#《 ☾ 》 A MAGICIAN DARK AS NIGHT | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

barovianbitches · 1 year ago

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In the Shadow of the Svalich Woods -Nadia cel Tradat

Death had followed Nadia like a plague since her birth. Mama had been gone for so long before Nadia saw her again, leaving something else to take her mother’s place in raising her. She was but a baby when she was left with her uncle, the Beast of Barovia, Vasile cel Tradat, where she was raised among the warriors and magicians that made up the Untamed. Vasile, who never married or had children of his own, was happy to take in his niece and care for her as his own. He was never opposed to the idea of children, but he never had the time or patience when the possibility of conquest loomed. What better to share the fruits of the warpath than with an impressionable child?

The Untamed were known for their indomitable spirit, not their seasoned child rearing techniques. Nadia had no children her age within the clan, leading to the young girl spending much of her time either by herself or observing the rigorous training of her aunties and uncles. Idle hands were the devil’s playground, and even at a young age she proved it right time and time again. However, Vasile was much more of a… Nontraditional parental figure. He firmly believed in exploration, independence, and self-discovery. After all, it was how he found his love for the blade. This ideology left Nadia to her own devices for long stretches of time.

Her uncle was not the man, or, well, thing that truly raised her, though.

It began with dead things. Barovia has its fair share of predators and prey, wolves kill deer while looming creatures snatch travelers from the road. Such is the way of life. But a five year old disappearing for an afternoon, only to reappear after dark and clutching what looks to be a femur? Not a common trait for a child so young to not only return, but to be completely unharmed and unaffected. While other children would play make believe and spend their time beneath the feet of family members, Nadia enjoyed searching the forest surrounding the campgrounds, leaving for hours on end and somehow managing to find what was left of a mountain lion’s meal. Birds, squirrels, rabbits, and various small prey all found their way back to the camp.

“We have a little hunter on our hands!” He proclaimed when Nadia returned one evening, her skirts and palms slicked in animal blood, cradling a feathered lump in her arms. “A very nice catch, little micek! Soon, you will run with the rangers and great soldiers of the Untamed, hunting the monsters of this land, and soon, Strahd himself!” Her capabilities were celebrated that evening with song and dance, earning her the nickname “kitty” from her uncle. Vasile simply chalked it up to Nadia’s unconventional upbringing, even by Vistani standards. She would grow out of it soon enough, perhaps picking up the sword or bow.

The years passed. In the blink of an eye, she was no longer a child, but a blossoming young woman. She was quieter than Vasile had anticipated, never quiet coming out of her shell while around others. Given that she grew up around such a rowdy bunch, her uncle assumed she might have become a man of the people, like him. But, no such luck. He was not going to push his one and only niece, if she enjoyed her books and time alone, so be it! Vistani tradition described the women of their clans as great seers, the keepers of the knowledge of the Fates themselves. With such knowledge, they would be the great guides and leaders of the clans. By extension, such was Nadia’s fate as well.

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Her morning began like any other. Nadia was both an early bird and a night owl, never sleeping more than intervals of six hours. Late in the evening, she would read and write her thoughts, long after the festivities of Vistani evenings were complete and the other warriors were asleep. Then, she would rise long before the Barovian sun rose behind the thick blanket of clouds. It was quite a bit of time for one to be awake. Almost too much time spent wrapped in her own thoughts. She kept herself busy enough, though. On the days that the clan wasn’t traveling, she would explore the area, keeping extensive notes on the areas of land of which they stayed.

The rich, velvety tones of plum and cobalt dominated the space, casting a deep, mystical aura that beckoned all who entered. Lengths of patterned fabric, each a unique tapestry of intricate designs, draped across every available surface, creating a sense of warmth and intimacy within the small space. The interior walls of her caravan were adorned with artful crown molding, intricate designs that seemed to dance along the periphery of the room. Glistening gold metal accents occupied around the perimeter of the small windows, catching the ambient light like distant stars in a midnight sky. These golden embellishments lent an air of regal elegance to the otherwise humble surroundings, blending seamlessly with the tapestries that covered the caravan's walls.

