#┝ TIGHTENING NOOSE OF FATE ✤ ( headcanon. ) ┤ | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

nxtawitch · 3 years

Text

Muse’s Aesthetics !!

BOLD any which apply to your muse! Remember to REPOST! Feel free to add to the list!

[ COLORS ] red. brown. orange. yellow. green. blue. purple. pink. black. white. teal. silver. gold. grey. lilac. metallic. matte. royal blue. strawberry red. charcoal grey. forest green. apple red. navy blue. crimson. cream. mint green. lavender. copper. turquoise. amber. magenta. midnight. jade green. neon yellow. neon green. tan.

[ ELEMENTS ] fire. ice. water. air. earth. metal. spirit. rain. snow. wind. moon. stars. sun. heat. cold. steam. frost. lightning. sunlight. moonlight. dawn. dusk. twilight. midnight. sunrise. sunset. dewdrops. [ BODY ] claws. long fingers. fangs. teeth. wings. tails. lips. bare feet. freckles. bruises. canine. acne. scars. scratches. wounds. burns. spikes. fur. feathers. scales. webs. eyes. hands. tongue. sweat. tears. feline. chubby-faced. curvy. short. tall. busty. normal height. muscular. makeup. piercing. tattoos. dimples. plastic surgery. dyed hair. painted nails. amputation.

[ WEAPONS ] fists. brass knuckles. sword. dagger. spear. arrow. hammer. shield. poison. guns. axes. throwing axes. whips. knives. throwing knifes. pepper sprays. tasers. machine guns. slingshots. katanas. maces. staffs. wands. powers. magical items. magic. rocks. mud balls. claws. razors. fighting fans.

[ MATERIALS ] gold. silver. platinum. titanium. diamonds. pearls. rubies. sapphires. emeralds. amethyst. opal. topaz. jade. agate. bismuth. geodes. metal. iron. rust. steel. glass. wood. porcelain. paper. wool. fur. faux fur. lace. leather. silk. satin. velvet. denim. linen. cotton. charcoal. clay. stone. asphalt. brick. marble. granite. dust. glitter. blood. dirt. mud. smoke. ash. shadow. carbonate. rubber. synthetics. fool’s gold. fossils. sea glass.

[ NATURE ] grass. leaves. pine trees. maple trees. palm trees. bark. roses. daisies. tulips. lavender. lilies. hibiscus. petals. thorns. seeds. vines. roots. hay. sand. rocks. flowers. ocean. river. meadow. forest. desert. tundra. savanna. swamps. rainforest. petrichor. caves. underwater. coral reef. beach. waves. space. clouds. mountains. shooting stars. rainbows. auroras. fjords. canyons. floods. droughts. thunderstorms. tornadoes. hurricanes. tsunamis. volcanoes. earthquakes. blizzards. meteors. constellations. comets. planets. seashells. driftwood.

[ ANIMALS ] lions. tigers. bears. wolves. eagles. owls. falcons. hawks. swans. snakes. turtles. ducks. bugs. spiders. birds. whales. dolphins. fish. sharks. horses. zebras. giraffes. cats. dogs. bunnies. cows. sheep. pigs. goats. frogs. snails. praying mantises. butterflies. bees. wasps. crows. ravens. parrots. peacocks. mice. rats. hamsters. lizards. werewolves. unicorns. pegasus. phoenix. dragons. foxes. llamas. camels.

[FOODS/DRINKS ] sugar. salt. candy. bubblegum. wine. champagne. hard liquor. beer. coffee. tea. kombucha. spices. herbs. apple. orange. lemon. lime. cherry. pineapple. strawberry. watermelon. cranberry. bananas. mango. coconut. pomegranate. vegetables. fruits. meat. fish. pies. cakes. desserts. chocolate. vanilla. hazelnut. peppermint. cream. caramel. berries. nuts. cinnamon. popcorn. pretzels. soda. burgers. burritos. pizza. pasta. ambrosia. lasagna. peanut butter. curry. bacon. soup. cheese. avocado.

[ HOBBIES ] music. art. watercolors. gardening. smithing. sculpting. painting. sketching. fighting. thievery. writing. composing. cooking. sewing. cosplay. training. dancing. acting. singing. martial arts. self-defense. electronics. technology. blogging. vlogging. cameras. video cameras. video games. computer. phone. movies. theatre. libraries. books. magazines. cds. records. vinyls. cassettes. piano. violin. guitar. electronic guitar. bass guitar. harmonica. harp. woodwinds. brass. bells. sitar. keyboard. drums. percussion. marching band. drama. playing cards. poker chips. chess. dice. motorcycle riding. eating. climbing. running. partying.

