#materxnatura

[stcrforged]

the emerald graves. an overgrown cemetery filled with trees and flowers, hiding the horrible truth beneath, deep down in the earth. it was a beautiful place, the dwarf couldn’t deny that, but it was also a sad place and it seemed that it would FOREVER be associated with melancholy. first the unforgivable deaths of the elves and now fades, demons, freemen of the dales, corrupted templars and... red lyrium.

varric had seen enough of the godforsaken red mineral in kirkwall but it seemed that it was HAUNTING him, following him, spreading through the world like a unstoppable plague. it seemed to be everywhere and nowhere these days and he absolutely hates it. with all his heart. it makes him uneasy and sorrowful. red lyrium is what drove his brother mad. sure, bartrand hadn’t been the best, but what happened to him... it was a CRUEL joke.

that was why he was here at the emerald graves, together with the inquisition. to seek and DESTROY the cursed stone. they had already managed to wreck one and were now searching for the second one. if the stories were true, there ought to be three ones. people talked, the wind whispered, but it wasn’t exactly easy finding the nodes.

perhaps that was why they had wandered DEEP into an unknown forest. there was something unsettling among all the trees. something dark and cunning. the storyteller didn’t know why but this part was different from the rest of the emerald graves. it felt as someone was WATCHING them, lurking in the shadows. body tensed, fingers rested on bianca, ready to fire at any moment. “ come on varric. you’re doing the right thing. no one else should have to suffer because of the goddamn red lyrium. ” mumbling words leaving dry throat, an attempt to encourage himself while feet wandered further into the unknown.

a SUDDEN movement in the corner of his eyes catches his interest. body moves, turning, but whatever it was, it’s already gone. like a ghost or DEMON. “ well, shit. ” gaze wanders over every little detail, not missing anything. there’s no sign of his party. this wasn’t good. not good at all. something inside him tells it’s a bad idea to call out after his friends, but he wishes to know if they are alright or not. “ inquisitor? seeker? anyone? ”

@materxnatura liked THIS for a starter

[glacierfront]

     “He was... like...”

      Julie reaches forward in the snow. It’s not flurrying as hard as it was when Morpheus called the gale to a pause and brought clarity to the dream, but she tries to make the same effect happen. It doesn’t work very well: some snowflakes pause, but they’re hit by other snowflakes that fly in with the strong breezes, making it seem like nothing truly changes.

      Her hands falter, floating closer to her body in defeat. She doesn’t know how to control that much moving snow. But she still glances at Seraphina, and then back, because sometimes looking at her is very, very difficult. Most times, really.

        “And he... said he was. Lord of dreams? Or something?”

@materxnatura

[seidrborn]

` ✦  @materxnatura​༄ ⋆.◦◝   ( ought  not  to  look  when  the  most  volatile  of  gods  is  walking  alone  in  the  snowy  wood )

“   EK  MAN  EFTIR  FIMBULVETR      þá  drífr  snær  ór  öllum  áttum,      frost  mikil  ok  vindar  hvassir      at  vetr  sá  kemr.  ”

[withinycu]

A Truth Universally Acknowledged starters | accepting

@materxnatura​ ‘ but will that make you happy? ’

“For a time, on the cosmic scale it will be so brief- planets won’t finish their rotations and newborns will still be in the bellies of their mothers,” He mused quietly. “It will end with him begging me to take his hand and lead him to the mirrored hall because that’s how all things must end. Even Love. . . It will break my heart and yet- for that one moment, I shall be happy.”

[soulmissed]

@materxnatura: ‘ put this on before you catch your death. ’

memes, accepting

he stares at the jacket, inky black and fur hood and likely expensive. for a nightmarish lady, seraphina houses a generous heart. “ don’t remember askin’ for it. ” confusion bleeds into southern accent. he coasts a lazy sneaker over floor and dodges eye contact. his hoodie. all the protection needed. he dons it now, indifferent to how it underlines his smallish form. 