Trinkets and curiosities covered nearly every available surface, creating an eclectic and captivating atmosphere. A collection of items from dozens of places that the clan had visited. Animal bones, delicately arranged in mysterious patterns, adorned shelves and tabletops. Specimen jars filled with exotic plants and preserved creatures, suspended in ethereal preservatives, added an otherworldly touch to the caravan's interior. A faint glow was cast off of these jars, possibly from some bioluminesce, creating soft lighting even with the curtains drawn and candles snuffed.

In the corners of the caravan, stacks of books awaited curious minds. These tomes were bound in leathers of a multitude of different shades, their pages filled with mythology, religious studies, and knowledge of the arcane. Ribbon bookmarks of various colors and lengths protruded from the pages, each hinting at her favorite parts. Every time they passed by a town with a bookshop, her uncle made sure to bring her at least three new additions to her treasure trove.

Incense burned in a small dish, filling the room with the scent of a delicate, sweet aroma, tinged with hints of exotic spices and earthy undertones. The scent reminded her of her mother’s perfume; a blend of pear and raspberry, middle notes of osmanthus, vanilla, and cinnamon, burning from a base of cedar and wine. She didn’t mean to leave it burning, but judging by the open book beneath her pillow, Nadia had fallen asleep in the middle of a chapter.

She felt the beginnings of a headache creep from her temples into the corner of her vision. Nadia had not eaten since the evening before yesterday, a careless mistake that she made frequently when settling into a new area. There was simply too much to explore, too much to unpack.

An audible groan left her lips as she stretched out in her bed, the silky sheets begging her to lay there for just a bit longer. But she couldn’t. It was a perfectly good morning, the cold air of the late fall attempting to slither in from a crack in her window. She was thankful for the coming winter. Soon enough, it would be time to leave Barovia, get ahead of the frigid blizzards that would rake the lands for at least the next six months. While she adored the silence of the snowfall, the breath that mother nature held in those dark days, she much preferred the milder season outside of the demiplane.

Rising out of bed, she lit a long matchstick, using it to light a beautiful circular lantern that hung from the wall beside her bed. The glass, a light purple, illuminated the interior of her little home further, allowing her to see the colors of her interior design. The interior of the caravan had transformed over the years, evolving in sync with the woman who had spent her youth and adulthood within its intimate confines. It had grown with her, like a living entity. Little hints of her past were scattered throughout, like time capsules of her memories.

A well-loved black bear stuffed animal, perched on a cushioned seat, stood unblinking, only retaining a single button eye. Its faded fur and worn features were testaments to the countless hours of companionship it had provided her in those formative years. Alenka, she recalled calling the bear when she was younger. The presence of the toy, tucked amidst a sea of rich colors, spoke of a youthful innocence that still lingered within her.

Nadia reached for a well-worn kettle, the flicker of another match slowly bringing the small wood stove to life. While the water began its slow journey to a boil, she selected a quaint teapot, one adorned with intricate patterns that matched the caravan's aesthetic. The fragrant aroma of tea leaves filled the air as she carefully spooned them into the teapot, a hint of anticipation in her movements. Her fingers moved deftly, as years of experience guided her in this ritual. She listened for the telltale bubbling of the water in the kettle, and as soon as it reached the perfect temperature, she poured it into the teapot. The gentle clinking of porcelain and the satisfying sound of water meeting leaves filled the space.

As the tea steeped, she reached for a single mismatched teacup, made from a fine bone china from a far off city. Blue roses curled around the cup and its saucer, intertwined with brambles and pinecones. The scent of brewing tea mingled with the memories that clung to the caravan's interior.

She slipped off her nightgown, trading it for a warm chemise. On went the tall wool socks which fastened to her garter belt, standing and stepping into her boots. Her outer layers were followed by several heavy skirts and a wrap-style bodice that was lined with soft animal pelts. Smoothing the fabric, she pulled a beautiful triangular shawl over her shoulders, carefully tying it in the front. It was a gift from her mother, embroidered with small black birds along the hem.

She glanced at the strip of worn leather that made up the covering for her eye. Nadia paused, looking over it momentarily, before leaving it where it was neatly folded. It was early enough, she didn’t need it.

Picking up her perfect cup of morning tea, she made her way towards the door of the caravan, passing a small altar created on her dresser. She sipped from the cup, the warm liquid soothing her very soul as she looked over the picture she observed hundreds of times before. Several snuffed candles surrounded a yellowing portrait of herself as a baby in the lap of her beaming mother, her uncle poised behind them with a hand on her mama’s shoulder. Despite its fading colors and disintegrating corners, it was still one of her prized possessions.

