Yearling
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Post by Fallen on Aug 19, 2024 14:55:47 GMT -7
"Speech."
Time seemed to lull by at a terribly sluggish pace as the duo moved along. The surgeon had successfully led the monochrome bastard free of his imprisonment in the deserted cliffs and Selven had refused to slow himself down any more. Sweat pooled along his battered hide, the gauntness in his hips and ribs slowly lessening as he was able to eat and drink again along this journey. However he was still merely a shell oof his former glory. His musculature was slight, the heavy breath of his magnificent chest was pointed and his bold crest sagged slightly. The once open wounds had finally started to close, some of the deeper ones along his flanks and belly however still seeped on occasion as the middle of these wounds were still open. Pink littered his face now, his torn tower nothing more than a fleshy nub now. There were hundreds of eyes it seemed as the bastard king leaned upon the demon through the free lands. Whispers and gasps alike as Selven forced himself with each step to get home. An angry scowl tried to wash his mutilated crown as his tower sunk into his tresses, his silver and blue eyes burning into anyone that dared look upon his face as they whispered. The bastard king grimaced as he let his crown settle back forward, a heavy breath leaving his lungs as all he focused on was home.
He and The Surgeon did not speak along this trek though, and Selven felt there was something amiss at the demons peculiar silence. The dark monarch did not pry though, he did not have the energy to. However, as the scents became familiar again as the pair reached the edge of his home, the dark czars' heart thumped even harder in his chest. The strength of the demon at his side gave the beast an extra push, his frame screaming at him too slow down but he wouldn't. He was home! Selven's torn nares flared as he picked up pace, his usual awareness leaving him as he consciously failed to note the decor along the path up to the keep. It was not until the guards around became more visible at the stream did Selven come to a halt. It was not until he came to this halt that another scent hit his nares like a sand storm. A scent he had not smelt in over a year. The dark regent snorted harshly, his eyes widening before his brow furrowed in confusion, and anger. The nearest guard was the one that Selven assaulted with his words first, but the look of confusion on its own face did not stop the battement that came from the first king. "You! What is the meaning of this? What is happening?" The guard that stood there looked as if he had seen a ghost. "Selven, there's" The dark bastard's lip curled in a snarl, his weakened frame invigorated, but Selven stopped as a guttural growl left his throat. When did the guards of the keep start acknowledging him by his name? Selven looked at the surgeon then, his mismatched orbs looking around once again as his chest heaved with the sudden adrenaline rush. "Let me by." Selven said harshly, his nose flaring as his chest heaved to take in air. The guard merely nodded, "I will follow." Said the guard.
The trek up the earth through the forest was one traveled many times by Selven, The Keep becoming as well known to him as Armageddon had once been. There were no civilians on this path now, only guards here and there like there had once been during his crowning.. What was fucking happening. That one fucking scent though, that smell he thought he would never have to smell again.. why was it here. Why now. Selven eyed each guard he passed by, as did each guard that looked upon him. The dark regent was still unaware that he was no longer their king... and they looked just as concerned as Selven got closer and closer to the congregation. Whether they were concerned because they knew not if the fell king was of the flesh or merely a specter along with the ghoul beside him... there was no telling.
Selven's breath grew more ragged, was this trek always so fucking long? As the thought came, a familiar voice reached his harks. A deep, booming accented one. One that he had grown to trust and rely upon... this is my vow as your King... Selven's inky thorns perked upon his skull, his eyes blinking quickly as once again he tried to quicken his pace. The rest of the faded words merely a rattle in his skull. King? a KING? That couldn't be. Selven pushed harder, and as he and The surgeon walked into the clearing where he once stood he stopped. His blazing blue eyes scathing as he looked over them all. Despite the anger, and confusion that settled within his aching bones, Thomasin was all that was on his mind now. The former king stepped before The Surgeon, the demon at his flank as Selven murmured his beloveds name and his gaze found her. A rough nicker vibrated through his entire bodice as he looked at no one but her. It did not take long for others to notice the rough looking bastard and in so stepped aside as he pushed forward. Selven's legs and body shook slightly, the trembles from his body being ushed past its limit to be here. The guard behind he and Surgeon stepped around to the side of them, approaching the Queen before standing near enough to her to be of use should it be needed.
