𝕏𝕀 𝕁𝕦𝕤𝕥𝕚𝕔𝕖

❝ There was something ꜰᴇʀᴀʟ about her, for all her neat gown and properly braided hair. She looked like ᴀ ᴡɪʟᴅ ᴛʜɪɴɢ ɴᴇᴡ-ᴄᴀᴜɢʜᴛ and just ʙᴀʀᴇʟʏ ɢʀᴏᴏᴍᴇᴅ ɪɴᴛᴏ ꜱᴜʙᴍɪꜱꜱɪᴏɴ. ❞

☽ʀᴜʟᴇꜱ ☾ ☽ ᴠᴇʀꜱᴇꜱ ☾ ☽ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ☾ ☽ ᴍᴇᴍᴇꜱ ☾

❝ 𝔡𝔢𝔞𝔱𝔥 𝔪𝔞𝔶 𝔥𝔞𝔳𝔢 𝔪𝔢, 𝔴𝔥𝔢𝔫 𝔦𝔱 𝔢𝔞𝔯𝔫𝔰 𝔪𝔢 ❞

a private, selective, independent, with sporadic activity, and canon divergent roleplay blog for Sonja Corvinus from the Underworld Series (Rise of the Lycans).

Please be advised that this blog may contain triggering content such as violence, gore, horror, sexual themes, and other elements. #tw will generally be used, ask to tag.

please read pages before interacting. written by nikko he/him. 20+ discord available upon request. minors and personals dni!

ᴛʀᴀᴄᴋɪɴɢ #wcrstarter

It was expected socially for a celebration to be held to celebrate the war’s end. Glad as she was to see the fighting end, it was beginning to test her temper for how the allied rules spoke of Morgana; failing to acknowledge the familial connection that had been lost. Lucian, along with a small selection of both his men and her kin had accompanied her to Camelot. More than once her mate had intervened to keep her from snarling at one of the mortals, or had one of their own pull her away to avoid a diplomatic incident beyond a momentary glare.

Sonja’s sharp gaze travels across the grandiose hall, searching for familiar faces. She sees Arthur’s sorcerer first, the expression on Merlin’s face is enough to spur her into action. It’s easy for her to pass through the crowd, some of the mortals skitter away from her approach like a flock of sheep before a prowling wolf but she pays them little mind. The vampiress glides to a stop and gives the fellow king conversing with Arthur a smile that is anything but friendly, watching with bemusement as the man balked then retreated quickly with a complexion pallid enough to rival her own.

Her gaze swept over the party goers, watching the retreat of the one she’d scared off—as well as avoiding meeting her mate’s gaze for the knowing look. Sonja turned back to Arthur, the fierce edge she held fading away like it had never been there to begin with. She knows, she knows the weight of being both relieved and mournful for the loss of a family member. The weight of it still on occasion would hang on her shoulders as a heavy mantle. Necessary action did not less the blow of having to cull one’s own kin.

Rip away babes before they know their mother. For all of her nonchalance, the statement has her halt in her tracks immediately. She adjusts her hold on the boar, turning on her heel to study the other woman closely. No magician had retained their life (let alone their sanity) to plunge deep enough into her thought to walk through her memories. Her past was known only to her here, it was impossible for Nhasala to know that she held a grudge against any that took children from their mother as her father had from her.

@retriibutions

It was mild entertainment for the vampiress, to see who was ever brave enough to approach her at establishments. At a quick glance she would seem to be a lone beautiful woman, clad in an emerald dress that clung to her curves invitingly. Anyone that dared walk closer, would soon be subjected to her gaze. Most would flee, balk as the hair on the back of their neck stood up, ancient mortal instinct screaming that they were before a predator. Those who met her gaze directly and still came to sit beside her, she’d be curious enough to engage in conversation. Supes were of no exception, often the rarest to dare come a little closer to her.

“Oh honey, you have no idea.” Sonja laughs before finishing her drink, enjoying the false warmth that the whiskey provided her. She looks him over slowly, allowing herself a moment to appreciate his muscled physique. The vampiress knows who the man is, she finds it rather curious that he appears to be untouched by time. She’d seen the footage when it had first aired, the brief stints of propaganda showing him shrug off bullets and attacks from other so called heroes. Still, she finds herself curious, would his skin be impervious to her bite?

