#mwad excerpt

[akoumi]

back with more mwad content.........and still more coming soon [peeking emoji]

[herondalelucies]

✏ + 📝+ 🎶 for the handwriting asks !! (hope ur doing well!)

eva! <3 i am doing well and hope you’re doing well too hehe c:

i will not format it like this next time LOL this was a bad idea

@holotones everytime i see an excerpt from mwad i scream and run to read it

FUDGE excuse the fact that i forgot the s in your url when handwriting it

[akoumi]

old art but i miss sascha and pavel.......

[akoumi]

[ MONSTROUS, WRETCHED, AND DIVINE. ]

[akoumi]

lil mwad piece for valentine’s day!!! 

id under the cut: 

We have to leave before the snow gets worse. All around me, people work, loading up tents and weapons up onto their carts and horses. It isn’t enough. It’s early in the morning and everyone’s moving as fast as possible to get going already, but I can already tell that the snow is going to be a problem.

I pull my coat tighter around my shoulders, stamping my feet to get rid of the cold seeping into my boots. I’ve spent twenty winters here and yet, this has been one of the coldest winters I’ve ever experienced, and it hasn’t let up yet. It’s bad news for us.

Speaking of the cold — I look over, scanning for Pavel. I catch sight of him a moment later, hurrying right over towards me. He’s so small compared to the musclebound fighters around him, wrapped in several layers of my shirts and coats and socks. Only his dark eyes are visible, his mouth and nose covered by scarves and the top of his head obscured by the large, fluffy hood of his coat.

“Did you wear the extra shirts I gave you last night?” I sniff as he stops in front of me, skidding a little on the ice. He bumps lightly into me, and I steady him.

Pavel beams, and nods. He pulls the scarves around his mouth down to his chin to speak. “It’s cold,” he admits. “But the extra layers helped a lot. Thank you, Sascha.” Despite being protected by the scarves, his nose is still red from the cold, and I frown. I’ll have to find some better scarves for him.

“You put on the leggings? And the socks?” I prompt. “It’s a long journey in the snow, and I don’t want you to freeze.” He certainly looks like he put on everything I left for him this morning — he practically had to waddle over to me.

Pavel nods again, and pulls back the sleeve of his coat to reveal the several layers of shirts he has on underneath. “I did.” He watches me for another moment, blushing slightly in the cold.

I raise my eyebrows at him. He’s hopping from foot to foot, cheeks red. “What? If you’re still cold, the only thing I can spare you is another pair of socks.”

Pavel shakes his head. “No, no, that’s not —” He shakes his head. “Um, I just. I just wanted to, um.” He clears his throat, and I sigh. “See, back home, there’s just — at the beginning of spring, well, there’s this thing called — well, it doesn’t matter what it’s called, but —”

“Get to the point.”

“Yes, um, sorry, sorry, I’m sorry for wasting your time —” He blushes, again, harder, and this time I don’t think it’s because of the cold.

“What is it, Pavel?” I cast a glance back, at where they’re almost finished. I have to be up there soon. Of course Pavel picked now to start prattling on.

“Well, see…it’s just a holiday where — where we give gifts to loved ones. At the beginning of every spring.” He clears his throat lightly, and looks down. “If I was back home I would have bought you something beautiful. Maybe a golden necklace or —“ Pavel blushes again, and I remember his surprise two weeks ago when I mentioned that it was the beginning of spring.

Spring? he had said, staring at me blankly. I hadn’t seen him much at all since then, and had just assumed — well, honestly, I hadn’t given much thought to where he had been.

“Or a nice sword,” Pavel continues quietly. He has something in his hands now, but I can’t quite see what it is. “But — but — we were traveling, and I didn’t have any money, so…”

Pavel uncovers his hands. In his palm sits a roughly carved wooden wolf, about the length of my thumb. There isn’t much detail to it other than a few scratches where its eyes should be, and for the fur of its tail, but it’s still recognizable.

“I’m sorry it’s ugly,” he whispers as I take it, examining it. Its mouth is open in a snarl, teeth pointed and jagged. “I’m - I’m not very good at carving, and  I cut myself a few times while making it, but — but — it’s all I could offer you here — I know it’s stupid, and — you don’t even celebrate this but — I thought you might like it maybe,” he finishes off nervously.

