shadowseveron

[shadowseveron]

#visage ➹ (i find beauty in the grotesque and macabre.)

[shadowseveron]

The Darkling | Otkazat'sya 1x04

#visage ➹ (i find beauty in the grotesque and macabre.)

[shadowseveron]

Ben Barnes in Westworld (1.10)

#visage ➹ (i find beauty in the grotesque and macabre.)

[shadowseveron]

she knocked that smug look off my face but luckily i was wearing a second, smaller smug look underneath

#relationships ➹ (i will follow you into the dark.) #with efigenia

[shadowseveron]

You should come work with me, Curtis.

#visage ➹ (i find beauty in the grotesque and macabre.) #relationships ➹ (i will follow you into the dark.) #with efigenia

[shadowseveron]

"Vel'uss zhaun alur taga lil quarval-sharess," he replied almost mechanically. Who knows better than our Goddess? As a former priest, the words spilled out like an old habit. But, once more, Severon's gaze remained set firmly on the work in front of him, the purple flame bathing the little silver orb. Silly trinkets. The way his hand stilled and his eyes flit up, someone might have just told him that is every breath was a affront to the Dark Seldarine. Had any fellow male said such a thing, Severon would have dispatched them that at that very moment and hung their corpse atop the spikes of his front yard fence. Before the Priestess, he bravely held his tongue.

In fact, Severon summoned up enough bravery to pause his work and turn fully to her, fabricating his own smile and becoming the very picture of subtle patience and humility. "It would be an honor to fabricate a new mount worthy of the Priesthood, Priestess Sinbyrn. Or are you requesting a more personal one, one customized to your own liking?" He tried to ignore the idea of one of his wonderful, exalted creations ever having to lick her boots. The horror.

♝

Sinbyrn's ascent was singular, almost appearing predestined in its ease. She'd acquired much in such a short time, all while being surrounded by what could only be perceived as tragedies. The only one left in her clergy class to ascend to the priesthood, the fall of her house, and the reorganization of the power structures of the Underdark would normally be hindrances, yet she continued to rise with each step. Ambition was a a natural component, but she was simply acting in accordance with her prayers. At least, that will always be her claim despite the fact her serpentine blade rarely hissed with hunger even when she dwelt in the shadows of Court.

"May Lloth continue to lead me down her woven path. My ambitions are merely a vessel for Her to fill. I am but a humble servant, of course," she responds with folded hands. Though not an ounce of humility reached her eyes when she looked at Severon. Sinbyrn would never forget how insignificant his vast expertise made her feel. Her feelings about every perceived slight each of her seniors cast were tucked away specifically for moments like these. She relished in her ability to look down her nose at Severon because she was in fact above him. "I actually do not know at the present moment. I could never spend the time fiddling with silly trinkets that you do, but I have ideas that are well-suited for your skill level," Sinbyrn says sweetly, the sincerity of her smile entirely fabricated. "I desire a mount and a toy to clean up its make automatically would be beneficial, or even something to lick the blood off my boots. Either would be right at your skill level, hardly a mental strain I'm sure." Though she keeps to herself how she believed his tongue would be suitable enough for either job.

#interaction ➹ (never greet a stranger in the night.) #& sinbyrn #& sinbyrn 001 #// this is quickly becoming one of my favorite threads ngl #// im wheezing

[shadowseveron]

"Of course," he replied, as though that should have been more than obvious. "Magic will hold us to our word." Drow, dark elves, tended to thoughts that were far more distrusting and cunning than those of mortals. To Severon, it should have been all too certain and even unspoken that any vow of true importance should always be tethered by magic, whether or not there was any trust between all parties. It was only customary. However, that he decided to tether himself to Efigenia in any sense spoke of more trust and vulnerability than he had given to anyone in centuries. The elve could not pin point the exact moment that their casual dalliance had gone from something mutually beneficial in terms of passion and business to something of a bond that transcended his usual logic. But he couldn't find it in himself to care, not when it brought him so much joy.

"Take my arm," he requested, a gentleness in his tone that was most unlike him. "I think something a little more personal would fit the promise, wouldn't you say? We both have magic to vow with." Severon would let Efigenia hold him there and use the hand on that arm to hold her arm in kind. If she did, a dark tendril of shadow would begin to circle their arms, waiting for her own thread of magic to join his.

