Things are so busy and I can barely manage to do two blogs at the moment, let alone four. But Meera will be back once things calm down. At the end of this month, I’ll be free, and will have more time to spend on my muses.
( trystcne )
bones ache, the scar that laces from naval to neck seems to hurt when he thinks of all that happened, when he remembers that he should not have survived. they had him. they had time. they could have killed him, and instead, they sent him back with a message. and now he faces living every single day in this place because he couldn’t bear the thought of being anywhere else. ‘ i guess they’re starting to think that it’s a given that they will survive. but i think there’s something coming. the way they spoke, the warning, it seemed like they were planning something. ’ he can’t quite explain. in his testimony, he couldn’t put the weight behind the words that they had spoken, couldn’t make it seem as important as he felt it was. something was coming. something big. something that would change them. the odds couldn’t stay as good as they were in that moment.
Meera frowned at the idea of something being plotted by the Sidhe. “I don’t know what else they could do that could be worse than what they are doing already,” Meera murmured. Stealing children, hunting them down for hours on end, killing and maiming them. It made her nervous, despite the fact that her time was done. But could that be part of the plan? Could people be taken back again and again? Could adults be taken? “I suppose only time can tell, and all we can do until then is to keep preparing. I don’ know what else we can do.”
{ @faithofgreywater || the call continued from here }
“You’re my sister. I’m always going to check up on you,” Heather gave her a small smile. Her visit wasn’t entirely for Meera. After see Trystane’s wounds, she couldn’t see anyone but her sister lying in front of her. There was so much death in her life that she needed to see proof of life. Proof that they weren’t doing all of this for nothing. When the kids came back, they were mangled and torn apart. It could have been Meera who didn’t come back like that. She had never been called herself and for that she was grateful, but it had been hell and back watching her sister go through it. “I just wanted to see you.”
Meera frowned slightly, not really wanting to be checked on but she supposed that she wouldn’t mind the company if her sister only wanted to see her. “Come in then,” she said, patting a spot on her bed to tell her sister to sit down. Watching as Heather did so, Meera looked down as she fiddled with a loose thread on her jumper. “It’s just brought memories back, what with Trystane having survived and all that,” she explained.
(Book 1 of the Outlander Series by Diana Gabaldon)
“Don’t be afraid. There’s two of us now.” “Ye need not be scairt of me, Nor anyone here, so long as I’m with ye.“ “I can bear the pain myself, but I couldn’t bear yours.” “Does it bother you I’m not a virgin?” “Well no, so long as it doesn’t bother you I am.” “We have nothing between us save respect.” “Do you agree?” “I shall know that I served you well.” “Where did you learn to kiss like that?” “I said I was a virgin, not a monk.” “If I find I need guidance, I’ll ask.” “You are safe.” “A hedgehog? And just how does a hedgehog make love?” “I must inform you I’m not of that opinion myself.” “I was crying for joy.” ”Come here.” “I said I would have to punish you. I did not say I wasna going to enjoy it.” “I don’t know what’s a sadist.” “Now, then. What does ‘fucking’ mean?” “What’s the matter with the poor child?” “Has she had an accident of some sort?” “That’s what marriage is good for, makes a sacrament out of things you’d otherwise have to confess.” “My life is yours.” “All right you bloody Scottish bastard, lets see how stubborn you really are.” “I’ll scream.” “I’m teaching him the fine art of not pissing on his feet.” “My father liked me when I wasn’t being an idiot.” “That’s not precisely what I had in mind.” “Do you love him?” “You’re supposed to moan ecstatically, not giggle.” “I want to hold you hard to me and kiss you, and never let you go. I want to take you to my bed and use you like a whore, ‘til I forget that I exist. And I want to put my head in your lap and weep like a child.“ “I only said I felt like God, never said I was.” “Fighting gives you a terrible cockstand after.” “Those were your mother’s pearls!” “I’ll thank ye to take your hands off my wife.” “You don’t flatter me over much, but I can’t fault your observations.” “If you ever raise a hand to me again. I’ll cut out your heart and fry it for breakfast.” “I wish I could have fought him for you.” “Take off your shirt.” “Haven’t you ever seen a naked woman before?” “Because I wanted you. More than I ever wanted anything in my life.“ “You mean to tell me that you married me out of love?” “Have I not…just been…saying so?” “Gave me terrible cramps, and I had wind for days.” “I mean to make you mine.” “I am your master … and you’re mine. Seems I canna possess your soul without losing my own.” “Who in God’s name is John Wayne?” “I was born for you.” “I wanted ye from the first I saw ye – but I loved ye when you wept in my arms and let me comfort you, that first time at Leoch.” “I didna say I wanted an apology, did I? If I recall aright, what I said was ‘Bite me again.”
pls give this a like if you want a starter, or pop into my IMs and/or skype to plot! group members only!