"My Thomasin.." Selven's voice quivered slightly as he stopped a few yards away from her, The Surgeon close by his frame. The anger that had fueled him earlier dissipated, his confusion by hearing the voice of Damocles claiming the title of king, gone. The stares of the congregation nothing but mere ghosts in the backdrop. All that mattered right now was that he was home and Thomasin was okay.
WORDS 1k TAGGED A z z y , The Quiet One MUSE excellentNOTES Selven has alot of feelings and im a lil concerned this was less dramatic than i though he would be at first lol *calm Selven is a scary selven* Either of you can post first! Super ready for this! TIMELINE Month or so after the fight with Castiel, after Killing Ven, after escaping from the cliffs as Aphelion prisoner.
by ♛befera
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Eat the Rude
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she/her
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4,301 posts
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Underworld Lead
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Post by A z z y on Aug 21, 2024 11:17:22 GMT -7
The longer she stood before her allies and enemies alike, the more she could feel her facade crack, the insincerities beginning to seep through like pus from a wound. The invitation had been opened for a reason, to display the fake king, the puppet king, before the world in the hopes that Belial may retain some of the anonymity he so craved. Did it sit well within her gut that they had placed such a loyal and devoted subject in the limelight? Damocles was a capable and ruthless beast, but his loyalty had lain truly with Selven… Thomasin studied the silver and striped decoy from the corner of her gilded optics, unease settling within her gut as her scrutiny then drifted towards Belial. He was going to reveal his identity, his true role, to those he trusted. Loose lips sink ships, how deep did the loyalty of these trusted few run? If they spoke his truth, if they revealed the deception… then what? If he didn't tell the land leads, those who had trusted her for longer than they had he, would their faith in her crumble as well? Thomasin ran the moist expanse of her vernacular against the rears of her incisors, ignoring the ache beginning to form in her gut.
Readying to excuse herself in the hopes of satisfying her carnal urges, she paused, as figure moved through the throng of equines, a black stag’s rack towering above the heads of many. Her heart jumped both in delight and anticipation, knowing that head belonged only to that of her sire. Her inky lips twisted in a genuine, devoted smile, a step taken towards the direction he was heading, eager to see him after so long. Yet as the crowd began to shift from the rear, she could feel the tension in the air, a silence following those that turned their heads to watch. The Surgeon moved forwards in silence, his ruby eyes upon her alone, yet her view was then blocked slightly as a guard forced himself forwards, pushing himself between her and her father. Her lobes sank into her atlas then, her lips tightening across her incisors as she readied herself to swing at him, to reprimand him, to put him in his place. Then he appeared, shoving his way past her sire and into her line of sight. A ghost. A spectre. Selven. A shadow of his former glory, his once shining domino hued hide was dulled and riddled with scars and open wounds. An ear was missing, his eye silvered by blindness. He stank of death, the putrid cologne of decay lingering upon him. Her golden eyes filled with saline, the intensity of those molten optics seeming to grow as he spoke her name. My Thomasin…
His voice, so long she had craved to hear it, yet now it burned like acid, seeping down her ear canal and into her grey matter. You're… she began, her tones barely above a whisper as she looked then briefly to her father, his silence unnerving her more than she would ever admit. You're dead? Her vocals were barely above a whisper, but it felt that even though there were so many conversations occurring about her, the world had fallen silent. Perhaps we should do this elsewhere… the comforting words of her sire echoed around her, rational, thoughtful… not what you'd expect from a renowned murderer. Swallowing the lump of agony that had formed in her throat, she turned her burning scrutiny to the direction both Damocles and Belial stood. Damocles was watching, his lavender gaze locked onto them attentively. To his credit, the bastard did not falter and nodded his atlas in acknowledgement to her and the situation at hand. The silver beast gently dismissed those he spoke to, stepping towards Selven with all the ease and grace of a King. I will seek you out, he uttered, nodding his atlas once before turning back to the conversation he had been engrossed in. It was then the witch queen looked to Belial, where there was no acknowledgement given, a blank stare kept on the crowd ahead, not even a hark turned towards them. Her enamels ground together furiously, yet she did not keep her attention upon him for a moment longer. The two stags had never gotten on, for whatever reason, yet to show no interest in the return of one's predecessor, who's absence was the only reason the crown now sat upon his head, had that nagging doubt returning once again. Did Belial have something to do with this? Very well, she hissed through clenched enamels, her lids blinking furiously as she led The Surgeon and Selven away to a clearing deeper in the woods. Away from the prying ears and eyes, away from those who could observe her visceral agony. Why here? Why now?