There was something to be said of the Advocate, who constantly swayed to the beat of her own drum, who mulled over each and ever deviant route until settling on a methodically thought approach; a woman of smarts and strength, yet one who still was wretchedly human deep down. Everyone wanted the validity of being loved, a comfort she often went without, but she still sought out the dark elf despite. He was ever dark thought she'd had, manifested into a reality, and yet he was the respite for every damning choice she'd ever made and would continue to make. She wasn't sure when Severon had become so intertwined within her life, the man was still grossly separated from the quotidian reality of it, and yet Efigenia found him entirely inseparable from it upon a closer examination. This insidious weaving of their lives, a subtle inclination that spurred this final leap of something far more serious than this had ever been intended. Once a means to an end, this maddening pull to further her necromantic magic, spurred now into something of cushioned oblivion.

She smiled, something which likely still appeared odd when flashing across her normally steely visage, "Something like that." Efigenia coolly watched as Severon turned over the jewelry within the palm of his hand, a mirror of what she had done every time the dark elf had gifted her something substantial that had also thrummed with magic. A test, a blind venture, something that could heal or kill, and Severon peppered his own twist upon the request; typical of him. It hurt to think of such vow, she had verbally promised the very same with Kaan, but they'd never bound it to magic; perhaps her oldest friend and Sovereign had never figured they'd need magic to sort out such promise. Efigenia blinked away the lethal thought, nodding, "I can intertwine it with the magic already bound within it." A vow made stronger by magic; a mistake she'd not make twice where someone she cared for was concerned.

#interaction ➹ (never greet a stranger in the night.) #& efigenia #& efigenia 005

[shadowseveron]

BEN BARNES as BILLY RUSSO in THE PUNISHER (2017)

#visage ➹ (i find beauty in the grotesque and macabre.)

[shadowseveron]

@efigeniax

Yrsa Daley-Ward, from bone; “waiting for the check to clear”

#relationships ➹ (i will follow you into the dark.) #with efigenia

[shadowseveron]

Efigenia was a hungry woman, hungry for power and strength but also comfort. Deep down he sensed that because Severon, unfortunately, could relate. Males weren't easily cherished in his society and he'd once had to scratch and claw his way up despite superior intellect and noble heritage. Everyone wanted somewhere to belong and someone to belong with. He was prideful and would have thought himself quite joyful and fulfilled within the drow. The mortal realm had been merely a curiousity and a tool for the Artificer. But now Severon found himself longing for this sliver of it for his very own, this piece of it that was shaped as this witch. He'd have her with him. Longing was quite a dangerous thing, need perhaps more so. He didn't know how to classify this feeling in his chest but he knew that he wanted to open up all channels of his life to this mortal and to trust her the way he would never have let himself trust an outsider before.

"A marriage of magic." He mused, not thinking through the words that flowed out of him as he inspected the pendant with a new sense of awe. Truly a marriage of magic by a connection and sharing he didn't think to have between them before. It would certainly come to use for Efigenia... and to him? To have any sort of connection towards a coven's magic and, perhaps, insight into whatever might be left of Tiamat's influence over the witches? The elve's eyes narrowed as he turned it, seeing both the simplicity of it but also feeling what he could of it's pulsing magic. "I will take it," he said softly. Severon gazed towards Efigenia again, meeting her eyes with sincerity. "I will take it on one condition... we vow something. We vow that our paths will remain forever entwined while this connects us and that if our paths were ever to diverge and I return this to you, that still neither one of us will ever be able to harm the other."

"An offering," there was often satisfaction within the Advocate when she carved her own path, evident in the careful navigation towards choosing her own phrasing. Things between them... frivolous and fragile, not marked by any genuine longevity; there was nothing that inspired her to wholly change that and perhaps they needn't quite be defined, but Efigenia found that the further she delved into the abyssal darkness, the more insistent the witch had become towards crossing her T's and dotting her I's. "Something tangible," where his gifts were perfectly curated to the world she navigated this was, instead, beneficial to them both; his magic was so vastly different from hers, shadow magic that was entirely esoteric to the dark elves. No matter how much she vied to understand, to feel such element herself, Efigenia would be an outsider to the elements of shadow he could garner. This was something parallel, a channeling that could be called upon if he ever needed it, and she the same.

"If you decide to wear it, you can... call upon me, and I, you. Our strengths, our presence, even the fundamental tether of our magic; it's more of a reservoir than an open channel. It has it's limits," she was no fool and she knew the Artificer was just as elusive, but the Advocate had made her stakes known and if he denied it; then that would be that.

#// he doesnt realize he basically said she's gonna be his magic wife now but #// that's his wife now #// in my heart of hearts #// i dont make the rules #& efigenia #& efigenia 004 #interaction ➹ (never greet a stranger in the night.)

[shadowseveron]

Felwood

This is the nineteenth track on the WoW OST.

#music ➹ (moonlight sonata at night.)

