#revengekill

he observes the working woman, lurking within the doorway’s shadow, piercing azure hues following every movement as she fetches scorching iron and presses it to the warrior’s wound.   his upper lip twitches at the sound his fellow raider makes,  all too familiar himself with such pain.   only when the air begins to settle and the frantic rushing ceases does he appear, sauntering to the side of the scene as his gaze passes over bloodied tools.   “ how is he ? ”   the earl glances to her face for a moment then back to his friend, features soft with sympathy.   “ he will . . . survive this, yes ? ”     /  @revengekill  /  sc.

wheat + violet + sunshine + mint

hux does all the actual leading so kylo has more time to devote to honing his square body

‘     I  KNOW  THAT  I  MUST  NOT  LISTEN  WHAT  ANYONE  ELSE  HAS  TO  SAY  ABOUT  ME  BUT  MYSELF  AND,  MAYBE,  THE  GODS—     ’     &     is  it  not  an  undeniable  truth  that  even  ivar’s  enemies  must  acknowledge  his  genuine  devotion  to  bring  forth  full  strength     &    concentrated  attention  to  achieve  his  ambitions  ?  it  might  be  inevitable  that  his  own  blood  will  turn  against  him     &     that  he  will  anger  many  foes  across  the  sea  who  wishes  his  conquest  to  end  before  it  even  really  started.  no  matter  how  reasonable  any  argument  against  war  might  be,  he  will  not  be  stopped.  never  again.     ‘     what  does  it  matter  anyway  ?  i  am  who  i  am.  it  comes  far  more  natural  to  me  to  make  enemies  than  make  to  friends  with  someone  who  is  not  offended  when  i  tell  them  the  brutal  truth.     ’     becoming  more  impatient  for  he  can  not,  or  do  not  want  to,  understand  why  they  argue  to  begin  with,  he  huffs  with  exaggeration,  expresses  his  mild  irritation  upon  narrowing  his  eyes     &     tapping  his  legs  stretched  out  before  him.  may  -  be  he  ought  to  take  it  slower,  to  put  less  strain  on  his  legs,  to  depend  more  on  his  arms,  or  allow  others  to  support  his  weight.  but  why  would  he  bother  ?  he  has  grown  tired  of  feeling  like  he  is  sheltered  in  every  attempt  to  avoid  a  broken  bone.  his  gaze  flicks  upwards  to  meet  her  eyes.     ‘     have  you  truly  expected  i  am  going  to  change  my  mind  about  the  promise  i  made  to  my  mother  ?  in  the  end,  everything  i  do  is  about  that  one  promise  i  made.     ’

‘     MY  FATHER  LEFT  ME  OUTSIDE  TO  DIE  WHEN  I  WAS  A  BABY,     ’     ivar  squirms  in  discomfort     &    grunts  in  pain  between  clenched  teeth  as  his  bodyguards  keep  trying     (  and  failing,  )     to  remove  the  metal  splints  wrapped  around  his  legs,  strong  enough  to  wrestle  the  weight  of  the  heavy  material,  but  unable  to  be  equally  careful.     (  the  knife  swirling  around  his  finger  might  not  be  helping.  )     with  a  pained  hiss  he  leans  forward  to  grab  the  more  useless  leg  with  one  hand  before  looking  up     &     searching  for  her  eyes.     ‘     i  am  not  interested  to  ingest  any  medicine  that  might  cloud  my  mind,  but  if  you  know  something,  anything,  that  can  help  to  ease  the  strain  on  my  legs  externally—  ?     ’

𝑠 / 𝑐 :   @revengekill

his head cocks, tilting as his chin juts out so that he may peer over his shoulder at the woman who tends his wounds.   tend being a generous word  given the somewhat lack of gentleness to her touch.   “ on the contrary, ”   he exhales,  dry wit salting the tip of his tongue.   “ I would not be one to complain if you didn’t. ”   his notorious smile verges crooked lips  -  no doubt the blood loss though that’s not to say he’s wholly unaffected by the pretty woman pressing a cloth to his injury.   “ but then I will have bled out so I suppose I wouldn’t be able to, anyway. ”   nothing’s gained from his drawled drivel and with that in mind, he purses his lips and slumps  -  sulking at the circumstance.

      curiously her eyes follow as mary begins to pull various tools from her bag, watching with silent interest as they’re laid out on a tray before her. most of those toys she’s never seen before today, doesn’t know what they're called, but she wants to know what they’re for, who they’re for, and if like her, this raven surgeon had an appetite for more than cosmetic modifications. a wolf in the guise of a lamb. was she modified as well ?