{swear-by-ice-and-fire for group verse } "How're you doing?" Heather leaned against the door of her younger sister's room. "Do you need anything?"
Meera was having one of her bad nights, bogged down with her own thoughts, her own recollections. The news of more students dying, as well as Trystane’s return, had prompted all of this. She had disappeared to her dorm a while ago, wanting to be left alone. The question from her sister was a well-meant one, of course, but her mood was irritable and she simply sent a rather irked glance to the doorway. “I’m fine,” she said simply. “It’s been almost a year, Heather, I don’t need checking up on.”
( trystcne )
drinks coffee that he has let go cold, he allowed it now that he has survived, now that he does not need to be so fit. there is a connection between them now, a feeling that they are left in an ending that they never imagined, disillusioned and lost. he never thought much about the after, none of them did. their odds were so small that they could not imagine who they might be. this was not what he expected, this hollow feeling in his chest, this thought that he should have died there. the SIDHE had him for so long, carved patterns into his torso, and then let him go with mere words. ‘ a break. something new to talk about. answers. pick any of the above. ’ doesn’t apologise for the way he speaks. there is a quiet understanding in her, he knows that anger won’t come. ‘ the new kids look ready to shit themselves. i don’t remember feeling like that. ’
The anger in his eyes seemed to quell ever so slightly as he considered her words. A small smile came to Meera’s face, glad that the experience had not ruined him completely. He still seemed rational, was still able to hold a normal conversation. Some returned in a much sadder state, and may as well not have returned at all. “I don’t know about answers, but you name the topic and we’ll talk about whatever you want.” Meera nodded in response to his statement, supposing her was right. “It’s different now, I think. More people surviving and all that. The younger ones aren’t just as hardened as we were. Or maybe that was just us,” she shrugged. “The arrive a lot more fearful, but we were always aware of what was ahead.” Perhaps that’s what made a survivor. Someone who understood what was ahead, and faced it head on rather than let themselves be frightened about it.
( trystcne )
hardened eyes, where he was once proud of his body, now a scar runs from neck to waist, a blade that broke him. he has been thanked, worshipped even, by those at the very top of their world, told that THE NATION thanks him. he played his part. the nation will survive. and now he returns to school, tells his story, leaves self exposed, shows no one just how many scars he was left with, never speaks of how he pities the SIDHE. why him? there was still time to kill him, and they never waste time. instead, he was ripped to shreds and sent home with broken leg and a message to give. YOU WILL NOT WIN. innocent enough, but said with such certainty, and – he is told – a cause for concern. he has not slept. he wonders if he needs to look after his body now, since he has come home alive. eyes move to the person in front of him, voice hardened, body tense. ‘ it’s all in my TESTIMONY. read that and then ask me. ’
She recognises that face. She too had been on edge for months after her return. Almost a year had passed now, and she had calmed slightly, stopped biting off people’s heads when they looked at her, but the wounds remained. Meera’s shoulder still ached, the three fingers on her left hand still itched even though they were no longer there, and her nightmares still kept her up at night. She doubted those after effects would ever truly leave her. “You think I’m coming to ask you about it all?” she questioned him. “I want to relive that place just as much as you do, Trystane. I’m only here to ask if you’re alright or if you need anything.”
It happened as she readied herself for bed that night. 16 years old, and taken from her own world, taken from everything she had ever known, dumped in another hellish one and left to save herself. Meera had worked out years before what her plan would be. She was slight, quick, and resourceful - her best hope was to hide. Hours spent pouring over the testimonies of others, trying to learn as much about the environment as she could, trying to figure out how to best conceal herself. All such gathered information left her the moment she got there. Likely only moments passed, although it felt like hours, before she got herself together and set off to start her plan. Shortly afterwards, she was blended in fairly well with the undergrowth, and lay low for most of the duration of her stay.
Meera moved around, delicately and cautiously, keeping an ear and an eye out at all times. Along the way, she fashioned herself a few basic weapons, made from branches and quickly worn down into points by rocks. She did remain undiscovered, naturally, and had to defend herself a few times, but other she deemed it wiser to run. Wounds were gained, fingers lost, fuel was needed. Her time was ending, she suspected, but she could not do without any longer. She risked finding water, but it seemed it could have been her fatal flaw. The remaining minutes were spent fleeing, zig zagging across the difficult terrain. Meera supposed her disguise helped her, but they were close enough to have her scent fresh in their noses. Arrows whistled as they flew past her, one took her in the shoulder and she plummeted to the ground. She could hear them, coming, thundering towards her. She had lasted this long, and for nothing. Meera Reed wept then, cursing the sidhe, cursing this place, cursing those who had stole the nation and caused this all in the first place. Looking up, she met a pair of eyes, before in a rush it all disappeared.