She powered ahead of the duo, blinking away the tears furiously, her cords lashing against her flanks until she had reached her area of sanctuary. A crashing waterfall that thundered into a deep pool before breaking off into smaller streams and rivers that sustained the woodland and the royal lands themselves. The grass was short here, small red capped mushrooms grew in bunches beneath the oaks, shaded from the harsh summer sun. The dark regent spun then to face the two gents, her lobes flat against her poll, her cords lashing against her fetlocks. What the fuck is going on? She demanded, her features stoic despite her rage, her molten optics two burning pits that threatened to obliterate the two where they stood. Who?! She barked furiously, Who did this to you? She wanted to touch him, to reach out to him and feel him as she had longed to do for so long… But to love him now, a corpse… it made her stop in her tracks every time she felt the longing to be beside him. Afterall, the dead could not linger for long with the living. Why get used to it?
Thomasin… her father spoke gently then, pulling her burning gaze from the dead king to him. Allow him to speak, he paused, his sanguine eyes softening upon her. Not all is as you believe, there was no viciousness in his tones, no condescension. Yet the enraged hag turned upon him, her fury threatening to pull them all under. Is it not? She demanded, her ire spitting sparks into the ether around them. He returns with you, a fucking ghost, and you expect me to believe he is not dead already? There was blame in the words, a tone so full of hurt, so full of the losses she had endured, it bubbled over like a poisonous brew, quaking her words. I know… her sire uttered, stepping forward and embracing her for the first time since her youth. Thomasin was stunned into silence. Her body stiff, rigid, as his solid obsidian nape pulled her in. She did not reciprocate, a muscle in her jaw jumping as her father eventually took a step back. It had, against her better judgement, been enough to stun her into silence, her golden optics crashing then upon Selven, silently demanding the truth.
TAGGED - Fallen WORDS - 1198 MUSE - oh the feels... NOTES - well...sorry for that...
Damocles' speech The Surgeon's speech Speech
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Yearling
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Post by Fallen on Aug 21, 2024 17:20:07 GMT -7
"Speech."
Selven ignored the prying eyes that had quickly begun to realize just whom had shown up to this coronation. He cared not for any of it, and unfortunately did not think of what kind of position this would put his beloved Thomasin in. However, the soft sparkle of a tear that welled in her eye as she looked upon him quickly put reality back into his face. His beloved's sweet, beautiful voice was quiet as she spoke, as if her heart was walloped with every syllable.
You're… You're dead?
Selven's frame shifted to take a step forward, his lips ready to denounce such words, but The Surgeon spoke first. Selven did not look at the demon that had helped him all this way, but he swallowed softly a soft breath leaving him in agreement. The mutilated bastard followed Thomasin's eyes then, watching as Damocles came about swiftly. An angry scowl threatened to form on his sliced face until the giant striped beast spoke. I will seek you out, he said with no extremes about his words. Selven nodded his own crown slightly in return to the beast. Though his thoughts did not linger upon Damocles for long, he could not deny that he was the best choice as a replacement. Was Selven hurt that his hand had taken the space next to his Queen? No, hurt was not the word. There was a gnawing feeling, confusion more than anything. Damocles had never expressed interest in ruling, never expressed a desire to hold the crown and the power that such a title could grant him. Selven's gaze shifted over to Belial then, as did his beloved. A twitch of the duo toned bastards maw and a furrow of the brow the only outward inclination of his utter disdain at seeing the three colored stag. If anything, the painted bastard was surprised that the young brute didn't swoop in like a vulture on a fresh and hot corpse and steal the crown for himself. Selven did not linger on such thoughts though, as he looked back at Thomasin and followed her dutifully away from the gathering. His steps still slower than his usual flashy gait.