Murtagh understood her, often without words being spoken; a simple thing that has her draw near to press a kiss to his cheek. She was still grateful to the spirits and powers of the world that he had survived and was free. The reshaping of the lands with the war over was at best, precarious. She almost pitied Eragon, the expectation suddenly thrown upon him that he would rebuild the riders. It was really only a matter of time before they were approached and asked to help create the new order of dragon riders, Sonja already had plans in place for bartering in their favour. But for this? For the Dragons to be reborn and as free as they deserved? She’d grant no quarter.

“They will be wild, raised by their parents as hatchlings until they are strong enough to venture out on their own to explore their home.” She agrees her gaze fixed on the nest, on the young lives she could already detect. Burning as bright as stars in the night sky. “If Szé or Thorn decides that in the future, for one or two to go to the elves….we will discuss the implications. For now I…..”

The huntress trails off as she tries to organize her thoughts, she’s tired and wants to simply sit with him and their dragons and celebrate that they’d succeed. They all were alive and free, the future theirs to shape as they pleased. The dragon eggs weren’t the only surprise they’d had of late.

In the fourteenth century Viktor had not only exiled her, but was the cause of her mate and child’s death. Even if she had been permitted to remain in her homeland under the stars and skies that she knew, it held too many bitter memories for her.

Humans liked to gossip, it was how she had learned that another voyage had been made to what was being dubbed ‘the New World’. It amused her to hear the declaration that Spanish ship’s captain claimed to have been the first to discover the continent; she remembered from her youth the tales that the Northmen brought from their last expedition. The son of Erik the Red had sailed past Greenland, finding new lands entirely. She remembered the craftsmanship brought back to Europe from that voyage, she’d never seen such exquisite beadwork before in her life. A new start in a land yet untouched by Viktor was too great for her to resist, and so she’d found herself venturing far north into Var Dohr; then later on a Northman’s longboat sailing their whale road to what they apparently called ‘Newfoundland’. A rather on the nose name.

During her time at sea she’d learnt enough from the Northmen to be able to speak a rudimentary amount of the language of the people that lived there, enough for her to introduce herself and ask some questions. She often wondered if she would ever speak in her mother tongue again, or if fate had declared it would be Norse, scraps of English, and the tribes languages that she’d speak in.

It took her several years to make her way through terrain the new world, to find a place she wished to settle in. She had no need for civilization, despite being of noble blood she knew how to fend for herself and make most things she required. Animals provided her sustenance, Sonja had no reason to subject the mortals to her vampirism to feed herself. She found a home for herself in a forest near the river, four hours ride away from what would become known in the eighteenth century as Clarksdale.

The vampiress enjoyed the quiet, the sweet smelling grass of her new home, the song of the frogs and cicadas that greeted her at dusk when she awoke, and the little insects called fireflies that illuminated the sleepy dusk skies. The only people that were privy to her presence were the local tribes, no European settlers had come to the region until four hundred years after her arrival. By the time the city was well established, she was thought to be a part of local folklore. The witch in the woods, only ever seen at twilight; those who needed help could see her out, but most churchgoing folk knew better than to try to find her and convince her to follow their path. Sonja was nearly a thousand years old, and had no intentions of changing her faith. Accusations of being a pagan or a heathen amused the vampiress when they’d occurred for a short time.

Another hundred years had passed before she had reason to visit the town, wanting to affirm for herself the cause of the stories the Choctaw had told her. Another had come, another like her but not quite the same. This one hunted men, killed mortals and fed upon them. If the newer vampire could not control himself, he would be driven away or perhaps killed. It was laughably easy for her to lure him out, he’d mistaken her for prey. She’d held him aloft by his throat, fangs bared as she snarled a warning at him in Gaelic to control himself and leave the territory. Remmick was a vampire, but not one of her bloodline—perhaps due to him hailing from the Celtic lands.

She’d both surprised him and scared him off, for a time she heard little to indicate his presence; the Choctaw had not visited her home to seek her aid with him again. She’d thought the matter was settled, and returned to her home. Two decades passed by, without a means to want to track the passage of time the ancient vampiress hardly noticed. The news brought to her door had Sonja wishing she’d instead slain Remmick rather than grant him the chance to find balance among the settlers. By the time she’d arrived in clarksdale, the Choctaw’s warning had been too late for her to intervene. The scent of blood and gasoline led fire hung heavy in the air, the news of what happened spread almost as quickly as the fire had.

@retriibutions

“Few women can say that they have met their soulmate. You are mine, just as I am yours.”

