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ironwoman359 · 8 months ago

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A Thief's Gamble - Ch.9

Every Cloud...

Prev: Ch.8 Caught Red Handed || Next: Ch.10...Has a Silver Lining Fic Masterpost

Fic Summary: Brynjolf is certain that the only way the Thieves Guild will return to its glory days is by bringing in new, talented members. Unfortunately, Mercer doesn't agree, and it's not like Brynjolf's latest attempts at recruiting have gone well. But when he meets a stranger in the marketplace one morning, he's willing to take the risk and bring her on board....only time will tell if his gamble pays off.

Chapter Summary: The Guild is forced to lay low after being exposed by a failed heist, but then Brynjolf receives a cryptic message that sends him on an unexpected job.

Content: Brynjolf POV, Thieves Guild quest spoilers, game typical violence.

Ships: Brynjolf x Dragonborn OC (slowburn)

Word Count: 3,887

Check the reblogs for a link to read on AO3!

— — —

Gissur’s failure ended up having a far greater impact on the Guild than Brynjolf had expected. Any hope that the heat would die down quickly was dashed as the jarl ordered extra patrols across the entire city. Afraid to run afoul of the guard, most of the Guildmembers were forced to hunker down in the ratway and wait things out. At first the air was charged with tension and whispered conversations, but after days of nothing to do, the heavy weight of boredom began to settle over the Guild.

Brynjolf kept up appearances in the marketplace, hawking his elixir and gathering information, but even he was beginning to grow antsy. The guards who he normally worked with were avoiding him, and a quick inspection of the hidden caches around the city revealed that most hadn’t even collected their recent payments and orders. What info he was able to gather from his other sources, he couldn’t act on, and he found himself in the Ragged Flagon at the end of each day, as frustrated and bored as his Guildmates.

“Any change out there?” Delvin asked him one night as he trudged in, and Brynjolf let out a sigh, dropping into a chair across from the old thief.

“None,” he said. “You’d think they’d grow tired of this constant vigilance after two weeks, but they’ve not budged an inch.”

Delvin whistled.

“I have to admit, I’m surprised that old Laila is still at it. Surely all the extra wages are gettin’ expensive for her tastes?”

“Mjoll’s been taking advantage of the situation,” Brynjolf explained as Vekel passed by and handed him a tankard. “She’s using the incident to put pressure on the jarl, and has been riling up the citizens to do the same. Anuriel’s doing her best to counter the movement, but there’s only so much she can do without jeopardizing her position. The way things are headed now, we may have to ask Maven to get involved directly.”

“Which usually means a hefty donation to the city’s coffers, which Maven is not going to like,” Delvin mused. “And we’re barely back on her good side as it is.”

Brynjolf sighed, and ran a hand through his hair.

“At least we have a few contacts reaching out in other holds now. Did we manage to send anyone out to that silversmith in Markarth? We may have to write him a letter explaining that our services will be slightly delayed–”

“Didn’t you know?” Delvin interrupted. “Ariene took that job.”

Brynjolf blinked.

“Ariene took it?” he repeated. “When?”

Delvin winced.

“The same day Mercer sent her off to Solitude.”

“And you didn’t think to mention this to me?” Brynjolf demanded, and Delvin held up his hands.

“I’m sorry mate, I thought you knew. I saw the two of you together that night; I just assumed she’d told you.”

Brynjolf just shook his head. He’d had no idea; Ariene hadn’t shown any sign that she was leaving until Mercer had ordered her to. He stared down at the contents of his tankard, watching the foam slowly dissolve into the body of the ale.

Ariene had been gone for two weeks now, which should have been more than enough time for her to complete her task in Solitude and return home. Assuming, of course, that the weather had been good, that there was no trouble on the road, and that Gulum-Ei had cooperated fully.

Brynjolf snorted.

Vex would take Delvin up on his advances before the stars aligned so perfectly on a single job. Even Ariene hadn’t been able to completely shake the string of bad luck that followed the Guild like a shadow. She always managed to narrowly escape disaster, but her jobs so far had been far from simple.

Still, Brynjolf had secretly been hoping she’d arrive back any day now, even though it was entirely possible that she hadn’t left Solitude yet. Now it turned out that even if she had finished her task in the capital, she wouldn’t be back on the road to Riften until she’d dealt with whatever business there was in Markarth. The silversmith had been vague in his communication, so there was no telling how long she’d be delayed.

Sighing, Brynjolf downed half his tankard in one gulp, then pushed his chair back and got to his feet.

“Where’re you goin’?” Delvin asked.

“Training room,” Brynjolf grunted, rolling his shoulders. “Where else is there to go?”

The training room was blessedly empty, and Brynjolf pulled his daggers out of their sheaths. Already the thoughts he’d been pushing down all day were bubbling up to the forefront of his mind.

What if the jarl made the new guard rotations permanent? What if the Guild’s recent string of good fortune was just a fluke? What if Maven decided to withdraw her support, leaving them at the mercy of Riften’s bureaucracy?

Why didn’t Ariene tell him where she was going?

Brynjolf took a deep breath, flipping his daggers in his hands and letting all the worries swirl through his head, unhindered.

Then, he swung.

— — —

For two days, nothing changed. Guards patrolled the streets at all hours, members of the Guild stayed cooped up underground, and Brynjolf spent all day in the marketplace, selling very little elixir and gleaning very little intel.

A few people came to spar with him in the evenings, which at first he welcomed. It alleviated some of his boredom, but it also reminded him of the last time he sparred with an opponent, and he had to fight to keep a blush from his cheeks every time he thought of Ariene standing inches from him, her hand warm in his and a question as sharp as their blades hovering unanswered between them.

Thinking those types of thoughts made him lose his bouts, so he did his best to ignore them.

