#sov.pd

[sovereigntyhq-blog]

5 MONTHS AGO...

caitlin and i revamped a roleplay that captivated our hearts. in february of 2017, i opened an appless roleplay that was sort of an off-brand game of thrones / lord of the rings / eragon. i didn’t think it would go anywhere, really. especially when all the apps i was getting were female characters. ( no tea, no shade. ) until i got our very first male application, for the king of bearoria: nathaniel robert winnell. from then on, caitlin has proven to be one of my best friends. and stuck through me with everything that went down. two weeks after sovereignty first opened, i asked her to be a fellow admin. a great decision but come two weeks later ( a month after sovereignty opened ), my laptop breaks down. 

that was the end of sovereignty 1.0. but after a small revamp and a fixed laptop, sovereignty 2.0 was born. we were excited to get our characters + the plot going again. while we didn’t know if previous members would return ( we messaged every single member to come back ), we welcomed the new ones with open arms. & five months later, here we are with an even larger family and still, an active dash. 

caitlin and i have put a lot of work into this roleplay but really, this group wouldn’t be standing if it weren’t for our amazing members. so it’s because of you that we have been one of the longest appless roleplays in the tags ! thank you so much for never losing muse, never giving up on your admins and just being ultimately amazing members. we appreciate you guys so much and love you like our own children. words cannot amount to how much y’all mean to us so please.. take this as a token of our love and gratitude. 

some of you have seen the survey so.. YES !! we are bringing back new abilities ! consider this our anniversary gift to you all ! we’ve listened to you guys’ ideas about what abilities you’d like to see and decided to add them to our list. for any new members, this is how it goes down: you like the post if you wish to participate in our random drawing. we’ll be randomly picking several characters ( while taking into account their activity as well ) and gifting them some abnormal abilities. recipients are required to write a self paragraph on their character developing such abilities ( tag it as: sov.task ). if you need any ideas on how they discovered their abilities, let us know !

as of right now, we already have some: adrian calvierri ( animal bond w/ a gryffin ) brynjolf mallory ( retrocognition ), charlotte rowe ( elf ), purnelle hawthorne ( siren ), and sybil beaumont ( necormancy ). 

KEY NOTE: THESE ABILITIES ARE FOR NON-ROYALS ONLY !

with that being said, the following abilities we’re giving out are:

ANIMAL BONDING

this ability depends on the animal; the animal will be able to understand your thoughts, wishes, and wants. while the said person doesn’t have the ability to control the animal’s actions, it’s more of an abnormally close friendship between the two. think of eragon and saphira, except the animal wouldn’t be able to speak back to said character. while this is a controlled ability, please remember that this is a BOND, meaning it happens over time. for example, the said animal wouldn’t be able to fully understand everything said character wants on their first introduction. it’s a budding friendship so it grows within time. please note that this isn’t with an entire species but one special creature. message the main with what animal you desire from the creatures page. this character is HUMAN so they can perish the same ways a human can.

DREAM MANIPULATION

the ability to alter or manipulate one’s dreams. think of pitch from rise of the guardians ! this ability would need to consult with their target’s mun before application because we do not allow any god-modding whatsoever. the techniques range from entering one’s dreams to giving their target nightmares. but like the many other abilities, this dream strengthens with every application. so said chosen character may only be able to enter a dream at first before progressing into a more advanced technique. however, please take note that doing such an act would take a lot of energy out of the user-- especially if they’re new to the ability. this character is HUMAN so they can perish the same ways a human can.

MAGICAL ITEMS

there are some items throughout zenan that have sold for exceptionally high and can only be found on the black market. there are tall tales of these items, two that are notorious: the invisibility cloak and ebony steel. 

THE INVISIBILITY CLOAK has been a myth for centuries. floating in and out of the black market and being owned by many owners. the cloak, while worn, gives the allusion that the wearer is invisible to the rest of the world. despite being invisible, if touched by someone, they will be able to feel said person underneath a cloak. ( think of harry potter and his cloak. ) 

EBONY STEEL is the rarest of steels throughout zenan. in fact, there’s not many swords left that have been crafted by it. ( i.e. literally no swords left. ) but perhaps your character found some and has decided to have a sword made from it ?? giving them one of the strongest swords in all of zenan and teshayra. ( think valyrian steel from game of thrones. )

the bearers of these items are HUMAN so they can perish the same ways a human can.

4 lucky characters will be chosen for the abilities above. the abilities will be given in order as shown. so the first person the generator chooses will get the animal bonding, the second would get dream manipulation and so on. SO WITH THAT BEING SAID, if you wish to participate, please like this post + respond with your characters’ names if you have multiple ! 

one again, happy 5 month anniversary, sovereignty family ! we love you all so much.

[pvnclora-blog]

                   HER FATHER STANDS AT THE HELM OF THE SHIP, looking out to what will soon be his. she does not recognize the look on his face. it’s something so ugly; borne of anger and and jealousy. a year ago, when she was nothing but a princess of pretty gowns and heavy crowns, his expression would’ve sent a shiver up her spine. now, she almost mirrors him.

                   “ land ho !! “

                   she lifts her gaze to glance up at the man in the nest. “ father, “ she says gently, a hand on his arm. “ we grow near. “

                  he nods. she wishes she could be like him — unfaltering in his decision. so… resolute. she had her doubts – here they were invading the land of those that freed them from the pirates – but, ultimately, pandora had decided her father was right. they had to take zenan for themselves. there’s nothing left for them in teshayra; nothing left of them in teshayra. there was ash and rubble and corpses.

                  “ look, “ he says as he gazes outward. his voice is menacingly low. if he hadn’t exuded the power of that of a seasoned king, one might’ve thought he was mumbling. “ we give them onewarning shot. “

                  she turns over her shoulder to ensure her father’s will is done. pandora’s eyes meet that of a crew member. she recalls his name is ali, or abrahim – something like that. the man nods immediately before running off with a shout, “ run a shot ‘cross the bow !! his highness commands it !! “

                  seconds after, a loud boom is heard. the sounds is deafening. she almost stumbles at the cannon fire but her father catches her arm. he gives her a stern look. “ don’t, “ he warns. don’t give them a reason to turn against you.

                  although shaken, she nods. then, pandora looks. she almost voices how similar it seems to teshayra’s coasts. the coast on which their castle once stood. how the water resembles the waves she and hector gazed longingly upon once. but she doesn’t. not for the fear that she sounds like the frivolous little girl she once was.

                 from the corner of her eye, pandora notices that abrahim / ali / whoever he is has returned. he stands surprisingly close to her father’s side. pandora sends him a dirty look. he seems not to care.

