#icewolfcaptain
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Castle Cousland - Spring, 9:28 Dragon
[for @icewolfcaptain ]
The night air was delicious and light - Ferelden had come into the end of winter; with warm, sun kissed days and crisply chill, windy nights. The beating of bodhran drums, the whistles of tin flutes, and the bright and bouncing vocal harmonies all floated into the air and on the wind as the post-hunt celebration drew on.
The tables at the head, and along the sides of Highever's castle hall were laden with stews and seethings, dumplings, roasts, and even fish pies - perhaps not the same as the more well known variety in Starkhaven, but unique in its flavor, and a pleasantly delightful effort nonetheless. It was a celebration unique to this country - most other 'civilized' nations, and certainly the Chantry, marked of note the sun-driven holy days of the year - not the moon's. But in Ferelden, when warm days were precious, the the season of new life even more so - the first days of spring were some of the best.
This year was a bit more colorful and vibrant than perhaps may have been usual... The Couslands were hosting a guest of import, and Bryce had never been one to skimp when it came to matters of hospitality. The laws and mores of guest rights and hospitality were woven deep into the fabric of Ferelden - since days uncounted long before the land had even been called 'Ferelden'. It was something they undoubtedly still shared with their more "rustic" cousins.
'Ferelden is but one foul day away from reversion to pagan barbarism.' Or so said the Empress of Orlais, when advising her most recent Ambassador to Denerim.
Elissa waited at the head table with her mother - a few flowers braided loosely into her dark hair, in a coat and dress of differing shades of blue and trimmed with gold. In both her hands she held a two handled cup, carved and inlaid with images and icons of wolves and laurels. Her eyes flickered about the end of the room as the other attendants and servants milled about, but they were always drawn back to where her father stood, conversing with her brother and their guest of honor...
Thane Isolfr of Skjeggestad...
She was not ashamed to admit her fascination had taken a firm hold of her since being informed of her father's plans to host the Avvar leader and a few of his companions to discuss trade and passage through the lands he controlled in the Frostbacks. With how much she'd been in the castle's library, reading and studying what knowledge they had on the Avvar - Aldous had wryly commented that the Teyrn ought to 'invite barbarians to sup more often'.
"I don't know why his Lordship wastes his time with so much extra frivolity - They're just Avvar after all... you could impress them with huts made of anything better than mud, shit, and twigs..."
The sneering condescension in Arl Howe's voice to the left of her sent an unpleasant shudder down Elissa's back. She whipped her head around with an openly indignant expression and had opened her mouth to speak, but Eleanor reached out to grab and squeeze her arm.
The elder Lady Cousland then looked at the good Arl and arched a brow - her voice was superficially sweet, but her look was cold and sharp.
"Speak of your own guests in your own hall however you wish, Rendon - But you will keep a civil tongue in your mouth while you're here in ours."
There was a darkness that passed over Howe's expression before he forced a smile and inclined his head deferentially.
"Of course - as your Ladyship commands."
Elissa sighed and shook her head trying to clear away the sour feeling being around her father's friend often caused. There was distraction enough, and her expression was more relaxed as her father and Fergus finally approached with their guest.
"... would like to introduce you to the rest of my family. My wife, Eleanor... and my daughter, Elissa."
A warm smile spread across her face, the corners of it reaching up to her glittering blue eyes. She took a step forward, and lifting the cup with both hands, she offered it to him in, and with, the traditional greeting.
"Ver heill ok sæll, Thane... Welcome to my father's hall."
#world state: tbd#verse: barbarians and kings#icewolfcaptain#muse: isolfr#This kinda got away from me#but I hope its acceptable#sub world state: dark origin
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@icewolfcaptain : ❛ well, someone's cranky today. ❜ (from isolfr)
He tried to bite his tongue, but if there was one thing the smith lacked it was the ability to keep his mouth shut it when it might well be wise. Unless he was told to, he was very capable of digging himself a hole or make a situation worse. Isolfr got under his skin, that was no secret. He did however want to kill him a little less than he had when they'd first met, given the circumstances it shouldn't have all been that surprising, but he'd done enough to earn some trust he hoped - at least they knew he wouldn't run away. Aksel wasn't stupid, he knew he wouldn't stand a chance on his own.
" Telling somebody they are cranky has never made them any less cranky, " He didn't look up at the other when he spoke, eyes focused on the food in front of him as he popped a piece of bread into his mouth and chewed. " In fact it tends to make them more cranky. " Finally he looked up to Isolfr expectantly. " - did you want something? "
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@icewolfcaptain || you didn't always have a beard.