Then, on the third day, a courier approached him.

“You’re Brynjolf?” the man asked, walking up to Brynjolf’s stall in the market, and Brynjolf nodded. “I’ve been looking for you. Got something I’m supposed to deliver; your hands only.”

The man passed him a folded piece of paper sealed shut with wax, then nodded and turned, heading into the Bee & Barb without another word.

Brynjolf looked at the letter curiously, then cast a glance around the market. He normally didn’t like to read mail out in the open, but no one was paying him any attention, and he hadn’t had a letter come by courier in some time. His usual contacts had other methods of getting their information to him, so a courier meant something interesting. Maybe a new client, or a hot tip about a mark.

After making sure no one was watching, he broke the wax seal and unfolded the letter, eyes widening when he realized who it was from.

Brynjolf read the letter, a frown forming on his face. The message was vague, likely on purpose, but he couldn’t see what the point of sending it had been. Was it to let him know that Gulum-Ei had been dealt with and that she was on her way to Markarth? But it said she was heading home now; there was no mention of the other city. Besides, there was hardly a point to sending a message to precede her when she’d take just as long to get to Riften as the letter would.

He glanced at the date, intending to gauge how long ago she’d sent it, and his frown deepened.

First of Frostfall.

It was still the last week of Hearthfire. The first of Frostfall was four days away.

Brynjolf read the letter again, slowly, and the more he read, the less clear it became. As far as he knew, Ariene didn’t have any experience in property at all, and her reference to some kind of deal didn’t make sense, even as a euphemism for the shakedown she’d been sent to perform. Also curious was her use of Gulum-Ei’s alias, even though they both knew his real name and had no reason to hide it. And why would she date it the first of a month that hadn’t even arrived yet–

Realization struck him, and he scanned the letter again, his blood running cold as he did so. He grabbed the few bottles of elixir he had on display and shoved them beneath the counter, pausing just long enough to lock the stall before he hurried out of the market and towards the graveyard.

Bursting into the cistern, Brynjolf made a beeline for Mercer’s desk, barely stopping to apologize for startling Cynric into spilling his soup.

“I’m going to Falkreath,” he announced, and Mercer looked up from his ledgers, surprised.

“Excuse me?”

“I’m going to Falkreath,” Brynjolf repeated. “We just received a message from Ariene.”

“And why exactly does that mean you need to go to Falkreath? She’s supposed to be in Solitude.”

“She was,” Brynjolf said, passing him the letter. “But now she’s in Falkreath, and needs our help.”

Mercer scanned the letter, frowning.

“This doesn’t say anything about Falkreath, Brynjolf.”

Brynjolf took the letter again, grabbed Mercer’s quill, and circled the first word on each line before handing it back.

“Please send help,” Mercer read aloud. “Too many bandits, meet me at dead man’s drink.” He looked up at Brynjolf. “You can’t be serious.”

“I am,” Brynjolf insisted. “Dead Man’s Drink is the name of the inn in Falkreath. I don’t know what she’s doing there, but I know that she’s on a job for Endon, a silversmith in Markarth. Whatever that is must involve bandits somehow, and I told her she wouldn’t have to fight an army single handedly. If she’s asking for backup, I’m not going to ignore her.”

Mercer raised an eyebrow at him.

“Guild first, remember Brynjolf?”

“She’s part of the Guild,” Brynjolf snapped. “Besides, look at the first meaning of the letter. She got Gulum-Ei to tell her something, and if we leave her to deal with this problem by herself, who knows how long it will be before she gets back here? How many more days are you willing to wait to get the intel? Or perhaps you’d like to send another agent to Solitude? I’m sure Gulum-Ei wouldn’t mind rehashing the story for yet another Guildmember asking nosy questions.”

“You’ve made your point,” Mercer growled. “I suppose there’s not much to do here in the meantime anyway. But I want you both back as soon as possible. No detours, you understand?”

Brynojlf nodded, already turning away from the Guildmaster.

It took him less than half an hour to change into traveling gear and pack his Guild armor, extra knives, and a handful of potions and foodstuffs into an old knapsack. He made his way to the stables, and after a few minutes of haggling, secured a horse for the journey.

He decided to take the more remote southern road that led past Haemar’s Shame and into Helgen. The northern road around the mountains into Whiterun was safer, but it was already early afternoon. If he took the longer route then he wouldn’t reach Falkreath until tomorrow at the earliest, whereas if he rode his horse hard and was very lucky with the wildlife, he’d be able to take the southern pass through the mountains and reach the hold before dark.

The late afternoon sun provided little reprieve from the chill of the autumn air, but Brynjolf was used to the harshness of the land. He didn’t particularly care for any of that “Sons of Skyrim” talk that was popular among the Stormcloaks and their sympathizers, but he was still a nord, and this was still his homeland. Riding through the forests that he’d played in as a boy while the wind made golden leaves dance above his head, it was easy to ignore the cold.

If he’d been on any other job, he might have taken his time to enjoy the scenery, but Ariene’s message was burned into his brain, and he urged his horse faster, cutting through glades and across clearings in places where he was sure of his way. He made good time until the pass through the mountains, where a recent snowfall forced the horse’s pace to slow, but he thankfully had the road to himself until he reached Helgen…or rather, where Helgen had once stood.

“Shor’s bones,” he whispered, pulling his horse to a halt.

The small mountain village had been completely decimated. Most of the wall on the east side was still standing, but from his vantage point on the slope, he could see over it to the destruction beyond.

There wasn’t a single building that had escaped annihilation. Nearly every house had been leveled, leaving behind nothing but a few splintered support beams and lopsided fireplaces sticking out of piles of ash. The stone keep, once one of Skyrim’s southernmost imperial outposts, had been reduced to a few crumbling towers streaked with scorch marks and surrounded by mounds of rubble.