                 “ drop anchor. “ her father commands to the pirate. “ ensure the other three follow suit. “ both pandora and the man turn over their shoulders to look at the three other warships that trail behind them. their flotilla is small – their numbers had suffered after the year in which she and her father were held – but her father insists it’ll be enough to take their first country.

[ofemeline]

if this is to end in fire then we should all burn together

an emeline siobhan mireen self para.

the mood is somber tonight. it has been, for more than a fortnight. and despite the responsibilities resting on her shoulders-- the promises she carelessly promised to people. emeline is lost. she’d accepted refugees into her kingdom, people with the potential to harm her or her people and yet-- she needed to leave. get out of dracborough, leave the heat. it’s too much, now. the gods have yet to give her a sign of what she should do, she hadn’t even met with king henry on how to fix the mess that nathaniel ( may he rest in peace ) left the world in. though, she supposes, she cannot blame him. but because of this conclusion, she feels angry with him-- for leaving her with the burden of fixing everything or giving her the option to watch the world burn.

the latter seems tempting but she knows what he would want-- she knows what the right thing to do is. and yet, here she stands across ysellian who looks at her warily. never had she visited him at such a late time. but she itches to leave. having not heard much from the kradaecans or the bearorians, perhaps she ought to see it for herself. it takes her but quick time to straddle the back of the charcoal colored dragon and soon, she is off into the night. 

it’s a peaceful ride, slow and quiet. almost as if ysellian knows of her clenched heart, how pained she’d been. and she’s grateful that the beast can read her so well, perhaps even better than her own advisors who speak the common tongue. green hues peer down at the ground, ignoring the cloud that whisks passed them. it’s dark, making it difficult to see. her hands grip the spikes along his back tightly, urging him lower to the ground. without much protest, he lowers himself, giving her a better view of the land before her. there’s trees that they loom above and it takes her but several seconds to recognize the forbidden forest. 

soon enough, she catches the small torches that light up the kingdom of bearoria. she’s careful to keep them at a considerable distance, hoping no guards or scouts spot them. the ride is silent, nothing to be heard but the whoosh of ysellian’s wings. it feels odd, she’d expected burning of the huts and anarchy but instead, it looks normal. as if there had been no invasion to begin with. which all the more angers her and with a push of her legs, she pushes her dragon to fly west, in hopes to leave bearoria, or what looks like bearoria.

her hair breezes in the wind and her eyes water from the speed. suddenly, the flapping of ysellian’s wings can no longer be heard, instead they’re being overlapped by the rush of waves from the great black sea. the smell of salt reaches her senses that cause her to reminisce of her times back in teshayra and she wonders, what is to come with the mess of the teshayra king ?

suddenly, the bow that hangs on her back seems awfully heavy as she approaches the familiar castle. she thinks of how frequently she would visit as a little girl, coming with her father to meet the royals at every kingdom and prepare herself for her queenly duties. she’d come to know the castle inside and out, even before adair was even born. ysellian circles the castle numerous times before they settle near a balcony that overlooks the pitch black ocean. his flapping of wings causes the grass to shiver underneath which serves as a ruckus. and it’s only at that ruckus does the king emerge from his chambers, stepping onto the balcony. 

her bow is in front of her now, an arrow dipped in flaahvra ( a poisonous flower from the lands of teshayra. ) juice aimed right at the man’s head. there are no words exchanged between them. they know what is to come. it feels hours have passed as she sits atop ysellian, an arrow pointed at the usurper who’d come to disrupt their peace. there’s hesitation from emeline, to which the king notices and the slightest of smirks is what triggers her. what pushes her to the edge. her fingers release the string, watching as the arrow swiftly flies through the air, effortlessly, silently and impales the man who falls on his adair’s balcony floor immediately. 

there are no words left to be said, she feels no remorse for the death she caused. for the murder she’d done. she feels nothing as ysellian takes off into the night once more, heading south to their home in the fire.

[piratesofsov-blog]

A SOVEREIGNTY PLOT DROP

“Father, are you sure?”

“Yes-- We will be rid of these pirates and take back our home.”

It happened so quickly. The man was witnessing his daughter being beaten repeatedly. A scene he was far used to after being the pirates’ prisoner for a little over a year ( or so it seemed ), he could hardly tell how much time has passed since the pirates ransacked their three kingdoms. Soon there was a shout that seemed to catch his daughter’s abuser’s attention. The pirate’s scarred face whipped up in curiosity before he exited the tent hastily. 

“Are you alright, dear?” But all he could get was a grunt in response. 

He did his best to listen in on the commotion going on outside while his daughter laid in pain. Though his hearing was strained from the many beatings he took, he managed to catch several words that stood out: king, escaped, wolf, dead. 

He was far too aware of the Zenan royals that traveled across The Unforgiving Ocean ( the black sea ) to avenge their people. Was it possible that the people of Zenan were winning this war? Would they be saved? 

As many charging footsteps ran near their tent, the man crawled close to the opening, peering outside to feed his interest. There was a lack of guards by their tent and suddenly, a sliver of hope appeared in his heart. His hands were still bound but he quickly nudged his daughter awake. 

“We have to leave now. Before they return. Hurry, darling.” 

Perhaps she was obedient or perhaps she was far too weak to even question her father but the young woman stood up anyway. His daughter leaned majority of her body on him to which he struggled with but managed to get them out of the tent. As he noticed the clear absence of pirates, he tugged his daughter towards the woods, following the roaring sound of those familiar waves.

Their pace was slow, cautious. And there was something in him that told him to turn back, go back to the tent and do not tempt death more than he already had. Though his gaze reverted to his daughter whose face was swollen from the prior abuse she endured. Seeing her in such a state fueled him to pick up the pace. Not to mention the various shouts that resonated from the camp behind them. 

They were running now, sprinting. His eyes were focused on the view ahead of them, ignoring the trees that sped passed them, his daughter’s jaded grunts, and the hurried steps following them. His vision blurred with tears of relief as he recognized the castle just a few yards in front of them. 

