#eritvita

[intothewildsea]

@eritvita

The sunlight covered the glade in dappled patches. Niamh was stretched out in the grass, bare and unabashed, sunning herself like a cat.

The sun was so warm and pleasant, how could she not want it to caress her skin? Her clothes lay discarded in the grass. She wasn't worried about being seen, as the glade was secluded, but she honestly cared little if someone did catch a peek.

Besides, her attention was on Roland - or, at least, on waiting for him. He was to be there soon to meet her and she was eager to see him again. Perhaps she was being mischievous and flirtatious with her lack of clothing. Only a little, though.

Her eyes were closed but she listened for the rustle of bushes and footsteps that would foretell his arrival.

#eritvita #[HERE WE GOOOOO]

[okruchlodu]

Time has passed, and they are not who they once were; the neither of them. No longer is she a young, unlearned apprentice miserably prowling the dark, cold halls of Aretuza, trailing after his every step, seeking approval— hungered for the world entire: for absolute, endless power; for everything he has to offer, every last bit of power and control that she can take and take until it is her own: no longer is she a wretched, hapless child sold to Aretuza for naught more than a handful of marks, a puppet meant for a cause that means nothing to her.

Her name now lives in infamy. She is Yennefer of Vengerberg, a storm of a woman that could swallow the world entire: powerful, terrifying. And magnificent. Dangerously, irresistibly ensnaring. The picture of powerful perfection, captivating everything in her wake.

She is not surprised to see him here— it is, after all, more his home, than hers; if anything, she has expected to see him, so as their gazes meet from across the hall,   she cannot help the sharp, cold smile that splays over deep red lips, bright, dispassionate eyes flaring violet. Years have passed since last she's laid her eyes upon him; over a decade, she thinks.

Yennefer pries herself away from Tissaia's side, then, so that she might approach him, eyes flashing dangerously as the candlelight coils around her with all the grace of a mythical serpent.  She looks otherworldly, heralded by the moon and stars, draped in black and white silks. Everything about her has changed; grown into something cold and sharp and menacing, radiating with breathless beauty. Her smile is sharper now, too, something menacing and elusive in it. She comes to stand at his side, and the right corner of her mouth folds further up, a playful smirk with the arch of a dark brow. ❝ I presume the mighty lord Enaera has had his fill of wild, grand adventures if he has found himself back here once again... ❞ begins the sorceress, a haughty, cold shadow draping itself over the nature of her voice as she greets him; a chime in her dark tone, holding a candle to the undertow beneath. 

@eritvita

#& roland #eritvita #verse: aretuza i.

[miss-polly]

@eritvita wants to meet a fairy ;

Roland's music was as lovely as any fairysong, and it was impossible for her not to alight on the tree above him, eyes bright and ears turned down to better listen. As the song came to an end, she applauded, laughing, and called down, "Another, please! Another, good bard!"

#v: fairy princess #eritvita

[missperfectlyfinewrites]

@eritvita gets a spotify starter /  madeline song: foolish one - taylor swift

"I think perhaps I was foolish."

The Princess is not quick to admit this to many people, not wanting to seem weak or incapable of her duties. Madeline holds a lot of stress on her shoulders from being in a member of the royal family, and although she knows her brother and parents have more pressure built upon them, she's not immune to them.

But she honestly feels down right stupid, staring across at him. The garden is dark, barely lit, silent aside from the sound of near by animals settling down and the hammering of her heart in her chest.

"I can see now that I will never be the one you want. I was waiting for a confession that will never come, so, if you'll excuse me."

Madeline took a step back, twisting to head back towards the gate she walked through, a heavy sigh escaping her lips as her fingers curl around the fabric of her blue skirts.

#hope this is alright! #eritvita

[petitsdieu]

cont. 𝒇𝒕. @eritvita

There was no one else in the halls or in the kitchen and she rather liked the privacy of it all. And maybe the idea that someone could catch them was a little fun, too. Not that they were doing anything wrong or obscene.