“A wolf,” I say quietly, running my thumb over its tail.

Pavel nods again, rubbing his hands together. I catch sight of the nicks on his fingers. “You’re — that’s the animal I associate you with,” he says softly. “Or maybe a bear, but, I tried carving a bear and it ended up looking more like a misshapen potato —”

The laugh that escapes me startles me. “A misshapen potato?” I ask, unable to stop a small smile. The image of Pavel spending hours working on a carving only for his masterpiece to look like a root vegetable is honestly funny — and pretty in character for him.

Pavel blinks in surprise - and then smiles, some of the tension leaving him. “Yeah,” he admits. “I’m not a good carver. ” He hesitates for a moment. “Do you like it?”

I continue to study it. “Is this what you were doing all last week?”

He blushes, and nods. “I wanted it to be a surprise.”

I finally look up from the little wooden wolf. His eyes are large, anxious, the need for approval so clear. The need for my approval.

“Well, this one looks slightly better than a misshapen potato, so you should be glad.” I lower it a little, and Pavel beams. “Now go on — you’d better get on that wagon before Ivan leaves, unless you want to walk the rest of the way.”

Pavel gives me another wide smile, with a whispered thank you, and I watch him hurry off through the snow. Once he disappears into the throng of people, I let myself look back at the little wolf. It’s ugly. Rough, hewn from the wood without any finesse, its tail looking a little mangy. But there’s love in it, so much love, in every uneven cut and flaw, in the healing nicks I’d seen on Pavel’s hands.

I put it gently in the inner pocket of my coat, making sure it’s tucked safe within the folds without any danger of falling out, and then I turn to go join Katya and Anja.

[akoumi]

[ MONSTROUS, WRETCHED, AND DIVINE ]

a canon scene from lidija’s pov!! technically it never makes it into mwad because sascha isn’t around for this but oh well. just know that it happens

[ id under cut ]

image id: Lidija doesn’t have to turn around to know that Deniska has just entered the room. She’s always been inhumanly quiet, feet padding across the floor like a ghost’s, but Lidija has known Deniska for all her life. She knows when the door groans just a little bit, when she hears the rustle of skirts, when she hears the tiny sigh that Deniska lets slip. 

Silently, she returns her attention down to the bloody gash on her thigh. It stings, badly, as she dabs at the blood with a rag. It had been an accident, a slip of her own sword directly onto her leg, but she hadn’t gone to the healers’ for it. Instead, she wipes away the blood with her own tired, bruised fingers, the bandages on the bed next to her. 

The bed creaks as Deniska sits down an arms’ length away from her. She pulls her skirts a little closer, worrying at her pink lips - a familiar expression, the knitted brows and the biting of the lip and the large, worried blue eyes. Her delicate hands fiddle with the hem of her dress, and then move up to her hair. Finally, Lidija sighs. 

“What is it?” she asks, a little hoarsely. 

“You’re hurt.” Deniska’s eyes are on the open wound. She swallows. “Every time I see you, you’ve always got some cut or bruise somewhere. Please, you’ve - you’ve got to be more careful.” She scoots a little bit closer, skirts rustling. 

“It’s good practice,” Lidija mutters, setting the bloody rag aside. She dips the new rag in the alcohol, and begins to gently dab at the wound. “For when I get hurt in battle.” 

Deniska flinches, hard - and Lidija winces. She shouldn’t have said that. Deniska has always been soft. Soft hands, soft heart. Even when they were younger, she refused to go out into the woods with the other children, preferring to stay at home with their mother rather than play fantasy games of dragons and monsters. Lidija loved her sister, but Deniska wasn’t who she played with, most of the time. Her throat tightens as Deniska looks down.

“I don’t want you to get hurt,” she murmurs, twisting her dress in her hands. “I see you with all these injuries, and…it hurts me.” 

Lidija says nothing. She sets the alcohol soaked rag down, and begins to wrap the bandages around her thigh. She knows this already. She’s seen the way Deniska looks away from the training grounds, the way she bites her lip seeing the injures Lidija and Lev come back with, the way Deniska cries herself to sleep most nights. Deniska doesn’t feel at home here, at the palace, and Lidija knows that. 