“We are nearly there, I promise,” he reassured his daughter, tugging her harshly as they emerged from the forest.

Though their victory was short-lived as guards of Zenan surrounded them. Swords at the ready, nothing but anger and hatred covering their features. The man raised his bounded hands in surrender, peering behind him in hopes that the pirates hadn’t followed them this far.

“Please! Kill us not!”

A guard speaks for the rest, his voice muffled from his armor. “Who are you? State your business!”

“I am the King of Teshayra and this is my daughter. We are the rightful rulers of this land!”

[brynmallory-blog]

“ the flowers on the cliff shall save us all. ”

self-para. 

IT WAS STRANGE being in a four-poster bed again. bryn hadn't slept on anything but a straw mattress --- and sometimes just straw --- since his title had been stripped all of those years ago, and being under feather-filled blankets with his head on a down pillow was like heaven, and he was sleeping better than he had in years. he dreamed of the future rather than the past, and the undertones of his dreams were not negative as they used to be --- for once, bryn’s future was BRIGHT, and he looked forward to waking up rather than dreading it.

but soon his dreams began to mingle with reality, and the line between what was real and what wasn’t began to blur and twist with an uncontrolled fervor. bryn woke with a start, but he did not feel afraid of the emptiness in his chest --- for he was not himself. just as he had done so many times before in the past months, he realized the skin he was in was not that of his own body, and as he stood from the bed without thought or control, his inner mind SCREAMED to be released from the prison it had been locked in, his mind choosing instead to inhabit one of the past. but there was only one thing to do, and bryn knew it --- he had to wait it out, and witness whatever his gods-forsaken curse ability had in store for him.

his hands were soft and supple, not anything like his own rough ones, which were callused and hardened from years of work in the harsh elements; his hair was short and trimmed, and there was none of his usual stubble on his face. his muscles didn’t feel sore, but his mind --- or whoever’s mind from the past he was inhabiting --- was rife with stress and dread. 

he lifted his gaze, and saw a man in the doorway of the lush bedroom; seemingly, he was the reason he had gotten up so quickly. the man was dressed in raggedy, unwashed robes, and his hands were stained and blotted with grass and other signs of the forest or wood, as if he had been rummaging through the wilderness in search for something. a healer, in search for ingredients.

“ ser! quickly, you must come --- we have finally found something! ” the man proclaimed excitedly, his voice lilting with a clear kradaeca accent. bryn felt himself stand and rush towards the door, accompanying the healer outside of a castle he didn’t recognize. as they exited the walls of the castle, the air was thick with the smell of salt water, and the further bryn followed the healer it became increasingly obvious that they were near the shore. 

“ over here, ser, by the cliff’s edge! ” the healer said breathlessly, rushing towards the edge of a sharp stone cliff that cut off steeply, displaying the deadly waves crashing against sharp rocks that sat far down below. the wind was chilled by the edge of the cliff, but the sun beating down still caused a bead of sweat to roll down the back of his neck. he felt himself reach up and wipe his forehead with a stranger’s hand, and the sound of his breath catching in his throat was unfamiliar. bryn felt a pang of excitement fill his stomach, though he did not know why the man would be excited over what the healer was showing him. 

there was a cluster of flowers on the very edge of the cliff, nearly on the down slope of the rocks. as bryn felt himself step closer to examine them, they became clearer --- blindingly WHITE flowers, with slightly wrinkled petals that gave the flowers a wilted look, though they all seemed to be in full bloom.

“ are these the flowers? ” bryn felt himself ask nervously, his voice completely foreign. “ rhosthon, tell me --- are these the flowers that will cure the land of the plague? ”

“ yes, ser, ” the healer, now known as rhosthon, said with a wide smile that revealed broken teeth and blackening gums. “ we finally found it! ”

rhosthon said something else, but bryn could no longer hear him. the world around him swirled with a white fury, the cliff breaking off into the air and the healer rhosthon disintegrating with a FLURRY of robes and smoke. 

bryn woke up screaming, his mind in his own head again. he was covered in a cold sweat, and his hair stuck to his face as he panted, trying to catch his breath --- but there was no time to waste. the newly appointed duke flung the covers from his legs and ran from the room, wearing only his sleeping trousers; but he didn’t care. bryn ran as fast as his legs could take him, his bare feet padding through the hallways and corridors that lead to the infirmary. he could think of no where else to go, no where else the information could be so highly valued.

bryn stormed into the bed-lined room, and several healers and nurses gasped at the sudden intrusion. he took a moment to catch his breath, and took a few steps into the room that smelled of tonics and smoke from the fires that supposedly kept the sickness from the air. he took one last steadying breath.

“ i know how to cure it, ” bryn said breathlessly, his tone reminiscent of rhosthon’s voice from before. “ i know how to cure the plague! ”

[katyavasiliev]

katya had left the safety of her home to go find a place to spend her husbands money. she had planned to get another coat - maybe they would visit norden sometime again and she’d like to be prepared.  or perhaps a new pair of over prized gloves would be good.  anything to make her forget about the bruise on her cheek dimitri had given her the day before.

it was usual for people to approach the countess with their offers, especially when she clearly liked to spent way too much coin on clothes. she refused a good amount of them that day until there was someone who offered her what he claimed was the rarest item in all of kradaeca . there was something off about the man, the way he hid his face behind his dark coat, hood pulled up to his face.   but still, katya reached out to feel the fabric of the expensive cloak he was offering to her.   it did not seem like anything special,   however the price this man demanded was anything but ordinary.  perhaps it was the way he was being so secretive about it or maybe katya just wanted to spend dimtri’s money -  but she bought it. it was later that day when katya had returned home that she actually took notice of the cloak she’d bought. it was lying on her bed next to many other things she’d gotten that day and the countess decided to finally put the items in her closet one by one. when she was reaching for the most expensive thing she stopped before her mirror, deciding to try it on. she’d spent so much money on it, it might as well look good on her. however that was when the unimaginable happened. the second she’d thrown the cloak around her shoulders she could no longer see her body in her reflection. eyes widened in shock an d for a moment she just stood there, staring at the mirror. that was sorcery - no surprise it had been that expensive.

 for a moment she thought, this was the way to murder her husband unseen,       but then she took it off again. katya had never been one to believe in magic, but how could she not when it was so clearly there? when she had the undeniable proof in her hands? looking over her shoulder once to make sure no one else had seen it, she turned to her closet again and hid it in the back of it, a small smile on her lips. 

