#prodigiumamare

@prodigiumamare : thorin

THEY HAD BEEN THE FIRST SHE HAD SEEN OF DWARVES --- and a halfling as well . she had been excited to hear that gandalf had returned . she had hurried from her studies to see him , pink fabric of cloak flowing behind her as she ran . she had only just briefly been able to speak with him , her back turned to his companions before he had placed a hand upon her shoulder , smiled , and went about his business . she had deflated then just in time for her tutor came to find her to drag her back to her studies .

she had learned about the dwarves later from elrond and her eyes had widened . that one she had seen . . . that had been thorin ? the one she had been told stories of in her history lessons ?

she had stayed stayed up that night , thinking long and hard of what she was debating . of course galandriel could sense it within her mind . she heard the elven woman's voice within her mind to warn her --- but also telling rosemary that it was her decision .

it was why she snuck out after the dwarves when she had seen them leaving from her window . why she hurried through the city as quietly as possible as to not get caught . why she pushed her lungs until she felt fire with each breath until she was able to get to her horse --- saddling her up as quickly as she was able and burdening her with her supplies . why she pushed the mare to chase after the company until she could finally see them .

" wait ! " she had called out . when the group had stopped , her mare slid to a halt and she herself slid to the ground --- a long way for her short , lithe stature . past the dwarves did she move until she was before the leader , delicate hand gripping her staff until knuckles almost turned white . " i am coming with you . "

unsure how long dusk had been walking, he wasn’t sure quite where it was she had taken him. the smell of rain lingered in the air and danced on the wind, a low roll of thunder rolled across the sky. a shaking breath in, a longer breath out—searing pain somewhere in 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐦, 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐫𝐢𝐛𝐬. his fingers held the 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐟 𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐬, face in the soft 𝐬𝐢𝐥𝐯𝐞𝐫 of her mane. “where you goin’ girl, huh?”  he whispers to his thoroughbred. she snorts, shakes her head as if a sigh had come from her. another breath in, he tries to sit up but knows he can’t. he tugs at the reins to get dusk to stop but the equine ignores the tug⸻𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐬𝐧’𝐭 𝐝𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞. 

“come on girl. i need to rest.” he needed to make camp, 𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐨𝐨 𝐟𝐚𝐫 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐡𝐨𝐦𝐞, too far from town and a doctor. the thunder rolls again. a long sigh as he closes his eyes, listening to the sound of her hooves on the dirt beneath her. 

arthur can smell the rain, the earth somewhere was getting its share. trees fill his vision, the sun hidden behind the storm was setting. 𝐢𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐝𝐞𝐫. another tug, less harder than the last. the equine still ignores the motion of the reins. 𝐡𝐞’𝐬 𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐮𝐩 trying to get her to stop. a drop of rain hits the side of his face not resting against the silver mane of his horse.

“rains comin’ girl… you need to stop.” if a horse could roll its eyes, he was sure his would. a gentle and queit whinny comes from the horse, as if telling him to shush. he closes his eyes, the rain is cooling at least. he’d been chasing a bounty, chased them through 𝐥𝐚𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐬 and towards catfish jackson’s when he was ambushed. 

he should have known. 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐲 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐝, 𝐭𝐢𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐬𝐞⸻𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐬𝐧'𝐭 𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐲𝐞𝐭. he was hit in the process, kicked in the ribs by his bounty after he’d taken out the few men with him. it was a shot for shot deal but arthur had aimed higher. he hoped dusk was headed for town, to the sheriff to collect the reward for turning this idiot in. 

dusk began to trot, 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐛𝐞 𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐨 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐡𝐢𝐦. hands held tighter to the reins. he was far from town, not sure where but it wasn’t where he’d wanted her to do. sighing defeated he waited until she came to a stop with a resounding call. lifting his head, his eyes settled on the structure in front of him, a home? he sighs⸻anything is better than nothing in this weather. dusk positions herself beneath a tree to get out of rain.

arthur in an attempt to remove himself from the saddle falls with a groan and a thud, patting the lower leg of his horse as she shuffles concerned. “i’m alright, girl.”  he rambles out, letting the rain coming through the branches fall on him before forcing himself to stand, eyes focusing on the door, his vision darkening around the edges. one step, another. he stumbles and catches the railing of the porch. one step, then two. he knocks on the door.  

vision tunneling again, he leans on the frame of the door, when it opens he has no strength left before he’s falling in. his vision returns briefly. “𝐥𝐮𝐜𝐢𝐚.” he breathes out before the darkness returns to his vision. "𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐬𝐞." he whispers, letting the pain and exhaustion take him, he was safe now. in safe hands.

@prodigiumamare : thorin

THE MOUNTAIN WAS NAMED CRUEL for a reason --- and she was the cause of that reason for it was her blizzard that was on constant upon it . banks of snow could come up to a man's chest . the wind could rip of person from the mountain itself . one could freeze if they were not careful . all to protect her slumbering frozen form .

however , if one were to conquer the storm and make it to the very peak , they would pass through the wall of wind and find an air of peace before the great structure --- a castle of ice that looked as though it had been carved by many artisans though it all had been formed by her own hands .

@prodigiumamare sent: ‘my hero. now fuck off.’ — sango for sylus !

sylus smirks, far more amused than he was taken aback by the hunter's lack of gratitude. he really shouldn't be so surprised, she was only human after all. "is that how you humans say thank you?" behind them, his wings beat against the wind and keep them afloat in the sky. a shrunken kilala is wrapped in his tail, out cold. this hunter should consider herself so lucky he had been flying nearby when the demon's poison in kilala's body peaked.

large claws tighten his grip on her back and legs as he carries her as if an attempt to remind her of her precarious and highly delicate situation. whether she's bothered by the stabbing pinpricks of his nails digging into her skin, isn't a concern to him. he does, however, admire the heat behind her eyes and wonders: what does her soul taste like? he can smell it on her now. the heaping whiff of vengeance and anger simmering in her spirit alone makes the fire in his chest blaze violently against his ribs.

Keep one step ahead, is the motto he chants to himself, eyes fixed on where he was going, rather than stop and look back. If he had done so, he risked wasting what precious daylight was still left in the day, obscured as it was by perpetual cloud, caused by the obliteration of several nuclear power plants, scattered around the world. Had there still been radio stations to listen to, Miguel could guess that the term conspiracy would be tossed around, with abandon, but it didn't matter any more.

In fact, he was more concerned with finding shelter for the night, remove himself from the streets before a strigori spotted him-- including his own brother! Still in the process of coming to terms with losing Gabriel to the blood worm scourge, Miguel, alone and carrying a stuffed pack on his back, brought the heel of a boot to the front door of an apartment block, and ducked inside, hand never staying far from the fluorescent lamp hanging from his belt. With some luck, he might achieve a few hours of peaceful rest and recuperation, enough that he could check his current direction, confirm he hadn't strayed off course.

Yes'sir. One hundred percent the freak to enjoy it.

"...Are you even human now to begin with after everything?" Kaiba asked with a sigh as he looked down at his watch.

@prodigiumamare sent: [ STAY ]: sender pulls receiver back into bed when they try to get up. — from a sleepy wesker :3c

she falls back onto the bed -more specifically against his chest- with a small oomph. strong arms are wrapped around her like a vice keeping her in place. it should aggravate her knowing she wouldn't be able to budge against him even if she wanted to. instead of fighting him, moby fights a smile instead, still feeling somehow like she's conquered some small, impossible victory despite having done nothing at all.