She also knows where her sister wants to be. She wants to be in a small, cozy cottage, in a little town where all the inhabitants know and love each other. She wants a strong, handsome husband and a brood of children to cook dinner for. She wants to sing folk tunes in a long, flowy dress as her husband chops wood and her children play. She wants a domestic life at home, just like their mother. 

And Lidija hates her for it. 

She hates her and envies her for wanting something so easy, something so simple, something that she knows she wants. No one would ever bat an eye at that. 

It wouldn’t have been hard. Any man would give his right arm to care for Deniska, to build her a home and bless her with children. But now? Now they’re caught in the middle of a war they had no part in, lives thrown off course by that one fateful night, a wedge being driven further and further between the two of them. 

“We don’t belong here,” Deniska says softly. “We…we could leave.” 

Lidija ties off the bandage, and looks up. “Leave?” 

Deniska winces. “I - you said it yourself. We can’t save…we can’t save…” She breaks off, and Lidija doesn’t push. She knows who Deniska is talking about. Cold grey eyes flash into her mind, and she blinks them away, ignoring the twinge in her chest. 

“Where would we even go?” she asks instead, coolly. 

Deniska shrugs a shoulder hesitantly. “Anywhere,” she murmurs. “Maybe…south. Where it’s warmer. Silawani, perhaps. Or Inticenta. Someplace away from the snow and ice and war here.” 

“Silawani has its own political problems,” Lidija points out quietly. “Warm, maybe, but you’re not escaping war there.” 

“Then Avillac.” Deniska sighs dreamily. “I’ve always wanted to go to one of their beaches and enjoy the sun.” 

“We get sun here too.” “Not like it should be. The sun here is cold and bitter. No matter how brightly it shines, it never fills me up.” Deniska looks over, out the window. “We should leave.” Her voice is so soft that Lidija almost misses it. 

She stares down at her hands, perpetually dirty and caked with blood from hours out in the training grounds. “Deniska…”

“What’s keeping you here?” Deniska asks, voice heavy. “What’s keeping you here, fighting a fight that isn’t even yours?” 

She’s right. 

Why is Lidija still here? Why is she here, inserting herself into a war and picking a side she has no obligation to?  She closes her eyes, focusing on the dull throbbing in her thigh. Pale grey eyes flash into her mind again - this time followed by the howling of the wind, the rain beating down on a straw roof, barn doors flapping. An unlocked door, the large brown eyes of a cow. A single loud, drawn out scream. 

Lidija opens her eyes. “The world could always use a few more heroes.”

[akoumi]

[ MONSTROUS, WRETCHED, AND DIVINE ] 

[akoumi]

[ MONSTROUS, WRETCHED, AND DIVINE ]

id under cut: 

“You think it’s your duty, don’t you?” I ask quietly, looking through the bars to where they crouch, at the farthest corner of the dungeon. As far as they can get from me. 

He hasn’t moved. Lev sits in the same position I saw him last - shielding Misha and Galina with his body as they sit huddled behind him, heads bowed, bodies trembling. Exhaustion lines every part of Lev’s body as he breathes, wincing hard every time his chest rises and falls jerkily. Misha and Galina are still. They don’t even look up at my voice. 

I hope they remember what they did to me back at the palace, all three of them. I hope they remember the way they treated me. I hope they remember what they said to me, every last word. Because I haven’t forgotten - and I sure as hell haven’t forgiven. I step forward, rattle the bars lightly. It’s hard to see in the dim light, but I let my gaze follow the bruises on them - on Misha’s collarbone, around Galina’s neck, all over Lev’s body. 

They don’t look like royalty anymore. Bruised, battered, dirty, in rags - they now look like the filthy rats they are. I can already tell I’m going to have fun with them. 

“I said,” I say deliberately, kicking at the bars. Galina flinches, hard, as the metal cap of my boot rings out against the iron of the bars. “You think it’s your duty, don’t you? To protect them.” 

Lev leans back a little bit, pressing his body against Galina’s. One arm thrown across her body, the other one across Misha’s, even though both arms are bent at a horrible angle. “It is my duty.” His voice is so hoarse, so raspy. 

