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The Elder Scrolls Factions → Nightingales “Our trinity serves the Lady Nocturnal, the Empress of Murk and the Daughter of Twilight. We believe her to be our patron, if not the patron of all thieves worldwide. We serve her without prayer, without charity and without celebration.”

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Something Yuria’s prone to doing is acting very flirtatious/coquettish to receptive people, to act like an innocent damsel in need of protection--but in all honesty, much of it is a significant ruse. Yuria has very little interest in sex or romance personally, but likes using it as yet another tool of deception if need be to get her way.

But, like everything else, it’s extremely deceptive and used dominantly as a tool of manipulation. 

Those she is in a romantic relationship will likely see none of that but a very honest, vulnerable woman who adopted the role of a Darkwraith as a way ending a miserable cycle of ceaseless deathlessness. 

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offers her a handful of bird seeds

An amused chortle sounds as a clawed tip traced Simon’s bearded jaw so that the shorter man was forced to look up some, the metal talon scraping through the bearded hairs sensually before flicking off the tip, a coquettish gesture, indeed. “Thou’rt a treasure, dear’st Simon. Thank thee, truly~” she crooned approvingly, chortling.

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@starvedwclf -- ;

So, it was time. Within Yuria’s hand was a letter penned by Yoel himself, a small smile manifesting at the thought of her friend sacrificing himself for this, doing what was needed to usher in the Age of Dark and place a final nail in the coffin of Gwyn’s arrogantly prolonged Age of Fire. Placing the letter away within one of her desk drawers did Yuria check her belongings, her wares--everything necessary for the journey ahead. Good, all was prepared. Venturing out in the darkness of night, the high, abrasive spires of the Sable Church rose proudly at her back, knowing that no steed would be required. For the venture was not long, and she would likely be there by day’s end tomorrow.

Heading north to the church’s farthermost border by the wood, she took pause at the distinct sensation of not being alone. 

“Reveal thyself,” Yuria said levelly, voice calm and mellifluous, “for I’ve patience not for interlopers and cut-purses, knave.”

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@a-bottomless-curse -- ;

The nights encompassing Irithyll were always of a drearier sort than other parts of the world, but by the dead gods was the view of the city always quite enrapturing. Granted, Yuria wasn’t the sort who would seemed moved by such a view, but it was one of the few things that brought solace in the darkness to come. Without a campfire to warm her, Yuria had no intention of lingering in such a place as it was, making the visitation ephemeral at best. After all, she had to prepare for the way of her Lord. 

Yet noticing a passersby on the road, her ivory white garb stood out luminously against the dull stone, as bright as Irithyll’s lights themselves.

Yuria yet lingered, waiting, ready hand drifting ever-closer to her Darkdrift.

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99% of my blog’s content is:

yuria terrorizing people birb style

pretending to be an innocent maiden for the lulz

yANK

pECK

beak kissus

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birb greetings.

…Stares at his tassel.

Stares.

staRES.

…YANKS–

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darkmoondelusion‌: 

“Not to worry, madam, there are far more important things to worry about than thy bedroom habits, which I would not want to hear about ANYWAY—”

“‘Tis all quite well, m’lord. Verily, it shan’t be I whom’st faces persecution should such infamy proliferate. Ah, can’st thou imagine it? Thy lord father’s belove’d knight fornicating a Darkwraith harlot.”

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“Art thou viewing such debauchery, m’lord? Aye, what would’st thine ilk say of such deviancy?”

“I am watching you, filthy sinners.”

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abysstaken‌: 

   Gloved hands lingered on the wooden frame of the doorway. ‘Twas true, that the company he kept with the Lady was quite unusual and extended past mere doting hospitality. Even holy knights had their vices, secrets that would make ballroom nobles gossip with blushed faces, and when graced with such beauty framed by soft locks, even Artorias admitted weakness. 

   “I beg pardon, my lady. For I burden thee with this knight’s woeful dilemma,” he spoke with a silky-spun flow to his words. “All things would ordain, I carry onto to my quarters, and trouble thee not. But I find my cold bed to be quite lonesome and an uninviting prospect, when I see before me a beauty whom might detest such chilly loneliness as well.” 

   Artorias’ head dipped forward, voice kept low as to not carry his sweet words further than her ears. “Perchance, thou welcomest my company… unless I act a fool with grievous error, ignorant that another soul hath thy promise…?” 

It was difficult to narrowly resist the unbecoming smirk that almost flowered upon Yuria’s features--almost. It was a tricky bridge to walk upon, she thought as his countenance loomed close as a shadow over her person, hairs on the nape of her neck standing in anticipation. Except, she was no dewy-eyed maid who swooned from such mere attentions. That, and the risk to her reputation was considerably less, with less to damage in any potential fallout.

“Ah, I see’th what pretty lines thou must proffer to all thine paramours. Am I wrong, Ser Knight? Or,” she leaned in contestably closer, a wicked smile curling her lips, “art thine senses dreaming most of mine cries and the curve of an arched back, of a heaving bosom and the wetness so oft found betwixt thighs a’quiver?”

Her head canted coyly, a dare present in her gaze. “Hardly am I a courtly maid, ser. Mayhap if thou wish’st to play with thy prosey words, the princess might entertain thee to awake. Else,” she took pause, fingers curling beneath Artorias’ chin, “I favor action far more than words.”

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@abysstaken -- ;

It was strange enough being escorted back by the Wolf Knight himself, as Yuria was but a lady-in-waiting to the Princess Filianore, but no one in their right mind would think of turning Artorias away. It had been a slow walk between her beginning destination and then, footfalls languid but swift to match pace with Artorias. Upon finally arriving at her door, Yuria bowed and kept her head bowed, ivory tresses spilling over her head when she curtseyed her thanks and farewell--

All before his manful hand barring it closing made her glance up.

