bladewarde

[bladewarde]

i have been NECK DEEP in da4. 😭

i was not expecting to enjoy this game as much as i have. the story is meh but i've been having a blast exploring and with combat!

[bladewarde]

needless to say, i am taking the election news incredibly hard. brain space is occupied by not great thoughts... 😭

[bladewarde]

❝ You want to know my thoughts? Kill 'im. No good will come out of leaving that man alive. 'Owever, the question still remains: 'Ow do we kill an unkillable man? ...I suppose we still 'ave some leg work to do, then. ❞

laera giving her two gold pieces 😔

[bladewarde]

― 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒆.

An independent, private & selective writing blog for an 𝐄𝐋𝐃𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐂𝐇 𝐊𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐈𝐍𝐀𝐋 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐑 for 𝑫𝒖𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒐𝒏𝒔 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝑫𝒓𝒂𝒈𝒐𝒏𝒔 / 𝑩𝒂𝒍𝒅𝒖𝒓'𝒔 𝑮𝒂𝒕𝒆 𝑰𝑰𝑰. As shielded by killi. This blog contains mature and dark themes; use discretion when following.

*personals and non-rp blogs please do not interact or reblog!!

[bladewarde]

ELDEN RING (2022)

[bladewarde]

random camp idles for laer bear 🛡️:

at camp, her hair is normally loose. she pulls it over her shoulder, makes a loose braid, and flicks it back.

sitting cross legged on her tent cushion, laera will take a book from her stack, read it, then place it back.

summoning her sword from its pocket dimension, she'll pose with it and swing at the air, before despawning it.

laera will occasionally be tending to the camfpire cookpot.

if she's standing and reading, she might conjure a bit of magic.

[bladewarde]

🩵🛡️🩵

i've been away, but i obviously want to write sooo... ♥ if you want a starter?

[bladewarde]

A DISCOVERY OF WITCHES | 1.06

[bladewarde]

During the journey, there had been moments where it felt as if only she and Astarion walked the breadth of Faerûn. The places they traveled — the complete remoteness of some — felt wholly isolating. They were entirely removed from the sounds of a cityscape, where the views of stone buildings, lining paved streets, were replaced with treelines and shadowed hills. The grandeur of a city is what she found longing for and it was a great relief, then, that the temporary embrace of Astarion's family home lie in wait for the two of them. It was comforting, and more than that, it served as the meeting place between friends. Lae'zel arrived with a determined focus, revealing in the time they shared her mission, and also of her immediate need for supplies.

Laera catches herself staring at Lae'zel, watching her friend browse the shelves with sharpened scrutinity. ❝ Stare any 'arder, and you might break the glass, Lae'zel, ❞ Her tone is teasing, peering over the Githyanki's shoulder to eye what she's looking at. ❝ That'll be another thing you 'ave to pay for, including whatever items you buy. Do you 'ave anything similar to ' break it and buy it ' on K'liir? Do you even 'ave shops on K'liir? ❞

@chmarva / 🛡️

[bladewarde]

i've been away, but i obviously want to write sooo... ♥ if you want a starter?

[bladewarde]

it fuels me when laera, the protector, gets injured protecting 😳🥵

[bladewarde]

evil endings... and laera's is killing keene for covering up what happened to mariss and becoming head of the guild through tadpole domination 😌

[bladewarde]

THANK YOU @chmarva FOR GETTING ME THROUGH A SUCCESSFUL HONOUR MODE.

4 tries on my own and all it took was one with antigone to get it done. 🤩

[bladewarde]

@chmarva and i over preparing for big daddy bone man in our honour mode....

ANYWAYS we got the kill >:))

[bladewarde]

❝ How kind of you say that about me. Timing is a little off and I'd prefer my compliments over a nice meal, 'owever, know this: I'm with you. ❞

#teamplayer 💙

[bladewarde]

For all his certainty, Maél possesses a factual perspective that Laera herself lacks. She's never been good at presenting with such calmness; so easily are her passions tipped, does she lose herself in her rage filled determination. In part, she blames herself. The protector who fails to protect; fails to see the danger nestled so close in spite of Orin's warning. She should have done more. Maél himself understands, their shared knowledge of what it means to be the vigilant watcher, the stalwart protector, the shield that guards. And similarly, he intimately knows the anguish when one fails such honours. What she cannot be now, he must, and Laera grasps at him for leadership.

❝ 'E could already be dead… ❞ She retorts, her words fragile and wrapped in grief. Laera stops herself from continuing, to repeat what he knows she fears and voicing such grim thoughts into existence. All pain and guilt, a noise like a whimper rises from her throat; however, Maél — gentle as he is — breaks through her crumbling defenses, her corrosive shame, with naught but a touch. Holding to this guilt brings a pain unlike anything else. A conscious act, meant to temper her sorrow into something sharp and deadly... Sharp enough to gouge and split the smile of the shapechanger Orin, but Laera relents.

