#zmeydeva

[a-koschyei]

stab ♔. from the hoard : 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔱𝔰𝔞𝔯𝔦𝔱𝔰𝔞 𝔬𝔣 𝔴𝔞𝔱𝔢𝔯 ( @zmeydeva ) , accepting

he feels the static charge in the air before he hears her approach. in an instant, too quick to grasp, the doors to his war room are sundered apart, and the tsaritsa comes down upon him. a furious, serpentine torrent, pinning him to his seat of onyx without granting him any explanation or grace. but he knows. of course he knows. ❛❛ zoya, i-- ❞ he's silenced with a sudden wheeze, as the feeling of something cold and sharp lodges between the third and fourth rib. it twists and grates; a horrible sound of blade scratching against bone to draw an equally horrible cry of pain from him.

the dagger sits at the border of a phantom heart. he doesn't know if it hesitates or seeks to savor the semi-fatal intrusion, but he takes that brief moment to fold his hand over hers and the hilt of the blade, teetering between rot and skin; a resistance and a consolation. his grip clings to their fragile alignment, and grows increasingly futile and slick with the slow trickles of his blood, black and thick like grave wax.

❛❛ i know . . . you are angry, ❞ he manages through gritting teeth, ❛❛ i am too. ❞ koschei can't address the weightier word. it alchemized and redistributed as a frenzied need to redraw battle lines now that viy had decided nothing was to be neutral and sacred. violence becomes a means to cope with violence, but in the undertow of their bloody clutch and raging gazes lies a reflection of the same primary emotion: grief. it's a lame beast caged behind the teeth of his heart. but all he can do is stare at that dying animal's eye in silence and neglect, keep salt's fate unspoken and distant as a dream after waking. ❛❛ . . . remember who the real enemy is. ❞

[warsrage]

i haven’t cursed anyone in years . ( @ aragorn lolll )

THE RANGER STANDS NEARLY MOTIONLESS BEFORE HER, EXPERIENCED HAND BALANCED CAREFULLY ON THE POMMEL OF HIS LONGSWORD. something about her very presence seems to bring the forest to its knees ; even the birds in the trees have gone strangely silent and aragorn cannot decipher whether it's meant as a sign of respect or fear. he, too, holds his breath along with the woods, along with the world. the hunter in him requires but a moment to know that he stands in the presence of a great and terrible power, one that he may be unable to contend with. with every fell step comes an opportunity to prove wrong the prophecies passed down the lineage he never asked for. estel, they'd called him in the house of elrond. hope. but such power - such ancient magic - as is contained in her very aura would likely pay no mind to the burden of purpose.

there is a fatigue that accompanies purpose, even in the practice of avoiding it, a practice in which strider has engaged for years of his improbably long life. since childhood, the same questions have haunted him : what makes a king? is it strictly the misfortune of one's lineage? can any man rule a kingdom by name alone? what wisdom is there in that? or shall kings be crowned by deed? and if so, by what measure could aragorn, son of arathorn, even be found worthy? in the wilds, it matters not ; the remaining vestiges of the dúnedain care far more for the novelty of survival than the reunification of arnor to its southern brother. here in the wilds, he is as much lone wolf as he is chieftain, as near to a beast as any king. truth be told, he prefers it that way. always, a voice in his ear reminds him that he cannot outrun time - but even so, he disguises himself, leans into monikers as others offer them, omits the truth of his birth as often as he can manage.

❝ how many years, I wonder? ❞ he answers cautiously, chin tilted upward as he surveys her, wondering if his eyes betray him or if the air around her truly shimmers. stories and warnings plague these woods, superstitions which have become commonplace in such areas of the world. ( even he himself must be the subject of one or two by now. ) if she is in fact a creature to ignite such fear in the common folk, then surely there is sense in hiding away here. but what makes a witch? is it much the same as being deemed a king? ❝ enough to make any difference to you? even to me? ❞ the ranger tilts his head just slightly, examining her far more with curiosity than fear. ❝ what brings you so far into the wilds, my lady? ❞ are you hunted, or are you the hunter?