“Ser? Prithee, dost thou not hath to return to thy quarters?”

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sanguinesmiles‌: 

My, this one was certainly determined! Even the pace with which she’d set herself on was quicker than that of other pilgrims. There had to be some motive to why she’d come here. If so, there would be no way the Warrior would allow this peculiar pilgrim the freedom to go wherever she pleased. She mulled over the though in her mind, only glancing as the woman passed her and was nearly at the entrance.

“Hold a moment!”

She swiftly turned on her heel, moving to meet with her bird-helmed companion. Aside from her voicing briefly cutting through, the slight clanking of her mail colliding together was the only thing breaking the brief silence. The visor of her own helm, thankfully, blocked the suspicious glare she gave to the stranger.

“If… it it does not distress thee, perhaps I will accompany you. Not many pilgrims dare venture this far, and I’d despise any harm coming to thee.”

For the time being.

Yuria almost chuckled after being addressed to stop, sufficing with a wily grin beneath her helm to compensate. Slowing her walk did she receptively wait, crossing her arms beneath her bosom before stopping entirely and waiting, coyness present in her very aura. Oh, so maybe this one was a little brighter than most and could sense her nefarious intentions? Well, that would be something of a first, especially when many didn’t recognize the Darkwraiths of this age and how greatly they divorced from those of before; at least, for all appearances. Yuria and her sisters weren’t mindless hollows, for one.

“If it is as thou wish’st, I would be most honor’d by thine accompaniment,” Yuria replied with a rather mocking curtsy, though it’d be unlikely to be perceived as much. That only left a true question: what would become of this, then? Would the knightess come to realize who she was and demand her to stop? If so, her Darkdrift could always use another tally to its death toll. What was another hapless soul clinging to a frayed existence? 

“Well, I shan’t keep thee waiting. Come along, then.”

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abysscnborn‌: 

“A change that I welcome.” Tyraemon hummed.

The tendrils around his form twitched, a few more extended from the gaps in his armor, curling around his upper arms and around his torso. The god pinched his chin, turning his head just enough to take in everything surrounding him.

Dark ran rampant around them, bleeding through even the air.

Yuria smiled thoughtfully beneath her helm, arms folded contemplatively.

“Would’st thou wish to see the of the Church, m’lord?” she intoned with a lilt beneath her helm, clawed gauntlet holding her own chin thoughtful as if in mimicry. Lord Kaathe would want to know of the Dark Soul’s presence, to perhaps greet him in honors and airs and all that convoluted rubbish. 

“Please, this way. They crave’st thine presence, truly...”

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royal-dragonslayer-ornstein‌: 

Patrolling the streets had become a recurring task for the doctor as of late, awfully monotone when compared to the prior nature of his work, although his last days in Yahar’gul had not been so pleasant, leaving a sour taste in his mouth that had proven difficult to get rid of. It was for the best, if his line of work proved to be uneventful then that meant the use of force had been required scarcely, a much better alternative to the tensions that had slowly but surely arisen within some sectors of Yharnam. At the very least the silence provided him plenty of time to ponder, although it seemed that he might never get the answers he was looking for.

Eventually his ears picked up a conversation signalling trouble, as the townsfolk rarely voiced their displeasure with discretion. Moving closer to the source of that noise, he recognized the object of their bitter speech to be a lone nun, unaccompanied and seemingly unprotected, something he deemed terribly careless. Ornstein squinted at the sight, how easily they grew bold and righteous in their numbers. Against the wrong target, too, but just as they lost their critical thought gathering in masses, they lost the ability to distinguish the individual and their fault from the rest.

“Good sister.” Announced by his call a man towering above the rest approached them, dressed in a long coat and a wide hat both white in colour, leaving no doubts of his occupation. His tone was calm, but the grip on his spear was tight and ready, its blunt end hitting the floor with every two steps until he stopped, turning his head to the woman. “I trust that these gentlemen are not slowing you down?”

As with many things, the Healing Church’s iron grip of Yharnam was loosing each and every day, though it was hardly much of a loss when what remained of the Vilebloods wished for it even before their demonization had begun. The Church had wrested rule of the city from them, and displeasure had followed in its footsteps ever since, especially as it became a clout of theocratic rule. And the poor queen hardly even cared anymore, instead growing increasingly obsessed with conceiving a child of the cosmos than ruling what remained of her kingdom, especially in the wake of a childless marriage when the king had died some time ago. No more a nun than these men were upstanding gentlemen, Yuria smirked victoriously when the men were transfixed at whatever behemoth was behind them and put on her maidenly airs quite naturally. 

Turning with a worried lip and distressed expression, she backed away in the throes of a woman gripped by fear. “I meant them no harm, yet they seemed to wish to do to me something most foul!” Yuria cried out pitifully to the red-haired doctor, stepping besides him while the men gave her incredulous looks before training again upon the man who stood with menacing height over them, perhaps wondering if he wasn’t some lost Pthumerian come to walk among their ilk once more. “We ain’t meanin’ no trouble with the lassie. All we was ‘opin’ was that she migh’ answer some questions, is all.” Though their excuse was likely unconvincing, Yuria at that point was too much beside herself in giddiness. Playing the nun while one of the Church’s own rescued a woman meant to be on their killing floor? What a true delight!

“I hardly meant any trouble, sirs. Perhaps, whatever your grievances are, the Vicar might be of better help? For I am only a sister of Church, none else.” Gods, she sounded pathetic, but just the right amount. Hell, Yuria would cackle if it wouldn’t blow her cover. They’d be driven witless with fear if perhaps she feigned them threatening worse, but for a public show of vulnerability, it would have to do. Stick them like the alien-worshiping pigs they were. “I only wish to be on my way...”