Tore tugged self-consciously on his beard and set a scowl upon his cousin, a witheringly cold expression to match the witheringly cold weather outside - snow being whipped up by the foot, and them, stranded, in the middle of nowhere. "And you used to have the most angelic curls. Yet here we are - myself bearded, and yourself bereft."
He knew it was good natured. Isolfr would sooner keel over than actually, with malice, hurt his feelings. And yet, he as he went back to what he was doing (brooding, magnificently, as he pawed through his spellbook looking for some solution), he found his ego oddly stung by the gentle teasing. Being trapped far from home, and out in the cold to boot, was apparently bringing out the sourpuss in him.
#>> icewolfcaptain | isolfr (cousin)#>> in character#(guess what idiot accidentally deleted his first attempt to post this. guess.)
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xx. continued thread from Guilded | @icewolfcaptain
"Raiding is the definition of rapacious!" said Breina, her jaw dropping in awe at his gall. She gripped the table and made a noise in the back of her throat like a growl. "Do you think the winters are any easier on us? We live amongst volcanos and glaciers in ground so hard and cold you can't grow crops in it. Every year, we have to think; 'How much will Fenadrvollr take from us?' and every fucking year, we manage. Every single year since our people's landed here from the Elder Shores, we fed our appetites and yours. I'm asking you for one damned year where you actually take on your fair share of looking after your own fucking selves."
Realising after a moment that she'd yelled and swore at Isolfr, she rubbed her temple and steadied her breath. "Sorry. I haven't had enough sleep. That was... sorry." It was the truth, she soothed herself in the back of her mind. We aren't wrong. But morals won't keep your people fed.
SOOTHE HIM, said the Goddess. BEFORE HIS INSULTED PRIDE LEAVES.
Breina offered, in apology, information. "Shnelkubbarg isn't the Mother. It's erupted alone before, and it hasn't caused a famine. I remember what the Mother can do, but she is asleep. You aren't going to feel this. Us? We have injured hunters, we have supplies of generations wiped out by the ash. Trust me. This year, we aren't even worth the effort of hunting."
Isolfr's offer came as a surprise - she was sure she'd be fighting harder. "Alright. Don't dance around it. Tell me what you want." He could tell from the glances between Hjordis and Isolfr that they must have discussed it. In another universe, she would have trusted Hjordis to be level headed and ask for something reasonable, but vampirism hadn't done good things for either of them.
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icewolfcaptain → seacalled
#𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐘 𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐍𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐇 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐘 《 blogkeeping 》#i figure if im gonna have this as a multimuse i need a url that works for three characters rather than one#so that plus fancy new graphics is part 1 of overhauling this blog owo
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okay if y'all see me posting anything ic here before i clear out my drafts on @icewolfcaptain please yell at me, the himbo needs some love
#i mean. realistically the last thing that asshole needs is more love. that's how he's ended up with seven children in dragon age. but#𝖨'𝖬 𝖩𝖴𝖲𝖳 𝖠 𝖶𝖱𝖨𝖳𝖤𝖱. 𝖨 𝖶𝖱𝖨𝖳𝖤 𝖳𝖧𝖨𝖭𝖦𝖲 𝖣𝖮𝖶𝖭. ❖ ooc.
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popping in here to let y'all know im not dead! im spending most of my time on @evergloaming and @icewolfcaptain right now <3
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LINKS :: ABOUT (m) | RULES (m) | MEME TAG | OC TAG | THREAD TRACKER
BLOGROLL:: BREINA RIVLIN | TORE SKJEGGESTAD | ?
TORE SKJEGGESTAD: Independent, mostly Skyrim-based fantasy OC. Written by HRAFN, 25+ (he/him). Mid-low activity, depending on other commitments.
a study in: NECROMANCY, 'If a person holds ambitions, he suffers knowingly, but very slowly', rebuilding a shattered life, the cost of uncompromising ambition, regret, knowing you're wrong but being trapped by your past actions, finding your place when you are alien to the world.
travelling with: @evergloaming (his wife), @icewolfcaptain (his cousin)
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closed starter. ( period au ) @icewolfcaptain
He could fight as well as any warrior but a few men could not fight of the vikings raiding the small town they'd built for themselves. One by one he watched them be cut down, their homes up in flames and eventually his own shop - his lifes work gone in an instant. But he still fought and intended to die alongside the others. They had been outnumbered before and even more so now, sword in hand he sliced and stabbed until the butt of a sword hit the back of his head and everything went black.
When he'd come to they'd taken him and despite protests and spiteful words that had fallen from the smiths mouth on the journey. He'd attempted to get himself killed with little luck - that had seemed a better ending than ending up a slave to a group that had raided and destroyed his home, but it was not to be his fate.
Now the smith found himself locked away, feet pacing back and forth inside the small cell as his stomach growled from his own stubbornness. They'd offered him food, he'd refused it, he would be no use to them if he had no strength.
