devoutpriest

[devoutpriest]

athelstan is reading the bible, it was blue and pink and yellow with white grainy sand, shown to him by jess. as they drink wine and eat brioche bread ; the last supper in honor of christ. she says she doesn't drink wine, drinking tea. he had mostly remembered the gospel of saint john, as that was the illustrative gospel he had been painting at the time of the monastery raid. he had started painting other works as well during his monastic tenure. bread was an important food in many cultures too, he remembered, as was rice. it could soak liquid in the stomach, like a sponge dipped in soup. he reads in wonderment of the story of why jesus liked bread, going to the passover where he was feeding barley bread to them, teaching about the bread and wine in a capernaum synagogue.

#ic

[devoutpriest]

gyda is painting, her blonde hair in a long blond plait at the side. it's not a broom, she says to a classmate who said it was. she liked wearing her hair like that, a wild swan viking. there was a new teacher called athelstan whom interested her. he noticed she was painting runes of unique entwined shapes, he curious at the pattern.

#ic

[devoutpriest]

he is in paris, seeing ragnar injured, having delusions which the chinese medicine yidu gave him helping. he is a ghost in the dark dirty streets, and he sees ragnar view him as heaven, while also seeing a man in a black hat whom was valhalla. he is reaching his hand to ragnar, as light shines behind him.

#ic

[devoutpriest]

athelstan is with castiel, he in kattegat with him. cas says, 'i came through to this village during my travelling through time.' his wings, feathered and glorious are still stretched out in shadowed luminescence on each side of him, the other in awe. he remembered travelling through time before, he sending dean to the past where he met his father in the diner. he had been reading a newspaper.

#ic

[devoutpriest]

do they believe in magic? why do they have this belief?

athelstan has visions, seeing a dragon's head in the clouds, stormy weather during his painting of the gospel illustration. he does believe in dreamy magic. a monk, father prudentias, notes to judith, the one ecbert had said for him to teach her how to paint, said athelstan had been illuminating sacred texts, last concentrating on the gospel of saint john. his spirit is shaken during when the vikings raided the monastery and when he gets crucified, and his visions grow more frequent and delusional. he dreams of blood trickling down his temple, seeing a monster with sharp teeth ( a boogeyman under the bed ).

#ic

[devoutpriest]

Anton Checkhov

#aesthetic. #grantaire's soft touch in tragedy.

[devoutpriest]

staticskull:

"Do you think it's a crime somewhere to think that something that isn't a crime is a crime? And in that case, would it be a crime to think that was a crime if it wasn't a crime?" Austin had been thinking about thought crime as of late, they being peers at university. He reminiscences in a quiet tone derived of selective mutism, as he smokes a cigar, the yellow flame igniting in the white cylinder. He looks at the other, as he is smoking, he having frequent delusions. This made him creative in art, a teacher saying 'wow, it's really good' about an piece he could connect closely with animals.

"If nothing happened to make one act upon a crime, it is not a crime," he answers after a while, although confused at this conundrum. If it was only a thought, a dream, one has not sinned. He frowns and consults the bible once more. he reads about god not really liking smoking, as it polluted the body.

#rp partner | staticskull #ic

[devoutpriest]

crowofwaranddeath:

"Athelstan. The priest that I have wanted to meet for a while now. I never thought I'd find myself saying that to or about anything to do with Christianity." She has green mascara on her eyes, as she looks at him. She has white inca lilies in her hair, she picking them in the forest of ascetir. She was a crow, seeing he believed in Christianity, and was in Norse lands.

"Why did you want to meet me, my lady?" He wears a red hoodie on his black curling hair to protect himself from the cold, and is wearing a black jacket with golden zipper.

#rp partner | crowofwaranddeath #ic

[devoutpriest]

madamehenriette:

"Does it scare you?" The woman asked as she raised her brow and looked outside. Her hair is weaved in an elegant braided style. There, she saw the dark night of the sky, she sighing as she breathed on the window. "It's just the weather."

"I confess it does scare me, my lady. The weather's shadows are growing to be too dark." He had seen the shape of a dragon's head in the fluffy cloud rice, and lightning. He holding a candle to the window. "I can think of why but I do not wish to frighten you of its cause."

#rp partner | madamehenriette #ic

[devoutpriest]

ofmoonsea:

☾ FAVOURITE MOMENT FROM YOUR MUSE’S CANON, AND WHY. (IF YOUR MUSE IS AN OC, THEN FAVOURITE ASPECT OF THEIR STORY.)

One of my favourite moments would be when Athelstan ends the Bishop’s suffering in 2x03, and says “DEUS TIBI BENEDICAS. SUFFER NO MORE BUT TRUST IN THY SALVATION.” Despite the Bishop accusing him of being an apostate and telling him he will get crucified, Athelstan does not hate him. The man was being made a sport of shooting with arrows. He sees how much the man is suffering and hears his prayers (especially in the last few lines), coming up the steps, as Erlendur was to shoot him with an arrow, recalling how he himself had prayed for God to hear him, and gives out mercy, cutting his throat with a knife.

