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The Heart of the Blizzard
An independent ask/art/rp blog for Sejuani, the Winter's Wrath
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So, Just to let you know, I've been starting to close down all my accounts.
I have had a wonderful run on this website, I have had a huge amount of fun, but this is not the place for me anymore. My life is just going in different places.
If you'd like to keep up with me, my personal blog is moredaytodawn. I don't know if I'll be coming back, but. It's been real, guys.
#And sorry to all of those who I had an ongoing RP with before#Its not you#its me#I'm going to college#working#Its just. Hard#Very hard to be on here anymore#I can't do it
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By the blackest ice it bad to be one of these mornings did it? Spirits save me I need a drink
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If 18 or 20 palettes wasn’t enough, I present to you: my 100 Palette Challenge! This is a collection of some of my favourite palettes from color-palettes and Adobe Kuler and I thought it would be really fun to have a huge variety of palettes to chose from
If you would like to participate in this challenge, I ask that you DO NOT repost this anywhere else, including deviantART; please REBLOG this instead! I have the challenge uploaded to deviantART as well, so please check it out there if you want to do it on deviantART!
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Blood steams quietly, staining white ice. The last minute of daylight sinks, staining the horizon. It is cold. It is so cold.
She had fought tooth and nail for every last moment of this. She was fourteen, in armor still to big for her, wrapped in furs, smiling with all her sharp white fangs. They had taken to calling her the wildcat, small and lithe and never knowing when to stand down. The dawn had not yet broken, and Sejuani does all she can to stand with some sense of dignity, waiting for the soft pink to break past the horizon.
She was chosen for the solstice hunt. This was to be her coming of age as a warrior. No more loitering over seal traps and searching for wild flowers, the blood pounded in her head. No more, it whispered. And the light came, and the shaman came, and the hunt began.
She gripped her mace, by far the crudest weapon among the elegant carved bone spears and embellished clubs. Around each of the necks of the hunters was their first boar’s tusk- her cord hung barren. It would not be for long, she was certain. The nest had already been discovered, carefully map, planned, cleared. The offerings for the lives of the boars had already been made. They had only from the sunrise to sunset of the briefest day to complete the hunt. If they were successful, the sun would begin his hunt again, and the spirits would be sated. If the kill was not returned by sundown…
It had not happened in living memory. It could not.
As they approached the cave, the musk of boar grew stronger. The mated pair nestled against the moss and rocks, yearlings still with them, huddled against the cold. The hunt was swift. Those skilled with slings struck the first blows to skulls, only serving to enrage. Those with clubs would break the legs of the charging beasts. Those with spears would end the slaughter.
With grunts and cracks, the male lifted himself. Heedless of ice, he charged. Sejuani gripped her mace tighter. He would come, she would swivel, and bone would snap as clean as ice under her blow. She had practiced this for months, and as the roar of the beast overtook her, she snapped his legs and shouted her praise of victory to the sky.
She did not see the female. The rest of the hunt seconds too late, her tusks slammed into Sejuani’s leg.
The world lost its sound. She fell, eyes wide. Muscle quivered beneath the blood that buried into snow. There were shouts. The sun was setting. Arguments. Silence.
As the horizon reached up to quench the light, she fell into darkness.
It is cold. It is so cold. So cold she does not understand how she can feel, but there are teeth. Her ankle. She tilts her head up. A boar? The yearling. It still has no tusks. Not come of age, she thought. Still trying to fight. Groggily, in the darkness, she scoops up the little thing. Fat. Not heavy. Everything is light.
In the perfect darkness, she staggers back through the footprints, leaving her own trail of blood. She returns. Bloodied. Broken. Surprising. The healers quickly rush her inside- the yearling boar refuses to leave, keeps trying to fight. It is allowed to stay, though the last thing they need us that one more mouth, some shout. She vaguely registers a lot of shouting. Honor. Worthlessness. Rashness. Danger. Strength. Useless. Broken. Fighter. All these she hears, and does not fully understand.
But then, in the silence, and in the darkness, she feels a new weight- a single boars tusk, pressed against her chest.
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Poro giveaway winner!
So, first I'd like to apologize for the lack of activity. I dont have an excuse. However, it has been two weeks, and so we have a winner In a lovely gesture by the universe, with a randomly generated number of 3, is @askporoporo. Thank you to all who participated!
