𝕿SAR 𝔬𝔣 𝕾TORMS ༄ 𓆪

SLEEP  HAD  REFUSED  HIM;  AND  IT  WASN'T  FOR  NERVES,  NOT  EXACTLY.  His  body  was  tired,  but  his  mind  kept  marching  over  maps,  names,  and  alliances.  Grey  Wind  must  have  sensed  it  too,  for  the  moment  he  sat  on  the  edge  of  his  bed,  he  found  it  already  watching  him  ❝  Want to go  for  a  walk  ?  ❞  he  muttered,  and  the  answer  came  so  quickly  in  the  way  its  tail  began  thumping  the  ground  in  fast,  eager  strokes  and  the  way  it  sprang  to  its  feet  with  barely  contained  energy  that,  moments  later,  the  Stark  found  himself  following  it  past  the  dying  firepits  and  some  soldiers  still  finishing  their  supper.

         ⊹,  a flourishing towards the nocturnal, a dragon’s sensibility. under the cover of night they flew and while the warlord's daughter was not compelled to such whims like a simple creature she still mimicked the pattern of the great beast. this extended stay upon foreign soil only made rest more mercurial than it usually tended to be. when sleep evaded her she would often retreat into the garden for respite, quietude amongst her silent army of blossoms. tonight she would have to settle for the wilds of the wood. snow spiraling down around her in a dance of pale flakes, the cold she is no stranger to – a winter wanderer. until she hears an approach before seeing a shock of red in the midst of white. 

the metamorphosis is gruesome, always, but when eivor is near they bear witness to the awe of violent transformation. it is their privilege and right as a spouse, to observe the spectacle of a woman’s body breaking into that of a beast’s ( though they are one in the same, witch and dragon ). eyes wide in sight, allowing the titan space in their mind and heart. eivor’s pale hair tosses in the gusts conjured by great, pitch wings, and the trinkets woven into her braids chime like songs. within her untamable heart arises sea-swells of pride.

             ⊹ ,  unspooling her soul into the shape of a monster. this is the true appearance of her heart; a being half infernal and half divine. bearing it all to her to her spouse even if they had witnessed this disrobing time and time again. each time she bears her scales it is done anew, the wave of awe in the pale of her beloved’s gaze warming her blood, spurning her on. tempest brewing in her wake, the call of thunder signaling the dragon’s arrival as the sky paints itself a tumultuous canvas behind her inked form. 

❛  not true, ❜  he retorted quietly, frowning as if that would put more metal to his disagreement. it didn’t matter of course; this was a kind of jest, the same cloying smiles that brushed together and warm touches that would see them together for the forever he demanded more than asked for. would she have ever wanted it differently? would she ever want him differently? his arms wound more tightly around her, the familiar brush of her dark hair at his cheek, and the quiet breaths that come slowly undone in their crook of safety against his neck. he closes his eyes momentarily, a strange resemblance to peace. ❛  i mean the real thing. this is just a glimpse. ❜

             ⊹ , in defiance he loves,    opposition is all they have known.   both of them wore it for years,    they’re favorite clothes no matter how tattered they didn’t have the heart to throw it away.    when she has him in her arms he is a second skin.    her shield against the world,    a hideaway that witnessed her fracturing and cradled her.    steady now where he hadn’t been before   (    pieced together glass of a once broken mirror   )    basking in the wholeness of him,    keeping him as near as he would allow;    which was no distance entirely.     ❛  water slips through the fingers    –    you can’t hold it for very long before it falls away.   ❜  being clever with her all while he reverses their positions.    held aloft then deposited gingerly onto sheets she was only just tangled in.    

hi. fuck ice. here is how you can help families affected by unlawful deportation

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