━━ ⟢ TRIAL BY STONE.

while i still love all of these muses and the threads ive had / currently have, ive only ever really had muse for the emperor and the scientist ever since aor, like. MEGA muse for those two and onky the passing urge to write anyone else. Im not going to be archiving for deleting this blog but for now it is on a hiatus

               A      STRIDE       WITHIN      THE      ROYAL       QUARTERS      ,       her       body      was       fluent      in      movements        ,        ghostly       with       every       step      .      heels      echoed       when       making       contact       with        old        stone        flooring        .      ‘      you       speak      on      the      behalf      of     ?    ‘       tone       was       deadly      ,     the        question      lingered       .      tensions      AMONG     the      factions      /      races        grew      within      AZEROTH      ,      &      her       guard      was       held      high     .      ‘     i      know     not     of       your      kind     .     ‘        or        what      it        was       they      SOUGHT     from      the      dark     lady     .           (    *     @shardfound       )      

quiet  as  a  crawlie,  jaw  hanging  loose  to  reveal  rows  of  jagged  teeth  as  the  chamberlain's  head  stiffly  lolled  left  to  right,  simply  transfixed  on  the  alien  environment.  how  new !  such  curious  sights !  why,  a  small  part  of  him  could  get  lost  in  just  taking  it  all  in.  emphasis  on  small,  lord  skekSil  is  a  politician  above  all  else  (  almost,  )  not  a  shred  of  effort  needed  for  him  to  snap  away  when  addressed.  though  with  it  comes  the  awkward  realization  that  he  doesn't  know  the  ins  and  outs  of  nobility  terminology  here.

"  HIS  IMPERIAL  MAJESTY;  emperor  skekSo.  "  no  verbal  acknowledgement,  the  best  bow  one  can  manage  with  a  horribly  aged  back  will  have  to  do.  "  my  sire  is  very  busy,  couldn't  be  here  himself,  see ?  "

"  ALRIGHT,  alright,  alright,  let's—ah—let's  see.  "

the  collector's  hoard  was  a  sight  to  behold,  yet  something  rarely  seen,  a  hodgepodge  treasure  trove  confined  solely  to  her  chambers.  but  every  few  trine  or  so,  she'd  go  and  pull  any  requested  item  from  her  hoard,  ranging  from  fine  silks  to  bizarre,  jarred  specimens.  "  how's  about—uh—  "

with  a  sudden,  sharp  tug,  skekLach  whirls  around  to  face  their  fellow  skeksis,  one  hand  lifted  to  hide  her  beak  in  her  sleeve  and  the  other  offering  a  dusty  fabric.  rich  yet  fraying  at  the  corners,  moth-bitten  and  faded  with  age.

one  last  dump  for  the  new  muses  then  it's  time  to  write.

skekLach  time.

alright,  so !!  their  page  is  not  officially  up  yet,  but  here's  a  big  ol'  headcanon  /  meta  dump  for  SKEKGRA  AND  URGOH ! 

age  of  resistance  spoilers  below  the  cut.

heavily  padded  shoulders  grow  tense,  small  secondary  hands  fussily  adjust  her  coat,  the  main  two  balled  into  fists  at  her  sides,  one  tightly  gripping  her  sword's  handle  and  the  other  vaguely,  haltingly  gesturing.

MACBETH:

the  howl  of  wolves.  moonless  nights.  dirt  under  fingernails.  stained  silk.  chattering  teeth.  voices  hoarse  and  cracked.  rotting  fruit.  echoing  drums.  dry  heaving.  hanging  cobwebs.  stifling  humidity.  bloodshot  eyes.  the  roughness  of  rusted  steel.  wild  rosebushes.  muscle  cramps.  the  sound  of  splintering  wood.

A  MIDSUMMER  NIGHT'S  DREAM:

crackling  fires.  ivy  crawling  on  stone.  the  faint  music  of  running  water.  petrichor.  dirty,  bare  feet.  tattered  clothing.  thistledown.  wilted  wildflower  crowns.  late  evening  birdsong.  curling  leaves.  a  symphony  of  croaking  frogs.  drifting  feathers.  the  eerie  sound  of  windchimes  at  night.  humming  bees.  beds  of  clover.

ROMEO  AND  JULIET:

warm  golden  lamplight.  worn  shoes.  crumbling  brick  walls.  whispered  poetry.  embroidered  satin.  cool,  hazy  mornings.  tousled  hair.  rosewater.  flushed  cheeks.  distant  orchestras.  unfinished  marble  statues.  cobblestone. streets.  loose  threads.  ink  smudged  on  parchment.  tapping  fingers.  dust  illuminated  by  sunlight.  poison  vials.

HAMLET:

shattered  glass.  cluster  of  fraying  ribbons.  unanswered  knocks  on  doors.  lingering  dampness.  white  noise.  inexplicable  drafts.  migraines.  memories  of  dreams.  tarnished  silver.  bleeding  ears.  the  taste  of  metal.  reflected  mirrors.  dry,  cracked  lips.  the  sound  of  tearing  paper.  fogged  windows.  protruding  veins.

TAGGED  BY:  @wretchedgoth !!  ty !

      HESITANT THOUGH HE WAS TO AGREE, Kubo nods cautiously in understanding. He has never heard of dangerous, enthusiastic scientists but suddenly he does not want to find out. Frankly, his sheltered life kept him from meeting very many figures in the field of knowledge ; the child came from a commoner’s fishing village, and not even that – he grew up in the mouth of a cave.

      Kubo wasn’t smart by educational means but he was streetwise and had his wits about him ; hence the uncertainty that still lingered in his gut. By now he decided to follow the whimpering CHAMBERLAIN, even if he wasn’t necessarily sure about him. This creature was the only help he has right now, and it would be foolish to go deeper into this dark labyrinth, where he could possibly get lost.

        “ I’M NOT AFRAID OF THE DARK. I just can’t see very well in it. ” As though having human eyesight isn’t bad enough for being the dark, being half-blind doesn’t help him either. “ … If you go ahead of me, I’d be willing to let you lead me. ”

just  as  carefully,  skekSil  retracts  his  hand  to  let  it  fall  limp  at  his  side.  good,  good,  good.  maybe  he  was  misjudging  just  how  much  sway  he  had  in  the  predicament,  skeksis  ego  is  a  dangerous  thing,  but  assumptions  are  as  well.  he's  played  the  game  just  long  enough  to  know  that  well.

the  little  one  actually  offers  letting  him  lead,  and  the  chamberlain  has  to  smother  his  SMUGNESS  at  that.  it  all  just  fits  too  perfectly.

at  least  it  did  until  he  actually  turned  to  gauge  their  route.

"  ..not  so  sure  if  bridge  is  still  up.  "  to  lead  kubo  out  to  the  craggy  land  beyond  the  mouth  of  the  sewer  meant  an  opportunity  slipping  right  through  his  fingers.  "  have  to  walk  through  moat.  dry  moat,  steep,  not  so  safe.  "

that  only  leaves  one  other  path,  one  he's  already  heading  down  before  he  can  think  about  it.  up,  up  the  dark  and  wet  stone  shapes  that  vageuly  resembled  a  path,  or  stairs,  up  to  the  castle  floors. 

"  but—