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HEART-OFTHEBLIZZARD'S 100ISH FOLLOWER GIVEAWAY Nights in Freljord can get so cold. All the more reason to have a little guy to cuddle with. RULES: ● Must be following this blog (Heart-ofTheBlizzard) ● Must be willing to send me your address ● Likes and reblogs count. Multiple reblogs are fine, but please do not make a nuisance of yourself. I’ll cut you off at around 14 reblogs apiece. ● Will finish in approximately two weeks PLEASE NOTE: This plushs is not for the little ones. While it should be safe, it is NOT suitable for children under three years of age. Be safe, friends. Just one winner here, but if you find yourself out of luck, I am accepting commissions. Just contact me thriugh this blog and we can get something set up. My etsy store will alos be running soon at LibraryProximity. All proceeds will go to foodbanks in my region. Good luck and stay warm!
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((I return, friends. I forgot my own graduation. I thought, I'll get to my replies tomorrow. But then. Relatives. And caps and gowns. And so much hooplah. But I am back, with a poro!))
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(I feel like this would be a good time to say that unless otherwise decided upon by both parties, this blog is single universe.
In other news, my roleplays are starting to sound like the set up of a bad joke:
A chief, a summoner, and a sailor walk into Freljord. The sailor points out a penguin. "Hah!" Says the summoned, "He looks like he's wearing a tuxedo." The chief meets his eyes. "What makes you think that he's not?")
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Sejuani stared a moment at the paper she was holding, then back up at the summoner. His eyes seemed almost daring. She gave a very impish grin.
"You sir, are a terrible person. The spirits of paperwork would probably send you to burn in some bureaucratic hell, but you may already be there." She fingered the page for a moment. The signature was even slightly carved into the paper, like there was pressure from a pen. The forgery was excellent. She shuddered to think what he would do if he had a mind for it.
"Well Renzus, if you are what fate brings me, I welcome it. Though, not if you are always a solution to problems. I think I'd far rather meet you when things are going well."
The slip of paper had just about given up the ghost now. It had been folded, crumpled, rampaged on, laughed into, magicked, forged, and had taken up a habit of flopping with a world-weary indifference. Still, Sejuani carefully folded it and tucked it into her jacket pocket.
"I am sure the day has been as unexpected for you as it has for me. Gods above defend us. Still, do not mistake me. I am in your debt. Do not hesitate to call upon it."
She gave a final nod to the summoner, stride steady as she walked out the door
Excuse me, I have been trying for weeks to get through t- Oh. My greatest apologies. You're not Trydon, are you?
Renzus turned, mildly surprised at Sejuani’s arrival, but he remembered enough of his social graces to be accommodating.
"No, I’m sorry." He bowed slightly to her, owing the leader of the Winter’s Claw the respect she was due. "I’m not the one you were looking for. Although I must say, it’s been a long time since I was involved in a case of mistaken identity. How may I help you?"
heart-oftheblizzard
#Renzus#Renzus nooo#-Hugs tightly-#How did I not respond to this?#Forgive me#orz#Bluurgh#summoner-renzus
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Sejuani smiled at the gesture, but did not return it. Instead, she stepped forward, putting out her hand. "There is no need to bow to me. If nothing else, the gesture is too odd in Freljord attire." As the mage moved to meet Sejuani's hand, the chief grabbed grabbed her forearm. "A more proper warrior's salute. Simpler. Ensures no weapons up the sleeves." She cocked an eyebrow. "Unless you were trying to hide something from me? But I jest."
"I have never been in a position to reject allies," she said, a warm smile creeping across her face, "and I hope I never live to see the day where I will reject friends. Still. Do not jump to become a part of wars. I would not wish any further hardships on such a one as you. Still, your offer does not fall on deaf ears, or uncaring ones. Thank you, Arinwei."
She nods her head, in acknowledgement of the figure before her. "And somehow, I feel this is not the last time we meet."
You don't seem to hail from here, do you? You've got the bearing of a mountain dweller. The Great Barrier, perhaps?
Arinwei glanced up at the unfamiliar voice, though upon getting a clear look of the speaker, she recognized them instantly, digging into her mental records. The descriptions of the leader of the Winter’s Claw did not entirely do her justice; the warrior was an impressive sight.
"I’m afraid I know not of this ‘Great Barrier’, though I suppose one could say I have spent my fair share of time in the mountains. My name is Arinwei, and I hail from the land of Skyrim, far off on the world of Tamriel. My homeland in the northern parts of the land are rather similar to the Freljord that you hail from, though I feel you still know the chill of winter better than myself."