As the trio reached the sanctuary, Selven exhaled harshly. Though his physical pain was slowly dissipating it was still there. The coolness here soothed his aching bones, and cushioned his hooves. His half blinded gaze looked about at the mushrooms and the trickling streams, and the towering oaks. If the circumstances were different, such a place would have served as the perfect place for he and Thomasin. Selven had no time to linger upon childish thoughts though before his bride spun around to face he and her father. The faint trace of tears on her beautiful cheeks, stinging the beasts chest worse than any beating he had endured during his capture. What the fuck is going on? The anger within her voice pressed against Selven's throat, threatening to choke him. Who?! Who did this to you? Her rage, her hurt, it was all consuming. Selven shook his head so gently that the motion could barely be seen. However, her father spoke again. There was gentleness in his voice that Selven would not have expected from such an entity. Not all is as you believe, Selven let his thorns flick to Surg for a moment before they were back onto Thomasin. With each moment her rage grew greater, the volatile heat from her something he had missed. Is it not? He returns with you, a fucking ghost, and you expect me to believe he is not dead already? Within that was hurt, so much fucking hurt. All Selven wished to do was grab her. To sink her into his chest and hold her until the world ceased to exist. However he also allowed her father his chance to embrace her. Selven never let his eyes fall from her now, The Surgeon stepping back as Thomasin now stood in utter silence.
"My beloved, my Thomasin... my everything," Selven spoke with an equal gentleness as he stepped quietly closer to her his gaze holding her beautiful golden ones. "I am here... truly here," his breath was steadier now as he closed the distance between them; he did not care if she lashed out at him. He did not care if she added to the multitude of wounds and scars that adorned his flesh. He wanted to touch her, no, he needed to touch her. He needed her to feel him, to know that he was alive. Selven reached out for her then, his once handsome mug laying softly upon her cheek, "I am alive, my Thomasin." His uttered words were for her alone, despite her father being near. Selven inhaled, taking in her scent deeply his mismatched gaze closing tightly as he took took her into an embrace however this one was one of a lover. One where Selven pressed his chest against Thomasin as deeply as he could so she could feel his hot blood and heavy heart beneath his weary skin. "I am alive for you, because of you." His words were heavy as he held her. He did not wish for this moment to end but knew she needed to know everything that he could possibly tell her.
Selven sighed heavily now, forcing himself to step back from his beloved, his own eyes glittering with the threat of tears that would never reach the surface before he began. "After my fight with the angel, I was wounded already but had come across Vendettra she was in a terrible state with a fresh babe and yearling at her sides. The old woman had seen better days.. I had forced her to change course, to come with me back home for her sake and for that of the young children. The youngest, Cosette, is mine." Selven paused briefly, giving his stressed vocals a moment. "We were all attacked by an abnormally large pack of wolves, Vendettra was taken down, and gravely wounded. I was able to protect the children, but Vendettra asked me to kill her so as to not let the children see her die slowly." Selven chuckled slightly, his torn lip curled at the corner at the thought of the old woman. "I barely survived the attack myself," Selven's crown turned to display the deep scars across his face, throat and chest and slightly flicked his tail as if to motion to the still half open wounds along his flank and ribs. "I had begun travelling again with the children, but was intercepted by a woman. The whore knew of me and you well... It had only been a few hours between the wolf attack and the woman and so she got the upper hand, but the children were able to run. Between her and some of her followers I was drug to the cliffs in the desert. The fuckers kept me beaten and in and out of consciousness. The bastards gave me less than enough to barely survive." Selven's jaw clenched at the thought, but he then looked at The Surgeon, a deep sorrow washing over his features before he looked back at Thomasin. "I came to one day, and it seemed everyone was gone. Perhaps they thought me dead, I am not entirely sure. But..." Selven paused, his nares and jaw twitching as he forced the next words out. "Our babies, Thomasin. I found our babies in those tunnels, they were together in the end and I would like to believe they got to watch the sun rise." Selven swallowed hard, the pain in his voice nearly drowning him. Selven continued on then, "I called out to your father, to help me. From the desert I leaned upon him, and used his strength to get back to you." Selven's eyes looked to each of Thomasin's a pleading within them. "I am so sorry my love, I am so terribly sorry." the bastard paused once again as if to give Thomasin time to take it in. "When my strength returns I am going back for them. They will rest here, in our home... I will not allow their bodies to continue to lie there, away from us, for much longer." Selven let his words trail off then as his eyes stayed settled upon his bride. If anything he knew this revelation could give her some closure, or it would break her. Selven would remain by her side regardless of which path was taken. Regardless if she lashed out or beat him herself. She was his heart, his everything and he would rather perish at her hands than be taken from her again.