#rp partner | ofmoonsea #ic #headcanon. #rp partner | unapostate

[devoutpriest]

amongthcwreck:

there was supposed to be talk for peace. something to bring an end to a war that hadn’t even started yet. yet, he thought of it like it was inevitable. and it was, he knew that. half of Arkadia was divided. one side saying that they should have peace with the grounders, the others eager for war. and he stood, unbalanced on a line that he had drawn up in the middle. unsure of where to stand completely. he was the leader of the group, initially all rebellious and raucous, he taking the bracelets off which detected the vital health and movement from the ark. he tried to see all angles. like he was trying to see now. the new presence in the camp was a man, one from the grounders, trying to talk about peace. something that was already starting a war. funny, wasn’t it? a war over peace. he approached him now without hesitation, although some uncertainty and distrust. “what do you think of it?” he asked, a gesture towards what they had built of Arkadia so far. a simple question just to start something. see his view of things. figure out what the grounders really thought of peace.

athelstan was trying to negotiate for peace with the sky people, which when he heard about the hundred going down to earth from space, reminded him of falling from heaven. it was not the same, of course, but still ALL of what god had created, he breathing clay in the earth and in humans, and he had read that in genesis. additionally, he was grateful that god had heard of his praying wishes to experience earth.

heda anya had entrusted athelstan to this precarious task of peace, seeing his fluent capacity to speak english, and being capable of learning their mother tongue of trigedasleng. it had been a difficult meeting at first, she recognising him to be a white settler to invade their ground. it was harsh like norse, emanating in the earthy ground itself, as he speaks to not kill him in their tongue, and they speak, anya deciding to listen to him. the grounder’s world was different to what he knew, and when he commented such, one of the grounders who had a more open mind to his staying with them, had said to him that THIS was his world now, as he holds a greying brown skull of a person who died in the ground.

he studies the camping site the sky people had built, the first time seeing it close up. he has no weapons with him, of no advanced equipment from mount weather, nor the more basic (yet, VERY effective, he discovered) weapons he was still learning to use from the grounders. having nothing that could be PERCEIVED as a weapon when negotiating for peace, was essential.

the camp looked quite efficient. it was not as organized nor advanced, as mount weather, where there was bunk beds and food cafeterias and cleanliness, but he supposed it looked liveable.

after a few moments, he answers. he speaks english in return, fluently flowing from his mouth. “it is different to what i know, but it is built well, bellamy of the sky people.”

#rp partner | amongthcwreck #ic #v. ashen cinders are falling like snow | the hundred

[devoutpriest]

ATHELSTAN’S RAGNAROK EXPERIENCE. | DRABBLE.

the leaves poured into the flames are the beginning to appropriate the mood for ragnarok, the dusty heavy atmosphere apparently essential to capture it. the burning leaves gather an earthy, strong smell. the wings of the raven are the open CURTAINED beginning, alike an eagle soaring in the sky, unlocking the story of ragnarok, to coalesce into his mind. the flapping of wings is overpowering, as the raven flaps into, HESITANTLY (at first) EDGES from the corner of his vision, to then pour entirely into his subconsciousness. the eyeless seer blurringly dims into a vibrational clarity, as he solemnly narrates in his deep voice, of the severity of this taboo, saying we all have our scars, of why there was the fright and hesitance that cemented into believers’ souls, of the israelites and the romans of christianity. the eyes of the raven stare into him, its wings fluttering so SO LOUD, like someone was flipping through parchment, tearing through pages and pages, in an incessant manner. he feels the floods, the giant wolf of fenrir shattering his constraints, revelation, the lightning and thunder of thor, slayer of frost and fire. loki had incited ragnarok, shifting the cracked earth, in agony of the snake's poison. he says his feelings, athelstan sees, to the gods, his pain of not being at the feast of aegir, of why he would kill the man who can't be killed, the favoured and strong son, baldr. he thought thor his brother, they having known each other since they were young boys in asgard, they spending time together and becoming brothers. yet thor calls him a perverse creature. he screaming with his long curly straggly hair, screaming his pain and horror. it was all so powerful what he feels, like he was living within that moment, it all nearly choking him with its immediate realism. he lets himself experience all this once thought atrocity, lets himself expand his mind, fill himself with the answer to his curiosity, and know a frightened satisfying understanding. no longer was he IGNORANT with this ragnarok.

#ragnarok drabble. #headcanon. #ic

[devoutpriest]

disillusionedhumanity:

"Heathens aren't religious."