“Right. Because you’re a soldier, and they’re royalty.” I step forward again, as much as I can. “And now, even until the very end, you’re protecting them.” 

“Until the very end,” Lev repeats croakily. “Until the very end.” 

I chuckle. “I really did a number on you, didn’t I? Broke both your arms, cracked your ribs, your teeth, gave you those black eyes… and yet you refuse to stop.”

Galina lets out a ragged, hoarse whimper at that. Lev’s eyes never stray from me, burning into mine from his broken body. I laugh. 

“How’re you holding up?” I ask, directing the question at Misha. Enjoying the way he doesn’t react except to curl up tighter, shaking. “God, you’re pathetic.” He flinches as if I’ve hit him, and Lev snarls weakly at me. 

“Shut up,” he says. I smile and kick at the bars again, and this time all three of them cringe at the noise. “Shut up, or I’ll - I’ll kill you -”

“That’s not how we talk to our superiors, now,” I croon, and he goes still. The look on his face is so amusing. “You realize that you’re at my mercy, don’t you? I’d suggest you treat me with some respect.” 

“Why?” Lev spits challengingly, haltingly, after a moment of silence. The defiance in him is weak, but I don’t like it. I’ll punish him for that soon enough. He opens his mouth to continue, but Misha’s hand closes around his wrist, and Lev goes silent. 

“That’s right,” I say softly. “Listen to your master and hush now, puppy.” 

“Please,” Galina says raggedly, voice barely a whisper. “Please, let us go. I know you’re a good man. I know it. I’ll give you what you want - money? Land? Surely you know I’m the heir to the throne - I can - I can give you whatever you want, anything - j-just let us go now and you’ll be forgiven, pardoned for everything you’ve done -” 

I laugh, again, and she goes silent. “How can you call me a good man when you know everything I’ve done?” I ask, wrapping my fingers around the bars. The cold seeps through into my fingers despite the thick gloves I’m wearing. I can only imagine how cold they are. “You would really pardon a murderer, a traitor, a thief, a revolutionary - all one man? You’d give up your country for three people? I don’t think you’d make a very good queen.” 

She swallows, shakily. “I love my country,” she murmurs, hands snaking out - one on Lev’s body, the other on Misha’s. “But I love my family even more.” 

“Touching,” I say. “But ultimately ineffective.” I glance over at Misha, who’s been staring at me for the past few minutes like he’s never seen me before. “What’s wrong, lover boy? See something you like? You did back when I was on the floor in chains in your room, didn’t you?” Bringing that up isn’t my favorite thing to do, but it’s worth it, to see the way he shakes.

“What are you?” he whispers finally. He holds onto Galina’s hand tight, the other hand resting on Lev. “You’re - you’re - god, you’re not human.” He swallows thickly, dark brown eyes wide. I take a moment to savor this moment, the absolutely delicious terror in his eyes. The last time I saw him, he was on a battlefield, a sword in his hand as he mowed down the men around him - my men. And the time before that, I was on my knees in front of him, chained, as he smirked at me. As he grabbed my chin and tilted it up to study me. As he brushed a thumb across my lower lip. I smile at him, running my tongue over my canines. Misha goes pale, looking away as limp hair falls in his face. 

“I didn’t believe them,” he says brokenly, eyes on the floor. “The - the ones who called you inhuman. Monstrous. They - they said that the other woman - Katya, they said that she was the - she was the head of this insurrection, but - but you were the one to watch out for.” 

“Is that so?” I ask. It’s so gratifying, to hear that my reputation has far preceded me. I always enjoy hearing what the people say about me. “What else did they say?” 

Misha hesitates. “They said - they call you Aleksander Volkov, Black Wolf of Ksenia. They - they said that you’ve killed a thousand men and women. They said - they say that you were bloodthirsty and soulless.”

“I’ve found that a soul isn’t of much use,” I muse, looking at my fingernails. “Not in my line of work. Continue.”

“They say that you’re not human. That you’re an omen of death. That you’re the last thing that countless men have seen. That no man has ever survived a fight with you. That you revel in death and destruction, and the only thing keeping you in check is the devil himself.” He continues to recite, seeming to get smaller and smaller with each word. 