(truth be told, his hoodie has evolved from basic clothing to comfort item. but he won’t let seraphina hear that. everyone doesn’t grasp the sentimental value of ones’ personal belongings. especially where kids are concerned. people can patronize badger destroy.) 

“ store’s around the corner. ” he grumbles, flicking hood over head. “ i think i’ll survive. ” 

[leviathcn]

@materxnatura​​ asked: sounds of a huge fuck off crow landing in the vicinity.

        eyes as black as the crow’s wings observe the bird from just beneath the water line. its loud caw is irritating enough-- nothing like the haunting melodies of the deep-- but there is something else to this corvid that gives leviathan due pause. she soundlessly emerges from the river and clears water from her throat with a wet gurgle. 

she rolls her shoulders, narrows her eyes, and speaks, “i haven’t seen you in aaaages, darling. the depths are a little less dark and suffocating without you.” the words themselves seem like insult, but they are spoken as a compliment. an odd juxtaposition, but they are nothing if not unpredictable. 

“have you travelled all this way to see me? consider me flattered.” 

[storystrange-arch]

“  don’t lie to me. don’t do that.  ” ———@materxnatura​.     (  FROM.  )

HE  DOESN’T  MEAN  TO.     he’s too sweet to freely hold out his pain to anyone,  though,  knowing that it will become a burden on their mind ;    so instead the sandman offers a serene smile & neatly folds his arms behind his back to hide the blackened scar there.

the mark from pitch’s arrow.     she  doesn’t  need  to  know  that,   though.

‘  oh,   seraphina!     it’s  nothing,   really,   you  needn’t  worry  about  an  old  star.  ’     he suggests sweetly,  his thoughts a gentle chime in her mind as he drifts about his dreamsand sitting room to set down a tray of delights.     ‘  come  come,   have  a  seat  &  let’s  have  some  tea.     we  must  catch  up,   after  all!  ’

[beautymarred]

@materxnatura​ did not like anything for a starter, but she made the decision to be friends with me so fair game.

The Elvenking has felt… something for some time now, a prickling at his skin, an awareness that he cannot and would not dismiss as being without reason or merit. Not when he feels as though he is being watched.

It does not strike him as anything dark or ill-intentioned, and so he says nothing of it even once only he remains within the throne room. It is not like the feeling of the forest beyond his halls. It merely is and for a time he thinks that he will wait them out to see if they will reveal themselves unasked.

He grows tired of waiting, however. Patience never has been one of his virtues––but then, what might be, faithless woodland sprite that he is?––and he addresses the presence.

“… If you think me so foolish or to be so influenced by our excellent Dorwinion that my mind is muddled or my senses dulled, then I regret to inform you that you would be mistaken,” he says, taking a sip from the glass of said wine before he continues. 

“How much longer shall you linger out of sight, Shadow? It is of little consequence to me, only that I wish to know whether I might return about my duties for a time without inconvenience, or if you mean at last to approach with what-ever matter has led you to undertake such furtive methods…”

[thecopycatninja]

He doesn’t approach the woman. Neither does he address her. No, there’s something about her that he… can’t quite put his finger on. An energy to her. Instead he merely watches, keeping her in his peripheral despite his apparent preoccupation with his book.

@materxnatura​ // @covenstrays​

[helfury]

@materxnatura​ asked:   “ I hear you. I believe you.”

i lost the meme

their roles are similar, are they not? gaea herself, mother nature, as they apparently call her on midgard, and the goddess of death. death and nature are near synonymous:  one is inherently connected to the other; new life cannot blossom in the spring if the leaves don’t wither and fall the previous autumn. with her chin raised, hela allows the breath built up in her chest (it’s tight, it’s consuming) to exhale out he nose. "ah. someone with common sense,” she retorts simply.