[kinghenrymontague-blog]

event self-para: THE KIDNAPPING

after emeline had asked henry about nathaniel, he had wanted nothing more from the conversation. through no fault of the queen’s, her mention of the bearorian leader had brought to the surface many feelings that henry did not wish to sift through over breakfast — or at all. the mixture of jealousy, love, lust, and longing had become the main occupant of the king’s mind and heart, and the last thing he wanted was to say something to accidentally jeopardize the secrecy of their relationship. and so he had made an excuse — but a good one, for he had to have a good reason for leaving so abruptly.

he had wanted to make sure lyanna’s night had not tired her too much or made her ill in some way. she was still so young, and her shifts were bound to still scare her more than anything. and so he had begun his trek to her chambers, taking the long way to avoid bumping into too many royals or nobles on their way to breakfast. he needed to think things over, and he couldn’t do that and small talk at the same time.

henry had been too involved in his thoughts to notice the group of pirates moving towards him until it was too late. they grabbed and pulled at him forcefully, and although he tired to fight back, it was useless without a weapon or companion. he tried to yell out — to curse or to scream, he didn’t know — but a hand cupped his mouth and prevented any loud sound from escaping. he was already weak from his shift, and he knew he had no chance against such a vehement group. a cloth gag replaced the hand, and some other piece of cloth fall over his head. he could only see the pattern of the fabric, some sort of burlap, and nothing was visible through it. he gagged and tried to scream, but the only thing that came out was a struggled grunt, and his throat constricted as the gag did its job a little too well. he was jostled roughly enough to cause bruising, and soon he was thrust into a darker setting — perhaps the woods? he could only smell the remnants of whatever rotten food had occupied the burlap sack, and his stomach churned.

his mind was still in the castle, though his body was being taken from its walls. his family was there; his children… were they safe? his heart fell into his stomach, and the wine threatened to come back up at the thought of his children being injured in any way. perhaps if the pirates were only taking him hostage, he could barter a deal and make sure his children were not harmed. they hadn’t killed him yet, so they obviously had a plan… he had been so easily targeted, so it would seem that royals, and perhaps nobles, were at the center of the attack. did that mean the other kings and queens would be taken as well? did they…

nate. the kind eyes of the other king swam in henry’s blurring vision as his legs gave out beneath him, causing the pirates to begin dragging the tall king of norden along with no large amount of grace. if nate was harmed… gods. henry didn’t even want to imagine what the pirates would suffer from at his hands.

soon he was thrown to the ground, and the burlap was ripped from his head. the gag was cut, and his vision cleared. around him was a sizable group of pirates, all around a central fire pit, with several tents surrounding the outlying area. they began asking him questions, as expected, and he closed his eyes. he did not plan on answering any of them, and the weapons turning towards him told him that were not going to make a deal. soon the pirates grew impatient, and henry felt the hilt of a sword hit the side of his head with considerable force. instantly he fell fully to the ground, and his vision faded to blackness. his last thought before he lost consciousness was that of his children, of nate, and of all of the innocent people in the castle walls. if he could manage to stay alive until dusk, he could return in the morning, and see for himself the damage the pirates had caused.

the interrogation was brutal, but he survived the knife points in the tender parts of his skin, the flats of swords bruising large parts of flesh, and the harsh words spat into his face. he snarled back snide remarks every once in a while, sometimes teasing at an answer to make sure they kept him alive. they got irritated and took a knife to his hair, cutting it jaggedly and leaving him with the hair of hot youth — the hair of a prince and not a king. and then the sun sank below the tree line, and henry felt his bones begin to ache with transition immediately. having kept the wolf at bay the previous night, he was able to let it free early — the gods were smiling on him, it seemed, if only just a little. soon he lost control, his screams turning into howls as he desperately tore at the pirates with a premature revenge.

it was late dawn when he woke up, shivering with cold and fright, drenched in sweat and blood — both his and the pirates, whose entrails could be traced back to their camp. he quickly scrambled away from the scene, his empty stomach churning with stress and disgust. his mind reeled, and with only his torn underwear as coverage, he stumbled back to the castle, guided by the sun and tall towers of the building in the distance.

[niamh-the-imposter-blog]

According to myth, elves only meet death through the clash of swords, the stab of flesh, the spill of blood. (According to myth, even halflings live far beyond the years of normal man.) They watch kingdoms rise and fall. They watch children be born, then grow old and die. They stand vigil over the lives of men, the silent sentries of history. 

Immortality is a gift not given to the faint of heart, and fate has a way of weeding out those unworthy of it... 

For weeks, Astrid had been feeling unwell - dizzy, nauseated, so worried she couldn’t sleep. She could barely stomach food, and yet her belly still seemed to swell. Paranoia set in, the kind where she could feel her heart beating ragged and thready in her throat. 

There was a potion Aunt Margaret used to make back at the brothel, and when she was young, Astrid would make herself of use by picking all the ingredients out in the woods. Not for the faint of heart, Margaret used to say, but for those who were strong of will, it could make their troubles go away. 

Astrid could use that now, and with all the court in a frenzy, it was easy enough to sneak away to the woods. She hardly had reason to fear for her safety now - not when the worst had already happened. 

Back in her chambers, she followed the recipe by memory alone, and the resulting mixture was just as brown and mucky as she had remembered it. It was bitter going down, and she had to suppress the urge to vomit, but she managed to swallow down every last drop. 

It only took two hours for her to begin to bleed - faster than she remembered it being, but time seemed to drag in youth, and she thought nothing of it. The cramping was something terrible, but she told herself the pain would absolve her of her sins. 

Still, time passed on and the pain didn’t cease. It got worse, in fact, until it felt like it had seized her entire body. The aches panged with the beating of her heart, a constant throb. Thud thud. Thud thud. Thud thud....

And then the pain started to lessen, to come slower, and crash over more like the whitecaps at shore and less like the tidal waves. 

Thud thud... 

...

Thud thud....

...

Thud.... 

Thud...

.... 

Thud. 

Until suddenly, it stopped. Until suddenly, all of it stopped. No more pain. No more hurt. No more weak heart. 