Each word sends a little shiver of pleasure down my spine. I close my eyes, listening to him speak, as warmth blossoms behind my sternum and spreads to every part of my body. The past few years have been hard. I’ve worked hard, so hard, but right now, it’s all worth it - every mile walked, every man killed, every village burned - to hear these words right now. To hear my reputation through the mouths of others. To know that all I have to do to conquer a village, a town, a city right now is to walk into it. 

I open my eyes. “Are you afraid?” 

“I’ve never set eyes on anything that’s ever scared me.” Lev is the one to snap, as Misha bows his head, but I see way his broken body shakes. 

I smile, looking down at them - huddled together at the corner of the cell. As far as they can get from me. “Then take a closer look at me, and start praying to whatever god you believe in.” 

[akoumi]

mini mwad excerpt!! though this one is more of a writing exercise for me to get back into the groove of things after months of not touching my wips than an actual excerpt. cw for slight spice?? 

[akoumi]

[ MONSTROUS, WRETCHED, AND DIVINE ] 

[akoumi]

[ MONSTROUS, WRETCHED, AND DIVINE ]

[akoumi]

[ MONSTROUS, WRETCHED, AND DIVINE ] 

[akoumi]

[ MONSTROUS, WRETCHED, AND DIVINE ]

a lil excerpt from earlier in the story, when sascha brings jelle back to camp.

[akoumi]

[ MONSTROUS, WRETCHED, AND DIVINE ] 

[akoumi]

[ MONSTROUS, WRETCHED, AND DIVINE ]

id under cut 

The squiggles on the document swim in front of my eyes. It’s been hours, and I can’t make sense of a single word on this paper. It shouldn’t be this hard, but for some goddamned reason, it is. Pavel can, Katya can, Anja can  - it’s so easy for them. There are trifling things like roadsigns and menus, and then there are important things, such as this paper. 

Instead of tearing the document into scraps like I want, I grab the cup sitting on the table and hurl it at the wall. It shatters into a million pieces, spraying glass everywhere. For a moment, all I can hear is my heartbeat thudding in my ears over the silence. 

Then the bed creaks a little, and then soft footsteps pad towards me. A pair of gentle hands begin to rub my shoulders in just the right places, loosening some of the knots. I groan a little, rubbing my eyes, trying to quell the headache that I can feel coming on. 

“Sascha.” Pavel’s voice is soft, soothing, a prayer under his breath. He leans over my shoulder a little, eyes on the paper. “You don’t need to do this. Let me -” 

“No,” I snap. I want to pull away from him, to push him away, but his hands on my shoulders feel just a little too good. “I can do this. I don’t need your help for anything.” 

Pavel sighs as I bend over the paper again. His hands move away from my shoulders, into my hair instead. He begins to comb through it, fingers moving deftly. 

“Your hair’s gotten so long,” he murmurs, changing the subject. 

I shrug one shoulder. Now that he’s mentioned it… “I haven’t had the time to get it cut,” I mutter. His hands feel as good in my hair as they did on my shoulders, but I’m trying not to think of that.  

“It looks good,” he says quietly, gathering it all at the nape of my neck and then letting it fall loose again. “So did short hair, though. You look - you look good no matter how you wear your hair.”

“I don’t care.” I smooth the worn paper down against the table, frustration causing my hands to shake. I clench them into fists and hold them there for a moment. When I finally release them, my hands are still. It’s not quite true, and I know he knows it. He knows the time I spend on my hair, on my clothes, on making sure I look like I’m supposed to. Like a revolutionary is supposed to. 

“What are you doing?” I ask, still not looking away from the damned paper. 

“Braiding your hair,” he answers after a moment. “I thought you might like it out of your face. Also, you - look good with your hair tied back.” 

I snort, but I don’t stop him. “Pavel, you say the stupidest things sometimes.” Still, I can’t say I don’t enjoy the feeling of his fingers carding through my hair.

[akoumi]

Me getting excited for more Pavel content 😊🥰💖 vs me, realising it's going to break my heart 😶😔😟

FDKSFJSL ANON PLEASE -