“Would it not be more of a shame that you found a reason to mourn their early death? Not that I would generally agree with this assumption that only they live not long..”
❝ I can look and appreciate. They are made as we are, after-all. …Well, not we as in us. Me, really. Without the– ears, creepy black eyes. …Yeah, without all that… stuff. ❞
Still one with the forest’s shadows, Legolas observed what his shot has resulted in & unseen frowned with the most obvious question in his mind as to why this woman did not at least faint on the spot. How could it be that she still stood, that she bled but neither screamed nor seemed to shed one single tear?
A taunting snicker came from the darkness, which yet embraced his vi- sible form at the stranger’s remark, for it was not like she hadn’t provo- ked him to release his arrow without any further hesitation. Pointless would a second shot be, a waste of equipment & the loss of potentially interesting knowledge about this individual as well.
Hence he followed the request & stepped out of the shadows, stern ex- pression & his bow lowered to signal that an arrow would be not what he might ‘shoot’ at her next. Though he was tempted, since whatever it was that she bled ruined the forest’s ground, killed the bits of green that had lived where she stood.
“You bleed no blood, you stand firm with an arrow stuck in your chest. To ask who you are would be wrong, for the question what you are seems to fit better. So—-?”
She LOVED the reaction she got, looking upon his face and into those odd, BLACK eyes that looked upon her with such curious and SINISTER intent. His face was chiseled, perfect in many ways and yet aged like a fine wine. Perhaps it was his eyes that showed to her his age, NOT that she could ever find a definitive number, nor would she ever ASSUME him to be an immortal quite like herself.
’ You’re such a little hero. So polite, so EAGER, so willing to learn. ’ both hand perched on her hips, looking down at the gaping HOLE in her chest, watching as that black ‘blood’ seeped out from around the wound to drip onto the ground. She practically DARED him to come closer without yet a word. ’ I’m a god, you dull twit. I can assume now that you are not-- you would have KNOWN. ’
Her eyes, green like the leaves of an ancient, dying forest, looked over his strange attire and the bow he held in his hands. He could claim his name to not be that of her sister’s all he wanted, but she could imagine a contest between the two of them ending in a mess of spells and ill-will. Just like her sister Athena, Artemis did not forgive.
Antagonistic. In combination with the word she used to describe the forest, a degrading one at that, there appears the question of who is being antago- nistic. Well, Legolas cares little about being called that & his only focus remains dedicated to the defense of his homeland—-
“It is my pleasure~ —- by the way, my name is not Artemis.”
Words merely muttered under his breath, the elf hesitates not one second as he loosens his grasp on the arrow to release it, let it rush in the direction whence the challenge has come. Did she truly think he would spare her for a supposed act of boldness?
He would likely have waited, given the visitor at least a chance to explain herself if the greeting would have been more respectful. If he deserved to be treated with respect whilst he acted as though he owned everything & everyone? Not in the mind of anyone else, but the more so in his own.
There was pain. Inexplicable PAIN, as if her darling Algea had come and wrapped her arms around the mother’s ribs. She felt the tip pass through her sternum, and felt the swirl of BLACK BLOOD caress the iron arrowhead with little more than a kiss. Her fingers scraped together like RUBBER, the long and PALE digits reaching up to c u r l around the stem of the offending projectile. She was quite certain it’d severed her sternum– a good shot, if she did say so herself. but without ANGER. without HATRED.
’ –Oh, I see. You’ve fucking SHOT me. ’
Words of obvious tension, her hand then RIPS out the offending arrow and allows that black, sticky ICHOR to bleed out onto the ground. It stains the front of her TATTERED gown and spreads grotesquely along the grasses below, KILLING each blade it touched and causing it to shrivel.
Her breathing was uneven, the goddess waiting to make any harsh or strenuous movements until the gaping hole had CLOSED. The ebony liquid acting as a horrific GLUE that clamped the wound together. She was lucky, had he hit her HEART then she might not have been standing here anymore.
’ Why don’t you come down here, where I can SEE you? ’
Visitors, intruders, always easily detected & naturally would Mirkwood’s elves not let anyone stride through this realm without catching them—- even if only to figure out if they were any form of threat. Legolas has spotted the glowing silhouette from afar, watching quite for some time without nearing & from within the shadows, equipped not only with his weapons but also curiosity, maybe fascination.
On silent feet he has followed the figure that now lingers quietly, the elf not certain which purpose they have here, nor if there is carried any awareness of where they landed. He does not come far whilst sneaking closer from behind, arrow aimed & bow held up in a firm, determined grasp, as the individual speaks all of a sudden & makes it easily known that not only the elf possesses overly keen senses.
“As well as it is considered rude to enter foreign territory without granted permission, stranger.”
Her eyes search the area, looking carefully along the trees and stone tops for one hidden amongst the camoflauge. She is brisk in her search, legs sweeping through piles of red and golden leaves. She can hear the taught bowstring, hear how it groans and quivers to be released, and at once she raises her arms.
