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♖ :A kill you regret

"A kill? I didn't- I never could have killed them! That wasn't me! I swear by the Light, I had no control over what I was doing... My mother and Father... Lathious' wife... I nearly- The feral part of me, that curse, that was what did it. I never did, I never could have. I am not a killer!"

#Arixandra Gladstone #RP Prompt #RIVER IN EGYPT HONEY #wroughtmyownruin

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fashion encyclopedia: Hanna Toumajean f/w 2014 couture

#inspiration #fashion

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Sorceress by El-Ste

#inspiration

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#inspiration #Arix's Outfits

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Ask a Killer

| Heroes or Villains, Killing May Be Relative |

♔ :First kill

♕ :Last kill

♖ :A kill you regret

♗ :A kill you have been known to boast about

♘ :How you prefer to kill someone

♙ :Most malicious act tied to your name

♚ :A time when you showed mercy

♛ :A time when mercy was requested but not provided

♜ :Post-kill actions, thoughts, or emotions

♝ :Ever killed for sport?

♞ :Define a good kill

♟ :A close call to being killed yourself

#Call her a killer #She how ashamed she gets

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((Remind me to use these gifs during RP prompts later))

#imspiration #Arixandra Gladstone

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Happy Birthday Morena Baccarin!!!

Morena Baccarin (born June 2, 1979)

#inspiration

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“Hold them! Hold them damnit!” The feral snarling thing came over the soldiers and towards the only one of them not in protective armour. A sweet fleshy treat all wrapped up in a bow; soft girl-flesh to rip into. “HOLD IT YA USELESS PIECE O'SHIT!” Arixandra screamed out something primal and threw a wave of frost out to the beast. Cracking ice was heard and breath came out steaming suddenly. Her throat was raw, her concentration had only crystallised from a need of self preservation. Pathetic.

The Worgen had stopped mere inches from her hand, a hand better suited to sewing with fine threads or setting magic into a gold necklace. Saliva beaded like dew on cursed fangs while men in plate chopped it to pieces and the things yellow eyes bore into her own amber ones. She hadn't even been able to freeze it entirely, though the Mage herself stood like she had been frozen by her own spell.

“Gladstone! Get a hold o'yerself!” The cry came into her ear and she jumped, holding onto the staff she had carefully, almost lovingly laid spells of wisdom and power into. She should have charmed it against fear. “Good fer nothin', can't even protect yerself girl. Get her outta 'ere! She's just getting' in th'way!” The battle wore on around them. The Worgen were everywhere, turning anyone that wasn't shielded into a perverted version of a wolf. A mindless beast.

She didn't move. She couldn't. How close had she come. How bloody close has she come to death. Any bite, any scratch, meant instant execution. Not even the mindless bestial form, the one that kept her up at night. Those glowing feral eyes. It wanted to tear her apart and put her back together again as something not even human. Just death awaited her.

A hand grabbed her, pulling her away. She looked down, pale and terrified. She was shaking, and the messenger boy running her back to camp looked at her with utter disgust. He wanted to be out there, fighting for his country and friends. Arix wanted to be far away from the fight. She got what she wanted and he did not. He hated her, and she hated herself for being so damned useless and cowardly.

Something in her clicked. Arixandra Gladstone could barely summon the Arcane to save her life, but maybe she could infuse it into armour to save others. She still shook, the sweat ran off her skin like someone had dumped a bucket of water on her, but her mind turned the idea over and over, examining it from every angle.

Her parents probably knew someone that could get a live Worgen. They just had to keep it muzzled, sedated, locked up, and all three of them could maybe work on a way to enchant something that would stop the curse from spreading.  

#Allowyn's Writing #Arixandra Gladstone #Wyrmrest Accord #Mage

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Polgara Disrobing art by RupertEverton

#inspiration