[ STYLE ] lingerie. armor. cape. dress. tunic. vest. blazer. shirt. boots. sneakers. slip-ons. sandals. heels. leggings. trousers. jeans. shorts. skirt. jewelry. earrings. necklace. bracelet. ring. pendant. hat. crown. circlet. helmet. scarf. brocade. cloaks. corsets. doublet. chest plate. gorget. bracers. belt. sash. coat. jacket. hood. gloves. socks. masks. cowls. braces. tie. watches. glasses. sun glasses. visor. eye contacts. makeup. bowties. canes. bows.

[ MUSIC ] rock. pop. jazz. rap. r&b. hip-hop. funk. alternative. classical. trance. dubstep. edm. ebm. hardstyle. blues. latin. k-pop. j-pop. ambient. new age. metal. world fusion. dancehall. reggae. soca. punk. ska. singer-songwriter. folk. country. bluegrass. swing. opera. show tunes. a capella. minimalist. avant-garde. new wave. disco. baroque. symphonic metal. soundtrack. vaporwave. glitch. house. chillout. psychedelic rock. post-rock. cabaret. trip-hop. easy listening. trap. nightcore. indie. grunge. contemporary. black metal. metalcore. emo. screamo. rockabilly. parody. industrial. electro pop.

[ MISC ] balloons. bubbles. fireworks. reflections. cityscape. cathedral. mosque. light. dark. candles. war. peace. money. power. percussion. clocks. photos. mirrors. pets. diary. fairy lights. madness. sanity. sadness. happiness. optimism. pessimism. loneliness. family. friends. assistants. co-workers. partner. enemies. loyalty. smoking. drugs. kindness. love. hugs. kisses. lies. angels. demons. fairies. elves. gnomes.

Tagged by: @bloodofthefates

Tagging: Anyone!

#┝ TIGHTENING NOOSE OF FATE ✤ ( headcanon. ) ┤

9 notes · View notes

nxtawitch · 4 years

Text

Strength and Wisdom

There were few things that broke Gisela’s focus while she worked, and the crack of weapons in the yard was at the top of that list. The crack was followed up by a crash and grunt, then a peal of laughter. Her grip slackened on the millstone, the slow purr of stones and crunch of wheat corns coming to a halt while dark eyes shifted to the open doors.

Past those who stood and watched, young Uhtred rolled from where Sithric threatened to cut down at him with a feder. The boy—all elbows and knees, with a height that had yet to be filled out—scrambled to his feet, his sword and shield gone. When Sithric approached, moving much slower than an enemy ever would, her son skittered away, bending down to grab the forgotten blade. Seeing how wide his eyes were, it took all of Gisela’s restraint not to draw the exercise to a halt, even though the wooden blades would do nothing but bruise her child.

“Lady?” One of her maids asked, and Gisela forced her eyes away to look at the young Saxon, whose brows were furrowed. “I’m unsure whether we have enough meat for tomorrow.”

Tomorrow. Alfred was without a doubt riding their way, having heard of the latest exploit of her husband. Getting in a disagreement over an urn with Æthelred’s goon (for the second time) was certainly not the best advised conflict, but Gisela had not stopped it—informing her husband of Aldhelm calling her a bitch had, in fact, led to the man’s nose and jaw being broken while she had the men bring the urn back into the home.

That reminder brought Gisela away from fears for her son—Uhtred needed to be a warrior, if he was ever to help his father retake Bebbanburg—and to what needed to be done. The daily grind of flour had been tripled, ale needed to be selected, and their food needed to be fit for the King of the Anglecynn (even if the food he served at his own palace was of lesser quality to her usual meals). She wiped flour-dusted hands on her apron, nodding to the maid. “I will handle the meat. Would you continue the grinding? I’d like it to be as fine as possible for our guests.” Her back and shoulders protested as she straightened after hours at the mill, dragging the heavy stone around in circles. It was meant to be Stiorra’s work, but the mere amount of it was too much for the girl. Instead, her lovely, dark-haired daughter sat wedged between two others, cutting turnips and carrots for the meal. Gisela smiled their way, her heart light with the fortune that came to them: a Roman home in Lundene, little worry over winter, and three healthy children.