Immortality is a gift not given to the faint of heart, and fate has a way of weeding out those unworthy of it... 

[adrian-calvierri-blog]

The castle felt too crowded.

Even in his chambers, attempting to read a book, Adrian was interrupted every five minutes by the sounds of people passing by his door. When it got to the point that he had read the same sentence fifteen times, he decided enough was enough.

Abandoning the book, he made his way down to the stables, having decided that a solitary ride through the wilderness of the new world would be time better spent.

The heat of the sun beat down against his skin as he charged through the fields, and after a long hour of riding, he decided to take shelter in a dense copse of trees to give both himself and Ash a break from the heat. Sunlight dappled through the woodland in emerald fractures, but the shade was much cooler, and he even came across a small brook where Ash could drink. It was as the horse was taking gulps from the stream that Adrian heard a high-pitched screeching noise close by.

It was a sound he had never heard before that he could barely describe. It was somewhere between a squawk and a roar, and yet not quite either of those things. Curiosity got the better of him, and he started traipsing through the forest undergrowth to find the source of such an unusual noise.

The last thing he had expected to find was a creature straight out of a book.

It was a young one, definitely, since it was roughly about the same size as a puppy - maybe a few weeks old? He couldn’t believe his eyes, but the combination of eagle and lion was unmistakable. He was looking at a baby gryffin, one of the rarest creatures in the world. He knew from reading about them that the mothers were fiercely protective of their young, but were known to abandon the runts of the litter, and he could only assume that was what had happened here. He was frozen in surprise at the sight. Gryffins were so rare that a lot of people thought they didn’t exist at all, and yet here was one before him, crying out for a mother that had abandoned it to the wild.

He felt a strange connection to the creature. It was almost as if an invisible string was threaded between them, bonding man and beast. When he took a step closer, the gryffin looked up at him with wide, curious eyes but made no attempt to flee. He inched closer, doing his best to remain calm and quiet so he didn’t scare the young beast. It did cower away from him the closer he drew towards it, but yet it was not fleeing through the undergrowth, which Adrian took as a positive sign.

Finally, he was so close to the gryffin that he could reach out a hand and touch it, but instead he reached into the satchel hanging at his hip and took out one of the chicken legs he had swiped from the kitchen. He had read that gryffins mostly ate meat, although he wasn’t sure how one this young would react to it. For all he knew, it still might need milk. But he tossed the chicken leg in front of the creature and watched as it tentatively craned its head and sniffed at the offering before devouring it so quickly that Adrian fell backwards in surprise. Only a picked-clean bone remained, and the gryffin stood up and started to pick its way slowly towards Adrian. It took a moment for him to realise that it wasn’t trying to attack, but could smell the rest of the food in his satchel. He reached in again and pulled out another chicken leg, holding it out towards the beast. “Do you want this?” 

It titled its head, and he threw the chicken leg towards it, a small chuckle escaping him as the gryffin plucked it out of midair and wolfed it down.

He sat there for a while, throwing food for the gryffin to gobble down in seconds until his satchel was empty. “No more.”

The gryffin tilted its head again, but this time in the direction of the empty satchel, as if telling him to pull out more food or at least check if he missed anything.

“I’m not lying.” He lifted the empty bag and held it out towards the creature so it could see for itself that all of the food was gone. “See? Empty.”

The gryffin leaned towards the bag, probably trying to scent any leftover scraps, and then to Adrian’s surprise, it hopped into the satchel.

“What are you doing?” He reached a hand into the bag, but the creature snapped at his fingers and he withdrew them quickly. It watched him with a way eye for a moment, as if warning him not to do it again, and then curled itself into a ball and nestled into the lining of his satchel. All he could do was watch in amazement as the mythical beast slowly closed its eyes.

Adrian had two options. One: he could leave his satchel out here for the gryffin to leave whenever it pleased and live out his life in the wild; or two: he could take the gryffin home with him. It was the runt of the litter and judging by how fast it had wolfed that food down, it had been a while since it had last eaten. He didn’t know how well such a young creature could survive on its own in the wild. On the other hand, bringing it home would mean accepting responsibility for caring for a creature he had a very limited knowledge of. A creature that was so rare it had a mythical status, and a creature that was not known for being friendly - the nip at his fingers confirmed that.

And yet when he looked down at the ball of feathers and fur curled up in the bottom of his bag, Adrian felt a pang in his chest. It was more than just sympathy for the gryffin - it was as though something was compelling him to take it home and care for it. He wasn’t sure he would physically be able to abandon it. And so Adrian settled upon following the more ridiculous of the two options, and carefully fastened the flap of the satchel down before hiking it up onto his shoulder and making his way back to Ash.

[pvrnelle]

S I R E N ( xx )

this is a woman who has the abnormal power of seduction. she can either sing or play an instrument that causes her victims to go into a trance. once in a trance, she can influence their actions. this character is human so they can perish the same ways a human can.

she is thirteen when she sits by her window, playing her flute. she’s playing a sea song. or, maybe he called it the sea song. either way, it was an old song originally taught to her by her father on the piano. in truth, it sounded best there. the notes and style were meant to echo that of heavy waves crashing, the weight only achievable on a piano. but, the flute offered something else. there, the notes danced like a light summer’s breeze, as if one were on a sail boat for an afternoon cruise.

one of her older brothers, conor, interrupts the sweet melody as he angrily stomps into her room. she does not blink an eye. she’s too concentrated on the feeling of the music. instead, she finishes her song. conor is always angry. it is nothing new.

finally, she serenely turns to her brother. he stands at her door, still. purnelle’s head tilts in confusion. usually, he barges in without a care.

“ well, ” she says, “ if you’re just going to stand there, take off your shoes and come in. i just swept. ”

he does without argument. it’s a first. he hardly ever listens to her.

“ it’s almost as if you’re in a trance, ” she says with a laugh.

-

three years later, when she is sixteen, purnelle sings the sea song under her breath as she chokes back tears. she left the house with a basket of laundry and shaking hands. it was a common side effect of being in the same room with her mother. to relieve her anger, she scrubs viciously at one of conor’s shirts. she wants to rip up one of her mother’s dresses, but thinks against it. she wants to run away, but knows she couldn’t possibly.  she wants to cry, but does not.

