SPELL SINGER

#WISTREA : an independent writing blog for " LADY KIRA OF SERAULT, THE YRONWOOD WITCH, THE TEMPTRESS, THE BASTARD OF STONE WAY " originally from the realm of hiraeth and reimagined into a song of ice and fire / a knight of the seven kingdoms. established in 2026. minors, pro-shippers, and personals do not interact. dni if you use or support and/or use generative ai. ©

( 1. ) rules [temp under the cut] ( 2. ) dossier ( 3. ) prompts ( 4. ) about the marquisate of serault

AFFILIATED WITH : HALFGIGAS, LYKIRAE, BLUDLILY, SEVYNKINGDOMS, KILLCRIME

❛ i know. ❜ if there was any fear within the witch 'pon hearing such a declaration, she does not show it. she does not move to make space between them, where she lounges on a soft chaise with the prince's head 'pon her lap, surrounded by the cloth of her skirts which were the same color as his mother's house. there is not a sliver of terror in the way she looks at him. almost perceived to be flooded with adoration, is the gaze kept alight by the warmth of brown hues. she does not look away, even as his own eyes become sharp enough to cut, lest she be accused of her attention being elsewhere when he was right in front of her. a terrible crime, that would be, and the punishment of which she does not intend to discover.

despite what he had confessed, it does not stop the witch from brushing away the ends of silver - like hair from his forehead. as though she is looking at the knife meant to cut her and still holds it by her own volition. tightly, close to her heart, if the sharpened end should choose to find it. tenderness from hands that have slaughtered for shadows and brewed to kill from the mouth, given to a man who thinks himself a dragon made flesh. she cannot say for certain that she knows all that happen within his mind, but since the days of their childhood, she has been learning about his mind. it does not surprise her that he thinks of such things, and she knew it was well within his capabilities to bring forth a favorable attempt.

if death should come, then it was better from the hands that knew her better than any soul living or dead, rather than a stranger's or a foe's.

she herself has pondered the same, at times. when he draws himself close to her and her gaze is drawn to the jugular, or moments where he infuriates her as though the only thing he could set ablaze is her patience ... oh, the many beautiful things she could do with his blood. even now, as the edge of her nail traces a vein along the length of his neck.

❛ i would hope one of those ways is with your finest blade, or your own hands bared. ❜ she smiled. and i'd hope you'd miss me. ❛ but i would not make it easy for you. i intend to be your nuisance, until the very end. ❜

❛ are matters in starfall not thrilling enough for you, my lord, that you must choose conflict? ❜ the lady's voice is not unkind; it is lighthearted as they leave her lips, from where she had perched herself atop the chaise by the open windows of the room. although, it was unsurprising to hear, for one who carried the title " sword of the morning " was not suited to remaining idle collecting dust, no matter how grand the halls. kira had shifted from where she lay comfortably, enough to perch her forearms onto the side of the chaise, looking up at arthur with a curious gaze. ❛ the realm is brimming with strife, and yet you seem to to choose perhaps one of the very difficult ones. most of the truly noble pursuits are. ❜

WHAT FLAVOR IS KIRA'S SOUL?

SALT. ah little kraken, bold are you. restless sailor, dauntless fighter, lower your sword, let me see your shield. ah, of course, they are but the same object. oh wave-tossed ruffian, lend me some of your mettle would you? you have been struck by the sharpest of spears yet you still stand here proudly. but off your guard, elsewhere of the battlefield, you will find your spirit can parch others. your words are but weapons crafted from your soul. little lion, sheathe your claws, or the ones you love the most will suffer. you do not have to be strong all the time love, there's nothing wrong with being soft. vulnerability is not weakness, and if it were, what's wrong with that? strength is not always your greatest tool, your heart is good. put down excalibur, and use your words. you'll find they will carry you much farther. not everything in life is a battle.

certified canonical freak duncan

there is blood, heavy on her tongue. she could taste it when she ran the tip of it along the line of her teeth, lips parted as she breathed heavily in her efforts. the lady cannot remember whether it had been her own teeth or the blunt of his sword that had caused it ... but either way, kira had smiled : a wide and feral kind of grin that made the sharp edges of canine teeth all the more prominent. beneath the bright sun's light, she appeared not as the lady of serault, replaced now with all the wildness of a girl from the free cities, who preferred the greenvault woods and horseback to courts and useless formalities. do not hold back. it had been the only thing she had asked of ser duncan before blades were drawn. there is nothing that makes her more alive than this; she had nearly forgotten the thrill of holding a blade against an opponent as strong as ser duncan the tall, though she is fairly certain she has never faced someone as strong as he. while he had strength that outmatched her own, she was faster. sword foregone in the chaos of their sparring, kira had swung with a hand bare and curled, landing straight 'pon the knight who, oddly enough, seemed to enjoy it rather than admonish her. harder than you should? she shall hit as hard as she pleased.

❛ did you, now? couldn't quite tell through the smile. ❜ she taunts from barely a feet away from him, wiping at the corner of her mouth with the back of her hand. the gesture leaves a streak of red across her knuckles, but kira showed no signs of wanting to stop. no, she wanted to keep going. the lady smiles with teeth bared, prodding at a canine with the tip of her tongue. it was the most fun she has had in many moons.

oh, the beautiful things she could do with his blood. she was certain to daydream about it come sunset. ❛ again. ❜