Now, if only Alfred did not have to come visit her husband whenever he disputed with his cousin.

They had plenty of pork for the arrival of Alfred and his men, and a hen that had stopped laying went in with the vegetables to thicken the broth. Gisela looked proudly over the spread, with a loaf for every man, even the flock of priests that filled her home with black. While the show of the nailed god’s wealth was understandable—it was no secret that she was as pagan as her husband—Gisela frowned at the way the cloth sucked the light from the limestone walls.

While her maids served the best ale in her stores, she surveyed the men around the table. Warriors and priests did little to intermingle, though Beocca visited with Osferth in a corner. Alfred smiled when his eyes met hers, momentarily losing the grave look he so often wore around Uhtred. Gisela let herself smile in return, but her armor slid back into place when she looked back to the others, careful interest being the only thing visible to the untrained eye. Brows slightly arched, eyes devouring everything, lips set in the lightest of smiles, she’d become an expert at expressing her emotions through the slightest shift of her brow, perfect for times like this, where she was expected to be seen and not heard.

That meant, when she looked down the table and saw young Uhtred missing from his seat at the table, she could look at Uhtred and, once their eyes met, silently nod in the direction of the door to excuse herself. His brows quirked up, but he nodded in return, and she slid from the bench and the room. With the unchanged clamor of voices, it seemed as though none would follow her into the yard. The courtyard, usually the hub of all activity in the home, was quiet save for the cluck of chickens and a small, quiet sniff by the garden. Gisela strode that way, remaining mostly silent as she did.

Her son sat on Stiorra’s milking stool, his back turned away from the hall and the feast, His narrow shoulders curled in, the boy making himself seem even smaller. Her mind raced with possibilities of what she’d missed. Had her visions passed to him? Was he hurt in some way? But with another sniff, she took off her veil, wrapping the fine wool around his shoulders, before kneeling before him. Her brows pinched together at the blotchy redness of his face, and she took his small, still childlike hands in her own before he could wipe his eyes.

“What’s wrong, ástin mín?” Gently, she brushes flaxen hair from his brow. Every day, he grew closer in resemblance to his father, save for the way he often worried his lip beneath his teeth, as he did now. That was from her, always done when she thought no one was watching.

His hands tightened on hers, but he didn’t open his mouth to share. He had the stubborn jaw of his father, but Gisela would not press young Uhtred to speak. That, as she’d learned from her brother, would only make him more reluctant to share the cause of his pain.

Instead, she wiped the tears from his cheeks with her thumb. The stool she dragged over scraped against the earth, but once it was set, she sat and wrapped her arms around her son. For a while they sat, his head on her shoulder and her hand stroking his hair. The silence between them was an ocean she couldn’t cross, and not for the first time did she wish her knowledge of fate could lend her advice on how to raise her children, but to ask too much of the Gods was to invite madness and misfortune.

The cock strutted close, inspecting the two intruders to his realm. Gisela’s lips tightened into a stern frown, but the cock couldn’t tell the difference between a worm and a bit of spare roving, let alone human emotions. He pecked at her shoe, but upon discovery that it was not in fact food, he strutted away.

And somehow, with it he pulled her across the ocean, for young Uhtred spoke at last. “Father doesn’t like me, does he?”

Ice shot through her veins. Sure, there was little equal footing they could meet on, but surely—”Why would you think that, miting? Your father and I love you.” Gisela smiled, but it felt too wrong even for her. It faded quickly, and she took her son’s chin to make him look at her, brows raising.

He turned his head away, eyes falling to the earth. “I’m not strong. I don’t like fighting, especially not as much as him.” He pulled his hands from hers, electing to pick at the hem of his tunic, where wear was causing the nap of the wool to raise. At any other moment, she would’ve scolded him for such an action, he saw how many hours she and the other women spent producing the textiles that kept him warm, but instead she pulled him close once more, and pressed a kiss to his temple.

If Gisela was being honest, she held him close and kissed him in the same way she’d done when he was born because the right words to say were still missing from her mind. Were there any? Reminding him that he was loved was all she could do.

