#ienemy

[ga1adriel]

: ̗̀➛ *ೃ༄ THERE IS A SWEETNESS IN THE SOUND OF A BLADE CUTTING THROUGH THE AIR ; that her heart so rejoices at the pitched chime — a deep set hunger in her ocean eyes as steel slices against nothing but the salt and mist thrown up from the great and wild sea beyond. her weapon is forged perfectly , the weight held between calloused palms measured and steady as galadriel swings it to and fro — her body moving with a soft fluidity as she turns against the first morning rays that sun throws down. her body passes through the purest light with ease , as if she is but another beam thrown down across pale marble in grace by the valar high above.

❛  did you come here in all this state to simply watch ?  ❜  his breathing is not heavy but it is carried to her over the sound of the crashing waves beyond them both. she knows that it was @ienemy's hands that crafted the sword she now holds between grateful fingers , one hand wrapped around the hilt as she allows it to fall to her side to rest against flowing silk and heavy fabric of her hitched up skirts with a expulsion of breath that plumes from between her lips like a fine smoke into the coolness above. she does not need to look upon him to know he watches. the thrall and drag of his earthen gaze and the way the unspoken answer that hangs in the morning breeze that drifts between them is palpable.

the city below only now begins to stir, for the most part the citizens of numenor continue to slumber. perhaps it is for the best.

HALBRAND sends a CHALLENGE

❛  it would be a pity if you did not know the pleasures of your toil — would it not ?   ❜  her smile is flickering , delicate as she turns to face him across the courtyard. galadriel does not need to entice him , he will come to face her or he will not. her anticipation does not matter. the decision will be his own, but she cannot help how her palm grasps her blade tighter — the tight knot within flexing and fading inside , unbidden and deep within her. a secret held so closely it digs furiously against her very core. ❛  ... perhaps you would show me what a smith's aide is truly capable of ? ❜ 

[uruuk]

our muses stumbling upon a blood trail together.

FASHIONED FROM FAIR AND BEAUTIFUL, BATTLE SKILLS WERE NAUGHT BUT SPORT BEFORE HE WAS FORGED BY SMITH'S APPRENTICE AS THE BERSERKER HE WAS INTENDED TO BE. slipping into his newfound race's inherency for BLOODLUST, WHICH ROUSES HIM INTO A CRAZED STATE. CURSED WITH A THIRST FOR BRUTALITY AND VIOLENCE, which carried his brutish form across the battlefield with almost a BEAUTIFUL PRECISION, when compared to the larger and heavier of his children. STILL, HE POSSESSES SOME LITHENESS OF THE ELDAR. SWINGING SWORD WITH BELLOWS OF WAR CRIES, AND SPLATTERING BLACK ARMOR. hair swaying, landing sweat-laden and free around his shoulders. HIS STATE ALLOWS FOR STRENGTH UNHEARD OF BEFORE MORGOTH'S TAMPERING, WITH FINGERS LIFTING GROWN MEN AND THROWING THEM 'CROSS THE BATTLEFIELD. TEETH SINKING INTO FLESH AND TEARING MEAT FROM EXPOSED THROATS. MAN FLESH STUCK BETWEEN SHARP CANINES AND BLOODYING IRON TONGUE. there are legions under his direct command, and LEAD THEM HE DOES. PROCURING VICTORY, FOR HIS LORD. FOR HIS MASTER . . .