[neverafters]

☾     ･ﾟﾟ *     —     trading a wing touch for a wing touch it’s only fair

something made of shadows could not be touched, and that was the form their wings usually took. shades of black spreading out on either side of them , swirling tendrils of darkness taking the shape of two wings , their span more than thrice their height and just as tall. they were merely an optical illusion , an apparition to make the demon appear more terrifying than they already were. they rarely used their corporeal form , much less let anyone touch them : not unless they were in their full demon form.

but kieran was intrigued by the lady in front of them — she gave them an offer they couldn't refuse. a cunning witch she was. ❝ i'll show you mine if you show me yours , ❞ they mused , tossing @zmeydeva a wink. they didn't wait for her to show her wings before letting theirs take form behind them. they were interested in more than just seeing her wings , they wanted to feel them. so theirs took their true form , feathers in the darkest shades of black that would only show hints of iridescent color in the right light.

[fearnyix]

W armth of the inn's floor is comfort to nina's soaked boots and she can feel a flurry of life [or death?] reentering her core –– an appendage. long lasting and much needed. mahogany separates the pair and the scent of sweet luxuries once abducted from her tongue rearrives. a bite taken –– teeth etching into the warm pastry. ❛❛ Y ou've not been doing too poorly without me, Nazyalenskaya? ❜❜ a breath, a smile and she finds her eyes better zoya's', which tend to her hands, inadvertently avoiding contact. ❛❛ are you craving one of these? [a croissant rising from the plate, only slightly motioned side to side.] is that it? ❜❜

@zmeydeva.

[vipier]

          HIS SING-SONG VOICE RINGS SOFTLY FROM THE OPPOSITE END OF THE FABRIKATOR WORKSHOP, ALREADY SOUNDING A BIT TOO PLEASED.       ❝   nazyalenskaaaayaaaa!   ❞   it would annoy her ;  that  he knows without question, but such is the relentless push and pull of their   (  somewhat  )   collegial relationship.  he holds his vial up to the light, brow furrowing as he peers at the vibrantly violet contents, which seem almost to glow  -  although he’s half convinced his eyes are playing   TRICKS   on him, in the wake of his pride.   ❝   might I tempt you to my workstation by telling you that I’ve managed to isolate the toxin from the zemeni tiger snake’s venom?  you can even administer the microdose to me, if it’s to your pleasure, but you’ll have to help me monitor the symptoms.   DELUSIONS   happen to be one of them, which do not for reliable science make.   ❞       /       @zmeydeva​.  sc.

[svyatoiy]

                      ❴  ❊ ˒     MIDNIGHTS PROMPTS.   ⊰     ACCEPTING!

       MATTERS OF THE HEART ARE RARELY RESERVED TO BEINGS LIKE THEM.     in the grand scheme of things,  feelings should matter little when it is by their hands the passing of time is ordered.     and yet each evening the sun lingers beyond the hour of her reign,  the rays of her light stretching the hours of day beyond their regularities,  in desperate hopes of feeling the shade of the moon caress her before night falls.     the sun feels the moon’s encroaching presence in the shifting temperatures long before she sees her.     a spin on her axis,  her ravenous eyes skipping along the horizon until   ─   oh,  THERE SHE IS!     from the behind a cluster of clouds the lunar empress emerges,  a starry night following close in her footsteps.

       ❛   you’re later than usual today.   i was beginning to worry,  thought perhaps you’d grown tired of our game   ─   or grown tired of me.   ❜      while a genuine and understandable worry for anyone to have about a beloved,  in the heart of the sun empress it is not a true concern.     the moon does not seem perturbed by her teasing,  for when she is close enough the  sol koroleva  recognizes flickers of amusement in her glittering gaze.

       ❛   i will always be yours.   ❜      @zmeydeva​  puts the sun’s pretend worries to rest with a declaration not unfamiliar to her ears.     theirs is a connection not likely severed,  forged by the celestial,  only strengthened by their hours of separation.     there is a saying she has heard,  floating up on gusts of wind from their patrons down below:   distance makes the heart grow fonder.     still,  the hours seem to pass by faster when they depart in good moods,  enveloped in sweet scent of their love.