“ ‘till my soul is full of longing   for the secret of the sea,   and the heart of the great ocean   sends a thrilling pulse through me. ”

she doesn’t realize someone is standing behind her. nonetheless, their fists still curl-- as if they feel the same anger she does, as if they’re about to swing for her. but, the song is stopped by her sobs. the spell is broken and the other person walks away shortly, feeling disoriented and upset. their presence goes unnoticed.

-

at age nineteen, she sits next to little lucrezia delacour on a small piano bench. she’s teaching the girl the sea song. she’s the first student she tries teach it to. it’s not hard, but it’s just too close to her heart. the only reason she decides to teach it to her is because lucrezia reminds purnelle a lot of herself. she’s a lonely young girl whose only friends are her teacher, and her piano.

purnelle plays the first verse for her reference. it’s a song she sings in her sadness but it’s delicate and playful right now. this girl sitting beside her deserves happiness. 

she turns to the girl expectantly. “ now, ” she says, a small smile on her face, “ could you play c major for me ? ”

the little girl nods excitedly. with a bright smile, she lifts her hands to the keys and plays the notes. purnelle blinks. while she thinks it’s strange for the typically withdrawn child to be so bubbly, she praises the girl for job well done.

-

when she is twenty-two, she receives a song request from a man she cannot refuse. the two of them find themselves sitting in the dilapidated garden. just as purnelle sits primly with her ankles crossed and flute resting on her lap, aeron sits relaxed with his arm resting lazily behind her. her dark eyes meet his blue ones and her heart melts at the excitement in them.

she’s never met anyone who seemed so interested in her.

“ a song ? ” she echoes, buying herself time. she has to think for moment. “ there’s one i could play ? ”

he nods eagerly.

and so she lifts the flute to her lips and plays. she plays the sea song. the first few notes are weak and unsure-- she hasn’t played it on the flute in years. but as she continues, it comes back to her. the sound intensifies and there is no mistake as she plays it. by the time she draws out the last note, even she has tears in her eyes. this is as naked as she’s ever been.

hesitantly, she looks up at him, “ what did you think ? ”

she does not think that he will tell her he did not like it. no one has ever disagreed that she was a musical prodigy. she simply wants to know his opinion-- even if he’s not a musician himself. this song is a piece of herself. it’s engraved on her heart. it’s her life story, her hopes and dreams.

carefully, she ventures, “ aeron ? ”

there’s a beat before he finally replies. “ beautiful, “ he says with a long nod. 

“truthfully ? ” he nods again.

she smiles bashfully as she lowers her flute. “ i’m glad you liked it. i... well, i don’t usually play for people. “ 

aeron takes her hands. her breath hitches. his eyes meet hers ( something is wrong with this picture, she thinks to herself ) and there’s two things she wants to happen. firstly, she wants him to tell her she’s beautiful. then, she wants to kiss him. 

“ you, “ he starts, “ are beautiful. “ then, he leans in to kiss her. 

her eyes flutter to a close. but, a startling realization hits her. her hands pull away from her sharply as she raises them as a barrier. “ please stop that. “ she says / pleads / demands.

then, just like that, he does. it’s the subtlest thing. first, she sees the slight movement in his hands as he flexes his fingers. the dopey grin on his face falters just so. his eyes come back to focus. she realizes, he was looking at her, not seeing her. 

“ i’m sorry, ” she gasps. “ i am so, so sorry. ”

he doesn’t understand why she’s apologizing. “ what happened ? ”

“ nothing ! “ she says quickly, feeling as if her heart will explode. “ something. think nothing of it, please. “ purnelle takes a deep, shuddering breath. “ i must excuse myself. “

he rises a second after her. the one second is all she needs. she has to leave. it’s only when she’s sure she’s lost him does she turn to look back. only then does she breathe.

purnelle remembers every single instance in which she’s played someone the sea song. how strange they acted. from the moment she played the song for her father, to the moment in which conor interrupted her, to the moment she taught it to lucrezia, and to all of them in between.

gods above, she’s ungodly. 

[sovereigntyhq-blog]

EVENT 009 | THE RECAP

“the black death has found us.”

after a night full of dancing and socializing, the people of zenan couldn’t be more happy to have one full night of peace. but it seemed the gods had other plans for them when one of the partygoers dropped to the floor. after careful speculation, it was announced that said man was suffering from the black death-- a disease that originated in the land of teshayra brought back to zenan. the symptoms include: black lumps forming all over the skin, seizing, coughing up blood and much more. the survival rate is less than 10%. this illness seems to flourish in hot environments, thus causing the kingdoms and their entourages to stay in norden until further notice. with a contagious and lethal plague sweeping the kingdom, who is safe ??

because as of now, there is no cure.

[prsephonc]

in the moments of her death, persephone wants to say she felt no suffering. she wants to say she died calmly. that it happened as she slept. that she felt nothing.

however, that would be a lie.

persephone could feel her brain imploding. 

the pain had been almost nonexistent. it was so small she could’ve ignored it. when suddenly, it grew twice in size. then, quadrupled. and so on so forth.

--

with the clearest, bluest eyes, persephone looked up at her mother. despite the tiredness in her face, she was pretty in her youth. she’s less pretty now, more tired. but to the little girl, morrigan was and would always be the most beautiful woman in the world.

" who's the prettiest ? " morrigan cooed, looking at her baby girl with all the love in the world.

the girl giggled. then, " mama, " she gurgled.

she’s greeted with a gasp from her mother. the girl does not understand the magnitude the word has on the eighteen year old. to her, they sound like another string in incoherent babbles. to morrigan, those are her first words.

--

“ persephone rhea !! “ la mére shouted.

immediately, persephone froze. she threw a sheepish grin at the elderly lady over her shoulder. la mére took her time to catch up to the child, and purposely made the walk an excruciating pace. persephone quickly circled back to take the woman gently by the arm. sure, she is not what she used to be, but la mére was young enough. “ désolé, mére. “

no, this should’ve been clarified earlier, la mére is not her actual mother. la mére is a fond name for the innkeeper who took persephone and her mother in. while her mother was out learning, persephone was out with la mére. she was like the grandmother persephone never had.

the little girl thinks, if her days are filled with maman and la mére, her life will have been happy.

--

she never thought the tears would cease. after la mére died, persephone thought she was destined to be unhappy. somehow, however, she survived.

how does she survive now ? 