-
heart-oftheblizzard
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Sejuani shrugs. "Stories differ. It seems to differ from person to person."
"Traditional Freljord lore says that seer's eyes put the bearer in touch with the spirits. Much more... barbaric" she almost spits the word, "than the League's classifications, but with all the Institute sees, they have no room to talk." Sejuani seemed to be talking more to herself, and realized this fact. By now she seemed to have regained her composure, back straight, bag clenched in one hand.
She met his eyes, very carefully. "Weaker magic wielders are said to have insight into people because they can see the tinges of their souls. Those stronger are said to manipulate the spirits, healing, divining, or wielding spirits and demons as weapons."
"Most seers are nomads. They are not allowed to live in villages. They are said to, with prolonged contact, steal souls." She pursed her lips. "As I said, I am sorry. It was not a comment that I meant anything by. Is it acceptable if I call you Mau? Maurice sounds too much to my ear like 'more ice' and that is not a fate I would wish on anyone." She tries to smile at her own slight joke.
Oh! I apologize, I was not watching myself. I have bee-... By the gods above, you have seer's eyes...
Mau suddenly had a pale-haired woman bump into him, his hands coming up to grip her shoulders and steady her. Silver eyes noted her features, curiosity alight in their depths as he smiled lightly to reassure her, but then looked confused at her words.
"…seer’s eyes?" he questioned, forgetting his manners for the moment in light of the odd title. "What do you mean?"
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Sejuani blinked once or twice, confused. "...Injured?" She repeated quietly, more to herself than to the beckoning figure. "Oh!" She brought a hand up to her mouth, in sudden realization.
"I apologize, Senior Steward. There appears to have been a misunderstanding. Bristle needs stabling, I suppose you would say."
She shoots a sheepish grin towards the Steward, before folding her hands behind her back, hoping to regain some composure. "While Bristle usually attends any diplomatic trips with me, I will be taking a personal trip. It will require care for Bristle for about one week. This will be the first trip I have ever made without the boar."
She grimaces "And I have every reason to believe that he will not enjoy boats."
"Ah. Senior Steward. I was hoping I could have a moment of your time." The women stood stock straight, hands clasped behind her. "I am still unused to the management system of the Institute, however hard I try to learn. I need to arrange some prolonged care for my boar. Would you point me towards the right department?"
Tybresa blinked her eyes as the familiar, husky voice called out to her, only to immediately raise her gaze and have her own blue eyes meet the Winter’s icy orbs.
"Champion." Tybresa answered the call respectfully, nodding her head in greeting before she straightened up to attention, an amiable smile curving itself over her lips. "You may always have a moment of my time." She found herself reassuring Sejuani, before she fell silent to listen what the Freljordian warrior had to say.
"Bristle is injured?" Was the first remark the Steward voiced, blinking her eyes several times in puzzled worry. "Heavens, I trust he will recover." Tybresa sighed, before she nodded her head and smiled reassuringly. "The medics and healers over at the Medical Ward would be more than happy to assist you, Sejuani - there are also some men and women who have studied veterinary medicine for those champions who are more on the … animalistic side. I am sure Bristle will benefit from their skill."
With that said, the Steward moved from her standing place, turning on her heels to walk down a particular hallway for a couple of steps, before she turned to face Sejuani once more, her hand raised in a gesture that invited one to follow. “From our current position, this route will be the shortest towards there - if you would be so kind as to follow me, I would be more than happy to guide you.”
// heart-oftheblizzard
#Also shhh I expected no time. shhhhh SHHH I say#You are lovely#Also this really amuses me. You never see roleplays where like#Zed walks in with a bag of chinese food and hands it to Syndra#Here honey I brought the Ionian that you wanted.#'.....'#'I said IoniA#'I wanted IONIA Zed#'The COUNTRY.'#'So#'does that mean you're not going to eat the kung pow chicken#?#summoner-tybresa
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((I have a problem, my good friends. Bringing the old OC back))
WHAT IS YOUR EARLIEST HUMAN MEMORY?
What, don’t you know?
Those who collect tales are never allowed to tell their own.
But if you want THE earliest human, memory, well. I have many, many stories about that.
The Bird and the Desert Man
Back in the days before the tops of the mountains were worn, when the world shimmered with sands that lay flat, the Gods were free to walk among us. This, this is the story of Thoth.
