─ ℒᴏᴠᴇ, 𝒻 ɪᴅᴇʟɪᴛʏ, ᴀɴᴅ 𝑽𝑬𝑵𝑮𝑬𝑨𝑵𝑪𝑬 ʙᴇʟᴏɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴍᴇ. |#𝒯𝒽ℯ𝒲𝒾𝓉𝒸𝒽ℯ𝓇 ᴏᴄ|#ʟᴅᴍ| #𝓂𝒹𝓃𝒾|
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❝ 𝑫𝑬𝑨𝑻𝑯 ɪs 𝓀𝒾𝓃𝒹. 𝑳𝑰𝑭𝑬 ɪs 𝓃ℴ𝓉. ❞
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─✧─ᴛʜᴇ 𝑫𝑬𝑬𝑹 𝒲ℴ𝓂𝒶𝓃 ─✧─
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┊┊┊┊⋆ ✧ · ✧ ✵.
┊┊┊☆ * * ⋆
┊┊★ * 𝗠𝗔𝗦𝗧𝗘𝗥 𝗧𝗛𝗥𝗘𝗔𝗗
┊┊* . * ✦
┊☆ ° ✧ ·
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𝒯𝒽ℯ 𝒟ℯℯ𝓇 𝒲ℴ𝓂𝒶𝓃 retweeted
/. Putting things into perspective.
docs.google.com/document/d/1…
open.spotify.com/track/40fel…
Bitter howling, hidden beneath winter winds could be heard in the far distance, ambiguous enough to fool the mind and unsettle the heart. The old man halted abruptly, his head snapping to one side, looking out into the darkness beyond the wall. +
+ A fierce look crossed the man’s eyes, like a terrified beast, and he swept past the Witcher to the gate. Using all the might his wiry body could muster, he slammed the gate shut. The impact rumbled down either side of the gate, a testimony to the frivolity of the paling meant +
“ᴵᶠ ᶦᵗ’ˢ ᵃ ˢʰᶦᵗʰᵒˡᵉ ʸᵉʳ ˡᵒᵒᵏᶦⁿ ᶠᵉʳ, ʸᵃ ᶠᵒᵘⁿᵈ ᶦᵗ.”
open.spotify.com/track/07XZG…
Came a withered voice from beyond the gate. The muffled sound of fabric and shuffling boots against frigid earth is heard before a frail figure draped in the thin, tattered +
+ The distance between he and the Witcher quickly vanished, and a bony hand wrapped in paper-like skin snatched the sable fabric of the other’s tunic.
The old man reeked of ale and disease. His voice reminiscent of skin shredding across rock when next he spoke, was no longer +
A ripple surfaced across the beings flesh, sound akin to silver chittering; light as falling feathers. The fluttering whispers echoed over the entire body as it shifts into a new shape. The molten gaze cooled to a reflective viridian grey, and the presence is gone.
+
+ the terrorised villagers.
A single lantern is lit, a lonely sentinel left to battle against the bitter dark. There isn’t a soul in site, every resident having taken shelter inside fragile homes.
The only protection, a crudely built paling encircling the village perimeter. +
Unknown Regions
open.spotify.com/track/4VkFi…
The North.
It is world cultivated in harsh winds and unyielding mountains; a vivid picture of the untamed. A forlorn wilderness of nocturnal forests crowned with frost, glittering like fangs at the setting sun. +
— drop in temperature and occasional gust of wind, meant a cold rain or snow was imminent.
“Hmm…”, he grunted to himself as he continued on, seeking some place he knew not, yet knowing their was a dire need.
—@ToWalkWithDeath—
+ moonlight captured on rivers of silver hair, visible briefly beneath a heavy hood. The weighted, rhythmic drumming of a loyal mount is heard, navigating the unfamiliar trail, and the rider, silent and perplexing, appears as though carved from the mountains.
+