BLOG  IS  ARCHIVED.   FIND  ME  HERE.

     damn  clun.

i  get  back  to  canada  on  saturday,     so  i  can  be  active  then  !  i’ll  post  a  starter  call  soon.

SCREAMS  BECAUSE  THERE’S  AN  ACTIVE  ABE.

HEADS  UP  !  ! i’m  on  vacation  until  the  6th  of  august  in  portugal  visiting  my  family.    the  internet  here  is  very  bad  so  i  wont  be  relying  on  it  to  get  things  running  on  nuala.   i’ll  be  here  when  i  get  back  to  canada  on  the  6th  ! ! !   so  hang  in  there !  !    if  you  can  find  me  at  all,   with  this  horrible  internet,  it’s  over  on  my  main  blog  @finelendal​

      STARTER  CALL.

LIKE / REBLOG  if  you’re  interested  in  roleplaying  with  a  PRINCESS  NUALA  blog  from  HELLBOY  II  !  i’m  both  selective  &  private.  muse  is  MYTHOS  &  LOVECRAFT  based.  as  told  by  RAVEN.

Favourite Movies: Hellboy 2: The Golden Army, (2008)  ★

“I have returned from exile to wage war and reclaim our land, our birthright. And for that I will call upon the help of all my people, and they will answer…the good, the bad…and the worst…”

           smol  elf  princess  here.

monstrauma.

          LIKE PAWING SPIDERS  Its elongated fingers extended, talons rapping against the stone frame as It pulled Itself out from behind the fairytale door ; out from the abyssal catacomb, Its chambers of feeding and   ( long, long )   slumber. Emerging to an impressive height, It slunk and loomed ever closer.

                    Were a shadow tethered to the glamour—Its costume grotesque with plumes and folds, frayed with stringy ends and bygone eras—it would have engulfed the smaller creature. But there were none lolling among her deathly still silhouette.

                    It stilled and craned forward ; hungrily It sought her eyes beneath the golden garb of her hood. Fearful murmurs and reeling faith dwelt from her lips. A humming lilt returned, it began to roll gutturally like a growl. Not an audible allusion to impatience so much as a means of intimidation   ( your faith has no power here ). With luteous eyes aglint, with a smarmy, painted grin which bled deeply red, It mocks her tongue again.

          ❝  Oscail do shúile …  ❞     It lullingly commands, then playfully swaps tongues for another It frequents in this world,     ❝  Doncha want to see the show, princess ?  Go bhfuil tú ar an imeacht is mó.  ❞

           the  air  grew  thicker,     lungs  taking  on  more  pressure  as  her  heart   felt  like  a  rock  within  her  chest;    warmth  of  both  body  &  soul  would  fade,  as  if  it  was  draining  from  her  with  only  being  present.   pale  fingers  would  remove  the  fabric  over  her  head  &  face,     ashy  features  were  revealed  but  eyes  remained  shut.    it  were  as  though  nuala  attempted  to  regulate  each  breath,     HOPING  the  stress  on  her  body  would  ease,    even  if  it   were  only  slightly.

      ‘   this  was  a  mistake.   ‘    light  pink  tinted  lips  would  whisper,     FEAR   &&  dread  lacing  each  &&  every  one  of  them.    this  is  what  it  wanted,    KNOWING  that  she  knew,   further  DRIVING  fear  into  her  core;    like  a  seed  it  encouraged  the  growth  of  dread  with  each  spoken  word.

      refusal  to  look,     she  knew  it  was  close.    SOUNDS,    feelings,     that’s  just  what  it  wanted.     head  lowered  slightly  as  pale  locks  fell  over  her  face;      nuala  allowed  her  lids  to  open  VERY  faintly,    only  getting   a  minor  glimpse  of  the  stone  ground.     fear  struck  her  moments  after,     &&  with  a  gasp  the  fae  shut  her  eyes  once  again,    inhaling  deeply.      '    no...    '

MONSTRAUMA.

          A CYCLOPEAN CORRIDOR beyond the labyrinth of sewer tunnels seemed to yawn on forever — primitive walls cladding dry mire danced with auroral greens and yellows, their stones acrawl with little black spiders. Ceilings unfathomably peaking if not nonexistent. The silence coupled with the soupy dimensions   ( they appear amorphous at a distance )   and cobwebs flitting to an absent wind : the mental skeleton of a child’s imaginings, a dream long and weighty with boding. 

          At the foot of the endless and empty slate residing at the furthest end, there existed an oaken door decussated with old iron ; seeping beneath it a pungent odour, something otherworldly, fiercely eldritch. It was three-feet tall, akin to a fairytale door   ( fee-fi-fo-fum )   which sought only the unwitting entry of children. Upon it an unnameable symbol, its shape molding to mirror her innermost fear. O’ finality, erasure, the sweetest nothings. Her recoil invokes the door to yawn open, cries for glamours to come out and play.

          Eyes lucent and wispy with hellfire peered out from the black void. Its pupils waned into receding black holes, as if the event horizon were overfed with swimming stars and nebulae. A wet, sarcoid sound like a tongue kneading a palette emerged from the dense blackness beyond this door, then more of It emerged into peripheral. Skin encrusted with   ( corpse-white )   greasepaint casts a stark contrast upon the beholder. 

