#pacificbookworm

NAME: Catherine (as in my url) BIRTHDAY: March AGE: 38 SEXUAL ORIENTATION: fictosexual/complicated with humans lol :D DRINK?: used to occasionally but no longer due to health SMOKE?: Never.

TEA OR COFFEE?: Both, coffee is my poison tho. BELIEVE IN TRUE LOVE?: no AFRAID OF THE DARK?: somewhat PICK AN ANIMAL: raccoon

FAVORITES:

MUSIC: 90′s hits, devil’s carnival, Adelle, some recent songs on female independence PC GAME: Elder Scrolls, Harry Potter, the Sims (mostly weird house designing; once i designed water filled corridors and the thieves stole all xpensive shit while swimming 😂😂😂😂😂). ACTRESS/ACTOR: lee pace, robert downey jr, christopher eccleston, zoe zoldana, scarlett johansson, mila kunis, natalie portman.

FOOD: porridge (my scheduled breakfast for many years).

PERSON/PEOPLE: Ronan the Accuser, my late grandmother (lol). TYPE OF WEATHER: +40 C COLOUR: black

QUESTIONS:

WHAT IS YOUR SPECIAL TALENT/SKILL AS A ROLEPLAYER? I’m not sure I got any special skills tbh. I RP to explore writing and creating things and also an outlet for my muse as she’s been existing at the back of my mind for what feels like ages.

WHAT IS YOUR FAVOURITE TYPE OF ROLEPLAY GENRE, AND WHY? sci fi action

WHY DID YOU PICK YOUR MUSE? Star Wars is my Everything, if to specify that’s the Sith and the Dark Side.

IF YOU COULD WRITE ANY OTHER MUSE - BUT KNOW YOU DON’T HAVE THE MUSE FOR HIM/HER - WHO WOULD IT BE? Sauron, General Hux, Gamora (I tried once but it got too much), Shredder/Oroku Saki to name a few.

WHAT WOULD BE YOUR WARNING LABEL TO OTHER ROLEPLAYERS: Caution, that’s a Sith Lady. That implies torture, death, unconventional morality, unhealthy relationships, drug and alcohol abuse. If those are triggering for you, reconsider following us.

WHAT IS YOUR FAVOURITE VERSE OF YOUR MUSE? Diplomat who’s a Sith in disguise [main verse]. I’m currently exploring a mad Xerra verse for episode 7 RPs.

WHAT CRACK!SHIPS DO YOU HAVE FOR YOUR MUSE? with @fractured-magic​ mostly.

WHAT IS YOUR SENPAI BLOG FOR SOMEONE WHO PLAYS THE SAME MUSE AS YOU? I have mostly this OC but @nuada-airgetlam​ is 100% senpai as I’m running an AU Nuada blog.

ONE RANDOM FACT YOU WISH WAS A FACT BUT IT ISN’T: The Hunger Games have begun a long time ago…

TAGGED BY: @pacificbookworm​ TAG PEOPLE: whoever of my rp partners/other rp followers wants to do that but also: @knight–of–ren​ @queenstormwolf​ @storminmywake​ @noretii​ @fractured-magic​

Sorry I’m posting this on my main and not on @empirexshadow​ blog.

When fighting one's mind should be empty of all distractions, all meaningless weight, the slightest wayward thought might delay a life saving parry or the winning break in their stance. Though the years had dulled his discipline and his thoughts ran free. He considered himself, thought and pondered the circumstance of what it takes to make a man so capable of ending lives without so much as a single hesitation. Could he really consider himself the good as he gouged out the eyes of some young man trying to survive tooth and nail, even if he fellow into banditry? Was it his right to separate another from their head? His right to disembowel another solely because it served his needs and those against him were seen as criminals?  

"Wheres... Mora." he ask the last one still alive. Lifting him up against a tree. "There was word she was here." He would dig his fingers into the man's throat his fierce animalistic eyes boring into the younger bandit, blood spray clinging to his face and clothes.

"I don't know who that is you psycho!" He'd scream trying to claw at Travinter's face, trying to break free. "Get off me.... fucking monster!"  There would be silence as Travinter ran his sword up under the man's chin... blood flowing down his neck as he drew his sword and let him drop. The Adrenaline was fading... the pain in his joints started burning again, his lungs half filled with blood and phlegm. He'd double over hacking the crimson coated gunk onto the floor falling to one knee. Maybe he had more in common with the bodies that lay around him then he thought. Shite lungs, shite limbs, and shite eyes... hell he was half in the grave already at his age. Yet here he was chasing a woman he'd never be able to admit his feelings about.

Love? Was that even something he could feel between the decades of blood shed and battle? Was it loyalty to his friends... the way things ended maybe they were just allies of convenience. Hell who can say what drives a logical man as numb as he to pursue such folly. Maybe deep down the killing and fighting was all that could pierce the numbness... make him feel alive again. I suppose in the end all that can be said is it was important to him and that is all there really was to it.