He stopped in his tracks when he heard the door across the room open, blue eyes looking up through the bars towards the viking stood there. " Have you come to put me out of my misery? I'd appreciate it. "
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xx. Written for @icewolfcaptain | Private thread
To the south of Khernheym, across the ocean of ink between land and sky, the sun made its last pathetic arc of the year before disappearing below the horizon for two weeks. For her people, it was two weeks of celebrating, feasting, and otherwise welcoming the new year. For Breina, it meant she was taking a short hike up the slope of a volcano to wait out the celebrations in seclusion.
She'd been watching the sun from the top of the temple roof - as soon as the last glint of light was gone, she slid down, making a Breina-shaped skid mark in the compacted snow layer and landing by the whale rib-bone entrance. Inside, behind a wolf-skin door, it was dark and quiet - the only person inside the temple now (when the festivities were on the nomad's campsite) was Isolfr, his vampire eyes piercing in the dimness.
"Alright, that's the sun gone and my cue to clear out," she said, hopping on the balls of her feet - despite the fire, it was cold inside, and she didn't want to stay still and let her muscles seize when she had a few miles hiking ahead of her. "So, last chance for fun whilst I'm not looking, party-boy. Are you gonna stay for the festivities, or do you really wanna come sit in a frankly pretty boring seclude with me?"
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xx. starter for @icewolfcaptain | based on blöde frage, saufgelage by feuerschwanz
Breina swung her glaive around her in a tight arc, digging the bladed tip deep into the gut of an oncoming hunger demon as it clawed towards her through the snow. To her left, her faithful mabari, Scout, watching her flank - to her right, thane of Skjeggestad hold, her friend, one of only a few man and women she trusted blindly at her back.
"More demons coming from the north - shit, where are these bastards coming from, Isolfr?" asked Breina, viscera splattering across her boots and pants when she wrenched the glaive free. Great. Disgusting. On the bright side, the demon slipped right down through the floor, smearing fade junk into dead conifer needles as the Fade reclaimed its wayward son.
"Tonight, we're getting drunk. So fucking drunk."
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𝒎𝒖𝒔𝒆 𝒃𝒐𝒅𝒚 𝒍𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒖𝒂𝒈𝒆 Italics only means the behaviour isn't as prevalent as others; rarely happens or they only tend to happen in specific situations, or are just not as common. Bold only means it's much more common to see on him; frequency is somewhere in the middle. Bold & Italics mean that the behaviour is effectively one of his glaring "tells" and can easily be associated with him; guaranteed or almost always guaranteed to happen.
DEFENSIVENESS: arms crossed on chest // crossing legs // fist-like gestures // pointing index finger // karate chops // stiffening of shoulders // tense posture // curling of lip / baring of teeth
REFLECTIVE : hand-to-face gestures // head tilted // stroking chin // peering over glasses // taking glasses off — cleaning // putting earpiece of glasses in mouth // pipe smoker gestures // putting hand to the bridge of the nose // pursed lips // knitted brows
SUSPICION : arms crossed // sideways glance // touching or rubbing nose // rubbing eyes // hands resting on weapon // brows raising // lips pressing into a thin line // strict, unwavering eye contact // wrinkling of nose
OPENNESS & COOPERATION: open hands // upper body in sprinters position / leaning in closely // sitting on the edge of a chair // hand-to-face gestures // unbuttoned coat // tilted head // slacked shoulders // droopy/relaxed posture // feet pointed outward // palms flat and facing outward
CONFIDENCE : hands behind back // hands on lapels of coat // steepled hands // baring teeth in a grin // rolling shoulders // tipping head back but maintaining eye contact // chest puffed up / shoulders back // arms folded just above navel
INSECURITY & ANXIETY : chewing pen or pencil // rubbing thumb over opposite thumb // biting fingernails // hands in pockets // elbow bent / closed gestures // clearing throat // “ whew ” sound // picking or pinching flesh // fidgeting in chair // hand covering mouth whilst speaking // poor eye contact // tugging at pants whilst seated // jingling money in pockets // tugging at ear // perspiring hands // playing with hair // swaying // playing with pointer / marker // smacking lips // sighing// rocking on balls of feet // flexing fingers sporadically
FRUSTRATION : short breaths // “ tsk ” sounds // tightly-clenched hands // fist-like gestures // pointing index finger // running hand through hair // rubbing back of neck // snarling // revealing teeth / grimacing // sharp-eyed glowers with notable tension in the brows // shoulders back, head up - defensive posturing // clenching of jaw / grinding teeth // nostrils flaring // heavy exhales
Tagged by: @apalestar
Tagging: @evergloaming @icewolfcaptain @caedrons and you if you want it
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