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(``) @sovlbound . dynamic tags.

          𝐯𝐢𝐝𝐚  𝐰𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 [&] 𝐥𝐨𝐫𝐝  𝐝𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐧  𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐭 .

𝑑𝑜 𝑛𝑜𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑘 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑔𝑎𝑟𝑑𝑒𝑛 𝑙𝑜𝑠𝑒𝑠 𝑖𝑡𝑠 𝑒𝑐𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑠𝑦 𝑖𝑛  𝑤𝑖𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑟 …𝑖𝑡’𝑠 𝑞𝑢𝑖𝑒𝑡 …  𝑏𝑢𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑟𝑜𝑜𝑡𝑠 𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝑑𝑜𝑤𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒 ;  𝑟𝑖𝑜𝑡𝑜𝑢𝑠.

vida waters of @bruiisedpetals // lord dorren mormont of @sovlbound

shut your mouth, baby, stand and deliver. HOLY HANDS, will it make me a SINNER? like a river, like a river; shut your mouth and run me like a river. CHOKE this love til the veins start to shiver, one last breath til the tears start to wither... like a river, like a river — shut your mouth and run me like a river. ( @bruiisedpetals & @madesouls )

DEVRIM LINGNAU as EMPRESS ELISABETH OF AUSTRIA in The Empress (2022)

yoren karstark (@bruiisedpetals) + meera karstark (@sovlbound)

     𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐮𝐧(𝐬) 𝐨𝐟 𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫

dacey mormont of. @sovlbound & vida waters.

[ @sovlbound ] incorrectly quoted first impressions.

    𝐃𝐄𝐕𝐎𝐔𝐑 /dɪˈvaʊə/ [verb]

verb. devour.  3rd person present. devours.   past tense. devoured.   present participle. devouring.

     to eat (food or prey) hungrily or quickly.

      an aesthetic board of vida and dorren ; @sovlbound

vida waters & dorren mormont ( @sovlbound ) as ; quotes from real by katey evans.

I can see he thinks he's the ultimate creation, and he seems to believe every woman here is his Eve, created from his ribcage for him to enjoy. I'm both aroused and infuriated, and this is the most confusing feeling I've ever felt in my life.

His head is busy moving between my parted thighs [...] and is so surprisingly ravenous I can feel his teeth. His nails bit into my thighs as he devours me like he's the one deriving pleasure from the act...

He stands watching me, motionless [...], his legs braced in a fighting stance, his eyes bursting with need. His broad shoulders jerk with his breaths, and he curls his fingers into fists at his sides. The deep roughness of his voice scrapes my flesh; "Come here, then."

My body melts into his until his arm, coiled around my waist, is all that holds me upright. I don't know if I'm bad for him, or him for me. All I know is that this is [..] inevitable.

@sovlbound // @vhgr

Haruki Marukami

her memory has perfectly encapsulated the visceral moments; the way she fell backwards and scrabbled desperately for any hand-hold to stop the trajectory, the way the two oakleaf daughters (mellina & gwen) laughed at the successful prank and seemed to enjoy the way vida writhed like an insect on fire ... the way her throat let forth a scream she'd never created since. the way she rolled off the coals and ran, hysterical and half-blind with pain, to the well for water to cool the burned flesh, only to have master oakleaf's wife yell at her to get away & get water from the pig trough .. "stay away from our water, girl!" and the way she was barely ten years old at the time.

it had taken her over a year to heal, her laborious life ensuring the scabs ripped open often. bessany would have let her die, master oakleaf disagreed — 'a wasted investment' was how he framed her potential death, she hadn't earned the right to die it seemed. and suddenly ... all tastes sour in her mouth, the memories too clear and too imprinted in her that she can almost feel her skin burning again. the scarred healer rolls her shoulders and lets the warm light show how the skin ripples silver in some places; and a horrible pink in others .. she knows the lines from the cane strikes disappear amongst the burn scars, the worst still hidden upon the back of her thighs (bessany oakleaf's favourite place to hit the child only months younger than her eldest daughter). "little girls" vida replies with a tight jaw, as if youth could explain away the crime, "little girls who's favourite toy ... was me." she tries not to remain tense at his touch, but she also knows that her hair is fastened up, still drying, and if she tilts a certain way .. or if dorren's deep, horribly perceptive eyes will see the scarred patches of skin on her scalp where master oakleaf had sheared her like an animal when she caught lice. the more dorren looks ... the more he will see.

she breathes in shakily, visibly attempting to relax herself; so vulnerable and drenched in painful memories her adrenaline pushes her recklessly forward. she hasn't looked at him yet, and can't. not yet. gods, she can feel her heartbeat in every inch of her body. .. "their father did this," vida forces the words out as she tilts her head forward and moves her hair to reveal the jagged, old scar and the area where he dark locks never grew back just inside the hairline on the back of her skull; there are half a dozen more like it around her scalp. "their mother," those words are saturated with a fetid hatred, "... left her mark also." those are still hidden, as are countless more single-incident shreds of evidence... maybe one day she'll show the her bear lord. the thought alone is overwhelming.

bare skin is lit by the warmth of candelight,ㅤembers within the hearth flicker and cast a glow along the scarred flesh of his love,ㅤvida's,ㅤback.ㅤstormy eyes take in each curve,ㅤeach bump,ㅤeach marl of flesh licked by flamesㅤ-ㅤhe's angry.ㅤhe's seething.ㅤpushing a held breath through flared nostrils,ㅤdorren steps closer,ㅤinspecting the healed woundsㅤ-ㅤas if memorising each pull of skin,ㅤdrawing it and mapping it to his mind.

