#shewolfheart

3RD PLACE GOES TO @the-storm-within-me -  25 icons && a Aesthetic 2ND PLACE GOES TO @pirateheroism  -  30 icons, 1 edit, a Aesthetic 1ST PLACE GOES TO @theboatbuilderswife -  50 icons, 2 edits, a Aesthetic However after thinking on it. All you guys that did reblog + like it I will make you 10 icons of your character as well :) So the following people expect little icon packs for you over the next few days <3 I love every single one of you <3 @lcvinne  - @hascourage - @starsxmemoriesinthesky - @siilentwings - @xqueenofscots - @whorunwithwolves - @shewolfheart - @kingcenred - @thecaptainandherrose - @ambassadoroffashion - @myrddiin 

@shewolfheart  ԅ(´ڡ`ԅ) ↳ flesh and bone by the killers || lyric starter/closed.

He was always tired but that day just seemed to kill his energy though it didn’t help that he’d been up late working on his book and then his sister demanded he be up before noon. Wasn’t she aware that he had to work to pay his bills. Sure he made good money on his books but he needed to be around people to write them. Then there was the spell he’d done that was particularly draining. But here he was making his way through the crowd towards the bar to get started on work. “Hey.” He nodded towards his co-worker for the night. He didn’t know much about her outside of what she was but he liked working with her. At the very least she got the drinks made and it wasn’t all up to him.

She SO should have spent more time paying attention in history class. Somewhere, some hundreds of years from now --- Alaric was laughing at her. Giving her that knowing little smirk. She’d manage to steal a dress quicker than she thought she would, but she still felt out of place, her eyes shifting over the buildings lining the street, trying to find anything that would tell her where, or WHEN, she was. She needed blood though, the spell always took a lot of energy when it wrenched her from one place to the next, and being weak in a time when she didn’t know what she was up against was dangerous. Her fingers wrapped around the wrist of the first person she saw that looked alone, pulling them back roughly in the shadow of one of the houses --- if she could even call them that. “What year is it?” That always came first. What year, what horrible threat, and then how did she survive long enough to be pulled back home?

“ Different reasons than mine? “ he questions, lift of his brows once he regards her with a bit of questioning. “ Do tell, now that you’ve got my interest. “ which seemed rare of late given his rather touchy mood.

     ‘ i wasn’t stealing from you. ’ he was, but balfour is starting to realise that he’s a bit of a shit thief. it’s probably for the best if he gives up and takes to hitting things very hard with his sword from now on. he offers out the coin purse. ‘ you merely dropped this. ’ 

While the Inquisitor went to speak with their leader in hopes of getting them guest right, Robb stopped and watched the trials taking place: the bowmen, warriors, defenders, and champions all practicing in the yard. It was the girl, however, who caught his eye, as she hurled an axe over a man’s head. She was good; very good. 

However, now he was shivering, having not exactly dressed for the occasion and his attempts at building a fire had failed miserably. “This is a terrible idea after all...” He muttered to himself.