[shadowseveron]

Ben Barnes in Gold Digger (episode 6)

#visage ➹ (i find beauty in the grotesque and macabre.)

[shadowseveron]

Silvermoon (Night)

#music ➹ (moonlight sonata at night.)

[shadowseveron]

Ben Barnes || 📸 Leigh Keily for JON Magazine

#visage ➹ (i find beauty in the grotesque and macabre.)

[shadowseveron]

The Artificer was forbidden from ever working with or around souls and advanced sentience again and, to make matters worse, he was thrown from the Priesthood along with every other male. While this all greatly limited his vast potential, the newly minted dark elf supposed that being the unwitting reason for entire universe annihilations was an understandable enough reason not to go around contesting the punishment. On the contrary, the Artificer sought to only hold his head high. He'd been raised to hold himself to ambition and excellence and Severon had proven both of those things were in his very blood and brain many times over. While being stifled greatly soured his mood, the elf tended to his wounded ego with silence and aloofness and doing what he did best: throwing himself into his work.

When it came to high ranking women among the elves, Severon had been raised beneath the very highest. He knew better than to not curb his tongue in female presense, no matter the fact this one was hardly an adult. An infant, really. A being of lesser intellect. Yet intellect did not mean status, unfortunately, and his Mother and mother was particularly fond of this one. "May Lloth look favorably on your wild ambitions, Sinbyrn," he mused diplomatically. The only indication of Severon's bad mood was in the way he failed to meet her eyes, his focus set on the little silver orb suspended by magic in front of him. Severon worked to temper it with a tiny purple flame from his instrument while speaking. "I'm almost curious as to what your behests would involve but... I'm not sure you yourself even know." No one understood him and his work - such was the tragic fate of genius.

who?: @shadowseveron where?: the court of drow somewhere

♝

There was a time when Sinbyrn's felt envy of the former priest. How embarrassing, how foolish, though not entirely surprising given the backward decisions that led to his ascent. Favored by the Queen, Sinbyrn had watched Severon benefit in ways she knew he was undeserving of, and now? The Queen was dead and cast down like the useless elve he was. Now the true devotions of Lloth could be carried out and Sinbyrn had a jester to laugh at whenever their paths crossed. "It is good to see you keeping busy. At least, you appear to be so. I've always found your toys to be so amusing, but are you sure you possess the capacity for instruction?" She never thought so. During their brief shared time in the clergy, Sinbryn can't recall a single time she sought out Severon for instruction. She doubted there was anything of value he could offer her, but she was quite good at forcing anyone to be useful one way or another. Even the lowest in their society. "You should consider working at my personal behest. You'd be well cared for and well used. A few decades performing under my instruction and all memory of your shortcomings will be erased. I can even petition the Triumvirate to make it official."

#// i hope you read the last line like a dejected teenager #interaction ➹ (never greet a stranger in the night.) #& sinbyrn #& sinbyrn 001

[shadowseveron]

He'd once gifted his Mother/mother with a choker that had an obsidian and ruby spider, one that would detach and bring her small objects she wanted. He'd been little more than a child back then. Grown up now, he didn't give anyone any more gifts, not even his Mother - he gave his people his time, effort and genius. They gained much with just that. But Severon had since rediscovered the pleasure of gift-giving when he'd gone to give Efigenia a bracelet that electrocuted anyone she didn't want to touch her. Then a necklace of that she could break off her neck to turn into a small dagger. They'd made a game of it since and it made the witch occupy that much more of the elve's daily and nightly thoughts.

"And what is this?" Severon asked in a low voice, the pleased surprise becoming a smile on his face as he held up the pendant with his index finger and thumb. "... A gift, a game or a test?"

a starter for @shadowseveron, where: somewhere for just the 2 of them

Efigenia sat up, a cunning smile as though she were a house cat bringing their master a treat; where most apex predators strewn dead critters at one's feet, one would suspect Efigenia to be no different. This, however, was something the necromancer fine tuned for the two of them; Severon was so fond of bestowing the Advocate with enchanted jewelry it had adapted as a secret language for them; mostly one-sided until this moment. An effortless roll of her wrist summoned the box within the palm of her hand and when her Artificer was to open it he'd find a bronze-wire wrapped pendant, obsidian encased within it. The true surprise of what it could do would only be revealed afterwards but the thrum of magic, of course, was prevalent.

#interaction ➹ (never greet a stranger in the night.) #& efigenia #& efigenia 005

[shadowseveron]

THE DARKLING SHADOW AND BONE (1.06) — “THE HEART IS AN ARROW”

#visage ➹ (i find beauty in the grotesque and macabre.)