She watches him, as she pushes herself up onto a counter, and sits upon the edge. Her eyes rake him over and she decides he looks good like this. Planted in front of a stove, ready to make her anything her heart desires. She's starved. But she almost thinks she could just eat him up and be satisfied.

"I want pancakes." Kicking up her feet, in play, until her toes make contact with him and she presses against his lower back. But then she realizes, she's thirsty too. "And tea would be lovely, too. Eggs would be... smart."

#eritvita #* filed under — ( verse ) ( royal ) #* filed under — ( verse ) ( interactions ) ( royal )

[ariveth]

continued from eritvita:

              FOR THE LONGEST TIME Ariveth just... kind of stands there, hands by her sides. Habit says this isn't a big deal, it was him or them, people die and life goes on. Besides, it was a cultist — even less reason to fret about it. Anyone else she would've patted on the shoulder then told them to get up and move on. But it's not just anyone else.

Roland's exhausted himself of tears and shock, and she suspects he's spiraling in a way she might've, once upon a time, younger and unaccustomed to a blade in her hand. Killing could become easy, or at least easier, but it's harrowing in the beginning. She's never liked seeing him sad, and certainly doesn't like seeing him so devastated; but words won't be sufficient this time. Worse, she worries that anything she'd have to say might sour the situation further. Comfort has never been her forte.

After a long bout of hesitation, she finally sinks onto her knees behind him, sitting high to wrap one arm over and one under each shoulder respectively, hands resting across his chest. Her face presses into the curve of his neck; silent.

It's not nearly enough, but it'll have to be for now.

#✗ — CONVERSATION ｡ #✗ — FT. ROLAND ｡ #✗ — QUEST: DUAL HEARTBEATS ｡ #eritvita #idk IDK!! we've got a lot already ongoing so feel free to leave this or put on the backburner if u want #but i felt like this could be an interesting part of their dynamic to explore. so here

[lcngdays]

@eritvita from (here)

A slight man of both stature and weight, Angel looks nearly offended at the laughter. Head held high in the air, his arms cross tightly over his chest. He has at least the sense not to have worn white to this occasion, instead he sports bright red. It's a flowy frock, that falls just below his knees, with long sleeves and a belt tight around his thin waist.

His blonde hair is done up in a tight bun, showing off his bright blue eyes that narrow slightly as he huffs.

"darling, heavy lifting and such labor is not part of who i am." Still, there is a sense of wonder as he looks upon Roland, and then upon the trees, full to the brim with fruit. "i could possibly pick something, i suppose."

#eritvita #;angel threads #roland beloved <3

[molioanimatra]

soiree and secrets

@eritvita from here

“And get trapped in some vapid conversation with an Orlesian noble? Or worse, propositioned by one?” Maretus snorts softly. “I’d rather fall upon my sword.”

He leans with his back against the marble balustrade of the balcony, elbows resting against the cool stone, though he doesn’t quite feel it through the thick brocade of his military jacket. Unlike Roland beside him, he doesn’t appear to have much interest in gazing down at the revelry beneath them in the gardens, a cacophony of colors and jewels and metal embellishments on men, women, and everyone else. It’s a warm night, of course, made even more so by the free-flowing drink, the many braziers and wall sconces and hanging lanterns lit with dancing flames, and the presence of so many bodies shifting and moving against and beside one another. Even the bit of fresh air of the balcony seems to be whisked away by the cascade of shimmering fireworks in the night sky.

Maretus’ jacket hangs open, the first several buttons undone and his midnight hair curling at the tall back collar. Beneath is a soft linen tunic, the cream color a stark contrast to the warm, earthen skin of his throat and clavicle, bared to the warm night air. The faint glisten of sweat clings to the long line of his neck. The rest of his dress, however, remains sharp: the wide, crimson sash about his waist and hips, the crisp lines of his trousers, the hardness of his tall boots. Roland is not alone in carrying the cloying scent of incense with him, though the smokey smell of that turns amber on Maretus.

“But I’d expect me to be out here, away from the epicenter of all that.” He cocks his head a bit to look at his friend. “What brings you to my hiding spot?”