AND HE KNOWS, HIS MASTER WAS WATCHING. can feel his ever-present eye, AND IT MAKES HIM FEEL MAGNIFICENT. LIKE THE THING OF BEAUTY HE'S TOLD HE IS IN THE DARK, BY GENTLE LIPS WHERE MORGOTH CANNOT HEAR. and his march back to the camp with heavy steps and twitching lip, with red blood and fleshy chunks pushing through heaving breath was a triumphant one indeed. HIS ADRENALINE WAS STILL PUMPING, LIKE BLACK TAR THROUGH HIS WARRIOR VIENS WHEN MAIRON FOUND HIM. SLIPPING THROUGH CRACKS IN HIS TENT WITH A PLEASED SMILE, AKIN TO A FELINE, WITH PATTERING, DELICATE FEET AND SOFT FLAMES OF HAIR. and when adar turns to greet it, he scowls -- THOUGH NOT FROM ANY FAULT OF MAIRON'S. A GUTTERAL GROWL ESCAPING FROM THE DEPTHS OF HIS THROAT, RESEMBLING A FULL-BLOODED URUK. his lips immediately turn upward into a narrow-eyed smirk. EVIL AND DARK, AND BLOODSTAINED.

HE NOTICES, WITH A FLICKER OF HIS EYES, THAT HIS FEET HAVE MADE TRACKS WITHIN A TRAIL OF BLOOD DRIPPING FROM HIS PERSON. AN ALBEIT SMALL CUT ON HIS LEG, mingling with the massive amounts of BLOODSHED clung to his person. for his master never shied away from the monster he'd become.

ADAR TURNS TO FACE HIM, just when perfect hands fall upon his heaving chest. HIS MOUTH OPENING WITH A DEEP PURR, AS HIS TONGUE LATHES AGAINST THE PRAISING ONE OFFERED. HIS PALE HAND TANGLED IN A FIRESTORM, THICK WITH LUST, WHILE HEAVY BREATHS INFLATE THE MAIA'S LUNGS. grunts are still laden with bloody phlegm, snarling with a deep need, AT EACH KITTEN LICK SWIPING ICHOR FROM HIS LIPS BETWEEN DRIPS OF PRAISE. A SMILE CAST DEEP INTO HIS DARK EYES, even while they lid. black with blown pupils in the extension of affliction.

@ienemy. not even linking the meme, bc i stretched this so far just so i could have an excuse to write this.

[smaugthcgolden]

ienemy asked: ❛ i am your god and your executioner. ❜ for smaug >:)

The great drake was so rudely awoken by a feeling so terrible. Even so, it took him forever to open his eyes, to be aware of what was speaking to him, of who. Golden-red scales shined in the low light of his mighty chamber, fire that never really seemed to die down burned in candles on various pillars and whatever grand walls remained. The mightiest of dragons lay so vulnerable, so exposed, and yet he cared not for it. His scales were harder than any steel, and he could allow himself to slowly wake.

When he finally saw this individual, he hummed, taking in their words with a measured gaze trained on them. "Is that so?..." His long neck craned around, sliding over gold coins and various piles of gems. It was a curious thing to say to him, and would have been so insulting, had he not the arrogance and power to back his own strength. A comfort in knowing he was just the most powerful being in this Middle-Earth!

"Such a bold claim..." His head turned, nearing them with a wicked grin appearing on his long snout, gazing on their form. "You must be mistaking me for some small, insignificant little snake... Do you not see what is before you? What I am?" He questioned, while also gloating of his massive size.

@ienemy

[pertadhel]

@ienemy asked: your bravery is admirable, but it will also be your undoing .

Elrond's   gaze   remained   steady,   though   a   shadow   of   wariness   flickered   in   his   eyes   as   he   regarded   the   man,   if   one   could   call   him   such   a   thing,   with   a   calm   restraint   that   hid   his   contempt.   The   words   lingered   between   them   like   smoke,   curling   with   the   veiled   threat   beneath   his   false   admiration.

"My   bravery   has   always   been   for   the   sake   of   others."   Elrond   replied,   his   tone   measured   but   resolute.   "If   it   shall   one   day   bring   me   to   ruin,   then   I   will   accept   that   fate   without   regret.   Yet   I   believe   it   is   not   bravery,   but   pride,   that   more   often   leads   to   one’s   undoing."