--

persephone giggled loudly-- too loud. her hand immediately went to her mouth in an attempt to suppress the laugh. for good measure, catalina swatted her in the arm. it didn’t help. in fact, it did the opposite. the laugh escaped again, and soon catalina was laughing too loudly too. 

the butcher’s son, urey, looked at them curiously.

she remembers his blond hair, his calloused hands. 

--

as she sat in the tub, filled with water and lilac soap, persephone scrubbed harshly at her skin. she did not stop until it had gotten to the point in which her skin might bleed. she had to get it off. she needed the scent off of her. the feeling off of her. 

persephone will always remember this moment with such clarity. this is the first time a patient dies within her arms. she knows because she washes herself each time someone dies on her watch and this is the first time and last time she’s allowed her skin to rub raw.

--

calloused hands tucked a stray hair behind her ear. the girl blushed. the boy blushed. 

“ it was in your face, “ urey said.

persephone smiled warmly, “ thank you. “ 

the two stand in a silence, both looking like they have something to say. persephone finally decided to speak up, but just as she opened her mouth to speak, he did too. she gave him way. 

“ don’t forget me in the new world, huh ? “ 

at that, she shook her head with a laugh, “ i could hardly imagine that. “ 

will he forget her ?

--

" well, lassy," miss -- missus ? -- hamilton said as she loaded the last of the boxes onto the wagon, " think of the bright side. you might find the favour of a rich bearorian duke. gods know you're pretty enough for it. "

persephone of the past giggled in reply. persephone of the now cringes. had she truly been so vapid ?

missus hamilton waggled a stern finger at her, " now you behave for your mother. across that sea, you've only got each other. "

the smile faltered. she does not miss miss hamilton.

--

her smile widens as the beautiful boy man reaches atop his stead to hand her a flower. persephone squeezes catalina’s hand excitedly. the smile on her lips is obvious. it’s beautiful and perfect and it’s all she’s ever wanted. 

all she’s ever wanted was to hold kitty’s hand.

--

she gasped as the pirate roughly grabbed her hair. the scream escapes her lips before she even realizes it. dully, persephone hears the echo of her skull crashing against the stone wall. there’s a moment of complete silence before she realizes.

her.

head.

hurts.

will the pounding ever stop ?

--

she squeezes the hand of her father and looks into the eyes they share. the ones made cut of ice clearer than anything found in norden. she thinks it's funny he's from the land of fire and dragons when one look into their eyes screams otherwise.

she wishes they had more time together.

she wishes she had heard their stories.

" papa, "

those are her last words.

it’s the beginning of a thought. it’s the end of her life. 

[ofemeline]

A RUINED QUEEN | self para

there is an EXCRUCIATING burn in the side of her abdomen. every part of her is telling her to SCREAM for help, call out to someone, anyone. though her  h u b r i s  refuses to give her assailant the satisfaction of seeing-- hearing-- her so distraught. a broken queen... ruined, she thinks, forever.

a red flower is pinned between her locks. she smiles, remembering the gift clara had given her. the innocent child caught in the midst of a battle. though emeline refused to leave her behind in dracborough without a mother or father. she deserved to be here with matthias, to be with her father, no matter the circumstances. the queen envies him in such a sense. to be loved forever by such a small being. she wishes for her own children and while she loves rick-- they both know it is but wishful thinking to desire children. their situation would allow no such thing. though, she supposes that she already has her own child. ysellian. a sigh escapes her mouth, thinking of her beloved dragon. he had yet to return to her and she has not felt the same. she no longer felt the security she once did with her dragon present. 

pulling herself from her thoughts, she scans her surroundings, her eyebrows scrunching in confusion. not minutes before she was taking a small stroll in the gardens. perhaps it was her own thoughts that distracted her from her destination. she no longer has view of the ocean, nor does she hear the crashing waves or the small chatter of the castle. in fact, the castle was not in sight. emeline knows not of the land enough to make a discovery of her whereabouts. all she sees are trees, bushes with herbs she’s seen some nurses pick at. it takes her less than a moment to realize that she has no memory of which direction she originated from. 

“gods be damned,” she curses under her breath though fear is not evident in the queen. she knows of the pirates. she knows of the dangerous animals hidden inland, the poisonous plants that all threaten to end her life. yet she stands tall, trying to make the best of her surroundings. she begins walking north, green irises squint to make the best out of the little light that seeps through the trees above despite knowing that it is far from dusk. 

she takes no more than one hundred steps before she hears a rustle in the forest that holds her captive. the dragon queen is suddenly aware of the knife that lay idle on her thigh. what is a dagger to a blade though? her pace quickens, pushing the bushes out of her way as she begins to jog. her brown curls whip around as she turns to see if anyone follows her. there is no sign. but the anxiety, the adrenaline, it builds. her jogging soon turns into running which morphs into sprinting. 

light floods her vision, the castle in sight-- the ocean, her ocean. she is safe, she is home. she will see reyna, rick, nate. she is fine-- there is a sound. though it’s muffled by the sound of her heart beating in her ears. it takes her some time to realize there is a pain in her stomach. her hand automatically touches the area, feeling the wooden stick glued to her side. seconds pass before the pain begins to spread, it becomes unbearable as she leans against the tree. emeline forces herself to look down, finding an arrow pierced into her. her blood is masked by the crimson dress she bears. a whimper escapes her parted lips as fear finally conquers her. 

her strength staggers, she feels her grip slipping from the tree. all she can think about is ysellian. where is he? will he return? unable to hold herself up any longer, she FALLS. the dragon queen attempts to catch herself though she knows that there is no use. instead, she lays there, her face against the ground, silently encouraging her assailant to finish her off. what kind of queen is she? to not bring her guards, such a foolish decision. dracborough deserves better, they deserve reyna. what a weak queen. she wants to laugh, finding it suddenly comical that she claims to be a strong queen and yet here she is-- face down, unable to get up, taken down by one arrow. dracborough deserves no queen such as herself, she reflects just as her breathing evens out.