The chill of the night washed away with the rising sun and the caw of the vigilant rooster. The aging man woke with a gasp of pain. Every breath a searing pain met with the taste of copper, the bitter taste of old wounds. Every bone ached, muscles sore, breath labored. He rose up from his bed slowly his body still laced with muscles even though his skin was a canvas of arcane tattoos and scars. He'd look at his callused hands weathered with age and hardship, blurred by failing vision Traviner would stumble to his feet. His left knee barely able to hold his body weight anymore he'd find his way to his cane to support himself.

REPOST do not reblog, please.

Tagged by: drorah-walks

What was your: Last drink: Water Last phone call: Someone at work Last text: “Okay, I’ll call you tonight.” Last song you listened to: The Rig (Fury Road soundtrack) Last time you cried: Tuesday

Have you ever: Dated someone: Not really Been cheated on: No Kissed someone and regretted it: Yes Lost someone special: Yes Been drunk and thrown up: Never List three fave colours: Blue, Black, Green

In the last year have you: Made a new friend: Yes Fallen out of love: No Laughed until you cried: Yes Met someone that changed you: I don’t think so. Found out someone was talking about you: No Kissed someone on your FB friends list: No (I don’t have a FB account.)

General: How many people on your FB friends list do you know irl: See above Do you want to change your name: No, I love my name. What did you do for your last birthday: Taking the day off and spending it with my parents, my sister, and her bf, having dinner at a Thai restaurant What time did you wake up today: 10:30 am What were you doing at midnight last night: Watching a movie called Oculus. Name something you CANNOT wait for: The new X Files season Last time you saw your mother: Today What is one thing you wish you could change about your life: Getting rid of my terrible insecurities and anxieties What are you listening to right now: Silence Have you ever talked to a person with the name Tom: I have no idea. Most likely. What’s getting on your nerves: Being ingnored

Most visited website: Tumblr

Nickname: Isi Relationship status: Single Zodiac sign: Aquarius Pronouns: She/Her Fave tv show/s: The X Files (forever), Daredevil, Black Sails, Wilfred Hair colour: Blonde Long or short: Long Height: 168 cm Do you have a crush on someone: I suppose so. What do you like about yourself: I’m an extremely loyal and reliable person and a good listener. Tattoos: H.P. Lovecraft’s (or actually rather August Derleth’s) Elder Sign on my right forearm Righty or Lefty: Righty First surgery: None so far First piercing: Earlobes First best friend: My sister First sport you joined: Horseback riding First vacation: Hmm.... I’m not sure, Disneyland Paris?

Right now: Eating: Cherries

Drinking: Nothing I’m about to: Lurk on tumblr, then go to my sister’s place to celebrate our mother’s birthday Listening to: Silence Waiting for: The new X Files season, lol. Want kids: Never Get married: No Career: Account manager. Definitely not my dream job.

Which is better: Lips or eyes: Eyes Hugs or kisses: Depends on the person. Shorter or taller: I don’t have a preference. Older or younger: See above. It’s personality that counts, not age or height. Romantic or spontaneous: Romantic, I suppose. Nice stomach or nice arms: Once again, I don’t really have a preference. Sensitive or loud: Both can be fine, depending on the person.

Hook up or relationship: I’ve had neither so far, so I can’t really say. Troublemaker or hesitant: A mixture of both.

Have you ever: Kissed a stranger: No Drank hard liquor: Yes Lost glasses/contacts: No Sex on a first date: No Broke someone’s heart: I don’t know. Possibly. Had your own heart broken: I suppose so. Been arrested: No Turned someone down: Yes Cried when someone died: Yes Fallen for a friend: That’s all I seem to do.

Do you believe in: Yourself: Uhhh, sometimes? More like, on the odd occasion? Miracles: Define miracles Love at first sight: No Heaven: Not in the traditional sense. Santa Claus: No Kiss on the first date: Maybe Angels: No

Nature had reclaimed much of the lost ruin, and to untrained eyes it might simply look like boulders. But Sylvia could see the small details that still remained on the outside that indicated it had been built by hands, not nature. Her face was flush and her breathing was slow and shallow. Her Elven face remained stoic for now, but her eyes told another story. She was terrified and in pain. Whatever lay in the ruins beyond, the elf was afraid of it.

They stood there in silence for long moments. Then the human beside her, clad in mage’s robes, turned to her, “Are you alright Sylvia? Do you sense something?” he asked. Sylvia, her reverie broken, turned to the man and took a deep breath then shook her head, “No, I am not alright.” she looked back to the ruins, “This is where it all started for me. I lost my clan member…I lost, my friend”. She looked down, tears stinging her eyes, “And I was touched by dark magic. Duncan saved me and when I was recovered took me to the grey wardens.” She looked back at the man, strong emotion in her eyes. The man finally understood. “I can go in by myself, you don’t have to come” he offered, but Sylvia shook her head, “I feel…I feel I must” she said. She changed her stance slightly and took a deep breath. Slowly, she walked to the building of her past, the building of her nightmares.

Inside, the ancient building was far less aged. The wall carvings were still visible and some of the statues of the elves remained intact. On either side of the ruin, huge tree roots had broken the wall and sunlight peeked in. It was much cooler then outside and Slyvia shivered for a moment at the sudden change of temperature.

