uh𝑜’ ⠀⠀ 𝑑𝑒𝑎𝑟...

ID: @godsIayer         * her breath caught, turning cold in her chest as the soldiers marched in relentless formation below the tower. no temple could withstand a force of such size—yet some quiet ember within her refused to surrender hope. she spun toward sverrir, robes brushing stone, and a sharp shake of her head cut through the rising dread. *     you cannot. we are hopelessly outnumbered.

[…]   Refuge.

ID: @deadeyed       i could inquire the very same of you,  * gaia murmured, lifting a curious brow as her gaze settled upon him. *    the temple welcomes all who wander to its doors. tell me—have you come seeking healing, or something else entirely?

[*] FANTASY VERSED, ESTABLISHED BY MULTIPLE SOURCES.

[*] DIVINITIES LORE, ORIGINAL CHARACTER. EST 2025, DO NOT STEAL. SECTION OF; DIVINE AUTHORITY, THE GODDESS OF LOVE & PEACE.

[*] IMMORTAL AND DIVINE, GAIA IS SAID TO HAVE ORIGINATED FROM THE SACRED LANDS OF THE TUATHA DÉ DANANN, A REALM WHERE THE VEIL BETWEEN THE MORTAL AND IMMORTAL WORLDS IS THIN, AND THE ELEMENTAL FORCES ARE PERSONIFIED BY BEINGS OF IMMENSE POWER. even in her earliest years, she was chosen as the next holy offering—a living vessel of abundance, meant to guide and serve mankind. yet her grace is not that of simple acquiescence; she grants not what is demanded, nor what is merely wished, but what the seeker is ready to receive. as the ancient texts of zoroastrian lore hint, the divine is both merciful and exacting, and gaia embodies this duality with every gesture, every breath.
            
            [*] much of her life, veiled in secrecy, remains known only to her great mother, a keeper of forbidden truths and the arcane wisdom of ages past. these secrets are whispered in the shadows of temple halls, carried in hymns sung under crescent moons, and chronicled in texts hidden from mortal eyes.
            
            [*] gaia moves between realms with ease, her spirit untethered yet constrained by the natural order. earth is but one of her many crossings, yet even here she uncovers loopholes and hidden paths that mortals cannot perceive. she may be summoned through the earnest petitions of prayer, a call answered only when the alignment of divine will deems it proper. as the Avesta describes, the faithful may invoke blessings, yet only the worthy feel the presence of the divine manifest—an echo of gaia’s own nature, radiant, elusive, and bound by her own sacred code.

&.     i could yap and all,       but it isn’t needed. you and i both know how much you be cookin’ with your replies, so be patient. you’ll find more roleplayers, just don’t settle for anyone who doesn’t take the time to appreciate your women.       cause they’re amazing. 

&.             i’m that one bold mf who’ll top anybody’s board without a single thought.      and,      anybody who isn’t interacting with your ocs is missing the fuck out on life.         really missing out, lol. 

/ oh, it is not kindness, but the truth. something pretty and lovely can make people shy to interact so believe me, it is not that your account is lacking,  but thaf it is overflowing, as a concept and execution.  
            I am shy myself for I am not the best of writers, but should you be willing, I shall try to write as best as I am able to :3

@elabyrinths Perhaps that is why we are always drawn to the 'start'. Only there does the truth speak without an accent. The essence endures because it is the only thing that doesn't try to be anything else.

     ‎⠀⺌   OLD USERNAME: @/othunders.

ID: @hyrded      i cannot express the fury you stir within me,   * she breathed against him, voice low and unsteady, *     yet i cannot unleash it upon you either. you have driven me mad, wolfe, utterly undone me, and you know nothing of the hold you possess upon me or any who cross your path. if you wish to acquaint yourself with other women, then say it plainly. i will not have a man haunt my mind and deny me the truths i am owed. 
            
            * her breath faltered as she pulled away, her embrace loosening, though the imprint of it lingered between them like a curse. her voice came again, softer, crueler for the certainty it carried. *     you are mine, wolfe.   * the words hissed through the rain, a claim, a warning, a vow. she brushed the wet from her lashes and cheeks, her gown clinging to her form in soaked defiance. then, seeing the gloves fallen at their feet, she bent and gathered them, holding them close to her chest as though they were relics of something sacred. without another word, she stepped past him, her movements weary but proud, her shadow long and dark upon the slick stones as she entered the hotel’s golden light. *
            
            * inside, the warmth struck her like memory. water dripped from her hair and gown, pooling at her feet. yet her thoughts would not still, they spun like stars in ruin. his scent, the feel of his body, the rasp in his voice, all of it clung to her, feverish and consuming. the way he had spoken her name had left her undone. no prayer could quiet that echo. she could almost laugh at the cruelty of it, to know now why any woman would chase him into madness, and to admit, if only to herself, that she would burn the heavens before letting another lay claim to him. *
            
            * and still, as she turned to glance over her shoulder, catching him beneath the lamplight and rain, her breath caught. could he not see that she was just as restless, just as lost within him. *