There   was   a   glint   in   his   eyes   as   he   watched   carefully,   his   heart   fortified   against   the   darkness   that   clung   to   this   creature   of   shadows   and   lies.   Elrond   knew   that   the   Dark   Lord's   words   were   meant   to   unsettle   him,   to   seed   doubt   and   caution.   He   thought   of   Galadriel,   and   all   those   who   had   once   gazed   upon   and   lost   themselves   in   the   calmness   of   what   he   could   offer.   What   could   he   offer   to   Elrond,   who   is   stuck   in   between   two   worlds   by   nature   of   his   sake   and   his   legacy?

"In   time,   all   things   meet   their   end,"   he   continued,   his   voice   quiet   but   resolute.   "But   I   will   not   be   broken   by   the   likes   of   you.   I   believe   it   will   be   your   pride   that   takes   you   before   my   bravery."

[nightsartist]

starter for : @ienemy

𝖕𝖆𝖓𝖉𝖊𝖒𝖔𝖓𝖎𝖚𝖒 𝖍𝖊𝖆𝖗𝖙𝖊𝖉 𝖈𝖍𝖎𝖑𝖉 , what deceit roils off the tongue in face of danger ? " i should be going , i am expected. " pretty as a doe , searching as a wolf . . . a wolf , yes , SHE IS A WOLF. " .. rest assured , my name is of no consequence. " she could lie , lie to him. lie to make it seem as though her fae bloodline was all that existed , erasing the human heart that exists within still. like calls to like . . . he is power. she can feel it , smell it. a rumble from within warning her in whisper tones to run . . . run away. she dare not show it. not on her face. not in quivering words or sweaty palms.  after all  ,  a wolf would bite in answer if it felt threatened enough.  

[oakthcrn]

𝐌𝐄𝐃𝐈𝐄𝐕𝐀𝐋 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐅𝐀𝐑𝐄, 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐅𝐀𝐑𝐄, 𝐏𝐄𝐀𝐂𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐄 𝐐𝐔𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒

accepting @ienemy sent: This is a time of change. This is a time of enormous power.

𝐋𝐀𝐑𝐊 𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐋𝐄𝐃 𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐅𝐑𝐄𝐂𝐊𝐋𝐄𝐃 𝐍𝐎𝐒𝐄 𝐀𝐓 𝐒𝐀𝐔𝐑𝐎𝐍. Her sapphire hues narrowed as she frowned at him. She crossed her arms over her chest. 

“ 𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐞𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐦𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐩𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫 𝐜𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐌𝐢𝐝𝐝𝐥𝐞 𝐄𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐡? ” She asked with a huff to her tone. She glared at him. She was either brave or stupid. 

❝ 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐞 𝐬𝐮𝐛𝐣𝐮𝐠𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐞𝐨𝐩𝐥𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐌𝐢𝐝𝐝𝐥𝐞 𝐄𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐡? 𝐍𝐨. 𝐘𝐨𝐮'𝐥𝐥 𝐛𝐞 𝐚 𝐭𝐲𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐭, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐥𝐥 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐲 𝐌𝐢𝐝𝐝𝐥𝐞 𝐄𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐡 𝐛𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐭. ❞ 

[dionadaiir]

𝐇𝐄 𝐆𝐀𝐙𝐄𝐃 𝐀𝐓 𝐒𝐀𝐔𝐑𝐎𝐍 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐀 𝐌𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐇𝐅𝐔𝐋 𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐊.  He canted his head to the side and watched the other curiously. 

❝ 𝐃𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐚 𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐜 𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠? 𝐁𝐞𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐈 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞.❞ 

@ienemy liked for a 𝐟𝐥𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐲 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐫.

[iriysse]

thanks to Doll, Aredhel low key joining the ranks of "people ridiculously attatched to Mairon" . This is part of her canon now.