WORDS 1445 TAGGED A z z y MUSE excellentNOTES The feels. Let me know if anything needs to be changed TIMELINE Month or so after the fight with Castiel, after Killing Ven, after escaping from the cliffs as Aphelion prisoner.
by ♛befera
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Eat the Rude
live deliciously 🐐
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she/her
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4,301 posts
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points
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Underworld Lead
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Post by A z z y on Sept 6, 2024 5:09:54 GMT -7
The night hag allowed her seering scrutiny to linger on her sire as he stepped back from her, those bloodied eyes of his filled with the closest thing to love such a monster could muster. The voluptuous curve of her kissers set into a thin line as her scrutiny rolled from one brute to another, a cool waft of a summer’s breeze dancing over them, shifting her obsidian tresses to frame her beautiful countenance. Her silence was the only thing she offered Selven, her lobes facing him ready to ensnare his version of events, but there was no softness to her features anymore. "My beloved, my Thomasin... my everything,” he began and she could feel her gut knot itself over and over again until there was little room for much else but tension. "I am here... truly here," he uttered, his limping embodiment shuffling closer, but she did not move, her golden eyes holding him in contempt. "I am alive, my Thomasin.” he muttered softly, the velvet veneer of his proboscis brushed against her cheek. A soft inhale of air was taken as he did so, but she could not will her body to respond as she wanted.
"I am alive for you, because of you." he murmured into her flesh, stepping into her so they were chest to breast, his warmth radiating through her, seeping into the frozen walls she had placed around her heart since his absence. It was an embrace she needed more of, a repetitive action that may in time thaw the barricades she had placed her heart behind but it was then he stepped away, a heavy sigh escaping his nasal passages. Thomasin glanced at her sire, his vacant expression both comforting and alarming all at the same time, yet there was something in his eyes that could be misconstrued as hurt. Selven spoke again, pulling her attention from the abyssal demon to the two toned beast before her. "After my fight with the angel, I was wounded already but had come across Vendettra she was in a terrible state with a fresh babe and yearling at her sides. The old woman had seen better days.. I had forced her to change course, to come with me back home for her sake and for that of the young children. The youngest, Cosette, is mine." The once neutral line of her kissers twisted down at the corners as Selven spoke the name of a strange mare and a child born of his blood. She wanted to snarl at him, tear his face from his skull where he stood but for now, she remained calm. Externally, at least.
"We were all attacked by an abnormally large pack of wolves, Vendettra was taken down, and gravely wounded. I was able to protect the children, but Vendettra asked me to kill her so as to not let the children see her die slowly." Doubt now creased her brow, knowing Selven as she did, she wondered if he had executed the woman out of spite, fear that she may well come to Thomasin and reveal all. "I barely survived the attack myself," he gestured to her to view the wounds that littered his once magnificent hide, but no reaction came from the dark regent. The ends of her obsidian tendrils had begun to sway against her fetlocks, the ends whipping into the air gently, the only sign of her growing ire as she continued to listen, to watch and wait. Instead of returning home from battle, to her, to their kingdom, he had chosen to aid another one of his whores. "I had begun travelling again with the children, but was intercepted by a woman. The whore knew of me and you well... It had only been a few hours between the wolf attack and the woman and so she got the upper hand, but the children were able to run. Between her and some of her followers I was drug to the cliffs in the desert. The fuckers kept me beaten and in and out of consciousness. The bastards gave me less than enough to barely survive." This caught her attention, the inferno in her eyes obvious as she cocked her jaw slightly. She was about to speak, to ask him of a name, a description, any tell tale signs that may give her away should this wretch ever cross her path again.
Selven paused, and it was in this silence she felt the air change, his attention drifted to The Surgeon, those blood red eyes locking onto Selven’s remaining blue one. The horned demon gave a gentle, barely noticeable inclination of his crown in silence then, as both of their attention turned simultaneously upon her. “I came to one day, and it seemed everyone was gone. Perhaps they thought me dead, I am not entirely sure. But..." the pause, a silence longer than any heard before if it were but only moments, dragged on painfully. Until it didn’t. “Our babies, Thomasin. I found our babies in those tunnels, they were together in the end and I would like to believe they got to watch the sun rise." Her heart fluttered straight away, hope filling her soul for the first time in so long, but it was soon obliterated, shattered as the final part of Selven’s recount lingered in her lobes. From somewhere unknown, be it within her or externally, the sensation of ice cold water drenched her body. The sound of the world around her faded out, whatever Selven was saying now was little more than white noise in her harks. There was evident pain in his words, in his eyes but to her, in this moment, it did not compare.