       ❛   and like my light will always follow you home,  i too will be forever yours.  ❜      the sun’s smile is soft,  the warmth in her heart rivaling even the heat of her scorching light.      ❛   not a day will go by where i am not there to cast your shadow.   ❜

[witchwretch]

☽    whatever you came here to say ,  i don’t want to hear it

she,    of  lightning,    perhaps  has  met  her  match  in  this  fae  with  the  flame  -  heart.    within  this  dusty  hall  grows  energy  with  a  magnitude  fit  for  decimation,    repelling  forces  that  may  very  well  wreak  devastation  (  would  that  you  would  devastate  me,    pleads  the  fae,    because  i  am  numb  to  anything  else  ).    and  yet  dragon  knows  dragon,    an  almost  feline  familiarity  for  how  they  brood,    and  so  perhaps  if  destruction  is  what  fates  them,    it  will  only  be  their  own.

❝    i’ve  said  nothing,    ❞  tuts  libby  with  all  the  air  of  someone  far  superior  than  truly  they  are.    @zmeydeva​  certainly  holds  all  the  power.    even  so,    the  fae  slinks  closer,    batting  those  lashes  and  disturbing  the  fizzling  glamour  which  masks  their  ugly.    trickery  clouds  thicker,    whatever  she  has  planned  almost  tangible  in  the  air.    libby  smiles  wickedly.    ❝    oh,    my  lady.    don’t  you  know  me  at  all?    i  come  to  you  with  only  glad  tidings.    ❞

[zakalerki]

are we gonna kiss y/y?

          a   lack   of   circulation   explains   it,     the   disparity   of   temperature   from   one   palm   to   the   other.          usually   they   never   want   for   the   warmth   of   action   -   but   an   absence   of   the   work   makes   for   IDLE   HANDS,   one   clinging   to   the   remnant   heat   of   cooling   porcelain   and   the   other   curling   cold   knuckles   claw   like   toward   a   half-fist,     an   involuntary   flex.          there   is   an   itch,     to   reach   for   her    :    extend   an   arm   in   AN   OFFERING   OF   CALLOUSES   AND   CHEWED   NAILS,     awkward   and   sincere   and   tentative   in   its   HOPEFULNESS.          would   @zmeydeva​   take   his   hand,     if   he   reached   with   open   palms  ??         knowing   what   he   does,     he   thinks   she   would.

          there   is   bornite   dust   staining   his   fingers   a   tarnished   blue     when   he   does.          he   thinks   that’s   APPROPRIATE,     azure   on   his   skin   and   his   cuffs   and   swimming   in   his   vision   for   days   anticipating   her,     bent    in   supplication   toward   to   listen   to   the   song   of   ziosite,     of   quartz,   of   silver.          his   sleeve   slips   (  thinned   and   fraying   from   constancy  )     and   as   he   looks   down   at   her   his   smile   follows   it   :   a   small,     RESERVED   thing   he   is   allowed   here,     with   her.          “   i   wouldn’t   mind.   ”

          *&   SHE   IS   KYANITE     [    𝙰𝙳𝙰𝙼𝙰𝙽𝚃𝙸𝙽𝙴,     𝙰   𝙶𝚁𝙾𝚄𝙽𝙳𝙸𝙽𝙶   𝙵𝙾𝚁𝙲𝙴,     𝚃𝙴𝚁𝚁𝙰𝙲𝙴𝚂   𝙾𝙵   𝚃𝙴𝚁𝚁𝙸𝙱𝙻𝙴   𝙱𝙴𝙰𝚄𝚃𝚈  ]   :   and   her   strength   gives   him   confidence.          “   if   we    . . .    could   we  ??   ”

[a-koschyei]

send ♫  for a dynamic playlist ♔. from the hoard : 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔱𝔰𝔞𝔯𝔦𝔱𝔰𝔞 𝔬𝔣 𝔴𝔞𝔱𝔢𝔯 ( @zmeydeva ) , accepting

001 alkaline, sleep token: let's talk about chemistry / 'cause i'm dying to melt through / to the heart of her molecules / 'til the particles part like holy water / if anything / she's an undiscovered element / either born in hell or heaven-sent / but either way i'm into it / she's not acid nor alkaline / caught between black and white / not quite either day or night / she's perfectly misaligned / i'm caught up in her design / and how it connects to mine / i see in a different light / the objects of my desire

002 a pearl, mitski: sorry, i don't want your touch / it's not that i don't want you / sorry, i can't take your touch / there's a hole that you fill / you fill, you fill / but it's just that i fell in love with a war / and nobody told me it ended / and it left a pearl in my head / and i roll it around every night / just to watch it glow / every night, baby, that's where i go / just to watch it glow