Thoth was an ibis, a long-billed river bird, and he was lost. He wandered into the Shurima desert. Starved for water, starved for the food he dug along the muddy river banks, he called out desperately. A man of the desert found him.
“Poor bird!” He cried, and carried him back to his village and his well. The Desert Man nursed him back to health, giving him water from the depth of the desert, and from the palm of his own, sun-cracked hands. In this way, a river bird drank deeply of the desert, and so, became linked to the sands.
Once the bird was healed, he was eager to thank the man, and give him something in return. He wished to pull a river into the sands, and so tried to call the rivers to stretch into the desert. Some water flowed deep beneath the sands, to further fill our wells, but no river appeared. It was the desert in Thoth that resisted, and so Thoth saw it was the way of the Shurima. But the desert learned of the sea, and of water, and waves, and so, this is why the sand dunes ripple like waves.
Lacking a river to give the Desert Man, Thoth looked into further magic of the Gods. For the Gods could make rain, or sandstorms, or cause crops and livestock to grow, but Thoth did not feel it was right to grant man this power. So he looked and looked, and thought and thought, and found a way to make a boon.
Reaching into the Desert Man, for Thoth was now of the Desert, he told him, ‘Fetch a sharp stone and some rock.’ And though the desert man could find pebbles, there were no large slabs of soft stone. And so the Desert in Thoth reached out, and formed the dust around them into rock. This is why we have sandstone.
Now Thoth reached over to the sandstone, and with his large Ibis beak began to carve marks. And as he did so, the marks were carved into the mind of the Desert Man, and he cried out, for he had received the knowledge of the Gods.
‘These glyphs hold meaning,’ the Ibis said. ‘Use these to hold our stories, to tell all the world the tale of how the Rivers made a pact with the Desert, and use these glyphs to never forget.’ And the desert man nodded, and the Ibis, his job done, flew away.
This is the story of Thoth and his bargain, of the sea of sand, of the rivers, and of sandstone. And the Desert Man made sure to never forget. He cut dark stone from the mountains, and set the pillars high enough to brush the desert sun, and around the base engraved the tale you have just now heard.
Go, yourselves, and never forget.
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Nightmare
There is a story of a woman. A young woman. An ice woman. A woman who fought against the world and her father and her fiance and fell.
She fell. She could feel herself falling off of the deck slick with ice and seaweed that wrapped around her wrists. She flailed. Failed. Faces peered over her.
A knife was brandished. It glinted in the sun. The ice melted. Ships bobbed in the distance like toys amid waves. She looks down. Black. Salt. Blood. The island bustles with transports and faceless grey shapes that move through the world like mist and do not hear here screams.
She screams. The knife flicks downwards like the jaws of a bear. Blood. Flesh. Her finger, torn off at the joint, falls into the black boiling waters beneath and steams.
Away swims a fish. Its scales glint. The knife glints. She screams. Again and again as the seaweed grows in the red as she writhes.
As each joint falls it becomes something more. A seal. A whale. A snake. A walrus. The world of the ocean grows from each of her fingers. The sea eats her hungrily. Her hands are gone. The green lets her go. The deck hands continue not to notice.
She falls. The water is warm, tropic, but she is in her parka. The bear skin fills with water. It flows from her like wings as she falls. Sinks. Down. The water clears as she sinks. She sees ice.
On the tundra, the people hail a queen. The crown glints. She screams, but water rushes her mouth and nothing happens except a thrash in her wings. The sea mother is there. Her hair flows behind her like the tale of some great ocean beast. She reaches out a hand. She has no fingers. The two hands meet, but cannot touch. Cannot save. Her parks has turned black. Like raven's wings, stealing the day and night, except the sun never leaves her escape to save.
The woman stare, helpless. She falls, onto the ice. Strangers look back at her. She is buried at sea. A corpse burial. No honor. No care for the soul. He tilts down his eyes, walks away into the mountains.
The seals tear her flesh. Her bones are white as the ice. They sit at the bottom, urging the seals and whales to swim, a dance against the sunlight she will never see again. The ice woman, sea mother, sits with her bones. Their hands reach out to touch but never meet.
#playing with Inuit and Freljord myths#Also trippy dream sequences#Von you are in there fear not d:#prompt#drabbles#vonthefirstmate
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☠ Drabble list— You can send one anytime.
Scream: My character has caused yours to scream out for some reason
Milkshake: Our characters will have to split a milkshake
Busted: Your character will catch mine doing something they shouldn’t.