The worst thing though, was the smell.

Once, when Brynjolf had been young and foolish and eager to prove himself, he and another footpad had tried to rob a wizard who was known to practice his craft out of a cave north of Shor’s Stone. Heads full of visions of priceless gems and ancient artifacts, they’d tried to sneak into the cave late at night, certain the old man would be sleeping and that it would be an easy heist.

Brynjolf could still hear the lad’s screams, could still recall the thick, acrid smell of his flesh burning away as he was engulfed in a fireball.

It was that same scent, still detectable on the breeze despite the time that had passed, that revealed the true carnage of the scene before him.

Nothing but a dragon could have done this, Brynjolf realized with growing horror.

It was one thing to learn of the attacks, to hear stories of chaos and dragon fire second hand. It was quite another to see the aftermath for himself.

Even with Ariene’s word that she’d seen a dragon, even fought one in Whiterun, a part of him had still been unable to accept that the creatures of myth were really responsible for the attacks. The beasts belonged in children’s tales and legends, not in the real world. Yet here was the proof, plain as day and chilling as the wind: dragons had returned.

Brynjolf caught sight of movement along the old wall, and tried to push thoughts of legend and doom from his mind. He had more pressing matters to deal with at the moment: namely that a company of bandits seemed to be squatting in the village ruins.

He almost had to admire their ingenuity; Helgen’s destruction meant that Jarl Siddgeir would have pulled most of the guards from the area, and the remains of the walls and keep gave the bandits a stronger defense than they’d be likely to get in one of the mountain caves nearby.

Unfortunately, their greatest advantage was now Brynjolf’s biggest problem: the main roads from both the south and the east ran directly through the village, allowing them to pick off any travelers with ease. Brynjolf was a competent fighter, but with no clear idea of how many bandits were camping out behind the wall, he didn’t want to chance an all out fight if he could avoid it.

Too bad no one else is here to appreciate the irony, he thought grimly as he weighed his options.

If it were any other day, he would have camped out on the side of the road and waited until nightfall to try and pass the bandits by, but today was the one time that he couldn’t afford to be patient. He glanced up at the sun, which was dipping lower and lower in the evening sky. He’d have to think of something quickly, if he still wanted to reach Falkreath before dark.

Realistically, he only had two options.

One, dismount and leave his horse behind. If he were on foot, he was confident enough in his ability to sneak past without any of the thugs noticing him. Of course, that meant that he definitely wouldn’t reach Falkreath before the sun went down. But that left him with option two: ride around the village in a full gallop and hope that the sentries posted along the wall wouldn’t shoot him as he came by.

Brynjolf grimaced. Neither option was particularly attractive, and the longer he sat here deliberating, the later he’d be getting to Dead Man’s Drink. There had to be another way, some hidden solution that would let him keep his speed without risking an arrow in the back.

“If you have a choice between two locked doors, then start looking for a window.”

Gallus’s words, his way of teaching footpads to approach problems from unexpected angles. The ability to think outside the box was what separated everyday thieves from the truly skilled…and Brynjolf was nothing if not skilled.

He thought for a moment more, then quickly dismounted and opened his knapsack, which he’d tied to the back of the horse’s saddle. After a moment of rummaging, he pulled out a small bottle filled with a bright red liquid: a health potion.

He poured a small amount of it out into his cupped hand, then tilted his head back and dripped the potion down his face. He bent down and scooped up a handful of dirt from the path, smearing a line of it across his cheek so it mixed with the liquid into a dark red mud. He took off his cloak, rolling it up and stuffing it in his pack, then reached up and tore one of his sleeves so it hung loosely from his arm. Just for good measure, he slathered more of the dirt onto his arms and neck, adding to his disheveled appearance.

Satisfied, he mounted his horse and nudged it forward again. The ruse wouldn’t hold up under close inspection, but getting closer to the bandits was what he was hoping to avoid. Taking a deep breath, he leaned forward and squeezed his knees into the horse’s side, urging it into a gallop.

“HELP!” he shouted at the top of his lungs as he sped towards the gates. “HELP ME! IT’S COMING!”

He saw the bandits stir, saw confusion and alarm on their faces as they watched what hopefully looked like a half crazed man covered in blood barrelling towards them. A few were already drawing their weapons, and he sent a silent prayer to whatever divine cared to listen that these men had heard the same news out of Falkreath that he had.

“HELP! IT’S RIGHT BEHIND ME! WEREWOLF!” he screamed.

That word changed everything.

Other panicked shouts joined his own, and the men turned their attention to the path behind him, reading their blades and aiming their bows down the road, which was exactly what Brynjolf wanted. He urged the horse forward, not taking the time to look over his shoulder. He wanted to be long gone before the men realized that there was no creature pursuing him and that they’d let a victim slip through their fingers.

He kept the horse at a gallop for as long as it could muster, then finally let the beast begin to slow when he was certain there’d been no attempt to follow him.

Brynjolf chuckled as he wiped the remains of the potion and mud from his face. Even after all this time, there was nothing quite like the feeling of pulling off an impossible plan. It’d been awhile since he’d felt that rush, being cooped up in the cistern doing paperwork most days. The last time he’d really gotten to see a plan come together was when he and Ariene had pulled the frame job on Brand-Shei. He could still recall the look of triumph on the lass’s face when she’d risen from behind the crates and flashed him a thumbs up.

Looking back, that was the moment that he’d first felt an attraction to her. He’d tried to ignore the feeling, to insist to both himself and his Guildmates that his attention was a purely professional one, but even then he’d known that he was kidding himself. There was something special about Ariene, and she had sparked his interest from the start.