Nadia smiled to herself, kissing the pads of her middle and pointer fingers before placing it to the picture. Nadia was the spitting image of her, right down to the sharp downward slope of her nose and full cupid’s bow. Vasile always said it himself. You look so much like her, misek.

She couldn’t help but feel a sharp tug at her heartstrings. Nadia missed her so, not a single day crossing her mind that she did not think of her. It was difficult growing up without her, without any knowledge of her father, only having her uncle and the clan. It took a village to raise a child, and yet she still longed for some semblance of maternal protection.

“Good morning, mama.” She murmured under her breath, picking up a golden starburst necklace hanging from the picture frame. Fastening it around her neck, she held the locket between her fingers, running a thumb over the points of the star.

Finishing her tea, she gently set the cup aside to clean up later, high on a shelf. From there, she gathered her essentials for mornings like these. A small journal, a bit of ink, and a quill. Whether to write her observations or compose something herself, her moments of silence were precious. Soon enough, when the sun rose, her uncle would rise, and so would the rest of the camp. Quickly, she made her way around her caravan, snuffing candles and incense, putting everything she could back in its proper place.

Moving to the door, she retrieved her belt, looping it around her waist and fixing several pouches and pockets to it, as well as the sheath concealing a dagger. Next came the cloak, a heavy item from her thirteenth birthday from Vasile. Despite it having been seven some odd years since then, she still was swimming in the obsidian colored fabric, it enveloping her whole. Finally, simple leather gloves to keep the nipping cold away.

As she went to unlock and open the door, the metal stuck a bit, frost laden across the plated exterior of the caravan. At Vasile’s request, all wagons in his fleet were armored with great plates of green-purple metal, forcing the image of large beetles. Nadia’s breath floated in the air before her as darkness still engulfed the camp. She heard the soft huffing of the ox, still sleeping off their fatigue from the last week of travel. Instinctively, she paused, perched on the stair step of her wagon, one pointed ear perking a bit and simply listening.

In the early hours of a late fall, almost winter, morning, the world around her little bubble was wrapped in a hushed stillness. The darkness outside was punctuated only by the soft murmur of the world awakening. The gentle rustling of leaves, long surrendered to the season's chill, hinted at a world in transition. The distant call of a solitary bird, an early riser like her, broke the silence with its plaintive song, a reminder that life persisted even in the cold. A soft breeze whispered through bare branches, creating a gentle, intermittent rustling as it passed.

Just how she liked it. Nadia stepped down onto the ground, quietly closing the door behind her with a click.

Moments like this where she was entirely alone was the only time she was able to go without her eyepatch. No one could see her, no one was going to judge her for her looks. It was perfect, this moment was perfect. Nadia wondered what it would be like to travel the land alone, to be on her own wholly and truly. Would she be lonely? She didn’t think so. Already, she spent so much of her time alone and to herself, what difference would it make? But something small whispered to her that she would miss her people, her uncle, all of the wonderful Vistani who raised her with everything they had.

Nadia stepped out of the cozy caravan and into the biting cold of the dark frosty morning. The frigid air rushed to greet her, causing her breath to materialize in soft, misty puffs. The caravan's wooden steps creaked faintly beneath her as she descended, a sound that resonated in the silent pre-dawn stillness.

The world was draped in an icy shroud, and a crisp chill permeated the atmosphere, numbing her cheeks and fingers. The darkness still held dominion over the land, the sky adorned with countless glittering stars, like diamonds strewn across a velvet cloth. A faint, silvery moon hung low on the horizon, casting a subtle glow over the frosted landscape.

If you asked her, she would know every single constellation, having spent an entire year of her youth charting the stars of Barovia.

The forest, stretching out in all directions, beckoned to her with a mysterious allure. Its tree branches, adorned with delicate ice crystals, glistened in the faint moonlight. The world was a silent tableau of winter's beauty, a stillness that seemed to hold its breath, waiting for the first gray light of the Barovian day to awaken it. As she stood at the threshold of her home on wheels, the forest's call was impossible to resist. It whispered of untold adventures, concealed within its depths, and she felt the irresistible pull to explore the secrets it held. With a shiver of excitement, she ventured forth, her footsteps creating a soft crunch in the frost-covered grass.

