Gwen en Tamin

Moriquendë she calls herself and there is no shame coloring her words, merely the pride of one who took a name meant for scorn and twisted it around her till it became a shield. A shield she carried with pride, as those who mocked her heritage crashed and burned, despite their light and noble lineage. Úmanyar she has also been called, before the Calaquendi had all but disappeared and such terms became obsolete; but Moriquendi she will ever consider herself, a child of the darkness before the light.

Moriquendë she calls herself and there is no shame coloring her words, merely the pride of one who took a name meant for scorn and twisted it around her till it became a shield. A shield she carried with pride, as those who mocked her heritage crashed and burned, despite their light and noble lineage. Úmanyar she has also been called, before the Calaquendi had all but disappeared and such terms became obsolete; but Moriquendi she will ever consider herself, a child of the darkness before the light.

This being said, my new url will be @mornedhel​.

Moriquendë she calls herself and there is no shame coloring her words, merely the pride of one who took a name meant for scorn and twisted it around her till it became a shield. A shield she carried with pride, as those who mocked her heritage crashed and burned, despite their light and noble lineage. Úmanyar she has also been called, before the Calaquendi had all but disappeared and such terms became obsolete; but Moriquendi she will ever consider herself, a child of the darkness before the light.

“You’re not from Mirkwood are you?”

“I am, indeed, from Eryn Galen. Mirkwood as it is now called.”

I have loved the stars too fondly to be fearful of the night

The last one is simple. “Falon — friend. That word I’ll make sure to remember.”

Falon. Friend is what she will consider Shianni, if only for the brief period of time she will rest in the Alienage. A friend found where she had thought to encounter none, a helping hand offered in perilous times. Perhaps, the opportunity would come to repay the kindness shown to her. 

Originally posted by fuckyeahkeira

·· ·· “I’ll forgive you if we go out for ice cream.” a small half smile forms on her lips as her fingers tap on the other’s desk before moving to her shoulders and squeezing them softly before moving her own face to the same level as the other “Come now, you’ve been cooked up here for far too long and I’m sure that if I don’t drag you to get a break for a couple of minutes, you won’t do it yourself!” Maxima gives a small kiss on the other’s cheek before turning on her heels to go put some shoes on, long brown hair falls on her shoulders as she ties them “Tell me more about that forge maiden, while you get ready.”

          “Ice cream. Sounds good! I want to try that new parlor that opened down the street.” The writer rises from her desk, bones popping as she stretches once more, the notebook remaining abandoned behind her. How long had it been since she had lost track of time, engrossed in her writing? “Break? What’s that? I have no recollection of such a word.” She quipped, stepping in a pair of canvas shoes and stuffing the laces inside, instead of tying them. “Well, she was born in a forest whose name means Starlit Valley to an artist mother and a forge master father, during a time when there was no Sun or Moon, merely the stars on the sky,” Ariel started explaining as she tied her hair in a messy bun and grabbed her purse. 

      “That was actually impressive!” Maxima laughs moving from behind the couch and curtains to where she was, the weapon ( piece of paper half torn ) still in hand as she approached the desk and hovered her papers. As someone that was in Quantico she knew plenty about focus and running and working hard, but if she was to be honest, she did miss going out and dancing and just having a good ( no responsibility for a moment ) time. Her eyes moved to the watch on her wrist and then back up with a large smile “A bit more and it would be two hours of me trying to get your attention! What are you doing that is so interesting?”

          A sheepish smile crosses her features, the writer putting away her pen and stretching like a cat, trying to get rid of the knots and tension in her arms. “I’m trying to write about the ruin of a great kingdom. My forge maiden gets imprisoned there and witnesses the entire event while trying to escape with her life.” The last words are punctured by a yawn, an apologetic look crossing her features as she admits. “I can’t seem to find the right words. And I totally did not hear you calling my name. Sorry about that.”

starter for @maidenofnanelmoth

          Her hand scribbled furiously, words striken mercilessly before having the chance to be even finished, events half shaped refusing to take form. The writer nibbled on her pen, a persisting buzz in her ear growing louder and louder though she had yet to understand what it was. Pieces of white paper started flowing in front of her eyes, settling down like snowflakes on her notebook, persisting even as she blinked at them in confusion. Finally, words breached her creative bubble and she realized her name was being called. “Huh?” came the very eloquent answer, attention turning to her roommate.

Sappho, excerpt of He’s Equal With The Gods (tr. by A. S. Kline)