003 it will come back, hozier: i know who I am when i'm alone / i'm something else when i see you / you don't understand / you should never know / how easy you are to need / don't let me in with no intention to keep me / jesus christ / don't be kind to me / honey, don't feed me / i will come back / it can't be unlearned / i've known the warmth of your doorways through the cold / i'll find my way back to you / oh, please, give me mercy no more / that's a kindness you can't afford / i warn you, baby / each night / as sure as you're born / you'll hear me howling outside your door

004 the only heartbreaker, mitski: if you would just make one mistake / what a relief that would be / but i think for as long as we're together / i'll be the only heartbreaker / i'll be the only heartbreaker / i'll be the only heartbreaker / so i'll be the loser in this game / i'll be the bad guy in the play / i'll be the water main that's burst and flooding / you'll be by the window / only watching / i'll be the only heartbreaker / i'll bе the only heartbreakеr / (i apologize) / (you forgive me) / (i apologize) / (you forgive me)

005 zombie, miley cyrus: another mother's breaking / heart is taking over / when the violence causes silence / we must be mistaken / it's the same old theme / since nineteen-sixteen / in your head / in your head / they're still fighting / with their tanks / and their bombs / and their bombs / and their guns / in your head / in your head / they are dying / in your head, in your head / zombie, zombie / zombie-ie-ie / what's in your head / in your head / zombie, zombie / zombie-ie-ie

006 unknown nth, hozier: you called me angel for the first time / my heart leapt from me / you smile now / i can see its pieces still stuck in your teeth / and what's left of it / i listen to it tick / every tedious beat going unknown as any angel to me / do you know / i could break beneath the weight / of the goodness, love / i still carry for you / that i'd walk so far just to take / the injury of finally knowing you / it ain't the being alone / it ain't the empty home, baby / you know i'm good on my own / you know, it's more the being unknown / and there are some people, love / who are better unknown

[morovozanya]

❝    i  have  only  ever  known  you  to  be  a  woman  who  ensures  she  gets  what  she  wants.    ❞  on  any  other  tongue,    this  would  come  as  derision.    yet  from  the  vampire’s  mouth,    it  is  nearly  fond.    even,    perhaps,    in  some  ways  proud.    but  the  roll  of  ivory  eyes  accompanies  the  punchline,    ❝    even  at  the  expense  of  my  very  old,    very  delicate  artifacts.    ❞  despite  dragon’s  gentle  deposit,    anya  comes  ‘round  to  brush  her  own  fingers  to  her  things,    a  delicate  cataloging.    it  is  not  personal,    it  is  not  intentionally  insulting;    if  there  is  one  thing  that  the  vampire  is  severely  protective  over,    it  is  this  little  sanctuary  with  its  old  old  collection  and  its  old  old  collector.    ❝    do  not  coddle  me,    змея.    ❞  hunched  as  she  is,    anya  remains  a  long  line  of  elegance,    the  thin  of  her  arms  outstretched  to  straighten  delicate  riffles  of  papyrus.    she  lifts  one  that  zoya  may  inspect  its  ancient  writings.    ❝    a  superstition,    which  was  originally  lost.    this  one  had  always  been  assumed  to  be  an  oral  history  only.    i  am  trying  to  determine  if  this  more  recent  or  if  this  will  change  what  we  know  about  this  story.    do  you  recognize  this  language?    ❞

` — from here with @zmeydeva!

[zmeydeva-arch]

I AM BURNED BUT NOT CONSUMED...  a non-canon & folklore-based portrayal of zoya nazyalenskaya   ━   deified by corazón  THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN ME & YOU IS THAT I AM NOT ON FIRE !

[vipier]

          THEY’VE MANAGED TO TAKE SHELTER SOMEWHERE HIGH ABOVE THE VALLEY, NEARLY UNDETECTABLE IN THEIR PERCH OF A CAVE.       the witcher isn’t one to admit that he’s  uneasy  for any reason and he certainly doesn’t now, either, but for his slightly tenser demeanor, muscles tight and movements somewhat more sporadic.  sounds of war echo from below, undoubtedly the very thing that has tristan quietly   AGITATED   -  and something he hasn’t brought up aloud.  even knowing they will not be discovered here, it makes him  uneasy  to have the emperor’s armies so close.  when he breaks the silence, he almost instantly curses himself for the almost undetectable  sharpness  of his tone.   ❝   can you hear the violence?   ❞

@zmeydeva​  sent  🎧  for a   lyric starter   !!

