#vedrad

[selfpossesedghost]

Artwork in the Ruins

Greedfall

[corffiser]

greedfall scenery - vedrad , the red woods

[chrrybbamb]

🍷 (jaewook & hayoung)

✧ — ⋆    𝐒𝐎𝐂𝐈𝐀𝐋 𝐌𝐄𝐃𝐈𝐀 & 𝐓𝐄𝐗𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐓𝐒 .

status : aceitando | starring : hayoung ♡ jaewook ! — @antiromntics

[ son hayoung 📲 meu cãozinho de estimação ] Hey, Jsebook.

[ son hayoung 📲 meu cãozinho de estimação ] Você é um noibio muio, muito ruim. Sabe o porque?

[ son hayoung 📲 meu cãozinho de estimação ] Fala que gosta de moi, mas nunca vem nas festras cobigo. Me deixa sozinha e rodeada de gente chat, além desses caras insupotaveis, parecem voc.

[ son hayoung 📲 meu cãozinho de estimação ] Depois voc ainda acha que podi trigar cobigo, mas não pode nanao. Quando você começar a abir como um noivovo de vedrade a gento conbersa.

Traduções: Jaewook, noivo, muito, festas, comigo, insuportáveis, você, pode, brigar, comigo, não, agir, noivo, verdade, gente, conversa.

[diadhachd-galair]

Constantin twisted and turned in the iron grip, half of the words of his captor escaping him. Yet somewhere between pain - malichor made his skin suspectable to the slightest of touch - and proud indignation he managed to reach and pluck the longest feather out of Vinbarr's arm. Not the most heroic or graceful deed, but it should have made his master of arms proud, thought Constantin dodging - stumbling - a few steps away. Vinbarr's sword also changed hands. - First, if your opponent is stronger than you. Get yourself free of the grip, bearlet. - And next? Oh, I know! Cut the villain down! - Wrong. Now, listen carefully. Second. You run. Constantin's next move should have made Kurt cover his eyes and sigh with despair. Because the young prince didn't run. First, it was useless. Second, he was curious. Third, he had concocted a plan. "You had a choice. So do I. Instead of killing you on the spot for all the heinous transgressions and slander I intend to get to the root of the matter," he declared, admiring the bright feather with a boyish glee and holding a blade with another. "Now, what's this nonsense about killing and destroying? We have clearly not met each other before. You must speak of my decisions as a governor then? I assure you my goals are not to ravage or to wage war. But to live peacefully, side by side with the native tribes of Teer Fradee," Constantin tucked the precious loot of a feather safe beneath his coat and smiled. Apologetically. Sweetly as a sun on a spring day. Sincerely. Well, not perfectly sincerely for the man began getting on his nerves more and more. The friendly, bright smile was reserved for Constantin's golden age plans, not for the wondorous madmen who abducted him. But it glowed sincere, aimed right at the frightful opponent of his. The sword was graciously driven away from Vinbarr's neck. Luckily, nadaig made no move to protect his master. Maybe he felt that merchnat prince meant no true harm, in spite of the gesture of brave valor. "And my actions speak louder than all my words. For instance, who saved people of Teer Fradee from the burning touch of the golden lions, freed them from humiliating captivity of the shady laboratories as the villagers of Vigshadhir will happily testify? Shielded your gods from being torn down and renounced as Mind Shakers desired? Princess Siora of Gaís rad and Dunncas of Vigyígidaw will prove it. Gave back the access to Vedrad shrine without a drop of blood being spilled? Us, Ludeig Blau as you call the citizens of New Serene. We only wish for prosperity and strong trade bounds, not to abduct your lands or people. Doneigada return the respect we show them, and many merchants are welcomed in my city with open arms! We pay heed to everyone from the highest to the humbles, wishing to be good neighbors." Young d'Orsay paced the ground, agitated. "It is true we seek the cure. But we ask for help, not wringing it with threats or weapons!" There, the though hit him. All that talk of destruction and corruption. In his straightforward pagan ways the man must have thought his affliction to be the reflection of his soul. The marks of black death, scars and boils and...ugh...that was too hurtful to even think about. Constantin cherished his looks, his youth and his charming ways that saved him from not one pickle. Yet he didn't realise how much of it depended on a pretty face, not his agile mind. And now, more than ever, his courtly tongue was his best weapon. If he planned to get from the claws of that vulture, the best tactic was to stretch the time, as tight as the nauts' sail in high wind, trying to buy more and more for the search party to locate them. "You...you think me to be a monster because of this?" Constantin raised his eyes from the hand, forever glowed into the disfigurement, marred with a map of small, ugly scars. The hand, pointed to his face trembled. The unfairness of this all! He didn't dare to look in the mirror since the doom was confirmed; was he truly so despicable to look at? "You speak of killing me. In truth you would have