With each step, she ventured deeper into the Svalich Woods, their trees standing tall and proud, stripped bare by the relentless onslaught of the season. Despite their stark appearance, the forest held an undeniable allure for her, a familiar and comforting presence that had been her solace for as long as she could remember. The ground crunched beneath her boots, the remnants of frozen leaves and twigs yielding to her gentle presence.

The citizens of Barovia whispered tales of horror about the Svalich Woods, weaving stories of terrifying creatures that lurked within its depths. But she paid no heed to their fears. To her, the woods had always been a friend, a sanctuary that embraced her with open arms. She knew the pathways intimately, the trees seeming to part and guide her way, their ancient trunks whispering secrets that only she could understand.

The frosty air carried a crisp scent of pine and earth, mingled with the subtle aroma of snow. The ground beneath her boots crunched with every step, the sound muffled by a carpet of fallen leaves and frost-kissed grass. The silence was broken only by the occasional caw of a distant crow, echoing through the forest like a melancholic melody. Despite the chill, there was a sense of tranquility in the woods, a peace that settled over her like a comforting blanket. As she ventured deeper, the woods enveloped her in a quiet embrace, their twisted branches forming a natural canopy above her head. The patterns of shadows and moonlight danced on the forest floor, lighting her way. In this serene haven, she felt at home, her heart attuned to the gentle rhythm of nature.

It was places like this where she felt at peace, where she was able to commune with the force that had called to her and guided her for so many years. A gentle voice that spoke to her, something that had kept her company even in her moments alone. Nadia could hear it speak, an ancient voice that at first didn’t seem to form words and yet she understood all the same.

“Are you here this morning, oh great one?” She smiled, a bit of sarcasm playing in her tone. There was a distinct pause as she spoke to the dark stillness of the woods surrounding her, nothing for miles besides the camp in the direction she came from. Nadia was alone by all detectable means, but she knew better.

She chuckled, humming a bit as she moved through the undergrowth, brambles clawing at her skirts. “You have been so quiet lately, I was worried that you may have left.” The Vistana continued to no one in particular. “Won’t you come out?”

Nadia waited another moment longer, her keen eyes searching the woods around her for any hint, any sign of the being she chatted to. “How surprisingly coy of you. Are you angry with me?” She prodded, looking up towards the sparkling sky curiously.

Finally, a voice broke the silence.

“No, my dove. I would never be angry with you. Did you rest well?”

#Nadia #Nadia cel Tradat #Curse of Strahd #Dnd #Lore

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eminems-skittles · 4 years ago

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distractions [timothee chalamet x reader]

timothee chalamet x fem!reader warnings: none just fluff word count: 1.2k a/n: gif not mine

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆

The silence woke her. Something that normally would be welcoming to most people while trying to get a full night's sleep. The streetlights that lined the street outside seeped through the half open blinds in the otherwise dark bedroom. Something was different. She scanned the room. Everything seemed to be in the exact same place, except for one thing. Timothée. When Y/N fell asleep, he was right next to her, well, under her.

What woke her up wasn't that he moved. It was the absence of the mumbled music from Timothée's headphones that drew Y/N from her sleep. She had grown accustomed to falling asleep as he blasted whatever his newest favorite album was at the time, as he looked over a script or scrolled through twitter.

How he had not woken her up when he got up was a mystery since she had fallen asleep with her head on his chest. Y/N sat up and pulled herself out of the bed. Her bare feet met the cold hardwood floor. She moved skillfully out of the room, carefully dodging the furniture and objects scattered around the floor. Making her way down the hall of her and Timothée's shared apartment, she was met by the soft yellow glow from the kitchen light.

Timothée stood at the sink, hands on either side of it, staring out of the window overlooking the busy New York streets. His hair was a mess, like he had been messing with it. He was wearing pj pants and a baggy hoodie. Y/N wrapped her arms around his waist and rested her head on his back. He jumped, slightly startled by her presence. He turned around in her arms, facing her.

"Mon amour, why are you awake?" He asked, wrapping his arms around her. She looked up at him, her eyes searching his face.

"I could ask you the same question, bub. I woke up and you weren't there. And I can't sleep without you there" She whispered to him. Y/N brought her hand up to his cheek, noticing how tired he looked. "Are you okay?"