[ofpsalms]

 @materxnatura​ asked: [ CARRY ]  for one muse to find the other injured and carry them to safety. //from nahia tho bc i’m on the wrong blog on my phone lol 😬

It’s never enough for her is it? Even here, in the heat of battle she needs to prove something, whether to herself or her indifferent superiors, she does not know. Her thoroughness in clearing out every hellbeast in this area gets the best of her, and she miscalculates. How could she have guessed the last one she’s taken on would be just a bit taller, a little stronger, and possess far sharper claws? 

Nicolette can tolerate a fair amount of pain, but these wounds she’d received leave her curled up, render her nearly immobile. Nico hoped she just needed to catch her breath, and she’d be able to rise again on her own.  It’s the look on Nahia’s face, when the young saint finds her, that tells the huntress otherwise.  

❝ That was reckless of me. ❞ She observed, leaning against the cracked wall, hand pressed down on the open wound across her side. ❝ Go, there are others are coming. ❞ She knew her resolute friend would not listen.

❝ Nahia! ❞ The urgency in her voice comes solely from fear as the other wraps her arm around her shoulder and lifts her to her feet. She knew the decision had already been made; either they’d got out of here together, or they wouldn’t get out of here at all. She relented, bracing against the other as the began their trek.

 ❝ We’ll need to turn right at the end of this hall to get to the exit. We’re almost there.❞

angst prompts // not accepting

[michellewebster]

@materxnatura​ continued            "an earthquake?”  thank god her grandparents’ cabin didn’t crumble down during the night. as beloved as it, shelly doesn’t know the last time it’s passed any kind of inspection ... if ever. she shakes her head fervently.  “no, i  —  i mean, when we woke up, some things got knocked around but ... we have a cat.”  no further explanation needed. 

she gazes down at her feet; her sneakers are old, shelly doesn’t know if they’ll sustain glass to the sole very well, and yet she offers:  “is there anything i can do to help? this really did a number on your place.”

[alivingdarkness]

@materxnatura​ liked this post for a starter

Coming home is always… complicated… in ways that it never is for a baker or a tinkerer or a cobbler or almost any other sort of professions that isn’t that of a soldier. 

To go home to his family, to be reunited with the love of his life and their darling daughter… Were he almost any other man with almost any other job, there could be only happiness at such a moment, the joy of returning home after a long, hard day’s labor. 

Instead, there is always a certain amount of trepidation, even of fear. 

Perhaps this would be the time that both of them would see it, the blood on his hands when they draw close. That they would know the things that he has done and seen and be horrified by them––by him––regardless of the reasons, regardless that it has all been done to protect their home, and all of the other families who depend upon him and those like him.

Or perhaps this would be the time that they are not here. That he had failed. That in protecting so many others, he would fail to protect what he loves most and they would pay the price.

And yet, it would seem not, for one more time at least. 

Ariadna meets him at the door––as ever she has done for as long as they have been wed––with misty eyes and a brilliant smile, drawing him close that she can reassure them both that he is still alive, that he has returned to her again.

The moment they break from that first kiss always seems to feel like the first time he can breathe since his departure, and it is only as she hugs him and presses a kiss to his cheek with a soft, Welcome home, darling… that he can close his eyes and exhale a shaky sigh, some of the tension and doubt melting away with the warmth of her embrace.

Though it never completely dissipates until he sees the other who it always so pains him to leave…

[vivificantem]

 Starter for @materxnatura​​

Heavy are the steps of an unhappy man forced out of his home by the needs of others- in this case that of the local apothecary, who’d requested more those useful tonics of his. It was a hobby he’d never expected to have grown a knack for, though what little he earned from being a glorified pharmacist was nothing compared to that of his commissions.

Still, he’d find himself returning from the shop, carrying his worn and now empty medicine bag, the collar of his coat pulled up to hide his face from the villagers he passed. Early spring in the Alps was bleak, and cold, and still nothing compared to what he had experienced in the Arctic. But it gave him and excuse to hide away further. He nearly missed the woman, going in the same direction as him- towards home.