but to wait a few days. I am a dead man walking. The ritual did not help," in his heart of hearts he hoped that with a gift of life, all the traces of malichor would dissapear. After all this is the land of miracles, isn't it? Instead his own body mocked him, promising only weakness, pain and assured death. Malichor take it all! Despite his desire to live, his burning pride and smiling slyness, that held the seams of his body and his sanity together until now, Constantin's his legs - traitors! - gave way and he fell upon his knees. "You think that my malady, my horrid visage is a reflection of my sins? That gods condemned me for some foul deeds? No. This disease is far more terrible. It cuts down good and bad alike. It grabs young babes from the arms of howling mothers. It slays those who help their neighbors in the hour of need, mindless of reward and leaves deceiving murderers and thieves walking the earth with a song. It kisses both fools and sages with its cold lips." "I do not posses the power you speak of. I have no magic," Constantin threw his hands in the air with a bitter laugh. "I am no master even of my body. See how my breath hitches and my legs are no better than those of an old crone or a stumbling child. I seek no immortality, only a breath of life. Maybe even not that. Hope. Just the last drop of hope for my parched lips. Your blood bath was in vain."

@fallesto || continued from here "Worms.." Constantin gasped, clutching his throat. "Worms can turn into...butterflies. While there is no hope for the vile, old, rotten...vultures," the golden prince did learn the art of insults. Not many managed to stay cold being hit with a fervent rush of sincere, putrid feeling, uttered by the lips of a charming person. By some strange whim of fate even his enemies found themselves under the spell of his character and their first impulse was to please likable, vivacious d'Orsay. However, this one brave offense failed. Drastically. Sitting on the ground he gazed upon his captor with awe. For the man did look like a bird. Feathers grew from his flesh, his features was chiseled long and sharp, perfect for the wind to caress. He was a work of an eerie art. A true son of the mysterious Teer Fradee. "If you do intent to drown me, it's a fool errand. The sea lays as far as the young moon from the sun in zenith". Constantin massaged his throat, but in truth the blind anger left him. Calmly, as calmly as a man insulted, threatened and abused can be, he raised from the ground and picked the dust off his frock. Strange. He did not have time to study the map, to mark their destination, ushered by a mad hope and a promise to be saved from the clutches of speedy, ravenous disease. Yet with some solid, mystifying assurance he could point where the sea was and how long it took to get to it. Him! He was not a naut, nor a prodigal cartographer; geography was never one among his favorite subjects, nor did he posses any talents in that regard... But oh...oh, it seems everything speaks to me. Maybe this madness has a rhyme to it. "You slander me without reason. Was it not you who attacked a peaceful party without a word? At a sacred site? Murdered a respected doneigad on a whim? And all for what...to give your enemies an upper hand," young d'Orsay sighed, as if he was truly sorry for the calamity the mad stranger found himself in. Honestly, he was sorry. Forever indebted for the kindness Catasach showed him. Even if his cure didn't work, he gave him a few more days of sanity and during those he would have ushered a verdict to solidify his gratitude and assure the favour stood even after his...departure. no. not that horrid, despicable word. I won't utter it. He can't just paint me a villain out of the blue! Did I ravage the land with unjust edicts, stolen people for scientific gain or bent them to renounce their believes? No! My politics is both caring and peaceful! But he seemed suddenly tired to burn with a true wrath anymore. Tired and bored of the feeling that gripped him a breath ago. "Why?" no sarcasm poisoned the question. Constantin, bruised, frightened and almost dead but an hour ago, bloomed with curiosity.

[selfpossesedghost]

Vedrad - The Red Woods

Greedfall