[ondothlim]

--- Things had changed in Nan Elmoth. Maeglin could feel the shifting of leaves and trees, of path and bush, as if they held a dejected suspicion of him. Enchantment lay between each piece of foliage, Eöl's enchantment, and for the first time in his life there was a clear trickery about it. Eöl no longer trusted him. Maeglin could not say he was upset with that, in fact there was a strange power in knowing that he unnerved the dark elf. He who was younger, and did not possess the ability to walk freely in the forest unnerved his father.

He had to smile at that. More so he smiled at the knowledge that for the first time in seventy years, his mother had been happier. The dynamic had clearly adjusted. No longer did Eöl loom over them, for now there was a new threat in himself and Eöl would either have to back down, or kill them.

...Second option was not on Maeglins table. If Eöl dared to touch his mother in such a way, he'd kill him first. Such were his thoughts as he gathered wood for the forge, pushing the borders of the enchantments just to see their limits. Darkness was coming, and his mother worried.

A light flickered somwhere amidst the shadows and he peered through the trees seeking its source. His mother had one single friend she spoke of often when Eöl was not present, a friend that Maeglin remembered in light and hushed whispers. Trust did not come easily to him, and distance had always been his behavior when the Maiar came to visit. His words and smiles and soft glances set Maeglin at ill ease, he had been very young the last time he saw him.

All the same, mother would want to see him. "Mírtano!" He called to catch the Maiars attention. "Mae govannen. You call at an interesting hour."

starter for @ienemy

[gilithrin]

@ienemy --

--- "Boo!"

[putrid-tongue]

— STARTER FOR @ienemy ( && the darkening of westernesse )

all  his  life,  mordú  had  forged  on  unerringly.  had  pursued  his  studies  fiercely,  and  later  torn  apart  most  of  what  he  had  learned.  how  could  slavish  deference  to  powers  beyond  their  ken  be  the  right  path?  all  they  ever  were  allowed  to  see  on  bright  and  airy  days  is  the  endlessly  distant  fog  clinging  to  the  pelóri  and  naught  else  &&  the  elven  ships  that  would  sometimes  cross  the  waters  to  distant  shores.  how  could  one  peoples  be  so  beloved  &&  and  the  other  so  disregarded?  mistrusted,  abided  with  at  best.  his  is  a  voice  of  rebellion,  and  it  is  not  silent  or  quiet  either.  when  he  had  parted  with  his  family,  mordú  had  not  felt  regret,  or  sorrow.  within  the  sanctity  of  his  heart,  he  is  sure  that  he  hates  them,  pities  them.  theirs  is  a  quiet  and  steady  belief,  their  hearts  carelessly  given  to  the  valar.  &&  𝖒𝖔𝖗𝖉ú  𝖜𝖔𝖚𝖑𝖉  𝖓𝖔𝖙  𝖊𝖛𝖊𝖗  𝖚𝖓𝖉𝖊𝖗𝖘𝖙𝖆𝖓𝖉  𝖘𝖚𝖈𝖍  𝖇𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖘,  𝖔𝖗  𝖈𝖊𝖗𝖙𝖆𝖎𝖓𝖙𝖞.

in  these  matters  he  is  hardly  alone—  the  majority  of  his  people  too  do  lament  this  injustice  &&  most  of  all  the  fate  that  would  await  them  at  destiny's  end  without  fail:  a  true  death  of  which  there  is  no  coming  back  from.  long  in  the  past  are  the  days  when  elvenkind  was  welcome  upon  anadûnê's  shores  &&  great  are  their  kingdoms  spreading  inward  from  the  coasts  of  middle  earth.  but  no  worldly  glory  could  quell  or  soothe  such  a  deep  and  spiritual  hurt,  least  of  all  in  mordú's  eyes.  it  is  in  these  years  when  númenor  is  steadily  expanding,  that  mordú  turns  his  heart  to  secret  matters.  the  politics  in  council  halls  could  not  satisfy  him  anymore,  estranging  him  slowly  from  his  peers  amongst  the  ârûwânai.  no  philosophy,  no  debate  and  no  law  would  heal  his  people,  nay.