Brynjolf rode into Falkreath just as the sun began to dip beneath the horizon. There was no stable in the sleepy little city, so he tied his horse to a post outside Dead Man’s Drink. He stepped into the inn, eyes already scanning the room for Ariene, and he stopped dead in his tracks when he saw her.

She was standing in a corner, arms folded defensively as an enormous man in the heavy steel armor of an Imperial Legate bore down on her.

“–told you, you’re making a mistake,” she was saying, and the man snorted.

“And I told you that you can’t fool a true nord in his own homeland. Do you think I’m stupid, girl? I know you’re trying to get back across the border. Didn’t expect the legion to have such a strong presence up here in Skyrim did you, you filthy deserter?”

“How many times do I have to tell you?” Ariene snapped. “I’m here from Riften on business, that’s all. No one in my family has served in the legion for at least three generations. You have the wrong person.”

“If you really are innocent, then you wouldn’t mind going with a small guard up to Solitude to confirm with the General that you’re not the woman we’re looking for, now would you?”

“And miss out on who knows how many weeks of wages until you’re satisfied that I am who I say I am? I’m not a member of your legion, I’m under no obligation to follow your orders.”

“Ah, but that’s where you’re wrong,” the man said.

He leaned closer to her, and Ariene took a step backward, stopping abruptly when her back hit the wall.

“I’m in charge of the city guard here, which means that you can either go with my brigade to meet the general in Solitude, or you can wait for him to come here from the comfort of the Falkreath jail. Your choice.”

Brynjolf strode forward, grabbing the man by the shoulder and yanking him back, the first lie he could think of spilling from his lips.

“Is this kinsman bothering you, sister?”

--- --- ---

Prev: Ch.8 Caught Red Handed || Next: Ch.10...Has a Silver Lining

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neveraftcr-archive · 11 months ago

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i've added too many muses and need to get some threads going for them so give this a like for a starter! feel free to request muse/s or i'll choose at random.

carina alves. 27-30. she/her. bisexual. journalist. faceclaim: camila mendes.

hadley finch. 22 - 26. she/her. bisexial. veterinary nurse. faceclaim: olivia scott welch.

haeun kim. 24 - 27. she/her. bisexual. self defence instructor. faceclaim: kim sejeong.

iris wolfe. 25 - 28. she/her. bisexual. private chef. faceclaim: victoria pedretti.

maven solace. 26 - 30. she/her. bisexual. model. faceclaim: halston sage.

sehun jung. 27 - 30. she/her. bisexual. bodyguard. faceclaim: seo kangjoon.

serin demir. 25 - 28. she/her. bisexual. personal assistant. faceclaim: aslihan malbora.

sofie beltran. 22 - 25. she/her. bisexual. primary school teacher. faceclaim: fiona palomo.

summer thorne. 21 - 23. she/her. bisexual. zoology student. faceclaim: alisha newton.

#indie rp #indie bi rp #indie smut rp

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imjulia-andilikecats · 6 months ago

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The dude got that pretty privilege. Even some members of the fandom blame other characters like Mare for not returning his feelings or Julian (who is not even blood-related to Maven) for not helping him. Choosing to overlook the horrific deeds he and his mother did to them and more characters throughout the series.

Maven is a well-written, complex character with a tragic backstory, that makes him sympathetic. However, it does not absolve him from the terrible things he has done.

Controversial take here but: the horrible and horrific things Maven had done wouldn’t have been overlooked or forgiven by the fandom if Maven wasn’t attractive.

#maven calore #red queen #tiberias vii calore #mare barrow #glass sword #kings cage #war storm #elara merandus #julian jacos #i like maven #he is my meme muse #but some fans baby him too much #they blame everyone but maven #you can enjoy characters like maven #just don't act surprised that he is still an antagonist

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shutupanthropologie · 3 months ago

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Empowering women to be their own muses, 4SI3NNA crafts chic pieces that encourage complete butthole freedom and individuality for the gassy style maven.

4SI3NNA V-Neck Sleeveless Midi Dress, $158.00

#fartbutt #windy #dress

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imjulia-andilikecats · 2 years ago

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Maraven Idea: Maven (Hunter) x Mare (Forest Nymph)

Warning: Mentions of Blood, death animals and Maven with a gun.

Maven Calore might not be the heir of the Calore Manor or his father's favorite. However, there is no denying that Lady Merandus' son was a skilled hunter.

With his lean build and graceful movements, he could effortless stalk his prey without making any sound.

Maven loved hunting. The smell of crunching leaves, the warmth of the rifle resting on the palm of his hand and the satisfaction of bringing home a prize for his family, especially his father, to see.

He hunted wild rabbits that borrow deep in the ground, grinning foxes that laugh maniacilly everytime they outwit your traps and even birds that fly high in the sky, with feathers that help them blend with the trees.

As much as Maven enjoys bringing home his trophies. He never mounted them. Opting on returning them to where all living beings came from. The ground and worms.

One day, Maven decided that it was a perfect time for hunting. Quickly preparing himself for that day. Wearing his forest green hunting cloak, paired with his dark green hat. Making him blend with the surroundings.

As he enters the forest. He immediately headed toward his favorite spot.

The north east of the forest, where the grass grow tall and wild. A sizeable stream with its noise muffling his steps, the mounts of soil and heavy boulders srrounding the steam and the occasional forest creature needing to quench its thirst.

Maven hid behind a wide , flat rock. Resting his arms and setting his rifle on it. As he makes sure its pointed across the stream. His knees sinking into the soft moss. Not caring of the mud seeping through his clothes.

Maven started to court. Timing it with his breath, as he slowly counted down. This process making his movements minimal and as still as a statue.

Not long after, he hears rustling from the distance. Slowly pointing his rifle towards the sound. As his strain his neck to hear it better.

He could hear the snapping sounds of dried twigs and light thuds. A rabbit couldn't make that noise.

