devoutpriest

[devoutpriest]

Osborne park, WA

[devoutpriest]

-- créditer LUX;

[devoutpriest]

I. I originally created Athelstan canon in Summer 2015, writing him with other roleplayers — and being a prominent and loved community member along with my muse — until Autumn 2016.

II. I said a goodbye post around then in Spring, saying I was busy with university and that I was leaving.

III. Since, I just worked on university and tafe assignments, and wrote in my verses and talked to myself. I also talked to my friend Ariel and Chris during.

IV. I deleted Athelstan the First in January 2018, feeling like I needed to get at the root of the problem, yet feeling he simply needed to rest and feel at peace with his story another time. Yet in the same month or a few weeks later -- in which I was talking to my psychologist and to Ariel -- I felt I simply needed him to breathe again in his original conception, yet writing my current 2018 + perception of him throughout, seen in my multimuse now.

V. I deleted Athelstan the Second in January 2022, after feeling my multimuse would be a better home for him canon-wise to integrate with reincarnation ( yet with distinguished tags ).

VI. I have completed writing through the rubble of a re-created canon Athelstan.

VII. Discussed through as a new post [original post contents and talking through rubble].

VIII. Faceclaim and place: George Blagden, Kattegat : Vikings era in ninth century.

IX. Unique individual vault post of 'rp partner | username.'

[devoutpriest]

he knows where westeros is, hearing her curt answer. distrust sounded in her tone, her eyes drawn to the ground, she not wanting to say she was from winterfell, or even king's landing -- where it was known there was a she-wolf traitor in the red keep, and an runaway girl. yet she says this city, as it was very well-known, she remembered being confused about the name of it and the red keep. for who would name the city that, she knew it to be aegon the conqueror, yet thought the red keep a more apt name ; there was always red sand dusting the air as she chased cats.

[devoutpriest]

she eats bread with the lothbrok family at the brown wooden table, she not at ease with anyone except for lagertha whom was kind. she had seen cat wandering about the village, the other having travelled here by boat in the sea. she tugging at the white bandage on her neck, a dried wound from her being slashed in the neck shallowly at harrenhall, where she saw her friends held victim to the tickler and polliver. the walls of the house was light yellow thatched. lagertha had noted the dried blood on arya's sword, thinking she had killed men before, as she had travelled dangerous waters.

[devoutpriest]

rise and run and eat with us hums in arya's throat, she seeing visions of her brother and lady mother, slaughtered at the red wedding. as she lay in the forest bed with the hound, fairy lights glittering in its stringing through the trees. she had dreamed it before it happened, not knowing what would happen at the wedding, yet a strong sense of foreboding. she looks at the soup, saying, 'it's a bit too much like wine, i don't wish to get drunk,' athelstan hearing her soft voice. she and the hound had nearly got killed when sleeping in the forest, the other being drunk, yet she had only daintily took a sip, then stabbed with needle when they came to kill her and him. the blood had dripped black onto her sword as she raised it up to look at it.

[devoutpriest]

bloodiedwolf:

‘ i don’t know any more. ’ it’s a lie, but it isn’t. arya knows the names. ( she sees the flashes, every time she closes her eyes. rise and run and eat with us. she jabs her fingers into the hole in her chest to draw them away bloody and maybe she knows more about it than anyone except the dead. ) still, her voice is oddly calm around the vicious anxiety knocking in her ribcage, the urge to bolt, to seal herself off completely. you won’t understand. you can’t. leave me alone. what do you want from me? she’s watchful to ensure none of it enters her mouth. watchful to ensure she doesn’t say anything that could be used against her later. ‘ they’re dead. there’s nothing more to understand. ’

i am the king in the north, robb remembered, as he slew people on the battlefield, wearing blood-spattered grey and silver armour. his hands are like a dolphin's flippers, he feeling the air around him as he grips his sword, he swiftly bringing justice to his enemies. he had remembered his vows to the freys, they doing battle with him, as he spoke to walder about marrying his daughter roslin and forming an marriage alliance. he had seen jeyne as a nurse in the field though, she having to amputate a soldier's leg, he seeing her work so tirelessly and thinking she brave, as they talk in the tent. there was a lot weighing on the young man's back, he feeling weighted by responsibility. he had seen fellow soldiers once bring in dead lannister boys, he feeling conflicted, as they were children -- yet they had said an enemy is an enemy. he touches arya's foot with his furred paw, she seeing this vision forming in her head.