thus  he  often  wandered  the  fear  reaches  of  harad  as  he  dared,  and  the  eastern  regions  of  khand  and  rhûn.  &&  he  became  knowledgeable  in  no  small  amounts  of  lore  from  these  people—  from  the  mulkhêrhili  revering  alkar  as  their  one  true  god,  to  the  servants  of  the  real  fire  who  believe  alûva  and  malkôra  to  be  locked  in  eternal  combat.  therein  lies  the  answer,  mordú  became  convinced.  many  powers  have  been  vying  to  rule  supreme,  and  in  those  teachings  that  the  faithful  and  the  eldar  would  deem  abhorrent,  they  may  yet  find  the  strength  needed  to  push  back.

a  belief  that  would  see  itself  realized  and  justified  with  the  coming  of  sauron—  ZIGÛR.  an  abhorred  enemy,  a  creature  of  spite—  a  politician,  a  visionary,  a  bringer  of  freedom  and  knowledge,  a  saint.  he  is  holding  the  candle  that  mordú  has  been  desiring  all  these  years  with  such  ardent  longing.  knowledge.  to  a  man  like  mordú  it  is  no  trouble  to  believe  that  𝖙𝖍𝖊𝖞  𝖍𝖆𝖛𝖊  𝖇𝖊𝖊𝖓  𝖉𝖊𝖈𝖊𝖎𝖛𝖊𝖉  𝖎𝖓  𝖗𝖊𝖌𝖆𝖗𝖉𝖘  𝖙𝖔  𝖘𝖆𝖚𝖗𝖔𝖓,  to  his  master  even.  &&  he  readily  seeks  zigûr  out  whenever  he  can,  to  discuss  a  sermon  or  a  strange  philosophy  that  he  has  yet  to  pick  apart  in  his  mind.  they  have  ample  time  to  fester  and  grow  in  his  thoughts,  and  he  spreads  the  word  eagerly,  enriched  with  what  he  has  learned  in  prior  years  upon  his  travels.

‘  thy  proposal  is  the  spilling  of  blood—  yet  how  wouldst  such  an  act  further  our  cause?  'twould  mean  great  sacrifice  of  mine  people  and  diminish  them  inevitably.  ’  long  fingers  oh  so  gently  caress  the  ancient  and  brittle  pages  of  a  thick  tome—  diagrams  and  words  have  been  scribbled  upon  every  inch  of  free  space,  hardly  legible  and  most  arduous  to  decipher.  mordú  is  not  looking  at  the  other,  long  tresses  of  inky  hair  hiding  frowning  lips.  though  the  proud  arch  of  his  nose  is  easily  visible  yet,  and  so  is  the  temperamental  twitch  of  his  nostrils.  icy  gaze  roves  slowly,  finally,  to  the  divinity  in  the  room.  for  divinity  he  is,  even  if  he  seems  so  worldly.  there  is,  undeniably,  a  powerful  thrum  of  energy  filling  the  small  room—  much  like  the  heartbeat  of  an  ancient  beast.  𝖆  𝖒𝖚𝖘𝖎𝖈  𝖙𝖍𝖆𝖙  𝖍𝖊  𝖉𝖔𝖊𝖘  𝖓𝖔𝖙  𝖚𝖓𝖉𝖊𝖗𝖘𝖙𝖆𝖓𝖉,  𝖆𝖓𝖉  𝖕𝖊𝖗𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖘  𝖓𝖊𝖛𝖊𝖗  𝖜𝖎𝖑𝖑.  but  mordú  is  not  afraid  to  look  into  zigûr's  eyes,  and  does  so  with  a  steady  air  of  cold  reserve.  ah,  a  flame  is  lit  however  right  beneath  that  frost.  one  that  burns  with  passion—  to  learn,  and  to  learn  from  sauron.

‘  to  receive  of  another's  life  essence...  is  that  thy  will?  i  do  understand  that  great  power  may  be  drawn  from  it,  so  it  is  written  in  this  tome  here  that  thou  hath  given  me.  yet  i  struggle  to  understand  how.  ’  oh  he  is  mortal  yet,  and  burdened  with  trepidation  and  doubt.  mordú  is  able  of  many  things,  and  cruelty  is  among  them.  though  to  make  a  blood  offering  of  another  person  is  not  a  thought  he  ever  deigned  to  entertain  previously.  &&  while  he  is  ne'er  afraid  to  question  sauron  in  all  matters  that  come  to  mind  and  debate  him,  there  is  caution  within  his  heart.  for  in  this  song  of  power  surrounding  the  other  there  are  hidden  notes  of  great  malice  and  an  undeniable  force  of  will.  nor  does  he  wish  to  be  perceived  as  squeamish,  or  struggling  to  comprehend  what  is  being  taught  to  him.  ‘  i  ask  that  thou  wouldst  show  me,  here  where  no  prying  eyes  reach.  ’

[uruuk]

“ you look so pretty like this.  “

HE'S MODEST. HOW COULD HE NOT BE? SHOULDERS TIGHT, TRYING TO NARROW HIMSELF AND OCCUPY AS LITTLE SPACE AS WAS POSSIBLE. AND FEATURES ACT SIMILARLY, AS WELL. JAW TENSED, EVEN WITH THE TINY, APPRECIATIVE SMILE TREMBLING ONTO HIS FACE AND DEEPENING HIS EYES. BRAVE ENOUGH TO MEET THEIR MASTER. and they can only fall, along with his chin. A SLIGHT BOW OF APPRECIATION. DONE WITH THE FINALITY OF LIDS PRESSING SHUT. a bit more gentleness and relaxation are present in his retained upturn of grey lips. FLUTTERING NOSTRILS KEEP EMOTIONS AT BAY, AS LIPS PART TO WELCOME A GROUNDING BREATH. chin raising to make a brave face.

HE'S AFRAID TO BE SEEN MORGOTH'S EXPERIMENTATION COMPLETE, and he is forever changed. ALTERED. LIBERATED FROM CHAINS TO BEGIN HIS NEW PURPOSE AND HIS SERVITUDE. but MAIRON'S TOUCH AND GAZE HOLD SUCH REVERENCE AS ADAR BELIEVES HE DESERVES. NOT HIMSELF. serpentine sway curling over his shadowy skin, SOFT STRANDS OF DELICATE HAIR GRACING HIS UNWORTHY FLESH, with fingers draped upon shoulders. COVETING SCARS ALONG HIS MIDSECTION WITH HIS HAND, and dipping into pits as though they were beautiful springs full of fresh water. FELT AS THOUGH HE WERE BEING COMMITTED TO MEMORY, WHEN HIS BODY IS ALMOST FOREIGN TO HIS OWN EYES AND TOUCH. like he was being lifted up. for he had never known such touch before. HEART A WAR DRUM BENEATH HIS MANY TIMES BROKEN RIBCAGE, WOUNDED AND HEALED. he could not imagine feeling so close to what had befallen his ears being true. NOT AN ILLUSION, THAT WOULD INEVITABLY SHATTER ONE DAY, IN NO UNCERTAIN TERMS.

HE STANDS WITHIN THE WAMRTH OF HIS CHAMBERS, DISROBED. the intimacy of being studied in his newfound glory stirring so many different, and conflicting emotions. BUT SUCH COMPLIMENTS SPANNING FROM THE FIRST CRACK OF THE WHIP FOREVER STAINING SKIN, ALL THE WAY TO NOW WHEN TRANSFORMATION LIES BEHIND HIM, HAVE HAD DESIRED EFFECT. A GRAIN OF HOPE LIVING IN HIS EYE, THAT HE COULD ONE DAY BE BEAUTIFUL.

dry lips peel apart, with the whispy strain of his voice FINALLY reaching out. BLUE EYES FLUTTERING BACK AND FORTH. "thank you, my lord." HE ANSWERS. VOICE NAUGHT ABOVE A WHISPER, STRANGLED BY HIS MEEKNESS. HIS CLAVICLE SHUDDERED UNDER THE WEIGHT OF HIS BREATHS, AS HIS LIPS PARTED IN A SOFT SIGH. HE WANTS TO BEG. wants to kiss, and worship. TO BE WORSHIPPED IN TURN. AS HE FEELS IT ON THE PRECIPICE OF ACTIONS AND THOUGHTS. his soft, fluttering breaths heard carried in the air. "i am honoured, to receive your favour." A HAND RAISES, SHARP INHALE FOLLOWED BY A PAUSE. eyes flicker upward to meet HIS. "may i?"

@ienemy. nsfw prompts, less cringy edition.

[smaugthcgolden]

ienemy asked: ❛ this fear you feel? it won’t last. ❜ for fingolfin

It was a strange thing to experience, this fear, and one he hadn't really ever felt all too often. On the rare occasion that it did occur, he could recall how quickly his heart raced, adrenaline pumping in his veins. The fuel to keep him going for much longer than he ever needed to, and right now it was going strong.

That awful sensation, trickling in with his mind wanting to rattle itself into a frenzy. He was hardly keeping hold of the reins, and those words did nothing to comfort him. His steps were light as he made to back away, looking at this one in a different light. They felt familiar and not, all at the same moment. How ill it made him feel, a rolling queasiness in the pit of his stomach, and yet he tried to steel himself with a hardening gaze.

"I should hope not... For it is quite unpleasant."

@ienemy

[celevrian]

@ienemy @elr0nds ... this cracks me up somehow like just... the evil giggling

[putrid-tongue]

@ienemy

Gaslight, Gatekeep, Girlboss

[oflorien]

NOT  THE  FIRST  CORPSE  ENCOUNTERED  BY  SILVER  MAIDEN,  FOR  SHE  WAS  FREQUENTED  BY  MANY.  spirits  of  sorts,  phantoms  of  restless  rot  seeking  the  light  of  her  essence  and  guidance  to  what  lay  beyond  the  veil.  freshly  dead  was  new,  it  was  alarming  to  a  stretch  of  shock  that  widens  ichor  gaze.  what  words  of  frantic  sindarin  bubbled  in  shades  of  coagulated  crimson  in  the  throat  of  the  deceased.  he  dropped  lifeless,  an  end  of  suffering  piled  at  her  feet  BUT  THE  STAIN  OF  DEATH  SPLATTERS.  on  sage  and  silken  thread,  dappled  across  trembling,  porcelain  skin.  a  lurch  of  wind  that  catches  in  her  throat  -  vision  of  gold  and  flame  from  the  forge  adorned  in  aura  of  shadows  beyond  her  reach.

by  all  accounts  of  fear  and  capacity  for  courage,  she  is  not  her  mother  or  father's  daughter.  it  does  not  manifest  in  audacious  ire  or  as  a  gathering  storm  with  a  heart  of  fire.  instead,  a  visible  tremor,  a  quiet  caution  and  fixation  on  his  movements  -  counting  steps  with  parted  lips  and  staggered  breath.  a  pure  white  cloth  plucked  from  near  obscurity.  her  vision  so  focused  upon  his  gaining  step  that  celebrían  could  not  place  from  whence  it  came.  it  is  not  tenderness  that  wipes  blood  from  her  cheek,  NOT  IN  IT'S  ENTIRETY.  threat  concealed  as  softness  and  care  and  she  flinched  away  from  the  pressure  of  his  touch.  ❛  are  you  to  kill  me  as  well?  ❜  hushed  as  though  it  plays  as  a  secret  between  dear  friends.

sender wipes blood from receiver's face with a washcloth @ienemy