Each thud takes a few long seconds for another one to follow, each time getting closer. A fox couldn't make such long strides.

Maven's heartbeat quickened, as he felt a sudden rush of excitment.

"Could it be?" He thought.

Before he could picture the forest animal that he so wanted to bring home.

A flash of light brown fur and long, thin, limbs caught his eyes.

Maven almost bolted in his spot.

Fast. As his finger found its way to the trigger. His eyes, never leaving its spotted fur.

He only grinned. But not fast enough.

Bang.

Maven saw it stumble in the plush shrubs, hearing it grunt in pain, its limbs kicking the plants and earth.

He stood for a moment. Never lowering his guard, rifke still aimed at the shribs, if it dares to run away from him.

When the cries of agony and rustling, started to dwindle down to near quiet, that's when Maven started to walk towards his quarry.

Taking long strides, the grin never leaving his face. He could picture his father's distraught face when he brings home this deer and bury it with the others.

His musing stops, when noises started to change. The nasally huffs, replaced with human-like groans. Higher pitched, almost feminine.

Maven's brows knitted together, as he stood inches towards the "animal" that he shot.

The deer was nowhere to be found.

In its place, was a young woman in a white nightgown.

Her long brown hair, covered most of her face, but Maven knew she was in great pain, as he watched her lay on her side, curling in pain. Her blood-drenched hand grip her thigh, trying to keep anymore blood from flowing out.

As a son of a noblemen, Maven would usually run towards the lady, tend her wounds and carry her to safety.

But as a hunter, Maven knew better.

This woman is no lady. As he studied her closely. Her dress, arms, legs, even her hair were covered in thin, coiling vines. Small white and purple flowers, decorating her wavy brown hair.

Her ears were slightly pointed, jutting out of her hair. The feature keeping her from being called human.

And most of all, her glowing skin.

A soft, golden light radiating around her, making the freckles on her skin appear to shine like molten gold.

Beautiful...and not human at all.

Her groans turned to heavy breathes.

She must have realized that she won't die from her wound. Her head tilting towards him. Her pain turning into anger.

Maven simply pointed his rifle at her. "What are you?" Still marveling at the odd sight.

She replied in kind, flashing her sharp, white teeth towards him. Her dark, brown eyes shining like black gems illuminated by flames.

"Your death, human." She hissed through gritted teeth. Her words sent chills down his spine.

He could only hold on to his rifle, using it as an achor and a shield from this feral thing.

He felt danger. Fear.

But all he could think of were the stories his boring, old uncle would tell them, whenever his lessons become too tiresome to sit through. He only listened with equal boredom, while glancing at his perfect older brother who's eyes were glued to their uncle with a delighted smile.

Stories about the nymphs of the forest. Sworn protectors, who would go to great lengths to keep it safe. Maven grimaced at the nymph's mischievous and outright, vindictive methods in keeping humans away.

Which is why, he should kill her. End this potential threat before it spreads.

That's cowardous side of him kept his finger on the trigger.

His ambitions, however, kept his finger from pressing again.

Maven wanted to know about them. If there is more and where they might be. Glancing at her rage filled face. She will be his guide.

He couldn't wait to take her home. His most prized possession.

"Death?" Maven smiled fully, displaying his pearly white teeth, crouching down to her level.

It only made her angrier. "What a lovely gift." He purred.

#red queen #mare barrow #glass sword #war storm #king's cage #cal calore #maven calore #old meme #random #tiberias vii calore #mareven #mare is a deer #maven is a hunter #match made in hell #match made in heaven

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professor-simp-amore · 10 months ago

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Oh hey, I actually reblogged to this blog for once. About dang time! Prepare for more activity... that comes whenever I feel like it. :3

#mavens musings

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bl4ckr0se-3006 · 8 months ago

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Crossover Rp - Grishaverse| Six of Crows/Shadow and Bone and Another Fandom

Hey I am kind if desperate to do some kind of to do some king of crossover Rp involving the Six of Crows characters and another fandom we both agree on. I have a full list of my fandoms I will put son here below. Any ships I want to keep within fandoms and I wasn’t to keep the characters within their own lore unless necessary etc, for example I really don’t want anyone asking for us to play characters from Six of Crows as characters from other fandoms and no comparing the characters from Sic of Crows to characters from other fandoms either, especially villains, it makes my uncomfortable, especially when Kaz, he’s too good for that and I desperately want to play Kaz for this.

For Kaz only ship I am comfortable with is Kanej, no exceptions sorry. I have a la list of ships and the characters I can play for other fandoms I will also put below, we can discuss which fandom to crossover with. If interested leave me a comment here or pm me, preferably both. If we’re playing more than one character each from each fandom we can discuss how we split that I am absolutely comfortable discussing who plays who outside of Kaz and Inej and I much prefer my rp partner to play Inej and I have a stronger muse for Kaz. I tend to lean into Kaz’s trauma and PTSD, etc, like I feel bad for him yes but he wouldn’t be him without that backstory so please be fine with me doing this.

My fandoms are:

Stranger Things

Walking Dead

The Last of Us

Miss Peregrine’s Home for Peculiar Children

Tokyo Ghoul

Deathnote

Demon Slayer

Jujustu Kaisen

Dune

Umbrella Academy

His Dark Materials

Marvel

Game of Thrones

Twilight

Heathers

Titanic

Harry Potter

Squid Game

Omori

Avatar the Last Airbender

Miraculous.

Howl’s Moving Castle

Spirited Away

Call me by Your Name

Owl House

D&D

Witcher

Shadow and Bone/Six of Crows

Bones and All

Crimson Peak

Red Queen

Attack on Titan

The Characters I’ll play are below listed by Fandom:

Stranger Things:

Eleven

Eddie Munson

Robin Buckley

Max Mayfield

Walking Dead:

Carl Grimes

Daryl Dixon

The Last of Us:

Ellie Williams

Miss Peregrine’s Home for Peculiar Children:

Enoch O’Connor (for this character I heavily prefer to work off the film version of the character though I have read and really like the books too.)