Victor stopped, surprised to see who it was. It was her. The other individual of this village who’d also been subject to so many whispers of its denizens. Even he’d heard the rumors of what she was, how frightened many were of her. Perhaps she was coming to ask for his assistance like so many other beings had.

❝ Good evening, ❞ Was all he could manage at first as he met her stride. The ambition and forwardness of his youth was something he’d lost long ago with the last of his kin. ❝ I’m not met by many fellow travelers on this road at this hour. What brings you so far out of the village? ❞

[ohfieryautumn]

the starter that @materxnatura​ did not ask for but is getting regardless

The scathing rebuke of [ her husband ] Pitch Black had cut her, through bone and down to her very soul. No Autumn wind could have chilled her so thoroughly as those words.

How certain you are that your husband still lives! You speak of this connection, of being able to know as much, and yet you cannot even feel that your own daughter lives?

She had physically recoiled as though he had struck her rather than simply spoken, leaving her wide-eyed and reeling with such a revelation.

Sera? Alive? she had said before she could catch herself.

Her shock was evident and Pitch had laughed, had thrown his head back and cackled. And then he had drawn closer to her, close enough that she might so clearly see every detail of his face, that she might so clearly see the face of the man she still loves with all her heart, even when he is so overcome and twisted and scarred by the darkness.

Oh, yes. What a mother you are! Imagine: to have leapt from a window and into an abyss, supposedly in an effort to protect your daughter, and yet all you accomplished was to destroy your husband and to leave your daughter an exile that she was eventually forced take up residence here. How utterly pathetic. Take your certainty and your hope to her. Perhaps you can convince her of your sincerity.

She had stared at him only a moment longer before she had turned and departed  [ her tear-filled eyes distorting her vision that she never did see the pain in his own, the pain that it caused him to say those things to her no matter his reasoning that it was done to protect her… ] 

And yet, despite being diametrically opposed to Spring, bringing the start of death and decay to all that she touches, Autumn has always held tightly to Hope. She does not bring an end out of hatred or anger or a desire to hurt… Always it has been done with the knowledge that one thing must end for another to begin. The old fades away to usher in the new. The last year’s creations must fade to the Winter that something just as wonderful might be made anew with the next Spring. 

So it must be, and she carries out her duties ever with a Gratefulness for the beautiful things that are soon to pass… and with Hope for what will come of this in the Spring.

Thus, even so deeply wounded, she cannot and will not linger in despair, and certainly not if their daughter is here.

Had she only known before, had she only suspected, perhaps she would have found her ages ago, perhaps they two, at least, would not have been alone for so long. 

It is not so difficult to find her once she knows to begin, and how stupid she feels never to have known it.

Mother Nature.

Despite her guilt, despite her sorrow, she will not be deterred.

Take your certainty and your hope to her. Perhaps you can convince her of your sincerity.

Mockery though it may have been, it is what she must do. For now, that is all that she can do, and in a swirling rush of fiery Autumn leaves on the Wind, she travels, willing it to carry her to wherever the other spirit might be…

[soulmissed]

@materxnatura​: 😊 // she can be Soft ok

hold august’s face, accepting

he’s drawing in his notebook, knee bent underneath his chin, other leg swinging. crushed wads of paper and loose markers clutter the table. while he concentrates on his dear hobby, he hums to himself. quieted. considerate. (of course, his little song cracks the lull. a well known shadow looms along kitchen floor. six feet of shadow, if you’d like to know it. he only learned how tall seraphina was after comparing her to the giant formidable trees in fairytales.) 

“ was my hummin’ botherin’ you? ” the corner of his lip wriggles. a smile that borders apologetic. “ i can be quiet. ” quiet will make his presence tolerable. quiet will help him pretend they are but a compact, dissimilar family. spider-like, bone white hands cup his cheeks. seraphina’s action contains a gentleness he had suspected her incapable of. 

he goes stock still. a jittery breath clack clack clacks his teeth. notebook and markers forgotten on the table. and you will find i am difficult to hide from. “ w-what are you doin’? ”