’ I knew not that such antagonistic beings had claimed this precious HOVEL. By all means, Artemis, release the arrow and pierce me, if it will make us even. Let it be done so that I might feel this death and rejoice in your will to UNDO. ’
Both hands were empty, fingers spidered outward to show she carried no visible weapon. Yet she turned still, searching where she could, and though her eyes saw not the elf that aimed at her, she still egged him on.
Perhaps there is yet a certain fondness for the darkening wood of spiders and beech that Eris has uncovered. Her footsteps are silent as she crosses over the brook of unmentionable magic and jarring confusion, careful not to fall into the enchanted waters or rustle the sticky webs of sickening beasts that are sure to linger nearby.
The dark-headed woman is cloaked in a dim, greenish-blue light that seeps in through the leafy canopy above, the air of autumn and the setting sun keeping her on edge. Bare feet are silent against the fallen leaves, careful for everything they tread on and as alerted as her eyes. She knew she was not alone.
’ Watching people… it can be considered rude, you know. ’
My name is Vervain and I am twenty one years old. I use female pronouns and tend to speak in a very formal manner to try and get my point across without having any feelings hurt. I tend to be very busy during the week, but i will do my best to get to replies and asks when I have time.
First things first, please don't godmod! This means controlling Eris or anything that Eris does in character. It could be the smallest thing, like making him pick something up, to using your character's abilities to hurt and/or kill Eris when I did not give you permission to do so.
I am both selective and mutually exclusive, meaning that I will only roleplay with those I follow back.
I also reserve the right to reject roleplaying with ANYONE and for ANY reason. This is my blog and I will not be bullied.
Memes may be sent to be my non-mutuals, however. I will always interact with non-mutuals in my askbox.
This is a multi-ship and multi-verse blog. However, Vittorio is canonically bisexual.
This is a hate-free, theft-free zone. I will not send hate, nor will I answer messages directed toward me or anyone else that can be considered hateful or hurtful. You've come to the wrong place to stir up trouble.
This blog will contain offensive and sensitive topics and is considered generally 'NSFW'. However, I am opposed to doing smut very often and will probably keep that on the low side. Blood, sexual assault, depression, suicide, toxic personality traits and abuse will all be things that are discussed here. HOWEVER, they will all be tagged correctly.
Her name is ERIS, she is known as DISCORDIA. For thousands of years she has reigned terror and injustice on humanity, sweeping across the land in the form of chaotic hurricanes and crumbling eruptions. She is violent death, she is starvation, and she sets fire to those unwilling.
Born to darkness (and some say to the King of Gods; Jupiter) with her brother, Thanatos at her side, the two were employed by HADES to bring in the souls of the dead. While her brother was granted the gentle death, those brought in through infancy or through the burden of peaceful sleep, Eris was charged with the destruction of mankind. Envy, lust, these are just a few of the things she feels for those given less GRUESOME tasks. Her occupation creates friction on her appearance and creates what she had become. Sunken emerald eyes and pale, gaunt features. Spindling fingers rake at the earth, sowing the seeds of her Golden Apples that jolt the world in their wake.
She is forever known for the wars she causes, most notably the Trojan War, where she threw down the seeds of destruction and clapped as mortal and god alike were pitted against each other in absolute RAGE.
Eris, Goddess of Discord, lives among the world's most chaotic bodies; humanity. They, along with their violent free will, make up a collection of sinister creations and thought processes that makes her feel at home. She appears to them as the most terrible evil; the spokesperson for a Tax Agency. There's a certain joy that comes to her from the dread others display, heels clicking and clipboard displaying all the wrongs they deigned to commit. Riveting. But her terror-streak has run dry as of late, what with so few massive wars occuring with the blade and sword. But humanity has a few new toys to play with, and they are creating their battles without her.
Aesop's New Fables.
The generic verse for all of my cross-overs without a verse of their own. Usually taking her out of Ancient Greece and into a new, more modernized atmosphere.
Time-Swept Goddess.
Any verses taking place before the 1940s will be placed here. This includes Ancient Greece or anything occuring on Mount Olympus unless otherwise specified!
Vampire Chronicles [ Shadow of Death ].
Created during the peak of Greek Civilization, Eris was made by Cyril. Among one of the many Greek young women turned by the vampire with disregard for the rules, Eris was headstrong and sought after more than what the night had to offer. Her stay with her own maker did not last long, however, as Eris soon learned throughout history that her own kind could be more cruel than any human. She created few companions and had even fewer friends. She disappeared from known History at the time of the Roman invasion, choosing to remove herself from the mediterranean and seek out enlightenment and popularized-philosophy in other regions of Western Europe.
As a Child of the Millenia, she was blessed with the Fire Gift, Telepathy and Telekinesis. She can also fast for long periods of time if need be and her cravings are at a minimum. She is, however, one of the many that does not survive the ‘purge’ from Maverick Vampires in the final book. She dies by fire in southern Italy, near Rome, when it is set by her own kind. At this point in time she has made quite a few of her own fledglings and it is with them that she dies in a Coven House made known.