Tokyo Ghoul:

Juuzou Suzuya

Uta

Deathnote:

Demon Slayer:

Giyu Tomioka

Jujustu Kaisen:

Mahito

My Oc: Tomie Ryo

Dune:

Paul Arteries

Umbrella Academy:

Klaus Hargreaves

His Dark Materials:

Lyra Belacqua

Marvel:

Avengers:

Loki

X-Men:

Jean Grey

DC:

Harley Quinn (I will only play the Suicide Squad/Birds of Prey version)

The Flash:

Barry Allen/The Flash

Game of Thrones:

Bran Stark

Arya Stark (Possibly)

Daenerys Targaryen

Twilight:

Edward Cullen

Heathers:

J.D.

Titanic:

Jack Dawson

Harry Potter:

Luna Lovegood

Fantastic Beasts:

Credence Barebone

Marauders:

Regulus Black

Cursed Child:

Scorpius Malfoy

Squid Game:

Player 067/Kang Sae-Beyok

Omori:

Sunny/Omori

Avatar the Last Airbender:

Katara

Miraculous:

Adrien Agreste/Cat Noir

Felix Fathom/Argos/Flairmidable (mostly as Felix or Argos)

Luka Coffaine/Viperion

Howl’s Moving Castle:

Howl Jenkins Pendragon

Spirited Away:

Haku

Call me by Your Name:

Elio Perlman

Owl House:

Amity

Hunter

D&D:

Doric

My Oc - Cælen Ærinasion

Witcher:

I only play my Oc Cælen Ærinasion for this Fandom

Shadow and Bone/Six of Crows:

Kaz Brecker

Bones and All:

Lee

Crimson Peak:

Thomas Sharpe

Red Queen:

Maven Calore

Attack on Titan:

Eren Jaeger

The pairings I do, by fandom, the character I play is for each is is brackets (Please note + is platonic and & is ship.

Stranger Things:

(Eleven) + (Max) - (Please note for this one I do believe Max has feelings Eleven that go beyond friendship, I don’t believe Eleven reciprocates them.

(Eddie) +/&Steve

(Eddie) +/& Chrissy

(Robin) + Steve

(Robin) +/& Vickie

(Max) +/& Lucas

Walking Dead:

(Carl Grimes) +/& Enid

Daryl Dixon (I don’t currently have any ships for this characters open to any platonic pairings though)

The Last of Us:

Ellie Williams + Joel Miller

Miss Peregrine’s Home for Peculiar Children:

(Enoch) +/& Olive

I am also open to any platonic pairings involving Enoch.

Tokyo Ghoul:

Juuzou Suzuya (I don’t currently have and ships for this character though I am open to any platonic pairings.

Uta (I don’t currently have and ships for this character though I am open to any platonic pairings.

Deathnote:

(L) +/& Light (this is mostly in Au settings alone, I won’t do Kira and L ship rps.)

Demon Slayer:

(Giyu) +\& Shinobu

Jujustu Kaisen:

Mahito (I don’t currently have and ships for this character though I am open to any platonic pairings.)

My Oc - Tomie Ryo (I don’t currently have and ships for this character though I am open to any platonic pairings. And I only do OCxOC ship wise, CCxOC can make me uncomfortable, I am however open to CC + OC platonic rps.)

Dune:

(Paul) +/& Chani

Umbrella Academy:

(Klaus) +/& Dave

His Dark Materials:

(Lyra) +/& Will

Marvel:

Avengers:

Loki (I don’t have any ship pairings for this, open to platonic pairings though.)

X-Men:

(Jean Grey) +/& Scott Summers

DC:

(Harley Quinn) x Joker

The Flash:

(Barry/ The Flash) +/& Iris

Game of Thrones:

Bran Stark (I don’t currently have any ships for this character though I am open to any platonic pairings.

Arya Stark (I don’t currently have any ships for this character though I am open to any platonic pairings.

(Daenerys) +/& Khal Drogo

Twilight:

(Edward) +/& Bella

(Edward) + Any of that Cullens

Heathers:

(J.D.) +\& Veronica

Titanic:

(Jack) +/&Rose

Harry Potter:

(Luna) +/& Neville

Fantastic Beasts:

Credence Barebone (I don’t currently have any ships for this character though I am open to any platonic pairings.

Marauders:

(Regulus) +/& James

(Regulus) + Sirius

Cursed Child:

(Scorpius) +/& Rose

(Scorpius) +/& Albus

Squid Game:

Player 067/Kang Sae-Beyok (I don’t currently have any ships for this character though I am open to any platonic pairings.

Omori:

(Sunny/Omori) +/& Basil

Avatar the Last Airbender:

(Katara) +/& Aang

Miraculous:

(Adrien Agreste/Cat Noir) +\& Marinette Dupain Cheng/Ladybug

(Adrien Agreste/Cat Noir) + Kagami Tsurugi/Ryuko

(Felix Fathom/Argos/Flairmidable) +\& Kagami Kagami Tsurugi/Ryuko

Luka Coffaine/Viperion (Platonic pairings only please)

(Adrien Agreste/Cat Noir) + Felix Fathom/Argos/Flairmidable

Howl’s Moving Castle:

(Howl) + Mark

(Howl) + Calcifer

(Howl) +\& Sophie

Spirited Away:

(Haku) + Chiro

(Haku) +/& Oc

Call me by Your Name:

(Elio) - I don’t currently have pairings for this character. Open to CC +\& OC if necessary though.