ID: @hyrded        * jealousy. she had never known it to wilt so violently within her chest. there was no answer for what seized her when the carriage came to its halt and wolfe stepped into the storm. every word, every silence between them twisted her heart in new agony. his quiet now was heavier than any rebuke. and it exhausted her. after all, he was a pharaoh, an immortal soul wandering among mortals, caught between centuries where old gods still lingered and new empires rose from dust. *
            
            * her lips drew into a thin line. tension carved her brow as she watched him from the dim interior, his form framed by the open carriage door, haloed in rainlight. passersby turned to look, the mortals gaping at something they could not comprehend, and it struck her then just how far she had fallen into this mortal delirium called reverence. the rain poured upon him unyielding, yet he stood unmoved, flame haired and resolute, as though the heavens themselves sought to drown what they could never possess. and when his mismatched eyes met hers, the tremor reached her bones. *
            
            * gaia shifted forward, her pulse erratic. her hand found the edge of the door, her movements uneven, ungraceful, unbecoming of divinity. she meant only to descend, yet the moment she stepped upon the ledge, the world tilted. instead of distance, she found his chest, his breath, his heat. arms wound of their own will around his neck, the goddess clinging with desperate fervor. her nose brushed against his, the scent of smoke, iron, and rain filled her lungs. the madness that had been building within her came undone. she pressed herself to him, trembling beneath the downpour, her fingers threading through the wet strands of his hair as though to anchor herself to something real. *

  ⠀⠀⠀his limbs ached, a strained testament to the journey endured from cairo. the alexandria steam train’s clatter had carried them through arid plains, the mediterranean crossing had tested their patience, and the long route through france and belgium had worn his strength thin. now, at last, london stood before them, the city of fog and deceit, of empire and decay.
            
            ⠀⠀⠀when gaia made no move to step down, rurik’s tone sharpened, a shadow in the rain. “Gaia,” he warned, low and dangerous. he knew she demanded answers to why they had been summoned, to what awaited them in this cursed city, but rurik refused to indulge her fury, not now. he would not lose her again. if she tried to flee,        he would drag her through the storm itself. he’d already followed her through centuries; what was a single night in london?

i hear from the staff that neglect has taken hold of you. is it so?  * she asked, drawing his wrist from her face. her gaze fell to the entwining of their hands, small fingers curling against larger, a gesture both tender and eternal. warmth blossomed within her, and she clenched her hand softly, unwilling to release him, unwilling to relinquish even a fraction of this moment. around them, the castle stirred to life. footsteps echoed across stone floors, the soft clink of utensils drifted from distant kitchens, and voices whispered along corridors. the morning air was cool, carrying the faint scent of rain yet to fall. gaia perceived it all, the rhythm of the staff, the faint hum of awakening halls, the sigh of wind through narrow windows, and let it surround her, a subtle hymn to the living world. she moved within it with the certainty of the eternal, present yet apart, every breath a quiet testament to the bond she held, unseen yet profound. *

ID:  @hyrded       * gaia’s fingers closed around his large wrist with the quiet certainty of centuries. he had been wary these past weeks, and now it had been nearly a month since wolfe returned to her. each visit carried its own weight, and with it, a tension that coiled between them, silent yet undeniable, like shadows gathering at dawn. she loosened her hold, leaning closer, resisting the pull to slip beneath the blankets beside him. much remained to be done, yet in this moment she heeded only her own will. she had long bent herself to the desires of others; now she claimed this time for herself, allowing the small, sacred pleasures that made her spirit lift. *
            
            you have not tended yourself,   * she murmured, eyes closing for the briefest instant before reopening. her palm moved with gentle grace to rest upon his chest, warmth flowing from her, pooling into the chill of his flesh. it was a slow, steady offering, the quiet command of life itself. and then her lips descended to his forehead, a gentle kiss, a blessing of care. *

  ⠀⠀⠀    ⠀if truth were to be spoken, he had sensed her the moment she stepped into galdoria, rousing him from sleep instantly. now he lay flat on his chest beneath the silk blanket, muscles tense beneath her touch. he had felt her hand twice, a fleeting brush against his back, and forced himself to relax, resisting the shudder threatening to escape. a slow breath drew from his lungs, and rurik responded, just slightly, to her pull.         sleep heavy eyes, green and grey, found hers before he quickly looked away, settling onto his back. her warmth pressed against the cold he was used to, a temperature his body had long carried like armor. the clinical words for it never fit him; his heart had long rejected the notion of softness. nevertheless, he did not want reminders of past bitterness this early. better to remain ignorant, he decided, for as long as possible.
            
            ⠀⠀⠀    ⠀ “yes?” he murmured, voice thick with sleep, carrying something else beneath it, something new. without thought, his hand rose, brushing her cheek. his thumb grazed her chin, eyes narrowing on her.       “you should not be here. your brothers will not appreciate you treading into my realm alone, gaia.”