In a breath, she surrenders it. The menacing feelings that eat her from the inside, she gives them up to Maél. Reciprocating his own gentleness, her hands press to his chest, bundling his shirt in her grip. He's sweet, in spite of the wild beating of his heart thrumming under her touch. Laera wraps her arms around his neck, guiding him into an embrace in silent gratitude. Against his shoulder, she rests her cheek, listening only to the sounds of his breath. ❝ Would… you stay with me tonight? ❞ The words she whispers are an admission of her heart; a quiet longing passed from her to him.

WORDS ARE WIND: a philosophy and a mantra. ( words are wind, and they cannot harm you. ) still he winces at her outburst, fingers twitching as laera pulls from his grasp; they flee inward toward the safety of his palm — a mannerism inherited from childhood, from the boy who hid his hands in his sleeves whenever tempers flared. but máel does not look away. he can't. he won't. ( he hurts and forces himself not to take it to heart. ) laera's anger is a symptom. who is he to begrudge her the bruise that causes it?

' she won't kill him outright— ' careful. careful now. tread lightly across her grief. ' —or she'd 'ave done it already. ' he says this because he believes it — not because it is true. orin is as cruel as she is unpredictable; she does not need gale living. she only needs for the illusion that he is. ( the promise of life is a much better motivator than the threat of death. )

his voice softens from the back of its high horse, taking on the hushed, quiet air of a confession uttered between confidants: ' one night for preparations, that’s all. they need rest. ' he glances behind laera, to where their camp sprawls outward, one tent vacant. ' you need rest. please. ' a smile would not be remiss. some tangible reassurance to ward against uncertainty. but would it be honest? no. no. so he forgoes the empty gesture, and chooses instead to reach out — perhaps with a tremor in his fingers, as the dog who fears being struck by the lead — and smoothes a hand along the red slope of her hair. ' then ... whether onward to lord gortash or to lady orin, we follow you. '

[bladewarde]

The way he speaks of time resonates with her, drawing into focus just how long she - and many others like them - have been made to survive in a world most cruel. As he speaks, she looks at the jars, seemingly untouched by the carnage the ravaged the land above them. They dance and roll in the grasses; shrieking with glee or whimpering when they need the cracks on their surfaces mended. Their homes still stand, their fields still grow flowers… What they have kept for themselves is as close to a peace as Laera as has ever seen.

She looks to him again; noticing the mist that rises in his eyes. Dradeel was a friend, a sorcerer like her, that saw the movement of the cosmos in the things around them. He was odd back then, yet a light shone within him that fueled his curiosity in all things they studied. Laera searches his eyes and sees only agony. What does he see in hers?

❝ They are dead, Dradeel. ❞ Laera forcefully corrects. It's something she has long accepted, and she wonders how much more of his world she just shattered. ❝ Raya Lucaria still stands, and the few still loyal to Rennala remain, but… the Cuckoo Knights still fight their small battles on the lakes. The sorcerers Radagon took with 'im, that day we left… I 'ave reason to think they're gone, too. ❞ In spite of knowing what she knows to be true, speaking it aloud has a different affect. Her own world, whittled down to nearly nothing. Without purpose. The former knight tugs on the length of her hair, and her next words are slow to form. ❝ Radagon bade me leave the Capital. Leave 'im. ❞ Her dark eyes look to the flowers she wanted to collect, swaying gently in the fog ladden air. ❝ I would 'ave died with 'im, for 'im. And I think… I think I would 'ave been glad of that. So, Dradeel, I -— I understand your suffering. ❞

‘they are kindly hosts.’ he answers softly, keeping his head down and gaze focused on the small jar that he cradles in his lap. hand gentle, the once scholar-mage mends the little crack in the jar's rim with clay, molding and smoothing the edges until it blends seamlessly with the rest of the material. he lets the jar go after all is done, reminding the bairn to stay dry and away from rough surfaces for the moment. sitting back, dradeel holds his arms around himself, staring out into the distance instead of looking at her. it has been a long time since he sits besides someone with eyes he could meet.

‘i was wandering... aimless, hopeless, masterless. i had nowhere to go and no one... then i remembered you spoke of this place. so i came. i didn't know what i would find, if the jars would still be here, or––’ he swallows. the flames of war once reddened the sky. many deaths, many wounded, and many more despaired. it would have just been another nameless village laid to waste, trampled and forgotten in the tides of war. but instead he found it intact. ‘they survived but lost their carer. i am a poor replacement but they are forgiving. so i stayed. ......that's a long time ago now.’

he looks up at her now. his pale green eyes glossy and red.

‘i thought you dead. i thought everyone dead. i couldn't-’ he sucks in a shaky breath. ‘when i heard queen marika disappeared, and lord radagon– i thought of looking for you, i did! but i couldn't... i couldn't bring myself to. i couldn't go back... i was afraid of what i would find...’