“Father and his men, they always know what to say. They’ve got jokes, and good insults, and I sit with my mouth open, looking like a fish because...I can’t keep up.” He let out a shuddering breath, the words delivered with a maturity far beyond his eight years of age. Her son straightened, drawing himself away from her embrace. “I’m just not as strong, how can I gain reputation?”

Her blood boiled at that well-trodden worry. Gisela was going to have a word with Uhtred as soon as Alfred was gone. But, the right words came to her at last. “There are more ways of being strong than being good with a sword.”

“Like being good with a spear?”

“No,” She smiled, bumping him with her elbow, “Look at your aunt, Thyra. Is she not strong?” Gisela paused, brows raised as she waited for him to tell her she was wrong. She wasn’t, but young Uhtred’s eyes merely widened. “I thought so. She survived Kjartan, without ever needing a blade. And King Alfred is strong, even when he’s at his most ill. There are many ways to be strong, and not every man needs to be like Thor in theirs.”

“Then how, if I’m not a strong warrior?” His brows furrowed, the blue of his eyes bright with curiosity. Gisela was merely glad they no longer shone with tears.

“Your mind. Odin is wise, and as much of a trickster as Loki, and yet he reigns over the gods.” She taps his head, lightly. “Always ask questions of what you know, and leave your mind open to the opinions of others. It’s wisdom and tactics that win wars and make kingdoms great, even if fighting wins an individual battle.” She should know, for her father and brother were both fools, and it had lost their kingdom. Wits—her wits, though she let the Abbot Eadred claim the credit—had reinstated Guthred’s place, while the city struggled to rebuild in his absence.

Finally, a smile lit upon her boy’s face, and the rock in her heart lightened. He nodded quickly, and took her hand. “Tell me more!”

“You’ll have plenty of time to ask me questions,” She motioned towards the doors, “but there is a whole room of wise men you may not have much time with. Will you come join us in the hall again?” The boy looked over his shoulder, his lips tightening into a line as he considered. Sensing his apprehension, she offered a hand. “I’ll introduce you to Father Beocca. You’ve met briefly before, but he was your father’s priest when he was your age.”

Uhtred took her hand, squeezing it tightly, and Gisela stood. The milking stool she sat on turned over, but she didn’t mind that. What was more important was that he stood as well, and followed her to the doors.

“I didn’t know father was christian.” His hand tightened again once they were about to enter, and Gisela knelt down. It always felt odd, looking down to speak to a person. Especially her own child.

“He was. But now he’s not.” She brushed her fingers through his hair once more, making it nicer for the company within. “He was a good teacher, according to your father. It was he who was merely bored of lessons. I hope you will not tire of learning, though.”

Uhtred, eyes wide, shook his head. As if she’d warned him, he let go of her hand and pushed the door open on his own, too-long legs carrying him to the squinting priest, whose hair had long since gone grey.

Gisela watched as the boy tugged on Beocca’s hand lightly, his mouth moving quickly. Beocca glanced her way, brows raised, but eased into conversation with the child, his healthy hand gesturing wildly as he spoke. Young Uhtred hung on his every word. Content with the outcome of her suggestion, she returned to her spot by Uhtred, and entwined her fingers in his.

One look was all it took.

#┝ TIGHTENING NOOSE OF FATE ✤ ( headcanon. ) ┤#┝ BLESSINGS FROM THE GODS ✤ ( children. ) ┤#drabble #this has lived rent free in my head for two years

5 notes · View notes

nxtawitch · 4 years

Text

Lose Yourself in a Dream

intelligence

you're a soul that overextends yourself in all aspects to make up for the fact that you're not a disposable cup. you haven't let yourself breathe in years, instead choosing to make yourself 'useful'. whatever that means to you- throwing yourself into an interest so you feel like you know something, holding together a barely stable friend while you yourself are tape and glue, etc etc. i promise it's okay to not always know the answer. things will get better because you're better at things than you think. so keep that heart pumping, yeah? there's plenty of people that want you around.

tagged by: @tothedevilsshow

tagging: anyone who wants to!

#┝ INEVITABLE MADNESS ✤ ( memes. ) ┤#┝ TIGHTENING NOOSE OF FATE ✤ ( headcanon. ) ┤

2 notes · View notes

nxtawitch · 4 years

Text

an important hc I have about Gisela: to keep things grounded, she doesn’t actually see the future. The sticks fall in a pattern, and she uses logic and her own personal biases to glean meaning from them, the same way many of the other seers in the Saxon Stories do.