He leaned into her hand, closing his eyes. He covered her hand with his and kissed the palm of her hand. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just stressed about work is all."

"Wanna talk about it?" She intertwined their fingers together and brought their hands down.

He leaned forward and pressed a small kiss to Y/N's forehead. "Not really if that's okay. I don't want to focus on it anymore. I just want to be here with you now. You always make everything better." He wasn't lying. He had been stressed about one of his upcoming projects but the second he felt her arms around his waist, all of his worries melted away. It was as if she was a magician who could make all of his problems disappear with the wave of her hand.

"Of course it's okay, bub. I'm here if you do ever want to talk about it." She smiled at him before kissing his cheek. She realized that she had to distract him from whatever was bothering him. "Your hair looks funny right now. The curls are going everywhere." She giggled. Oh how Timothée loved her giggle. It was music to his ears.

"Je t'aime, je t'aime, je t'aime" Timothée mumbled, peppering her face with kisses and pulling her into his chest, leaning against the sink. She played with the strings on his hoodie. "Sorry for waking you, mon amour."

"Je t'aime aussi. You didn't wake me, bub. Your headphones not blasting music woke me up," Y/N giggled,pulling away slightly to look up at him. She poked his face lightly.

He chuckled softly at what she said. Timothée decided that in this moment, she was a goddess merely visiting the mortal plane. The way her y/h/c hair was laying just at her shoulders, slightly wavy and messy, made her look flawless. Her y/e/c eyes were somehow glowing in the dim kitchen lights. The way she could transform his worst of moods into the most genuine happiness. He loved everything about her. She was the craziest, funniest, most adorable person he'd ever met. Yet at the same time, she was serious, caring and compassionate. And in his eyes, she was the most perfect person on the planet.

"You're gorgeous," he said, causing a pink blush to make its way to Y/N's cheeks. "Wait, how did the lack of music wake you up? I would have thought me moving you off of me would have woken up," he asked playfully, his curly hair bouncing as he laughed.

"Stop it," she whined. "I've just grown used to hearing it when I fall asleep."

"I didn't even realize you could hear the music. So do you sleep worse when I don't have music going?" He inquired, half serious, half playfully.

"Oh TImmy stop it," she swatted his chest.

"No, I really want to know," he replied, his laugh dying down. His green eyes searched her face, looking to see if she was actually upset about how her sleep was affected by him.

"Oh okay. Well to be completely honest, the worst sleep I get isn't when you are here to cuddle with or play obnoxiously loud music, but when you are out of town," She teased him, but was dead serious. When he travels or she travels, she tends to toss and turn all night long.

"I see. Well, why don't we go cuddle and get to sleep right now and take advantage of all this cuddle time we have over the next few weeks." Timothée lifted Y/N over his shoulder, and ran to their room. Y/N giggled, begging Timothée to set her down.

He set her down on the bed before climbing in next to her. Timothée pulled the covers over them as Y/N rested her head against his chest and laid her arm across his stomach. He wrapped his arms around her.

"Music tonight?" He asked, a smirk settling on his face.

"Oh be quiet," Y/N replied, sitting up slightly to look at his face.

"Bonne nuit, mon amour," Timothée told her, leaning forward to press a kiss against her lips.

"Goodnight bub," she replied, kissing him quickly before laying down again. She snuggled back into his side.

It was quiet for a few seconds before Timothée said, "So where did we land on the music?"

"Goodnight Timothée," she said, jokingly angry. Y/N looked up at him before brushing some hair out of his face. Stress had settled itself on his face again. "Get some sleep, Timmy. There is nothing to worry about okay? I love you and whatever is bothering you, we can get through together okay?" Y/N kissed him again, softly and full of love.

"Mmm," he hummed into the kiss and pulled away. "Were you just distracting me this whole time?"

"Maybe," she dragged out the last syllable, ending with a yawn. "I could tell you needed a distraction."

"God, I love you!" Timothée all but shouted. "Merci mon amour. Merci. Now it's time for you to get some sleep." He kissed her forehead. Timothée moved so he was on his side and facing her. She snuggled into his chest and he wrapped his arms around her.

#cassie's masterlist #{ writing }#timothee chalamet #timothee chalamet x reader #timothee chalamet x fem!reader #timothee chalamet fanfiction #celebrities #celebrity fanfiction #100

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