Time: I’ll write a drabble about our characters doing to a different time/dimension. specify.
Befriend Me: I wil write a drabble about our characters meeting for the first time in an AU.
Enamor Me: I will write a fluffy drabble about my character trying to woo yours [be it out of the blue/Valentines Day,feel free to specify.]
Quiet Me: I’ll write a drabble about my character trying to calm yours down [be it from crying, from lashing out, feel free to specify.]
Torture Me: I’ll write a drabble about your character torturing mine or vise versa.
Hug Me: My character will hug yours. Either by surprise or for a specific reason.
Confess: My character will speak their true feelings about your character. (or about a topic. you may choose.)
Death: My character’s reaction to your character dying.
Protect: My character keeps yours safe from harm.
Revenge: My character will get revenge on yours.
Healer: My/your character helping your/my character when they are hurt/sick. (Be specific on who gets which role, and whether the pain is physical, emotional, or just having to catch a fever)
I Do: I will write our characters as a married couple
Broken: I’ll write our characters breaking up or in an angsty scene.
Spell: I’ll write my character putting a spell on yours. Or being under a spell/curse.
« : memory from the past with your character
» : a future event my character would like to happen with them + yours
☼ : A memory my character has with yours that they’ll never forget
Rain: I’ll write a fluffy drabble of our characters kissing in the rain.
Pet: I’ll write a drabble of my character buying yours a pet. (specify what kind.)
Sleep: I’ll write a drabble of my character snuggling in bed with yours.
Nightmare: I’ll write my character having a nightmare about yours, or vice versa.
Kiss: I’ll write our characters sharing a kiss, it can be innocent or passionate.
Murder: I’ll write my character killing yours or vice vesra.
Home: I’ll write our characters living together.
Love: I’ll write our character’s falling in love.
Death: I’ll write our character’s mourning over each other.
Insane: I’ll write my character is insane inside asylum and yours is the doctor, vice versa
Secret: My character tells your character a secret.
Candy Corn: Your character or mine being cheesy to the other
Stars: Our characters under the stars together
Snow: Our characters in the cold together
Candles: Our characters enjoying a moment by candlelight
Peppermint: Your character or mine, sharing a sweet secret with the other.
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"The fault, dear Brutus, lies not in our stars but in ourselves, that we are underlings."
- Julius Caesar, act 1, scene 2
#Real talk: Sejuani is all over this belief. Really#She'd be all over the whole play Julius Caesar#Ashe and Sejuani. What is in that Ashe? Why should that name be sounded more than yours?#Although Sejuani may have first gained her purpose through the seer#She does not believe her victory is guaranteed by sitting back and doing nothing. It gave her purpose#Not an excuse#If she has not beaten Ashe yet#it is in herself#for she is an underling#And she will drive herself into the ground until her vision has occured#She might have missed the part in JC where everyone dies#With Swain likely in the role of Antony#Running his little puppet Octavius#Shakespeare and LoL is duch a great combination
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"Oh, I apologize." Sejuani stood, hands clasped behind her back, eyes sincere. "That was not what I meant to imply at all. There are some that if you say, ‘I wish the sun would come out more’ will think to themselves 'Yes. It has been dark the past few days' and nothing more."
"Others," she continued, "Will hear those words and think how best to get the person on their side. Do they say, 'Yes, it has been dark,' or 'cheer up, the sun will come again,' or 'You need to appreciate what you get'?"
Others yet still, well," she smiled, bowing respect towards the raven and general, meeting his eyes, "Others still will wonder why a person felt the dark was bad. What did the sun mean to them? Why would they begin a conversation this way- what did they really want to say but could not?"
"I feel, Grand General, that you are the last kind of person. Intense interest, but unlike the first two, are not truly concerned with the words themselves."
Impression: Stare with an intense interest about the person, but not at what they are saying. Smile charmingly. Laugh off-handedly. Blink only when necessary.
The Master Tactician smirked; the bird on his shoulder tittered in some avian imitation of human amusement. “Not half bad—but I resent the assertion that I don’t take interest in what is being said. On the contrary, what statements one makes (and perhaps even moreso, how he makes them) tell volumes of his person.”
#If Sejuani made it to leader of her tribe while still in her twenties#As I believe she must#I have to imagine that she is not stupid#Short-sighted sure. Proud. Overly-loyal. Too idealistic. Unwilling to compromise#Self-assured#definitely#But not quite stupid.#Especially when it comes to managing people
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