The next pair of eyes she met were the concerned, yet amazed, eyes of her dormmates.
‘Your people drove them out of their homes. Thousands of years later they turn up again – and they’re gonna wipe you out.’
THREE MINUTES…
You are ten when you find out the truth. Just ten when you learn that your chances of surviving to adulthood are more slim than anyone could have predicted. Only ten when you discover the horrifying truth about Ireland.
TWO MINUTES…
You move to a training facility. You make friends. You know you will have to watch them die. You know that you will each face the enemy.
ONE MINUTE…
Any day now, you will wake up. ALONE AND NAKED, being hunted, with just a one in ten chance of survival.
CAN YOU SURVIVE THE CALL?
THE CALL is a group verse for indie roleplayers, open to any fandom. The plot-line is based on the novel The Call by Paedar O’Guilin and I hold no claim to the plot or the novel other than loving it this much. YOU DO NOT HAVE TO HAVE READ THE BOOK TO BE A MEMBER but you do need to read my plot outline // important information which you can find here. Characters can be a Teacher, a Student, or a Survivor ( though i will only accept a small number of survivors because the rate of surviving is so small )
To join the group, please just message me ( @trystcne ) and we will chat. All I need is character name and age and the role you wish them to play ( IF YOU WANT TO PLAY A SURVIVOR, YOU WILL NEED TO WRITE A TESTIMONY BUT I WILL HELP YOU WITH THAT ONCE YOU ARE WRITING WITH US. YOU CAN SEE TRYSTANE’S HERE! ) A list of members is under the cut! Please track the tag: #the nation must survive || the call group verse ||
Survivors ( LIMITED. 1/5 )
Teachers
Students
so i just hit 100 followers! ( thank u @reodwulf :D )
i don’t know whether it’s because i’m procrastinating or not but i’m feelin a lot of muse for meera right now so
mutuals, like this for a starter or take this as an invitation to pop into my inbox and plot!
"Take me away from this. I can't do this."
The news of a wedding had brought her out of the Neck and to Winterfell. She made little note of the politics and power balance further north, but Bran’s letters had amounted to Jon needing the secure the support of some other house, and they had demanded a marriage. Many had been shocked, she knew, that a lord would want to wed a daughter to someone with Bran’s injuries. Meera knew that Bran had intended to propose a marriage between him and herself, but seemingly this had not been successful. Still, she had went to Bran to be there for him, to support him through this. He had asked for her the night before, apparently not caring about the inappropriateness of the hour. When he pleaded with her, Meera felt her heart break in two. “Would that I could,” she told him quietly. “But you have to do this, Bran. It has to be done,” she added. “You may find happiness in this union for all you know.”
Some may have called her a fool, but the kiss took her by complete surprise. Meera could not deny that ever since he had arrived to surprise her, she had noticed more and more how much he had grown, how he was a man now. He was no longer the boy prince she had met in Winterfell those years ago. His injury had not stopped him from growing, his body and face matured. That had been more than apparent when they had been sat so close in her chambers, merely talking after dinner. Laughter ensued, as it usually did, and before she could have said anything else, his lips were on hers. Her eyes widened, completely unaware that he had been having the same thoughts as she, although hers had not truly been enough to make her act on it. But as she settled into the kiss, eventually starting to respond, she realised that perhaps this was something she wouldn’t mind happening more often. His lips were soft, but also slightly commanding - which surprised her, for she was not aware of whether he had much experience in such things, although who knows what he had been up to after she had left Winterfell. When he pulled back, she found her lips following him in his retreat, for she did not want an end just yet. A hand on the back of his head, she pulled him back to her and their lips met once more.
No backing out or tricks–a straight up kiss.
so i just hit 100 followers! ( thank u @reodwulf :D )
i don’t know whether it’s because i’m procrastinating or not but i’m feelin a lot of muse for meera right now so
mutuals, like this for a starter or take this as an invitation to pop into my inbox and plot!
Ψ ; out of the neck
i am 1 follower away from my first milestone on this blog which is exciting. i do have every intention of getting meera up and running properly eventually, but school and life is busy and i only really have time for one really active blog BUT hopefully that will change soon.
i need to make a new promo to get me that one follower.