There were many that would claim that loving him was her undoing, fools the lot of them. Why would she not love the man who saw her for all that she was? Few would have the patience Lucian bore to handle her stubbornness, he surpassed her father in that aspect; the patience of a wolf and a blacksmith were not to be underestimated. He did not try to gentle her nature, as she did not try to tame his spirit.

There are many times she finds herself envious of the humans that are protected under the Coven, they are more free than she would ever be despite respective roles in society. She was luckier than most that her father had not attempted to secure a marriage arrangement for her, not wishing to subject another to her willful behaviour.

Not unless it would grant him further power and strength over others, rather than having to share what he already had. Sonja held little illusions that Viktor would approve of her choice, it was more likely she could sway Amelia to her side….perhaps Markus if she was careful.

Sonja closes the distance between them, pulling Lucian close so she can enjoy the feeling of his arms around her. Here is where she felt safest, wrapped in his embrace. She knows the risk of someone questioning why his scent lingered on her skin, but it’s easy enough to skirt the issue and cite that it was from her armour being handled by him. She longs for the day they no longer have to hide.

@retriibutions ”Is that so?” She drawls while surveying the scene before her. She’d been drawn by curiosity to see what a small group of vampires were hunting; they’d been entirely unaware of her following them. Sonja had deliberately walked along broken glass to alert the young man of her presence, calmly closing the distance between them. She recognizes a few of the fallen, fanatics that followed Viktor’s ideals. She felt nothing for them, as Lucian had once told her he felt nothing for the wolves he slew.

“It looks to me like they tried to ambush you, you acted in self defence. The blame lies with them.” Sonja conducts herself like one would before a cornered wild animal, no sudden movements, a calm tone of voice.

“I do apologize for the welcome party they threw for you.” A quick look over tells her that the wounds he had were superficial at most, nothing to worry over. Selene’s memories served to tell her who she was looking at, she’s careful not to make him anxious. “If you’re finished here, I know of someone that has been trying very hard to find you. It wouldn’t do to keep her waiting, from my understanding you’re the more patient one of the pair.”

@tornhumanity

”Remind me, did we actually agree to coming here? Or did Pretty Boy distract us enough that we simply followed along?” Sonja drawls, knowing well that they agreed to venture into the remains of Racoon city. Elpis was the reason. Leon thought it was another bio weapon, Sonja did not. She knew enough of the Greek mythos to know of Pandora’s box, to believe it might be a cure for the T-virus. The chances were thin, but she was determined to see it through to the end. The possibility of a normal life with Alice, wherein they could return to normal life, was too great a siren call.

Alice’s warning into the comms has her snap to attention, taking note of the infected that had begun to lumber her way. Surviving infected from the air strike, hardly recognizable as human anymore. She was grateful they were downwind of her, the putrid scent of the undead was strong enough to make her nauseated and dizzy. Her concern was the fresher corpses, BSAA agents by the patches sewn onto their tactical equipment.

Too many elements were at play here for it to be mere coincidence. The last time she’d seen the BSAA show up uninvited was back in Romania. She’s none too fond of the coincidence of their presence alongside the FBI, the Doctor Victor from umbrella, and that of Leon Kennedy and his partner; Only a small number of the big players were absent from the morbid family reunion, either deceased or otherwise occupied.

Her finger tightens on the trigger, the dry fire reminds her that she needs to reload the gun. A smooth flick of her wrist gives testament to years of marksmanship. Sonja completes the task faster than the human eye could follow, only the telling sound whir of the revolvers cylinder and faint tinkling of spent casings upon pavement indicates what had occurred. Her next shot is loaded, lethal, and smoothly executes the infected nearest to her via a clean headshot.

The noise of the gun isn’t ideal, it’ll draw out more just like Alice had warned her. The benefit was it served its purpose to show just what had survived the air strike. The very same air strike that had no documentation of who ordered the missiles be fired, a very curious loss of paperwork. No flight records of any fighter class planes that were airborne, no reports of ordinance than indicated more ammunition had been ordered for an air hanger in the surrounding region. Far too many infected were popping up, far more than there should have been to survive a nuclear warhead. As cover ups went, it was sloppy.

“Are you going to stay up in your snipers nest? Tarantula from hell keeping you off the ground?” She teases between gunshots, partly glad that her lover isn’t down on the ground with her having to look the city’s horrors in the eyes.The BSAA agents still have ahold of their guns and weapons, she has a mind to liberate them of their body armour once they’re dead. The damned spider had managed to destroy what she’d brought with her. Sonja hoped like hell there were no other mutated insects to contend with.