[piratesofsov-blog]

EVENT 007 RECAP

‘til death do us part.

during a quiet and peaceful morning, the kingdoms were struck with surprise when they were ambushed by the pirates. after coming to realization mid-breakfast, it didn’t take long for people to spring into action. the battle began with many pirates deciding to abduct king henry montague, unbeknownst to the rest of the people in the castle. there were many injuries during this blood bath, the pirates deciding that they wouldn’t spare any as one managed to stab lady khailee fell in the leg leaving quite a large gash. as persephone silverwind was cornered by a pirate, her mother, morrigan silverwind, came to her rescue, stabbing her assailant in the neck. it seems as if the pirates meant to target many females as catalina jorgenson, princess reyna mireen, sybil beaumont, and anya cassel were all stabbed as well. many were surprised to see victorie wilde forgetting her handmaiden ways as she lay waste to many pirates serving her queen. shock was evident on the lot when the young prince adair danys took life for the first time. loyalty shines bright as prince daniel blackhart takes a blade for his friend, the kradaecan prince. and underneath a table, lord lucius mortimer can be spotted missing a leg. after sending queen viola winnell off on her dragon, queen emeline mireen reunited with an uninjured king nathaniel winnell and the kradaecan prince to which they retreated to the dragon queen’s bed chambers for safety. 

and as dawn approaches, the remaining stragglers found king henry montague emerging from the woods, his long hair no more and a brand left on his check to signify his night spent with the pirates.

[brynmallory-blog]

it was a dark evening, almost dusk. the sun hung low in the sky, as if it was staying awake just long enough to witness what was about to happen under its weakening glow, amidst the chaos of the mortals below it. the executioner’s axe had been sharpened, the crowd had gathered, and even though it was not yet dawn, the accused was leaning over the bulky, blood-stained piece of wood, awaiting the result of his judgement.

and with one swift swing, king charles’ head rolled ungracefully from his shoulders in a spray of blood and tissue. the crowd screamed and roared, hollering all they had to say to their former king’s head as his body was kicked from the stone and landed next to it. but one vivid voice - one very familiar voice - was becoming louder than the rest, and soon enough it was the only scream that could be heard, even above the uproar of the crowd. everything else began to ring with the deafening, high-pitched tone of complete and utter silence.

bryn was screaming. the first thing he realized when he came back to himself was the lone voice in the crowd had been his own dreaming one, but his mind reeled immediately. he sat up from his small cot in the barn, shoving the rough-woven blanket from his body in an anxious flurry. what had he just witnessed? it was a dream, surely, but… how did he know exactly what was going on? dreams seldom made sense, especially to bryn; he dreamed mostly of the jumbled memories of his previous day, and nothing meaningful - or disturbing - had ever happened in any of them, save for the ones where his mother’s face hovered in his site before fading into distance. and even then, the memories of the dream faded within seconds of waking, and so even his nightmares were forgotten before they had a chance to frighten him. but this had been too real to forget. bryn began to realize that it didn’t even feel like he had dreamed it, but rather experienced it. but it was impossible; he had never witnessed an execution, let alone king charles’…

bryn’s heart froze in his chest. king charles? why did he think it was king charles? he had never seen a painting of him; he didn’t even know if there was one. but he could have sworn in his very life that it had been king charles’ head that he had seen chopped off, and the pure sureness in his bones scared him beyond anything he had felt before.

quickly did the stablehand swing his legs over his cot and stand, instantly feeling the dirt beneath his bare feet and reveling in something he understood. shirtless and clad only in his undershorts, he stood on shaky legs and walked to the entrance of the barn to catch the cold night breeze. his head ached with a vicious fervor, and his stomach churned with every thought of the beheading that he had seen. he wanted to believe it was a dream; anyone would think so, surely… except he had  not been asleep. bryn had laid down to rest, but did not have time at all to fall asleep before a dizzying sensation had overcome him, and he had entered a state in which he experienced the late king charles’ execution with his own two eyes. the same two eyes now watered with salty, frightened tears, and bryn clutched the edge of the barn door to keep from falling. he slid to his knees all the same, and laid his shaking hands palms-up on his knees, helplessness covering him like a cloak in the cold, detached moonlight.

there was a whole new part of him, deep down in his soul, that had not been there before he had laid down just minutes before. he could feel it, just as he could feel his fingers and his toes, and he decided with a quick, fearful thought that he hated it. it pulled him from his happy, settled place in the new world, and it threatened his very existence in his own life. but he could feel it, powerful and strong, steadily growing inside of his head, surely to be seen again very soon. it was a promised, fixed point within him now, and bryn shivered at the feeling as hot tears rolled down the cold skin of his cheeks.

he did not want this.

[niamh-the-imposter-blog]

Astrid had always thought her mother was the most beautiful woman she had ever seen. Forget Queens, Princesses, Noblewomen... Mary Alice had them all beat. Her clear, olive skin. Her sharp, delicate features. The ample swell of her bosom. The womanly swoop of her hips. Her long chocolate locks that fell off her shoulders like waves... The other women of the house always said she brought in the wealthiest suitors, jealousy dripping off their tongues, and Astrid knew just enough to carry it as a point of pride. Her mother: the belle of the whorehouse. 

As time went on, Astrid learned to track the years across the faces of the women who raised her. Agatha’s frown lines deepened, Catherine developed crow’s feet in the corner of her eyes, and Martha’s skin began to sag heavy around her mouth. But still her mother remained the same - untouched, as beautiful as Astrid had ever remembered her. 

She was never sure if her mother really loved her, but there were times when the woman would look upon her, that timeless twinkle in her eyes, and said ‘You have many gifts, my sweet.’ In those moments, Astrid always believed it. She knew of her true lineage, the way her veins ran with noble blood. She knew of the sacrifices her mother had made, so that she would be able to read and write. And though she didn’t know it then, she soon came to discover the striking resemblance she bore to her sister, one that would someday lift her from her place of servitude to where she rightfully belonged. She was born with many gifts, it was true... 

But what she didn’t know was the gift her mother never dared to speak out loud, for the walls of the brothel were thin and prone to talk. The gift that old age would never reach her. The gift that her beauty would never fade. Like so many gifts, as Astrid would come to find, it was also a curse, and Mary Alice dare not say the word aloud. 

At 8, her mother taught her to always style her hair so that her ears might not show. At 14, her mother warned her of the peril of falling in love with a man. At 18, as she was finally traveling away from home, her mother finally said the word out loud: 

Elf. 

And then sent her on her way. 

Six years later, Astrid still doesn’t know what to do with it. All she knows is that there was probably a reason her mother maintained her silence. All she knows is that she will do the same.