Owl House:

(Amity)+/& Luz

(Hunter) +\& Willow

(Hunter) + Gus

(Amity) + Willow

D&D:

(Doric) +/& Simon

OC+/&OC

(OC)+ CC (Willing for double up in which I will play a CC)

Witcher:

OC +/& OC

(OC)+/& CC (I won’t play CC for this Fandom.)

Shadow and Bone/Six of Crows:

(For this fandom bear in mind I do very much see Kaz as asexual, not necessarily aromatic, look it up if need definitions. Asexual does not mean can’t fall in love.)

(Kaz) +/& Inej

(Kaz) + Jesper

Bones and All:

(I do see Lee as Bi -- well aware it might seem like a bit of an obscure one to some.)

(Lee) +/& Maren

(Lee) +/& Oc

Crimson Peak:

(Thomas) +/& Edith (Preferable)

(Thomas) +/& Oc

(Thomas) + Lucille

Red Queen:

(Maven) +\& Thomas

(Maven) +\& Mare

(Maven) + Cal

(Maven) + Tiberias Vi

(Maven) + Elara

Attack on Titan:

(Eren) +\& Mikasa

(Eren) + Armin

If interested comment or Pm me. I won’t reply to liked as I find those too ambiguous.

#roleplay partner search #roleplay #six of crows rp #six of crows #grishaverse rp #grishaverse #inej gafha #kanej #kaz x inej #crossover #crossover rp

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marias-wonderland · 2 years ago

Text

Post-SoTL letters (N.2)

Hello once again. My writing muse came back and gave me this play between Clarice and Hannibal. They mostly talk about music but they obviously mean more than what they write.

(dedicated to my beta reader, @isidoros69 , whose support enables me to write once every blue moon. Also, to my wonderful fandom people! @louisfriend-ironsulfide @lotus-ignis @black-mushroom, @eyaeya111, @liwodot, @ladylshardlakesworld, and to whoever is still around!)

Words: 1965

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Dear Clarice

The view from my window is bringing peace upon my soul, and the pinot grigio accompanied with the artichokes and bottarga salad is only complimenting the scenery. The clouds seem they have engulfed the sky, casting a leisurely but simultaneously melancholic essence of self-discovery. The wind gently shakes the trees and the flowers, the white petals of those flowers in harmony they dance in the wind, floating in the beauty of an invisible river. While gazing the eternal grey world in front of me, the notes of Chopin’s Nocturne Op. 27 No. 2 brought an inquiry to my mind. Do you enjoy listening to music, Clarice?

With gratitude Dr. Hannibal Lecter, MD

Dear Dr. Lecter

It seems that in the end, you got what you wanted. There are no bars or cells for you anymore, neither restrictions nor rules. You are free to gaze upon the same sky as I am. Free to indulge in what your soul desires, however wicked or wrong it is, stifling does not suit your persona. The evening sounds pleasing, Doctor. You are the maven of the bon vivant way of acting after all. Given our different upbringing, our music tastes are going to appear completely dissimilar. Yes, I do enjoy some music tunes so I can wind off after a hard day of work (I would mention dancing at clubs but, something tells me they’re not your cup of tea). I’m not a person who pays too much attention to the artists, I listen to whatever feels good to me. Madonna and Whitney Houston being some of them, as well as Michael Jackson and Prince. Cyndi Lauper and David Bowie are also good. Generally speaking, if I like the tune, I will join in. Please don’t hold back on your knowledge about this, I’m certain your mind is like a living library of information. Perhaps you could suggest me composers I would enjoy.

With Respect Clarice M. Starling

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dear Clarice

It is of the human nature to seek out for our freedom, regardless of our wrongdoings. Always remember that deep down, even the most altruistic person hides a tinge of egoism. The instincts of survival are primordial, way before humans thought their laws could outlaw the wrath of nature. Never apologise for what you do not know. Only for what you had the chance to know but refused to. Our differences make us unique and seductive, temptation is of the greatest sins for a reason. I never expected the musical literacy of the orphanage to be of high character. Neither of course the cultural heritage you carry could ever lead you to such paths.

One should start small. Try listening to four seasons by Vivaldi. I recommend “autumn” for you. It is the most overlooked piece by the four of them, and yet it perfectly enhances and encapsulates the essence of chase, of hunting. Vivaldi himself had written poems for his compositions. Try reading the poems while listening to the pieces.

“The hunters, at the break of dawn, go to the hunt.

With horns, guns, and dogs they are off,

The beast flees, and they follow its trail”

May the hunt never end indeed

With gratitude Dr. Hannibal Lecter, MD

Ps. Have you ever looked at a person and wondered how their essence would be convened into music? Because I have. For you. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dear Dr. Lecter

The element of surprise is always present when I’m talking to you. The moment I’m ready to drop the letter on the table, you come back with the most intriguing piece of flattery.

I bought the records you recommended. As for the poems, I had quite a time with the local libraries but all's well that ends well.

Autumn is a limbo between life and death, a bittersweet season, it's not death already but not life anymore.

Doing tasks only for them to be left incomplete, never being able to see the finish line.

But also you can sense the joy, the energy that the hunt is giving to both the hunter and the pray. The thrilling that ambuscades give to two communicating vessels.

But behind all that, one can still feel the merriment of summer and the cautiousness of winter. Perfect blend of seasons.

I listened to the rest of the season on my day off, with a glass of wine on my hand while gazing at the night sky. It was a tranquil evening.

You were right, autumn was my favourite. I hope you are going to recommend me more compositions. As for the hunt it will inevitably end, and we both know the results, Doctor.

“The exhausted beast tries to flee, but dies."

With respect

Clarice M. Starling

Ps. Your insightfulness never stops astonishing me. I hope you are going to expand your thoughts a bit further. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dear Clarice

The path to self-realization finds the impediment of our current mind. Only the conquest of it could lead you to your true self.