"ㅤwho did thisㅤ?ㅤ"ㅤvoice low,ㅤalmost threatening to an unseen force as fingers hover above her backㅤ-ㅤonce steady hands now tremble.ㅤtremble from upset,ㅤfrom what vida went through,ㅤfrom the love simmering beneath a harsh exterior.ㅤ

gently,ㅤdorren's hands drop to vida's waist,ㅤavoiding the touch of the scarred fleshㅤ-ㅤnot out of disgust,ㅤbut out of respect.ㅤhe saw how dacey would flinch from his touch,ㅤrun free of letting him see the wounds left by bears.ㅤdorren didn't want her to run from him.ㅤ

source / @bruiisedpetals

@sovlbound

“You touch me and suddenly I feel a little less war torn. I'm not sure what peace is supposed to feel like but I think it may feel a lot like you”

— anatomy-of-rains

it wasn't the time to think about how it was dacey under her hands, instead she dwells on the fact that she has done similar minor surgeries like this before. it's usually a woman desperately attempting to rid herself of a child; poor women who had nowhere else to turn but the knife. "it will sting, and feel hot, before it numbs .. myrish fire is aggressive, but it is effective," she explains as she washes her hands; blood and salve staining the water. she turns towards her guest, who's presence — now that the crisis is averted and her job as healer is done — returns to the aura of dacey (rather than a client in need of help; which is sometimes the only way she can work .. vida cares for so few people, it is infinitely harder to treat them) .. "dacey —-"

vida dries her hands on a clean cloth and then closes her hand over the (thankfully) dull blade dacey had used, sliding it away and out of immediate sightline. and then she pushes the stray hairs away from daceys face .. cupping her cheek and wiping away a few tears. "no, you're not mad — far from it, i promise you." instinctively she shifts so dacey can comfortably lean against her without straining her wound, vida's voice is soft, but calm, continuing — "i have worked with midwives before, ones who are separate from the rigidity of faith and society, and many of them believe that mothers who have been robbed of having their children in their lives .. their bodies can recreate the sensation of having a child inside them. the old reachborn midwives call it a blossom babe; as it is only a budding blossom but not a flower. as for arys .. i do not think he ever left you. your boy is in the wind, and in the snowflakes, and in joffrey ..

.. but — promise me, dacey, that you will never again try to search from him inside your belly," vida asks, not quite demanding, but sternly and out of concerned love; and she tilts dacey's grief-worn face up to hers and carefully dabbing at her face with a cool, soft cloth. instead of telling her to stop, or that she is wrong for the way that her trauma has attached itself to her mind, as many probably have or would have.. (vida doesn't know this pain; she's never conceived a child let alone lost one) — vida's instinctive and only reply is: "instead .. come to me, find me ... as quickly as you can. i may not be a midwife, but i know many ways to safely check if there is a babe growing inside you, and i can teach you how to do it yourself when i am away. but you must never use a blade like this again."

cheeks are stained and puffy,ㅤpale fingers press into the bandaged flesh of her stomach as bare feet dangle from the table she is perched uponㅤ-ㅤher first instinct led her here,ㅤnot to a maester,ㅤnot to a septa,ㅤto vida.ㅤto her good sister.ㅤher stomach burns hot beneath the cloth,ㅤthe fresh gashes now sewn and cleaned out of dirt and tearsㅤ-ㅤwhat a state the bear maiden must look,ㅤbut she trusted vida.ㅤdacey trusted vida to keep her secret.

"ㅤi thought he was in there . . .ㅤi thought he came back to me . . .ㅤi was just . . .ㅤ"ㅤtears well up in dazed eyes as a choked sob pushes passed her lips,ㅤgaze flickering from the healer to the instrument she had used to dig at her abdomen.ㅤ"ㅤmy baby boy . . .ㅤ"ㅤthough it had been many a year since the loss of her scandalous pregnancy,ㅤthe motherhood that was ripped away from her was as fresh as the day it happened.

sobs quieten at the warmth of vida's hand,ㅤleaning into the touch as a child would do to seek comfort.ㅤeyes shut and her voice comes out quietly,ㅤtrembling.ㅤ"ㅤam i going mad to think my arys was returned to me,ㅤvidaㅤ?ㅤ"

source / @bruiisedpetals

her hands wander over the lines of his hands, the creases of each knuckle and the softness of the top of his hand versus the hardened skin of his palms .. there were little scars, like her hands; ones that faded with time and now only showed under the heat, cold, or certain light .. a handful of rougher ones like the ones she has from accidentally cutting her fingers, or burning herself on a cauldron. hands familiar with hard work, and hard-learned lessons. vida's fingers traipse up his hands and arm now, and that is when he speaks up. while she does still, for a moment, her mind is made up when she looks at his face and drinks in the expression on his features. — she's seen it before, on herself, catching her reflection in her small mirror the night she revealed her burn scars to dorren.

vida has trusted him with her 'