#madriel

[lauls-png]

they will dance again

[janec23]

I found this exercise and I gave it a go ^^ Prompt: take a snippet of one of your wip and change the PoV of your OC.

I decided to go from third person to first. This excerpt is from The ritual and the protagonist is Renewa. TW: mention of death, translation errors

I didn’t kill Haley Gerther. 

I cling to this realization with all the strength left from my already fragile sanity as I bend slightly, just enough for old Madriel to reach me. I see her body tense on tiptoe as she rests a wreath of flowers on my head. Her hands tremble in an effort to keep her balance, they're furrowed with wrinkles as deep as her resentment for me, but I will not facilitate her task, as she did not facilitate mine. 

I remain impassive, trying to dominate my gaze, not wanting to give her the satisfaction of seeing me broken, but when she whispers good luck by breathing her rancid, herbaceous-toned breath into my face, I can't stop myself from wrinkling my nose. The peppermint will never be able to hide her addiction to belligera leaves, just as the cloak they laid over my shoulders will never be able hide the tremor in my bones or the shiver of disgust I have for her.

Yet, in her milky eyes clouded by opiates, I discern no malice—only a mute plea for forgiveness. Still, I cannot forgive her for the curse she has imposed on me.

I didn’t kill Haley Gerther. It wasn’t me.

I rise to my feet with a jerk, pulling my shoulders back relieving the knot I feel forming at the base of my neck. I can’t deny that I’m tense. One of the elders begins smoothing the fabric of the cloak, the one given to me by the Garridurs. Despite the soft, light fabric it weighs on me as if I am carrying my own chains. 

I adjust it over my bare shoulders: it’ll be my only protection from the stares of the entire village.

I draw in a deep breath and reach out a hand to peel back the flap of the tent, a gust of wind blows across my face. I feel the knot between my shoulder blades descend to stop at the base of my back where a drop of sweat is forming. 

I advance slowly on the torch-lit path, long shadows thicken on either side of me, but I do not dare to turn around. I know they are all here, I know they are all staring at me, I can feel their suspended breaths, their eyes filled with silent judgment.

The air is thick, pregnant with a dampness that attacks my nostrils but fails to relieve the sweetish smell of the herbal balms sprinkled on my body. Extracts of wild sage and amadora berries, judging by the pungent smell and the thin layer of essential oils left on my skin. A waste of good resources.

I make my way to the pier one step at a time. I vaguely sense the whispers of my fellow citizens, I recognize the words of some prayer I recited with my father as a child, I don’t need their pity, for I know my soul is not damned as they would like me believe.

I did not kill Haley Gerther. She made her choice.

Something tickles my ankle as I squeeze into my cloak to make sure my half-naked body is not exposed to their gaze. Something dances before my eyes: rose petals. I know who is throwing them and my heart leaps, that idiot should be in our lab… his lab to finish the concoctions, not here wishing me to survive.

I hasten my pace as I reach the small pier in the half-light, the torches are almost at their limit, dying in the mist rising from the river. The village chief advances, looking at me with composed satisfaction. I know I’ve done nothing wrong to deserve this curse, and despite his dark eyes attempting to force mine lower, reminding me of my boldness, I stand firm, for I know I’m in the right.

He murmurs a few words that I can barely hear before letting go.

The boat beckons as I prepare to step into it, first one foot to steady my weight, then the other trying to find a balance that eludes me. Out of the corner of my eye I notice the helmsman extend a hand, his dark figure silhouetted against the dim torchlight. I decline his invitation, not because I don't need to, but I don't want to give anyone the satisfaction of seeing me frail and sluggish.

I did not kill Haley Gerther. It was she who reached out her trembling hands to the nightstand beside her bed and took the belladonna extract.

I just closed the door, quietly, and left her to her fate.

[bonechimes678]

I need to post lore here I keep forgetting anyways small story written years ago sorry if it sucks

--

"Do you think the desert is a fitting place to die?" Santhar clutched his side, his life seeping from him, "Do you think the desert claim us fair.."

"The red eyes above see death" came the harsh caw of the shadow his companion held, They looked up yet failed to see. Only feeling the heat of the twin suns above, shifting slightly they looked to Santhar

"Is not everywhere a fitting place for ol death? Yet do not speak of such ends yet. Death is far, life is close." He, no, she? Santhar could hardly remember, "See that cave? The stretch is far, yet doable. Life is possible"

"The red eyes above spell death! Spell death!!" The shadow stretched its wings to caw out that grim omen. Santhar laughed as blood ran down his jaw,

"Your shadow seems to think quiet the opposite, uh..." he narrowed tired eyes, mind searching for a name. For the months he spent with this figure he had never caught a name.

"I am The Madriel. Slojar speaks of the twin suns and their heat. For they do see death, as the heat rises to stain the blue of the sky things below die en mass. Bodies unable to take such heat, they burn, they hurt, they scream, they die." The Madriel turned to look at the suns above, feeling the scorch from those eyes of death. A burn from two almighty gods, "We are such things. Yet, we do not scream out yet now do we? Death is life dear Santhar. For death can claim non if there is non to live. Entwined are the fates, one cannot exist without the other for none would exist."

"The red eyes see death!" Came another caw,

"And the red eyes see life from which to claim, ours, yet we breathe. Have you forgot how many times your heart has stopped out here Santhar, how oft those eyes have seen you die?." The Madriel swung her tail, beating the side of the burning rock. Slithering over it, caressing that which burned flesh. Santhar couldn't feel his feet, ever scorched by the heat. His wounds burned with a heat greater than the full force of twin suns upon a desert.

"If I were to die as often as you say id be crippled by now Madriel. And I haven't died in months last I checked. Or id be, you know, dead."

"Yet you miss time? Yet you awake in my arms being carried across and endless stretch o death. The twin eyes favor you, both Slrarakinarurh and Slunimijoriath. And in turn the True Sun, Slovarrikethurtor. Now come. Brace the heat once more, I will see you to citadel safety and to safety of city beyond." And with that, Santhar felt what remained of a hand slip into his own, and once more was he led into the scorching wild.

[pitaenigma]

My favorite tabletop campaign setting is Scarred Lands, and I keep thinking about why that is. Certainly, the edgy part of me loves the sheer dread and hopelessness of that world. Everything everywhere is about to collapse at all times. The world is a fickle balancing act and we're already watching people wobble. Things will not end well. There are infinite buried threats and even more that are just out there. It's a fascinating and terrifying setting in that sense.

It's also about selfishness. There is no reason for Burok Torn and Dier Drendal to be at total war, but that's just how shit played out. Misunderstandings and desperation mean that two imperfect peoples are in a war for their lives. Also, Paizo, you want to find ways to showcase how "evil races" are actually justified, some of your writers might want to take notes on Scarn's drow.

But even so, one thing it does is this: People are trying. The god Vangal is an evil destructive force, but he will unite with good gods to protect against worse threats. The necromancers of Hollowfaust work with priestesses of Madriel who see them as anathema. The beauty of Scarred Lands is that it is just as fucked up and hopeless as our world, and the amazing thing about it is that just like our world, people do better.

[vicanvas]

Madriele Damadon in act VI of 'Arcariuses'.

Madriele Damadon ages 10, 16, 21 and 29.

My poor baby knows no peace.

These are some of the character concept art I posted on my patreon over the last month (@vicaruss_)

[madneocity-universe]

"Just, like, I'm cool enough for you, feel like I'm cool enough for you?"

With: @rebelrebe-l

Ps: perdão a péssima qualidade.

Heart Attack feat. Black On Black, by Greyson Chance.

[tellingboybye]

Some things take time. A really long time.

[vicaruss]

Madriele Jobeth in her best dress ever worn 8 more characters to go!

[castorrel]

Art done for a giveaway on discord. This is Velaryn Madriel, DnD character. Character belongs to @feywildheart and was real fun to draw. :D

[chebbites]

hi I new to your blog and can I ask Why do you ship sindra and not sinjaf? (not to be rude , just curious you don't have to answer!)

Thank you so much for the ask! 

There’s actually a lot of cute Sindra moments in Sinbad no Bouken. I’d love to compile a complete list of them, but instead I’ll just give you a summary of some of the significant ones I remember under the cut. If I’ve missed any, please feel free to reblog and add your favorite Sindra things! 

Drakon coming to respect Sinbad in Baal, Drakon coming to Sinbad’s rescue in Valefor

Drakon being cute and tsundere while telling Sinbad that he’s going back to Parthevia

Drakon becoming the first household member while having the sweetest, softest, gayest smile on his face 

After Drakon assimilates, it’s Sinbad’s stories that give him hope again. It’s Sinbad he turns to for help. 

“You’re not a monster!” 

This panel.

This hand kiss. 

“I’m glad I met you. Thank you, Sinbad.” 

Drakon tenderly holding Sinbad’s hand, while saying that he chose to walk the same path as Sinbad, while Sinbad blushes. 

After Sinbad returns from the Madriel company, “he was worried about you he’s just pretending to be cool. Also, Drakon seems to have found a place where he belongs here.” 

Drakon chooses to stay with Sinbad after Serendine leaves. “With certainty in my heart, I chose to stay by my lord’s side. And that lord is you, Sinbad. Not Serendine… The path that you choose is the path that I will take right by your side.”

This panel. 

This panel. I choose to believe that Drakon made a love confession in SnB 141, and Sinbad has accepted his feelings.

Skipping ahead to Magi, I just think that it’s significant that Sinbad entrusted the ruling of Sindria, which is the one thing that has been the most important thing in his entire life, to Drakon after he stepped down.

These two panels

IN WHICH DRAKON LOOKS LIKE HE’S ABOUT TO CRY

In conclusion, Sindra is a quality ship and everyone should ship it, thanks for coming to my TEDTalk. 

[alanari]

It's an ask for ya boy Anton and what Maddie thinks of him.

general opinion: fall in a hole and die | don’t like them | eh | they’re fine I guess | like them! | love them | actual love of my life hotness level: get away from me | meh | neutral | theoretically hot but not my type | pretty hot | gorgeous! | 10/10 would banghogwarts house: gryffindor | slytherin | ravenclaw | hufflepuffbest quality: Despite all his grumbling and his sharp tongue, Anton is steadfast and loyal to his friends and to Maddie. He has helped smooth out the worst of her fears and insecurities.worst quality:  Anton has very little mercy or patience for people he deems not worth his time or his respect. He can be kind of an asshole. (Okay, maybe not kind of.)ship them with: Madriel. They are a little codependent but they absolutely adore one another and bring out each other’s best qualities.brotp them with: Myym! Probably the only person that’s just as fabulous as he is.needs to stay away from: Shoe stores. How many pairs does he have now? Seriously?misc. thoughts: Maddie is devoted to Anton, but she isn’t blind to his imperfections. She loves him in spite of them, or maybe because of them. Their affection for one another helps them grow beyond their scars and their flaws to become better people.

[gihnezstories]

FLORENCE KARHAL

There was something fascinating about dancing that Florence couldn’t put into words. It was something she had always been genuinely good at, and she had always enjoyed practicing without anyone convincing her to.

Her feet guided her one step after another, in perfect synchrony with the music played on Loren’s violin, the musician her father had hired.

Everyone said that when she danced she became the most graceful girl ever seen, and Loren always promised her that he would write a song about her that would play in every hall for decades.

Jerah, the fool, danced ridiculously around her, but Florence did not care, she found him amusing. Jerah had been found by her father near the Druid Forest, babbling like a fool, and stupider than a stone.

It was said that he had been bewitched by the creatures of the forest, but her father, always partially skeptical, brought him to the castle, where he lives as fun for others, but lives well anyway.

“You should worry more about your studies than about your dances, Florence” Madriel scolded her, like every older sister. They think that because they’re older they must play a maternal and authoritarian role, but Florence just laughed or snorted. In that case she snorted.

“Tell me, sister, where embroidery fits the term studies?”

Madriel raised a disdainful red eyebrow. A sermon was about to come.

“Well Florence, a good wife must play her role properly. She must know how to embroider for her husband, and for her future children…”

“And steal the job of so many seamstresses? What a tragedy!” her tone was playful, and while she spoke her feet didn’t stop to follow the rhythm of the music “Besides, if you think too much about husbands, Madriel, you’ll lose your youth. Come… come and dance like the young druids of the forest, who seduce creatures.”

She ran to Madriel, pulling the needle and embroidery from her hands. She opened her mouth, about to protest, but Florence pulled her out of her chair and cradled her in Loren’s rhythm before she could contain herself.

Soon they both jumped wildly, laughing like two children. Madriel’s hair fluttered red like the setting sun, and Florence’s brown as the land on which they stepped.

They were two more roses in the middle of the garden of Primerter, illuminating the late afternoon like the two smiling girls they always were. Despite the mature attitude Madriel constantly adopted, she was easily persuaded by her sweet little sister.

The music played by Loren ceased, and the Karhal sisters gasped after their whirls and jumps, as did Jerah, the fool.

Florence pulled her sister with her to the lawn, where they laid with their fluttering dresses.

She studied the sky closely, wondering if her father was watching it too.

“How long do I have to wait until father comes back?” She asked wistfully, following the shades of red, just like her sister’s hair, which filled the sky.

“I don’t know Flore, but when he comes back he will certainly bring the snowflake cake to us. Those stuffed with raspberry cream.”

Madriel always knew what the right words were to say to her, for at the mention of the snowflake cake Florence’s stomach seemed to throb with anxiety to taste them.

“That’s the only advantage dad’s so far away. I can already imagine the cream dripping from the corner of my lips, and the little poke that reminds me of snow glistening my fingers.”

She licked three of her fingers, as if they were already sugary.

She jumped up, and by the dreamy look in her eyes, which everyone already knew so well, she would begin to wander.

“I wanted to accompany him at least once” she pulled the end of her dress, as if it were a ball dress, and then resumed her whirls “To know the palace and the prince, to see real snow.” She stopped suddenly and closed her eyes, without breaking her smile. “It must all be so exciting.”

Madriel twisted her nose. She admired her sister’s ability to be so dreamy, but she did not necessarily approve it.

“Do not twist that steep nose at me Madriel, you should stop being so…” just like mother, she would say, but she stopped herself in time. She didn’t want to sound envious and make a bad impression, so she let the phrase hang in the air between them.

Madriel suddenly widened her green eyes, and it took a fraction of a second for Florence to realize that her gaze was not directed at her.

“Jerah! Get out of there immediately” Madriel’s voice was authoritative, which as heir to the House Karhal, one day it really would have to be.

Florence followed her sister’s hurried steps to the rose bush. Jerah stood, looking confused, his finger still pinned to the thorn of one of the roses. He did not seem to care to free himself.

She pulled the fool’s finger, and with the hem of her dress she tried to stop the bleeding. The rose, once entirely white, now had one of its petals stained with blood, which ironically was the coat of arms of her house. A white rose splashed with blood on a black background.

“Why do you always do that?” She asked out of habit, for the answer was always the same.

"The queen of thorns wants me to bleed.”

No one knew who the queen of thorns was, and probably was none other than one of Jerah’s demons, the poor fool. Florence, on the other hand, was already exhausted from cleaning his wounds.

She felt Madriel stiffen beside her, and soon learned what was the reason. Her mother was standing at the garden door, her red curls contained in a capricious bun. Nothing in her nobility posture indicated her displeasure, but her daughters already knew how to observe small details in her armor.

An imperceptible tic in the right eye, a faint flicker in the hand. She was furious.

“Loren, get him out of here. Please" she added a second later than she would have usually added.

Loren did indeed guide Jerah gently but not so gently as to the way he held his beloved violin.

Jonys Karhal accompanied them both with her eyes until they were out of sight, then turning to her daughters:

“We have to get the castle ready, and when the guests arrive, I do not want the damn fool sticking his fingers through the rose bush,” she said, pulling out the symbolic rose stained. “We’ll have to think about where he can stay…”

Florence and Madriel exchanged a look, both terribly confused.

“Guests? Mom, what are you talking about?” Madriel asked, and Jonys seemed to awaken from her torpor.

“Yes, of course… I still have to warn you two. I was already thinking about the preparations…" Florence hated when her mother began to ramble. She could speak and speak for countless minutes until she reached the necessary point, so she cleared her throat.

Her mother looked at her reproachfully, but the moment was brief:

“Your father sent me a letter. He’ll be home in two days’ time.” She paused dramatically and her voice dropped "Accompanied by the Court.”

[vicanvas]

A Leyendecker-inspired poster of my character Madriele (she can't cook or bake to save her life) to mock my writing speed.

I'm professionally giving my characters a stockholm syndrome, so they will never get out into the world 🥲

[marlenekinnon]

alright... I swear that’s final for today!!! Don’t be angry  @narcissablk

Chapter two or how I like to call it... the first chapter of my little flower (she’s not the type that the public prefers anyway) 

FLORENCE KARHAL 

There was something fascinating about dancing that Florence couldn’t put into words. It was something she had always been genuinely good at, and she had always enjoyed practicing without anyone convincing her to.

Her feet guided her one step after another, in perfect synchrony with the music played on Loren's violin, the musician her father had hired.

Everyone said that when she danced she became the most graceful girl ever seen, and Loren always promised her that he would write a song about her that would play in every hall for decades.

Jerah, the fool, danced ridiculously around her, but Florence did not care, she found him amusing. Jerah had been found by her father near the Druid Forest, babbling like a fool, and stupider than a stone.

It was said that he had been bewitched by the creatures of the forest, but her father, always partially skeptical, brought him to the castle, where he lives as fun for others, but lives well anyway.

“You should worry more about your studies than about your dances, Florence” Madriel scolded her, like every older sister. They think that because they’re older they must play a maternal and authoritarian role, but Florence just laughed or snorted. In that case she snorted.

“Tell me, sister, where embroidery fits the term studies?”

Madriel raised a disdainful red eyebrow. A sermon was about to come.

“Well Florence, a good wife must play her role properly. She must know how to embroider for her husband, and for her future children…”

“And steal the job of so many seamstresses? What a tragedy!” her tone was playful, and while she spoke her feet didn’t stop to follow the rhythm of the music “Besides, if you think too much about husbands, Madriel, you’ll lose your youth. Come… come and dance like the young druids of the forest, who seduce creatures.”

She ran to Madriel, pulling the needle and embroidery from her hands. She opened her mouth, about to protest, but Florence pulled her out of her chair and cradled her in Loren's rhythm before she could contain herself.

Soon they both jumped wildly, laughing like two children. Madriel's hair fluttered red like the setting sun, and Florence's brown as the land on which they stepped.

They were two more roses in the middle of the garden of Primerter, illuminating the late afternoon like the two smiling girls they always were. Despite the mature attitude Madriel constantly adopted, she was easily persuaded by her sweet little sister.

The music played by Loren ceased, and the Karhal sisters gasped after their whirls and jumps, as did Jerah, the fool.

Florence pulled her sister with her to the lawn, where they laid with their fluttering dresses.

She studied the sky closely, wondering if her father was watching it too.

“How long do I have to wait until father comes back?” She asked wistfully, following the shades of red, just like her sister's hair, which filled the sky.

“I don’t know Flore, but when he comes back he will certainly bring the snowflake cake to us. Those stuffed with raspberry cream.”

Madriel always knew what the right words were to say to her, for at the mention of the snowflake cake Florence's stomach seemed to throb with anxiety to taste them.

“That's the only advantage dad's so far away. I can already imagine the cream dripping from the corner of my lips, and the little poke that reminds me of snow glistening my fingers.”

She licked three of her fingers, as if they were already sugary.

She jumped up, and by the dreamy look in her eyes, which everyone already knew so well, she would begin to wander.

“I wanted to accompany him at least once” she pulled the end of her dress, as if it were a ball dress, and then resumed her whirls “To know the palace and the prince, to see real snow.” She stopped suddenly and closed her eyes, without breaking her smile. “It must all be so exciting.”

Madriel twisted her nose. She admired her sister's ability to be so dreamy, but she did not necessarily approve it.

"Do not twist that steep nose at me Madriel, you should stop being so…” just like mother, she would say, but she stopped herself in time. She didn’t want to sound envious and make a bad impression, so she let the phrase hang in the air between them.

Madriel suddenly widened her green eyes, and it took a fraction of a second for Florence to realize that her gaze was not directed at her.

“Jerah! Get out of there immediately” Madriel’s voice was authoritative, which as heir to the House Karhal, one day it really would have to be.

Florence followed her sister's hurried steps to the rose bush. Jerah stood, looking confused, his finger still pinned to the thorn of one of the roses. He did not seem to care to free himself.

She pulled the fool's finger, and with the hem of her dress she tried to stop the bleeding. The rose, once entirely white, now had one of its petals stained with blood, which ironically was the coat of arms of her house. A white rose splashed with blood on a black background.

“Why do you always do that?” She asked out of habit, for the answer was always the same.

"The queen of thorns wants me to bleed."

No one knew who the queen of thorns was, and probably was none other than one of Jerah's demons, the poor fool. Florence, on the other hand, was already exhausted from cleaning his wounds.

She felt Madriel stiffen beside her, and soon learned what was the reason. Her mother was standing at the garden door, her red curls contained in a capricious bun. Nothing in her nobility posture indicated her displeasure, but her daughters already knew how to observe small details in her armor.

An imperceptible tic in the right eye, a faint flicker in the hand. She was furious.

“Loren, get him out of here. Please" she added a second later than she would have usually added.

Loren did indeed guide Jerah gently but not so gently as to the way he held his beloved violin.

Jonys Karhal accompanied them both with her eyes until they were out of sight, then turning to her daughters:

"We have to get the castle ready, and when the guests arrive, I do not want the damn fool sticking his fingers through the rose bush," she said, pulling out the symbolic rose stained. "We'll have to think about where he can stay…"

Florence and Madriel exchanged a look, both terribly confused.

“Guests? Mom, what are you talking about?” Madriel asked, and Jonys seemed to awaken from her torpor.

“Yes, of course… I still have to warn you two. I was already thinking about the preparations…" Florence hated when her mother began to ramble. She could speak and speak for countless minutes until she reached the necessary point, so she cleared her throat.

Her mother looked at her reproachfully, but the moment was brief:

"Your father sent me a letter. He'll be home in two days' time.” She paused dramatically and her voice dropped "Accompanied by the Court.”

[tellingboybye]

Heart Attack inspired playlist

Cherries: Shawn Mendes - When You’re Ready

Heat: Beyoncé - Dance for You

Antares: Massive Attack - Angel

JJ: Tove Lo - Talking Body

Mariel: Ariana Grande - Dangerous Woman

Madriel: Lana Del Rey feat The Weeknd - Lust For Life

Want: The XX - Intro

Sun & Ferris: Halsey - Coming Down

Bônus track - Pais do Mario: Rihanna - Kiss It Better

[vicaruss]

Incorrect quotes #1 ft. my OCs

Niccolo, ugly crying: How can Madriele not want me back? I'm so cool and hot. I've got it all!

Jems: But that's not the only things people care about!

Niccolo: WHAT ELSE IS THERE?!

Niccolo, explaining venefits for taking Jems hostage: Any questions?

Jems: Yeah. I have a lot of questions.

Jems: Number one. How dare you.

Thanet: On our side we have facts, science and reasons. All Prince Niccolo has is fear-mongering and lies.

Thanet:

Thanet: Oh my god, he's gonna win.

Madriele: [points at Thanet] A human turtleneck, [points at Niccolo] a narcisstistic monster, [points at Alecs] and literally the dumpest person I have ever met.

Alecs: And who am I? Describe me now.

Thanet: I'm on my way, try not to swear at anybody.

Madriele: Fuck you. I'm not an idiot.

Thanet: There you go, like that.

Madriele, during reading lesson: I don't have to answer all these questions.

Thanet: That's what my teachers used to say, usually as they quit teaching.

Niccolo: So how'd convince all of them to betray me? What'd you offer them?

Madriele: I asked them if they wanted to embarrass you, and they instantly said yes.

Madriele: Will you be the yee to my haw?

Thanet: I'm begging you to stop.

Madriele: In your opinion, what is the height of stupidity?

Thanet: Alecs, my friend, how tall are you?

Niccolo: This is Madriele Jobeth. Madriele... actually is my hostage.

Madriele: I like to think of myself more as a "guestage".

Madriele: I'd like to offer you moral support, but I have questionable morals.

Madriele: Thanet, can you not say "savage"? It makes me uncomfortable.

Alecs: But can I say it?

Madriele: No.

Alecs: Savage.

The King, Niccolo's father: We need to talk about-

Niccolo: The building was already on fire when I got there.

The King: What?

Niccolo: What?

Madriele: So today, my teacher pointed at me with a ruler.

Rhenesys: So?

Madriele: He said, "there's an idiot at the end of this ruler."

Rhenesys: Aww! He called you an idiot?

Madriele: No! I got detention for asking "which end?"

Rhenesys: *dead laughing*