[svyatoiy]

SPOTIFY WRAPPED STARTERS    ⊱    @zmeydeva​​​   (  41 42.  HARD FEELINGS/LOVELESS  ─  LORDE  )

      ❛  please,  could you be tender?  ❜      a twitch of her mouth,  the ghost of a grimace  &  the rapid blinking sends silent tears of pain down dirt-streaked cheeks   ─   a victorious war behind them  &  yet alina has not quite learnt how to dodge fists or knives,  nor has she gotten accustomed to the taste of blood in her mouth.     if her teeth were stained scarlet she would not be surprised;   the summoner pulls her face away from zoya’s prodding hands,  hunching over to dislodge the  metallic taste  from her mouth.     she is only granted a few seconds reprieve before searching hands pull her back to meet an  icy  stare.

      ❛  i know being gentle isn’t exactly your forté,  but──   ow!  ❜

[witchwretch]

𝐇𝐎𝐖 𝐃𝐎 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐍𝐄𝐄𝐃 𝐓𝐎 𝐁𝐄 𝐓𝐎𝐔𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐃 ?

𝐂𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐋𝐘.

libby's teeth are bared, as they have been, her jaw aching for so long as growls slip free. she always has to defend herself. they lash out in fear. she needs someone who does not shrink back… a hand falling slowly to their shoulder, however briefly, in a reminder that she does not have to lunge. there is no danger here, now.

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐆𝐄𝐃 𝐁𝐘. @jokethur <3 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐆𝐈𝐍𝐆. @saintvampe , @wormregards for claudia! , @zmeydeva , @nexusbeing , @rodair , @ilyinichnia , @asteritm , @fatedriven for kain! , @hopkims , @liesmth , and you! <3

[a-koschyei]

something in me knows you are here for my heart. ♔. from the hoard : 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔱𝔰𝔞𝔯𝔦𝔱𝔰𝔞 𝔬𝔣 𝔴𝔞𝔱𝔢𝔯 ( @zmeydeva ) , not accepting

❛❛ i know better than to girdle a heart that bears no fruit. ❞ yet he dances in that place where words can lie, and the voice that begets them can still carry the ardor of an old tenderness; the same one she intuited, as a ripple of water ruffles to even the smallest breath of wind, from the moment he entered her commander's tent. already he had made her relay the next day's plan to exhaustion, and there was something strange about the way he still lingered. how the usual banter loses its bite.

❛❛ i've been meaning to give you something, ❞ he relents as an after thought, and where everything else stealths quietly to this point, his gravity does not demure for a second when he comes around to her side of the war table. ❛❛ -- two things, but i've decided you can only have one tonight. ❞ leaning against the edge beside her, a devil's signature smirk finally returns, and two closed fists are presented before her. within : a whir of magic, like the zippy, foreboding spin of a gun barrel. his cocooning palms fill, the left hand falling just the slightest bit heavier than the right. ❛❛ i'm curious to see which you might be inclined to choose. ❞

[alovetold]

character / blog association.

animal: dogs, particularly retrievers. color(s): earth tones. you might think she'd gravitate towards fire colors, but she is always pulled towards earthly tones. soft greens, browns. month:  april. song: this is me trying - t. swift. number: thirteen. that was when her sister died and her life changed forever. day or night:   night, just around midnight to be specific. preferably with a reading light turned on. plant: thistles. smell: the smell of books, a library. also a faint scent of smoke. gemstone: diamonds - they are made under pressure. season: winter, when everything is covered in a thin layer of frost in the mornings. or autumn, specifically sweater weather. place: an old library, filled with books and secrets. her parent's living room. food: her mother's lasagna. astrological sign: aries - fire sign for fire babe. the most anxious aries you will find. element: fire. drink: coffee with oat milk.

tagged by: @zmeydeva. tagging: @parabathai ( jem or achilles ), @valrvns, @witcheri ( for allie ), @loregrown ( for elain )