I had planned of discussing with you the significance of Mozart in the classicism wave but, a certain… a minor shift to my plans, brought to my attention the representative of Russian nationalism, Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky.

Besides, Mozart’s compositions are characterized by a fervent sequence to rules, something which you can put aside if the moment demands for it. Tchaikovsky on the other hand favoured emotional progression, the catharsis of the soul, the joys, loves, and sorrows of the human heart with striking and poignant sincerity.

I believe you would enjoy some of his lesser known compositions. I suggest “Souvenir de Florence”. I listened to it very recently and the breadth of the sound is something which can captivate you.

As for my last thought, it is a tendency that most musicians share. Almost like a personal whim, translating internal emotions into notes and symphonies. The more joy something brings to us, the more music echoes to our ears.

I would be glad to share my speculations about you, but always in exchange. Quid pro quo Clarice.

So please tell me

How would my existence be translated into music, Clarice?

With gratitude

Dr. Hannibal Lecter, MD

Ps. We’ve chatted for so long and yet, I didn’t send my greetings to our old pal Jackie boy. Please dedicate to him Mozart’s “Requiem”, I’m certain his long lost soul is fit for it. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dear Dr. Lecter

Thanks to your suggestions, I’ve become a reappearing figure at my local antique shop and even managed to get the vinyls at a better price since “No young people nowadays care about the classics”.

You stand correct once again, I remained motionless throughout the course of the performance. This one I believe fits better to be listened at day, the crystal clear sky mirroring the composer’s will for life.

Regarding your last request, I am afraid that I can not come up with a satisfactory answer for your criteria. I am able to describe people’s actions with words and explain their reasoning behind that but, music was always an uncharted territory for me.

If you could be kind enough to help me on that one, I would appreciate it.

With respect Clarice M. Starling

Ps. I’m aware you know of Bella’s deteriorating health but, it is him who takes the toll for both of them. It is almost painful to watch. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~`

Dear Clarice

You were doing so fine, following the lead and completing the tasks you were given.

Now the agent came tête-à-tête with an actual challenge and requires the assistance of someone more au courant.

It is clear I’ve asked you to act beyond your training.

Very well, follow my lead and in your next letter try to live up to your name.

When you come to my mind, a plethora of notes burst into my mind, rampant and joyous, sorrowful and cynical.

A feeling of recurring sadness and despair. Occasional, fleeting moments of upbeat melodies feel more like episodes of painfully self-aware mania among a constant bedrock of fear, and pain. A sense of loss that always revives when I listen to it again.

The expression of a broken rage, a lost love, a forgotten memory, a dead rose somehow flourishing, coming all together in a sick melancholy and expression of reasonable insanity.

Reminiscent of the monotony of our daily lives and how little of a choice we have in it, yet can't help being upbeat to an extent with hope.

I find it quite intriguing, the different emotions each of us convey through these majestic chimes. As for me, I sense harmony and merriment.

Words convey understanding that music fails to describe, but music conveys emotion words cannot express.

However it is due to the emotions it releases that our simplistic human minds cannot comprehend nor explain, a conundrum of melancholous, yet peaceful feelings that no music nowadays can do the liberty of replicating.

This is how I see you. Trying to grasp the sinister world around you, but are you ready to feel the icy fingers of terror stroke your heart?

With gratitude

Dr. Hannibal Lecter, MD

Ps. Try closing your eyes and focus on how you would translate each emotion you feel into humming. How does anger sound to you? Quick and loud or rapid and silent? Follow this advice and then you will be able to answer me. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dear Dr. Lecter

Thank you for your insight and leading. It took me some time and a lot of concentration to find an answer worthy enough of writing down but, I’m confident this is it.

When you come to my mind, this mixture of brilliant eloquence and inhuman cruelty deluges it.

The music starts with melancholy. Dark, with hints of sweetness underlying a tone of despair. Intensity rises. Grief makes way for anger, insanity and a welcoming of death's tender embrace. Life has become hell.

Music is now fast. The grasp on reality porous and thin, like butter scraped over too much bread. The light tries to resist, but what little control remains is slipping, struggling to fight back.

The darkness, emboldened by the chaos, responds in kind, eager to stamp out the last embers of hope.

The darkness has taken root now. The host no longer resists the parasite's will. But within the darkness, there’s a new purpose. The devil might have changed his appearance but he cannot betray his nature.

He plays furiously, boundless now he roams free. His muster unrelenting, devouring. In his wake, only one thing remains… the purest representation of humanity's dualism. The eternal conflict for humanity's soul.

The end is bittersweet, like the aftermath of the self-casted war between spirit and mind with casualties being the human soul.

On the whole, I would say that it is the manifestation of a dance not with someone else but with yourself, you are dancing with your shadow, with your ego, and that makes it special.

Almost inveigling the gazer into taking a place to the dance With respect

Clarice M. Starling

Ps. I can not help myself but picture waltzes whenever I’m listening to my vinyls. Have you ever taken part in this type of dance, Doctor? ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dear Clarice

I must congratulate you for your quick learning, your rapid adaptation to your environment truly will help you survive.

If you ever knew me in my personal life, you would know I never turn down an invitation to dance.

I wholeheartedly enjoyed our conversation but I am afraid I have to put it to an end for now, for I am going on a trip. One should always exercise their body as well their mind. It would also be my pleasure to teach you how to waltz.

It would be the perfect body exercise for the both of us.

With gratitude

Dr. Hannibal Lecter, MD

#hannibal #hannibal lecter #Clarice Starling #the silence of the lambs #clannibal #hannibal x clarice #epistolary fiction #discussions about music #mention of dancing #these two will be the death of me #hope you enjoy

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