i don't know why we bother with corsets

           ▋▋         ———–———–         very fair was her face

            but ｓｔｒｏｎｇ she seemed and ｓｔｅｒｎ as steel 

                                                            {  α ∂αυgнтєя σƒ кιηgѕ  }

    ▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

independent rp blog for éowyn from the lord of the rings series ;

mun has read all books in the tolkien series ;

this blog is both book!verse and movie!verse ;

has experience roleplaying éowyn for over three years ;

open to crossovers from all fandoms ;

writing ranges from short to multi-para / novella ; 

icons are not for public use unless requested ; 

skype is available upon request ; 

                                                            {  ʙᴜᴛ ɴᴏ ʟɪᴠɪɴɢ ᴍᴀɴ ᴀᴍ ɪ  }

                                                  you look upon a ｗｏｍａｎ. 

                                    12th December, 1920

             Third day on the trip to Neverland, shall get into safe land in about two more days.

      He started to write down on a small black notebook every move he took forward on his life has a fearsome pirate, planting respect in every land he put his feet on. With only one hand, he better had more to hold on — the warm welcoming he always got when he re-visited a city made the long and uncomfortable trips worth. No one, but a real sailor, knew better what it was to cross the seas driven by a true feeling, a feeling that drags you into adventures, that makes you starve to death if needed or jump off the plank to fed the bloody thirsty mermaids that claimed to give lucky on their travels in return.

      He closed the notebook with the words Journal spiked in the leather cover. Putting it aside he took a scroll from the edge of the mahogany desk studying carefully the next moves to make as he heard the smelly and loud men having their usual stinky drinking nights. He dispensed such thing where they were so close to their destiny. He shut is eyes for a mere second rubbing his tempers before glancing over into the big map. A captain had the duty to keep everything in order but some of the tasks he was meant to do were so exhausting… He tried to hold on into the reason that made him embark on that mad travel — the treasure he would hold beneath his bare hand, the gold he would add to his fortune, the crowns and rings he would keep to offer to the most praised ladies of the different kingdoms. 

     The sudden urge of getting as quickly as they could to Neverland attacked the pirate’s chest, making himself go out for a bit, climbing into the deck while he pull out the spyglass from his pocket. He was expecting to catch a glimpse of the green and big volcano in the middle of the island, that seemed to emerge from the dark waters, always cutting the horizon line perfectly when they were getting close; but instead of a volcano or a piece of land at all, his blue gaze caught a rather interesting thing through the spyglass. A young lady waved from the cold waters — but when he thought cold, he was really mentioning icy — it was nearly winter and the sea itself was some place no one would wish to be in their sake.

    “Get the ropes ready!” He yelled back at some crewmen who were jingling behind him, playing around with their bottles in hands. “We’ve got someone drowning!” Even though she was handling quite alright now, keeping her body floating, it was too dangerous for a young and precious lass like she be alone in there, exposed to all the mischievous sea creatures. “Hold on to it” He screamed to the lass as he made a perfect knot out of the rope, throwing it into the water near the place she was right after. He gritted his jaw tightly ordering some sailors to help him push her aboard. 

                            Hold onto it!

  The sound of distinct voice above her pulled her into action: the realisation that she would drown or freeze to death in the icy waters sunk into her mind. She flinched when one of the ropes finally drifted towards her on the surface. Sybil’s hands were numb and ashen as she reached out and clutched onto the said rope with as much strength as she could muster in such circumstances. It didn’t take much time before she was pulled towards the ship: leaving her sturdy driftwood behind her. She made a conscious decision to jump back into the water and seek out her trusted floating device if she found that she could not trust such men: she would rather face drowning than other unspoken horrors that she wasn’t sure awaited her. A net was thrown down the side of the ship as soon as she was close enough to clutch onto it and she could feel the soles of her feet become raw with pain as she hastily and awkwardly climbed such a net until hands could reach forward and thrust her onto deck: she fell down onto the wood with such force that she could hardly take a breath afterwards. “—Can you breathe, lass?”

"Sybil?.. did you ever feel like this?"

Mary took a deep breath as she sat forward Slightly. She took a deep breath as her palms slipped on to her abdomen, rubbing it gently. It was obvious Mary was showing many signs of discomfort. She just hoped Dr Clarkson made it upstairs soon. 

Luckily, he soon did; but not without Lord Grantham at foot. Robert looked rather shocked to see his eldest daughter bed ridden with his youngest caring for her. He frowned in confusion “Sybil?… Could I - have a word?” Robert then muttered. Doctor Clarkson made his way over to Mary and set his bag down before going on to examine her.

Once Robert had Sybil to one side, his rather concerned fatherly expression looked down upon her. “Sybil.. What is wrong with Mary?.. Is there something seriously wrong with her?” The Earl was certainly concerned for his daughters. He was greatly a family man.

  “—Oh, don’t worry at all, papa. I doubt it’s anything to worry about. I do, however, have some suspicions that it could be joyous news after all,” she murmured to him. Their father tried to quell his own evident excitement as he moved over to the bed and leant down to kiss her sister’s head. “It seems that you are in very good hands, Mary.”

  “—I’m sure Granny can’t wait to meet you either, cousin Matthew,” Sybil exclaimed, urging a small smile from Edith as she drank her own tea. Cora looked at her three daughters with a mix of both amusement and shame: she knew how much Sybil loved to tease but their poor cousin from Manchester was not quite used to it yet.

" I cannot say that the idea does not surprise me, for it does indeed. How refreshing, to see a young woman not interested in the ways of society. Though what a poor waste it must seem, someone possessing beauty to never share it but merely let it rot away. A pity it is really, you should think of extending your reach Ms. Crawley, your beauty won’t last forever. Explore the world while you can with the harsh grip of Society."

" Of course," Dorian chuckled, amused of how much he sounded like a dear friend he used to have. The very same words were uttered to him when he was young and innocent, some much damage they could do. The power of corruption was held within those words. " Perhaps you would not think it wise to follow my words, lest you end up like myself. Although you don’t seem to mind the rumors, I am not quite sure you would enjoy rumors of corruption, heartlessness, and sinful indulgences, as much as I do. They are delightful, the stories that they come up with. Amusing,are the looks on their faces as well." His head turned, slightly, flashing a smile towards a woman around the corner as she quickly blushed and scurried away. Ah, the power of youth. It was a shame she did not embrace it.

  “Unfortunately, it is difficult to see what is on the inside of a person and so most of our opinions are based on looks alone – for instance, what is your impression of me, sir?” Sybil was rather curious now, as to how she came across to Dorian Gray, for she was known for being an excellent judge of character but this man disturbed her somewhat: he seemed troubled on the inside and although his face was youthful and he seemed not much older than herself, his eyes told a different story of wisdom and pain.

And he didn’t like it. 

Her last ‘Please’ echoed through his soul, remembering how forlorn he had been as a young child when his father refused to let him join a hunt. But this was different, this was war. 

  “—I’m afraid that you will find me rather determined in my quest, friend, and so you shall have to carry me to the caves and shackle me there if you wish me not to join in the battle.” It was bold of her, to say the least, as she knew that this elf in front of her was no mere soldier but he had royal blood in his veins, also. Sybil, however, stood with stealth and tenacity as she refused to bow down to the views of men: she would take sword to the Urakhai.