It took a moment for him to register that she said she was a heathen, and his brows furrow in disbelieving understanding.

"You do not believe in the one true god?"

Ana shakes her head, "Not if it's Jesus Christ." The scarring on her back from the stockades still hurt, from a long age ago and yet felt yesterday, when she discovered she had magic, was a creature of the night.

#rp partner | disillusionedhumanity #ic #rp partner | dissolvedshadows #rp partner | calcifydamage

[devoutpriest]

disillusionedhumanity:

“I’ve never been FOND of the religious types.” she remembers being persecuted for being a witch. she is wearing a black woollen shirt that hugged her shoulders. seeing the monk made her apprehensive, as it seemed christianity had been nothing but cold and cruel to her during her stay in camelot.

“Are you not religious, my lady?” he says to the girl who had raven black hair.

#rp partner | disillusionedhumanity #ic #rp partner | dissolvedshadows #rp partner | calcifydamage

[devoutpriest]

agirlingrey:

Sellswords have always been a queer sort of folk. On top of being among the least trustworthy people one could ever meet, they also tended to be a mongrel people, coming from every country and culture beneath the sun. Having spent the last year and a half in the company of King Stannis and his many foreign sellswords, he the rightful king, and was marching to where the Lannisters and Targaryens were in King's Landing. Alys was getting steadily better at identifying the heritage of the foreigners she met. It almost became like a game to her at this point, to try to guess it, since there was very little to do in the North in the middle of winter. The newest group that arrived was rather small, mostly consisted of tall, blonde warriors with fearsome axes as big as Alys herself. Ragnar, the leader, had called one a chunk of meat. She observed them discreetly, trying to discern where they could be from. They had sailed a long way on a dreki warship. The Free Cities, certainly, or maybe Qarth, for they seemed too blonde and pale to be from anywhere else in Essos. One was a strange warlock, with a balding head and sunken purple lips, and could appear in more than one form. Though the language they spoke was wholly unfamiliar – certainly not any variation of Valyrian or Braavosi. One man stood out among the fierce warriors, not just due to his raven-dark hair but also his gentler and smaller appearance. His face was not as fierce as the others, as he smiles at a fellow warrior, dark greying clothes warming his skeleton. Had he not arrived with the group, Alys would have taken him for a Westerosi. Yet he seemed perfectly at ease in the harsh and foreign company, speaking their tongue as quickly and harshly as they did. It sounded 'i skelli achr in doegr, spen in sigling.' The other nodded at him, he wearing an eyepatch and brown hair, Arne barely surviving being speared by Rollo, Floki giving him mushrooms to sustain him.

Athelstan was learning the Norse language quicker now, more than just the little that had saved his life back in the monastery. It was a pace that he thought had impressed even Floki, when the latter insisted on nastily provoking, calling him PRIEST. Floki, judgmental and hailing from tree gods as he was, said his inflections were jarred, a bit soft spoken in sentences, 'just a bit soft,' he says, his tone slightly sarcastic, as he visualises with his hands. King Stannis had hired the northmen to his foreign company of sellswords, and he had decided to join as well, agreeing when Ragnar asked him if he was coming with them. He was still practising fighting with an axe and sword, but was getting better, significantly so from a few years back. He could defend himself better physically now, and the fights he had watched had helped too. Additionally, he was getting along better with them throughout the years. It was a different morality and beliefs that he experienced, but yet he had started to feel the Norse Gods’ presence in his soul.

Soon, out of the corner of his eye, he catches a woman watching them, he being in the midst of speaking Norse. She looked highborn, and Athelstan determined her to be the one that was of Karhold. He politely cuts the conversation short, and walks over the woman. He smiles at her, bowing respectfully. “My lady.”

Alys nods to him, "Hi," she says softly. "How was your day sailing?" She looks at him, wondering eyes of where he was from. "Did you sail through the narrow sea?"

Athelstan says, "We come from Scandinavia, my lady. My name is Athelstan, and we are here to protect you during this time of great calamity, as King Stannis goes to battle in Westeros."

#rp partner | agirlingrey #ic

[devoutpriest]

neckerchiefsandmagic:

“Did you find what you were looking for?”

“I have, yes, thank you for asking.’ he holds the bible he was looking for. he clutches, the paper crinkling. it was a beautiful bible that jess had shown him, crumbling wonderful smelling parchment. he smiles at the stranger. they were at the library in the castle, where geoffrey was. merlin nods, glad he had found it, knowing the bible was special to him. he didn’t think much about religion, yet believed magic was beautiful, and remembered witnessing the persecution of it of uther’s christian kingdom, when he hanged a magic male in the town square. this made him think christianity was cruel.

#rp partner | neckerchiefsandmagic #ic

[devoutpriest]

*

peopleiveloved

#aesthetic. #he is at house with gyda the cat.