#{lmfao it's been so long since I posted here tumblr forgot my frequently used tags} #{anyway sorry this took a million years but life's life and I hope this is okay!} #;v: you're addicted to the misery #eritvita #thread: soiree and secrets

[leatherfangs]

@eritvita ;

Though others of her kind required an invitation to enter any doorway, Liddy waltzed right in to the fast food restaurant. She looked like she belonged to the knight, dressed in leather and spikes, black makeup stark against her pale skin. She smiled as she placed her order, and left just minutes later with a kids meal in hand. There was no missing the thrill in her expression as she dug through the bag.

"Hey," she waved him over. "You want this? I just wanted it for the toy." Sure enough, Liddy had found what she'd been looking for, and she withdrew a small plastic bag of Legos. "There's little robot kits this time." Oh yeah. She was living it large tonight.

#v: main #eritvita #lego pals unite!!

[celestialheal-arch]

She's been trying to heal his wound for what seems like an eternity, but it seems to her that he doesn't want to be touched, or at least, is not comfortable with the idea of her hands cleaning the wound.

❛ 𝚒 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚗𝚊 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚛𝚒𝚋𝚞𝚝𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚘𝚜 ❜ @eritvita explains, and the healer can't help but laugh.

❝ well, you're definitely not making my job any easier, ❞ she acknowledges in good spirits ❝ but i promise you, if you just sit still for one moment we can be done with this very fast and you can go back to whatever chaos you were creating... ❞

#* answered ! #eritvita #hi! thank you so much for sending this #i left this quite vague because nienna does has a dragon age verse #in case you're interested in that

[nirnrootic]

@eritvita sent in.

❛  this is crazy. but, yes.  ❜ from eritvita, to eros? 👋

Erosandros had been cordially invited to the College. Time and time again, were students, teachers, and many more strive to yank him by cottony sleeve to set foot within its snow-crusted walls. Time and time again, he would decline, for ribbons of paranoia wound taut around his throat—he feared questions, exposure, worse. An ache it was, to be naught but an anomaly, a man with indelible youth inscribed into flesh, flesh that long since should've become one with the nirn beneath.

But this time around, it was an offer he simply couldn't refuse.

Fright needled his spine, pulled the tendons of his fingers. As he stood, perched on the crown of the lecture hall podium, he was met with a myriad of looks. Some intrigued, some bored, some humoured by how his stature were to be swallowed by the height of the lectern. Regardless, he took it all in stride, and he delivered a disquisition of restoration magick. He even briefly showcased how restoration can be used offensively, which piqued a flurry of curious chatter betwixt students.

Eventually, all was done. He stepped off the podium.

He'd hoped he could've simply trotted off, circumvented any interested parties, and beelined straight to the next available wagon. Alas, rarely did things go as smoothly as one would hope. A man, presumably a student by the garb he donned, cut him off and sought conversation.

Ugh.

He let him talk. The more the student spoke, however, the more the student's proposal weaved into the unusual and strange. Erosandros quirked a brow.

"Please, do reiterate what you intend for me to partake in. Preferably," his violet gaze glanced to the exit that taunted him behind the student's form, "with more pertinent details?"

#ic. #answered. #eros. #eritvita #thank uuuu! <3 hopefully this is ok! lemme know if it doesn't work! #i'm happy to adjust :> #add more / remove stuff

[okruchlodu]

@eritvita offered; ❝ it is a good thing that i thrive on chaos. ❞

“ Gods DAMNIT ! ” Her concentration was breaking. Her violet eyes were blazing— refracting the storm of purple light that was flashing before her— and the moonstone that hung about her neck was glowing as raven curls twisted about in the air from the force of her spell. Pride screamed louder than reason; too SOON it was for the novice sorceress to even deign attempt cast such a spell, even though it had not yet been too long a time since last she had this spell explode on her- but she KNEW she could do this. She must. She had to.

❝ dont! I can do it!❞ Yennefer hissed furiously as Roland entered the sphere of her spell.