          Painted shrewdly carmine : Its snout, lips, and the scores climbing Its cheeks like tapered ribbons. The anomaly in the dark hummed deeply, lulling Its prey into a false sense of security. Its stare grew hypnotic. Then, soft and susurrant in Its timbre, It unfalteringly adapts to her chosen tongue,     ❝ Cad atá an t-ábhar, deary ? ❞     Its chin inclined, then angles slowly to feign curiosity.

             a  daughter  of  the  forests  &&  energies.    she  saw  the  balances  in  the  world,    ENCOURAGED  THEM.    life  &&  death  were  part  of  these  balances.   good  /   evil.    light   /   dark.     it  was  a  great  concern  when  either  of  those  go  off,    there  was  more  of  one  than  the  other.     NO  equivalent  exchange.     the  universe  would  punish  those  of  mortal  blood  who  did  not  keep  this  balance  in  their  practices;    but  what  of  those  who  were  not  mortal   ?   what  about  entities  who  THRIVED  on  chaos,    destroying  this  balance  within  this  existence  or  perhaps   ------   devouring  existence  as  we  know  it.    ALL  of  this  she  feared.  

warmth  was  no  longer,    &&   even  she  started  to  feel  her  core  wane,     like  the  light  she  carried  was  beginning  to  go  dim;    as  if  the  oxygen  was   slowly,    ever  so  slowly  being  DRAINED.   another  gasp  was  made,     heart  beating  rapidly.      fear   was  tainting  every  fibre  of  her  being,   this  was  something  the  fae  hadn’t  felt  in  all  her  time.  

a  question  broke  the  silence,   directed  at  her.   she  WOULDN’T,  she  REFUSED  to  open  her  eyes  &&  look.   speaking  in  her  mother  tongue,   there  was  something  not  right. 

’     a  chosaint  dom.  solas  mo  threo.  is  féidir  liom  nach  dtagann  leis  an  dorchadas.     ‘     murmuring,    her  tone  was  quiet,   speaking  to  herself  as  if  ATTEMPTING  to  find  some  hope  in  this  CAGE.    even  the  princess  knew  that  ignoring  would  do  her  no  good,    fear   -----   THE  END,    it  does  not  just  go  away.

i  literally  cannot  stand  this.

every nuala scene: 1/?

      STARTER  CALL.

LIKE / REBLOG  if  you’re  interested  in  roleplaying  with  a  PRINCESS  NUALA  blog  from  HELLBOY  II  !  i’m  both  selective  &  private.  muse  is  MYTHOS  &  LOVECRAFT  based.  as  told  by  RAVEN.

              tucked  away,    hidden  from  humanity,    a  whole  other  WORLD  was  beneath  them.   tunnels,  markets,  cities  !   all  of  it  was  quite  literally  under  humanity’s  nose.   passageways  were  often  sealed  with  rather  intricate  locks.   ANCIENT  ones  at  that.    the  princess  would  wander  these  markets  &&  tunnels,   often  coming  across  abandoned  places  that  were  centuries  old,  once  THRIVING  but  as  the  population  of  non-human  species  dwindled,   so  did  their  cities. 

she  could  feel  the  sadness  of  each  place,    the  DEATH  that  lingered,    but  THIS---    this  was  far  beyond  that.  such  architecture  was  UNKNOWN  to  her,    what  could  possibly  have  been.    the  presence  of  utter  emptiness  was  enough  to  make  the  fae’s  heart  pound  deeply,    the  discomfort  that  crawled  up  her  spine  &&  gave  her  a  feeling  of  hopelessness.    yet  ------  she’d  move  on,   grand  ceilings  that  were  much  greater  than  her  own  height.   gentle  echoes  of  her  steps,    the  COMPLETE  silence  was  enough  to  drive  one  mad  overtime.    such  dread  that  fell  upon  her  as  she  grew  closer,    closer,    CLOSER.    right  before  her  stood  a  door,    obscure,   &&  what  may  reside  beyond  it  was  an  utter  mystery.    once  again,    the  deep  pounding  of  her  heart,    how  as  she  grew  near  to  this  DOOR,    she  found  herself  feeling  more  dread.   

pale  hand  would  attempt  to  reach  out,     perhaps  to  open.     eyes  trailed  up  &&  that’s  when  all  feeling  left  her  entire  being.    THE  END  was  seen,    as  if  it  was  right  before  her  -----  WAS  IT  ?  as  if  all  sense  of  reality  had  been  lost  for  a  moment.    endless  dark,    EARTH  &&  life  was  no  longer.   nuala   had  to  turn  away,    a  GASP  escaping  her  lips  as  eyes  were  held  shut  tightly  for  a  moment.   ‘    dorchadas mór.   ‘   a  soft  whisper  were  her  words.     having  her  back  now  facing  the  door,    she  was  not  welcome  here,    a  GREAT  evil  stirred  within  the  core  of  this  place  &&  she  would  not  stay  to  feel  any  more  of  it. 

@monstrauma  !

       someone  should  give  nuala  flowers.