Gisela got lucky with the prophecy about her children (and one could consider it somewhat self-fulfilling with regards to her sons). This is also why she perceives Alfred as the one going to unite England, despite it very much not being him to do so actually. While the evolution of burhs and resistance against the Danes certainly helped, there’s a reason Guillaume the Bastard is considered the first King of England. Gisela has a bias towards him and his line due to them being personal friends of hers.

With the prophecy of what her kids would do, she is wrong about a major point: Stiorra does not end up being the mother of kings. While Uhtred helps make Sigtryggr king of Northumbria after the decade-long vacuum left by Guthred’s death, Stiorra’s children with him do not become rulers. Stiorra’s daughter perishes from a plague, and I cannot recall if they had any other children. With Stiorra’s passing in War of the Wolf, that directly goes against the “one will break your heart, one will be a great warrior, and one will be the mother of kings” prophecy that Gisela gave Uhtred after their first night together.

Gisela percieves herself as one knowing fate, but she doesn’t fully. She’s merely one who’s had her biases confirmed enough to support the things she says.

#┝ TIGHTENING NOOSE OF FATE ✤ ( headcanon. ) ┤

2 notes · View notes

nxtawitch · 4 years

Text

What do you wish you could say but can’t ??

“everyone else is more important than me."

you're deathly afraid of being selfish. you're also deathly afraid of being forgotten. all you want is to be somebody's favorite person, but that feels like a far off dream. you try and make yourself interesting so that people stick around you. it doesn't feel like that's working. you want to hang out more with your friends, but it seems like they're always busy or that they have better friends than you.

stolen from: @maegtig

tagging: anyone who wants to!

#┝ TIGHTENING NOOSE OF FATE ✤ ( headcanon. ) ┤

2 notes · View notes

nxtawitch · 4 years

Text

I don’t think it’s a stretch to say that Gisela has some issues with abandonment.

She was 14 when the last bit of family she had left, promising to return victorious, and never came back. Her father’s corpse returned half-eaten by carrion birds and was quickly burned, but her brother was in the King of Strath Clota’s hold.

For two years she kept a place for him open, where normally in the Danelaw there would be another in his seat within a month. She stayed where another would have given up hope. And then Guthred came back, and her thanks was a string of betrothals to get rid of her. First Ivar Ivarrson, then Sven the One-Eyed, and finally Ælfric.

Then with the man she loved, she not only had to see the betrayal he’d suffer, but she was torn from his side before she could warn him. Those two years where he was with Sverri and she had no one on her side but the nuns she paid for shelter (after the engagement to Sven), Gisela feared the worst. Not that he wasn’t alive, she knew he was, but despite the fate the sticks had told, she feared he wouldn’t return for her. The worry made an already thin Gisela thinner, and she was practically a wisp when Guthred had her brought back to court for her wedding. She sobbed through the ceremony. Uhtred had not returned for her, and she was wed to his uncle.

When Uhtred returned at last and got the monks to agree that the unconsummated marriage was defunct, Gisela made an oath. She would always be by his side. Yet, every time he rode off to battle, the same fears came creeping back: he wouldn’t return, she’d be left alone again. It’s safe to say she often wishes to ride with him, despite her lack of combat experience. Yet, she’s other responsibilities to attend to, especially once the kids come around.

#┝ TIGHTENING NOOSE OF FATE ✤ ( headcanon. ) ┤

2 notes · View notes

nxtawitch · 4 years

Note

👌

send👌 for a random headcanon

Gisela was very hesitant with Finan at first, with her only interactions with the Irish being the raids that would frequently come from the Kingdom of Man, Ulaid, and the southern Uí Néill. Despite the close bond he held with Uhtred after two years together aboard Sverri’s ship, she’s spent the whole of her life viewing the Gael as an enemy, the people who took her mother from her. Finan’s humor started to tear through her walls. Now with time she’s come to view him to be as much a part of her family as Osferth and Sithric, but she’s never explained her initial frigidness to him, just as he’s not shared his history with her.

#fynan #┝ TIGHTENING NOOSE OF FATE ✤ ( headcanon. ) ┤

2 notes · View notes

nxtawitch · 4 years

Text

Gisela’s beliefs are just as nebulous as many others’

Specifically for her, it’s the mixture of paganism and Christianity. In Caer Ligualid, the heathen beliefs have blended quite a bit with those of the church, making walking the line between the two especially important as a leader. So, while she also conducted sacrifices to the gods and elves, it’s a very common occurrence to see Gisela at mass or walking alongside more religious leaders than just Eadred, Beocca, or Pyrlig.