She could hear him speak of The Surgeon, how he had aided him in his return, but the words meant nothing. The dull ache within her chest grew, it blossomed into a poisonous bouquet of vines and roots that crawled through her organs and nerves and seeped into her blood stream. Her mass swayed slightly, the ground beneath her feet suddenly unsteady, as if the very earth shook from this loss. But the earth did not hurt, the earth did not care. "I am so sorry my love, I am so terribly sorry.. When my strength returns I am going back for them. They will rest here, in our home... I will not allow their bodies to continue to lie there, away from us, for much longer." The words he spoke were like rocks being thrown at her head, each syllable thudding and pounding against her skull until she could take no more. No, she said at last, her voice strained, the biting word forced through clenched teeth. You will do no such thing, the tone she used now was that of a Queen, a Queen commanding her servant, her guard, her prisoner, that he would now do as he was told. You will rest here, and you - her sweeping gaze fell upon The Surgeon, her eyes brimming with saline but none fell. You will take me to them. You will help me bring them home, her voice cracked as she mentioned home. Had it ever been home for them? Had they been alive long enough to know what home was? Their home was now their tomb. The Surgeon cast his gaze to Selven warily, a forced soft sigh escaping his nares. It would be my honour, he replied gently, keeping a steady eye upon his daughter.
Thomasin inhaled, steadying her thudding heart rate as she turned from the two stallions. The pain, the unbearable pain, the agony of the loss she felt began to brew. A volcanic force that started in the pit of her gut. The night hag faced the waterfall, her mind thinking of everything and nothing all at once as the tumultuous waters fell into each other. Yet with every thud of her heart, with every throbbing shot of blood through her veins, her resolve weakened, that acidic magma bubbling through her until she could contain it no more. Cersei, Jaime… she whispered their names into the summer breeze, as if that would be enough to bring them back to her. A sob racked through her then, one deep and pain filled shivering, pathetic sob. Her ribs heaved as another one threatened to consume her but she couldn’t let it. Not here, not now. With her back turned still, she steeled herself, pushing down the grief deep within her. Briefly, her gaze glanced to the treeline, wondering if her mother was close enough to her to feel this loss, wondering if the Utopians could feel it, if they cared… Her crown rose, the pain that had threatened to consume her, to devour her whole in this very woodland, had been forced away, morphed into an unfathomable rage. She turned then, her golden eyes darker than they once had been, her once beautiful features furious, hurt, but seemingly stoic. Do you have a name for this whore who knew me? A description? She snarled now, her words dangerously low as she took a step towards them. I want… her fucking… HEAD! She bellowed, her pain so loud, so visceral that birds who had settled into roose for the night took flight.
And you! It was now Selven’s turn to face her wrath, her hurt. Instead of coming home to your Queen, to your Kingdom, you choose to aid some blown out old cunt and your runt of a fucking child and wind up leaving me without you, without a King… she spat the words at him, her embodiment striding closer until an invisible force seemed to stop her. Tell me, at what point whilst our babies were missing did you find the time to fuck her as well as Aelin? Her gaze shot to her father then, furious, as his gaze locked onto hers. Thomasin, this is not - NOT WHAT? Not the time? Not the place? Stands to reason you’d side with him - she hissed, her rage twisting now upon The Surgeon as she changed course. You left me, he left me - and for what? Her voice quaked now, the veil of anger beginning to retreat. Only for you both to come back just to tell me my babies are dead… another sob coursed through her, this time the tears spilling over her cheeks as she turned away from them viciously, her gilded scrutiny falling upon the setting sun. Half her face was darkened by the shadow cast by a timber, the other illuminated in an ethereal glow as a scoff of bitter, scorned laughter slithered from within her ribs. And whilst we're adding insults to injury... she began, another callous laugh escaping her. Damocles is not the King, She turned then, facing them both with an eerie serenity, as if the calm before a tempest had set in upon her. What she was about to say may very well be her and Selven’s undoing, it may be the shit icing on a particularly shit cake. Belial is.
TAGGED - Fallen WORDS - 1800+ MUSE - oh boy. NOTES - ooooooooh boy indeed.
Damocles' speech The Surgeon's speech Speech
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