The barrier of her spell still surrounded the room where she stood. A pair of staffs was embedded on either side of herself, sparking and crackling as her magic poured in and out of it. She shot a net of light forth, using her Chaos to shape the light into a sphere, desperately trying to maintain her casting, but soon her hands began to tremble, and with a sharp, cold gasp, she dropped her hands to her sides, letting the spell wane as the force of her magic sent her stumbling backwards and into the sorcerer, surging like a flood-wave, filling the room like a silver mist.

❝ yes... however shall us, common folk, survive a day on this Continent without your Chaos! ❞ Yennefer pushed herself away irritably, sharp, cruel lips curling into a sneer, furious that she had not maintained the spell long enough for it to fully work; the way he preened, ever powerful and oozing with unbridled magic, set her teeth on edge too, and it was plainly obvious in the manner in which she childishly scoffed and turned away, moving towards the circle once more, ever a slave to her pride.

#& roland #eritvita #verse: aretuza i. #listen... baby yennefer is... Too Much tbh. with her lil hunchback :( and her PAIN TM.

[miss-polly]

@eritvita at least one of them is having a good time

#eritvita #myart

[fellmoondoll]

        @eritvita has traversed the Lands Between

    " Take a step no further... " Called out with gentle tone, there the porcelain doll sat - on the crumbling steps of her Rise. The small form of the doll blocking the entrance to the high tower, she regarded the newcomer with a curious tilt of her head. " Thou hath trespassed upon mine land. But curious indeed...this witch can see thou fair from beyond the wall of fog. "

#eritvita #v; undetermined

[petitsdieu]

continued 𝙛𝒕. @eritvita

To speak with amatory, with partygoers plenty, brings a deep pinkish pigment to the apples of her cheeks. It was true that she was tender and sore from their combined appetite. But not to the degree that she's willing to wait until she doesn't feel where he's been. She never does.

She finds her legs spreading, her hips lifting from the couch she's rested upon, before she snaps them closed and tries to pinch the tension building between them. She sucks in a breath. Watching people twirl, wine spill on floors and down throats, and a full band play their instruments with such passion. She wants to pluck him to her own tune.

She wants to make him desperate. She wants to make him squirm.

"My sweet, husband, prince," her knuckles brush his cheekbone, then chases the pulse on his neck like a river. "Think of the ease." The more she speaks, the lower her voice drops, only wanting him to hear her wanton words. "Picture it. How you could be inside me with a few, little moves."

#usfw #ish #eritvita #* filed under — ( verse ) ( interactions ) ( royal ) #* filed under — ( verse ) ( royal )

[ariveth]

Sweet Roland,

              Whispers around your college tell me you've been held up on some academic adventure, so it seems our reunion may have to wait a while longer than four days. There's a saying about absence and fondness that escapes me now. I've left you a gift I had intended to give you in person, though I hope you like it all the same despite its obvious age — I've read it many times over the years. I locked your door when I left, hopefully you don't fall prey to any other book thieves or I may become jealous.

I am returning to Dawnstar to deliver this fateful tome and will remain there a day before I depart to Morthal. (This is an unsubtle hint that you should write me back.) I don't care if it sounds ridiculous given our brief acquaintance, but you have been on my mind often since we parted, and it's left me with many questions since I don't know very much about you yet. Such as, to start: why a mage would leave High Rock and study in Skyrim, instead? It can't be for the climate, though feel free to prove me wrong.

I await you to indulge my curiosity with your (undoubtedly poetic) response.

- Ariveth

[Beneath the hastily-scrawled note on the endtable there's a book — a worn copy of Sermon 16 of The 36 Lessons of Vivec, within which the first inner page features the inscription: "For Roland", signed with a single daedric letter 'A' and a crimson-printed kiss upon the blank page.]

@eritvita

#✗ — SCRIBBLES ｡ #✗ — CONVERSATION ｡ #✗ — FT. ROLAND ｡ #eritvita #hope its ok owo #pls give it a clever title i cant think of anythingjhfrsfjd #✗ — QUEST: FORTH TO PURPLE ｡