In the books, Gisela plays at pretending to know little of Christianity, (for example, she asks Uhtred the name of the Christian God and if he’s married) but the cultural background of Cumbria would disagree with how she presents herself, implying that Gisela knows much more than she appears.

It’s hard to say for certain what Gisela believes, but she is quoted as saying, “We have many gods, and the Christian god is just another one. I'm sure that's what Guthred thinks...Odin, Thor, and Jehovah." I tend to adopt that into her interpretation of things like the sticks and stories, so the tales of Jesus seem far nearer to her than they would of some nameless foreigner. The stories to her children are a similar mix of christianity and not, and the results can be seen in her grown up children.

#┝ TIGHTENING NOOSE OF FATE ✤ ( headcanon. ) ┤

1 note · View note

nxtawitch · 4 years

Text

BOLD ANY FEARS WHICH APPLY TO YOUR MUSE . ITALICIZE WHAT MAKES THEM UNCOMFORTABLE .

the dark ⋆ fire ⋆ open water ⋆ deep water ⋆ being alone ⋆ crowded spaces ⋆ confined spaces ⋆ change ⋆ failure ⋆ war ⋆ loss of control ⋆ powerlessness ⋆ prison ⋆ blood ⋆ drowning ⋆ suffocation ⋆ public speaking ⋆ natural animals ⋆ the supernatural ⋆ heights ⋆ death ⋆ dying ⋆ intimacy ⋆ rejection ⋆ abandonment ⋆ loss ⋆ the unknown ⋆ the future ⋆ not being good enough ⋆ scary stories ⋆ speaking to new people ⋆ poverty ⋆ loud noises ⋆ being touched ⋆ forgetting ⋆ being forgotten .

Tagged by: stolen from: @bloodofthefates Tagging : & anyone else!

#┝ TIGHTENING NOOSE OF FATE ✤ ( headcanon. ) ┤#┝ INEVITABLE MADNESS ✤ ( memes. ) ┤#the fact that Gisela very much made peace with her death by the second half of her fourth pregnancy is a very important thing to remember #very sad #but she can't change it

0 notes

nxtawitch · 4 years

Text

Gisela and History

Few of the Saxons ever went to the fort, fearing the ghosts within, but inevitably on the long, winter nights when the children discovered there was too much time and too little work, they’d go to scramble along the crumbling walls, trying to scare each other with stories of the dead.

Guthred dragged Gisela along, though she protested that she had work to do (a lie, she wished to bother their mother for the stories she’d only tell when the boys were gone). For fear of ghosts, she never once let go of her amulet. Once she crossed into the fort, however, her protests died.

The fort was massive, and she spent hours scouring the layout of it, imagining what life was like when giants built homes of stone instead of timber and thatch.

When her family died and she worked alongside the Abbot Eadred, she discovered that the giants were called Romans, and they came from the Pope’s city. Though she couldn’t read latin, she would spend nights by rushlight thumbing through the few tomes from Rome in search of them.

Rebuilding from the attacks from the Scots and the Irish soon claimed her free time, as Gisela had to prioritize what resources went where. Rome was far from her mind.

After her marriage to Uhtred, and especially in those two years prior to their first son’s birth, she enjoyed the opportunities to claim some time for curiosity, and it was there, asking about history, that she managed to win the love of priests: religion was rarely a topic they spoke of. (The same tactic endeared King Alfred to her.)

And then, the Roman Home. Gisela no longer worried of ghosts, for they were merely the spirits of people like her, based on what she’d learned. Instead, she meticulously cleaned the mosaics and restored pottery to its former glory, earning jealousy from Æthelred. She spent time on her own hair for once, copying the complex coiffures of the woman who made this her home before.

Yes, there were ghosts in Lundene, but there were ghosts everywhere. You just learned to respect their lives, and find a life alongside them.

#┝ TIGHTENING NOOSE OF FATE ✤ ( headcanon. ) ┤#did i just make a mountain out of a molehill?#why yes #it's one of the few things she shows interest in other than housework in the books #and it would be a good way to endear priests #even ones like Asser #to her

0 notes