration with her success in spellwork, but it seems it doesn't take much to spring a gentle color up cheeks. Gale, inquisitive, goes to cork the bottle with a smile. "If it were, I've every mind to avoid a repeat of the situation. It'd hardly do when you've only just begun to enjoy yourself. I should like to preserve it," this rare moment of something light. He flips a page in his book. "Not play a hand at its untimely demise."

[musezieren]

@enidrhena liked for a starter

"None of it is my blood, don't worry!" the sorcerer said with a smile that reminded of a cat that had gotten her claws on an especially delicious treat. His tail even swayed in content, not bothered by the amount of blood coloring his snow-white hair red and pink. "One of the bandits simply got a bit too close. I might be mostly a Sorcerer, but I can defend myself a bit in close combat, too."

[caelmewedd]

[ blanket ] sender draping a blanket over receiver's shoulders

Aevon raised her head slightly when she felt someone covering her with a blanket, at first she thought it was her mother or her father, but no, it was Francesca, an Aen Seidhe elf and Sorceress of the Lodge. It may have been a nice gesture, but it wasn't necessary, she wasn't cold and it was further enhanced by the magic of her dragon through the bond they shared. The dragon's magic was like a living fire flowing through her veins. It gave her a sense of security and brought her inner peace.

"Thank you, anyway." She replied softly and turn back her attention to her dragon.

[agoldenlily-archive]

What element writer are you?

Earth Writer

You have the patience it takes for flowers to grow, and break through the hard mountain floor. You writing is able to show an imagery not really anyone else can give. You gift your readers canvas painted with the most thought out shades anyone could imagine. You are the writer of those long stories that change the reader's life forever. You create whole universes with your words. Paint colorful worlds with words in black and white. Pains whole lives with ink. Your stories can hold the deepest meanings, but the majority of the time, your goal is not to teach anyone anything in particular, rather it's just to tell the story of someone, of how they grew, and faced their problems. Your favorite genres are fantasy, or mystery. You can also really love high school and college au. Your stories show universes never seen before, and building them can take a lot of time, but you don't easily give up. You have a great work ethic and, even if your sturdy foundations fall, you'll build new ones. Tropes that can be found in your fics include established relationships and canon.

tagged by: @ssolessurvivor tagging: @luckhissoul @xhideyourfires @adversitybloomed @honorhearted @everythingheard @ofsnarkandmagic @enidrhena @forwardlion

[avernusfuries]

𝙒𝙃𝘼𝙏 𝙆𝙄𝙎𝙎 𝙏𝙍𝙊𝙋𝙀 𝙄𝙎 𝘿𝙀𝙎𝙏𝙄𝙉𝙀𝘿 𝙏𝙊 𝘽𝙀 𝙄𝙉 𝙔𝙊𝙐𝙍 𝙉𝘼𝙍𝙍𝘼𝙏𝙄𝙑𝙀? THE NOW OR NEVER KISS.

The Last Kiss? No, it's not the last, but the characters don't know that. Death appears imminent — the temperature is rising, the room is filling up with water, the plane is about to hit the ground, the rope they're dangling from is about to break and drop them off the cliff, the room is on fire and the door's locked, the world is coming to an end... The point is, this is no place for unresolved sexual tension. The Not-A-Couple don't want to go out without revealing how they really feel. It's now or never. They kiss. This can also be 'Now or Maybe Never' kiss; one or both are heading into danger, or likely-potential death.

tagged by: @hellscaress! (thank you :]) tagging: @spiderwarden, @sanguisarcana, @nanlanmo, @journeyofrevenge, @enidrhena, @wornkindness + you.

[okruchlodu]

thinking about blood of elves when Ciri thinks about how sometimes Yen would take Nenneke's wicker chair & sit outside in the garden under the sun and wordlessly gaze into the distance for hours

“Lady Yennefer?” “Yes.” “What are you looking at like that?” “At that tree. That linden tree.” “And what's so interesting about it?” “Nothing. I'm simply feasting my eyes on it. I'm happy that… I can see it.” “I don't understand.” “Good.” Silence. No words. Humid.

it will never not make me scream internally. head in hands screaming crying.

thank you @enidrhena for allowing me to put into words the pure, unbridled ANGUISH and desperation yen must have felt over allowing herself to be BLINDED with magic