[devoutpriest]

ecclesiastes was a beautiful verse he spoke to cat, he saying the wedding was an intimate regicide that shattered the beauty of seasonal change. he sees the bowl of soup he pushed towards her wasn't perhaps seen by her, or she may not want to drink it, as she could not be hungry. he smiling modestly, and looking shyly.

[devoutpriest]

her boot is nearly knee high, having marks on it, as she walked a long way with the hound. they had travelled to the twins from the green fork, where sandor had chopped off her hair ; a terrible hairdresser, she thought dryly. she hopes he wouldn't know her as the daughter of ned stark, yet how could he? she was cat, the daughter lagertha adopted. she wished she had known gyda, who she heard tales about from she and ragnar, and the priest before her talked about her with sad reminiscence as well. as she sometimes saw him pet a rabbit and speak to her, he saying she was gyda.

[devoutpriest]

his light blue eyes, glow white in his irised pupil as he says he wants to understand. as cat clasps her hands to her chest, wondering why this priest would speak so mildly yet was asking too much of her, asking anything of her. he was a stranger who didn't know her life. as her eyes wander, she thinking about what to do, her chest clamoring in hitched breath, she sees a brown turret of a house with fireworks in the night sky of kattegat, colours of aquamarine green and yellow and red. it was quite beautiful. she wears a beret to guise further she was a boy as she travelled with the hound, she recalled, as they saw the riverlands, not seeing the red wedding itself, yet she saw grey wind's head ( robb's direwolf, she remembered ) on a stick, and the freys laughing as fire flickered in celebration.

[devoutpriest]

athelstan is reading the bible, it was blue and pink and yellow with white grainy sand, shown to him by jess. as they drink wine and eat brioche bread ; the last supper in honor of christ. she says she doesn't drink wine, drinking tea. he had mostly remembered the gospel of saint john, as that was the illustrative gospel he had been painting at the time of the monastery raid. he had started painting other works as well during his monastic tenure. bread was an important food in many cultures too, he remembered, as was rice. it could soak liquid in the stomach, like a sponge dipped in soup. he reads in wonderment of the story of why jesus liked bread, going to the passover where he was feeding barley bread to them, teaching about the bread and wine in a capernaum synagogue.

[devoutpriest]

gyda is painting, her blonde hair in a long blond plait at the side. it's not a broom, she says to a classmate who said it was. she liked wearing her hair like that, a wild swan viking. there was a new teacher called athelstan whom interested her. he noticed she was painting runes of unique entwined shapes, he curious at the pattern.

[devoutpriest]

he is in paris, seeing ragnar injured, having delusions which the chinese medicine yidu gave him helping. he is a ghost in the dark dirty streets, and he sees ragnar view him as heaven, while also seeing a man in a black hat whom was valhalla. he is reaching his hand to ragnar, as light shines behind him.

[devoutpriest]

athelstan is with castiel, he in kattegat with him. cas says, 'i came through to this village during my travelling through time.' his wings, feathered and glorious are still stretched out in shadowed luminescence on each side of him, the other in awe. he remembered travelling through time before, he sending dean to the past where he met his father in the diner. he had been reading a newspaper.

[devoutpriest]

do they believe in magic? why do they have this belief?

athelstan has visions, seeing a dragon's head in the clouds, stormy weather during his painting of the gospel illustration. he does believe in dreamy magic. a monk, father prudentias, notes to judith, the one ecbert had said for him to teach her how to paint, said athelstan had been illuminating sacred texts, last concentrating on the gospel of saint john. his spirit is shaken during when the vikings raided the monastery and when he gets crucified, and his visions grow more frequent and delusional. he dreams of blood trickling down his temple, seeing a monster with sharp teeth ( a boogeyman under the bed ).

[devoutpriest]

Anton Checkhov

[devoutpriest]

staticskull:

"Do you think it's a crime somewhere to think that something that isn't a crime is a crime? And in that case, would it be a crime to think that was a crime if it wasn't a crime?" Austin had been thinking about thought crime as of late, they being peers at university. He reminiscences in a quiet tone derived of selective mutism, as he smokes a cigar, the yellow flame igniting in the white cylinder. He looks at the other, as he is smoking, he having frequent delusions. This made him creative in art, a teacher saying 'wow, it's really good' about an piece he could connect closely with animals.

"If nothing happened to make one act upon a crime, it is not a crime," he answers after a while, although confused at this conundrum. If it was only a thought, a dream, one has not sinned. He frowns and consults the bible once more. he reads about god not really liking smoking, as it polluted the body.