The mage looked around him in awe. “My god Sylvia, these look like ruins from before the Trevinter Imperium”. He walked up to one of the whole statues, touching it softly. “If this is living stone it explains why the building lasted so long. Imagine who these statues must represent!” The human was fascinated by the lost history and forgot for the moment about Sylvia.

Sylvia heard him but she was looking down the hall. Tamlen was there, in her mind. She could see him now, his bow lowered, his sharp eyes looking down the hall at the ancient place. He turned back to look at his younger clan mate, “Sylvia, we must look further. There might be something of our past here”. A thousand times she wished she had done things different that day and the guilt weighed heavily on her.

After several long moments with only the quiet ambiance of a cave and the occasional drip of water, she looked back up at the mage. “Come, this way” she said to him and began to walk down the very hallway she had nearly four years ago. The mage reluctantly left the statue and followed behind her.

As they rounded the corner they saw the skeletons of the long dead darkspawn. Anything with flesh had been picked clean by the creatures of the forest and the cloth was beginning to rot. “Darkspawn?” the mage asked in excitement. Sylvia nodded, “When we came here, we were attacked by several groups of darkspawn. There are none here. I can sense nothing” she said as she looked over her shoulder at the mage. He nodded, but stayed closer to the elf as they continued on. Sylvia felt a hand over her heart slowly squeezing tighter and tighter as she retraced her path to the room with the mirror. She could feel the Dread Wolf breathing hot on her neck as she came closer to the room.

When they finally reached the door Sylvia stopped for a moment, catching her breath. For four years she had been hiding and running from her past and her pain. She now had to face it, to turn back now would do great damage to her. With a nod to the mage she took a deep breath and walked through the door, stopping a few feet from the pedestal.

The room was as she remembered it. Two statues stood guard over the silver colored metal frame. The mirror and the statues were on a pedestal and the ceiling above was high and vaulted. Sylvia felt a cold darkness over her heart and she wished Alistair or Wynne were here with her. Her nightmares flashed in her mind as she stared at the empty space where the mirror had been. She looked at the mage, “I will get the shards, I’ve already been affected by dark magic once and I have the taint within, if the magic still remains it should not affect me like it did before” she said.

She walked up the pedestal slowly, pulling a large cloth out of her small travel sack, and kneeled down before the frame, looking at her reflection in the glass. “Tamlen…” she whispered softly, then reached for the largest shard of the mirror. As her hand touched it, she felt an odd sensation. It wasn’t the sensation she felt when darkspawn were near, and it took a moment of concentration to pinpoint the odd feeling she got. She dropped the shard and the cloth and quickly stepped back as the smell of ozone penetrated the air and static electricity caused the hair on their arms and neck to stand up.

“What is that?” the mage asked, preparing a spell. Sylvia drew an arrow and prepared her bow, “It is a portal” she said. The mage looked at her, “But the mirror is shattered” he said. Sylvia did not look at the mage, “yes” she said simply. With the realization they had no idea what was about to happened, he prepared his spells.  Sylvia waited for the inevitable, then looked at the mage who was just standing there. “Mage, close the portal!” she yelled to him. The mage looked at her for a second, then realization crossed his face, “Yes, right” he said and began to prepare the spell. It would take time, too much time.

There had been a light. He remembered that with certainty. Tamlen could not remember seeing a light so bright before in his life. Not even when he once stepped from the aravel or stuck his head out one morning with his face turned directly to the rising sun.

There wasn’t only light - there had been a sound so deep but so keen that he could feel the sound on the hairs of his neck, and the bones of his body and deep in his chest. But it also shrieked against his ears so that he could feel it vibrating against his teeth. 

Tamlen couldn’t remember for how long he’d been here in this place. It seemed like a place one visited in nightmares - for there was nothing comforting about the place he found himself after the light.

He’d convinced himself he died, and this was some sort of afterlife. A great crisis followed, where he doubted and believed and somehow managed to do both at the same time. He wished he listened to the Keeper, and the elders. Was this punishment from Falon’Din for making some wrong choice he didn’t know about? Was he supposed to be here?

After a while, Tamlen simply grew tired of thinking and explored. His boldness was more tempered than it had been when he got into this predicament, but he knew he could not simply stay in one place. Cautiously at first, he wandered.

When he became weak with hunger, he knew he was not dead. Crisis followed again, but he could not place where he was or what happened. A sense of danger heightened, realizing that he had not in fact died like he thought, but was still susceptible to it whenever it felt the desire to strike.

Eventually, Tamlen (barely) managed to retrace his steps to where he first recalled being. With a growing weight of fear and anxiety in his belly, heavy like a stone dropped into water, he searched for clues for a way out. Hope seemed lost - but then he felt that sound again, the one that made his body quiver and the hair on his body stand on end.

Perhaps it was because of where he was standing, but the bright light returned and completely enveloped him. He gave a cry of surprise, fear, and relief - had he done the right thing? Had he turned the right stone over like it was a key to returning? Little did he know, there was nothing he had done that triggered the portal to reopen, independent of a whole eluvian on the other side.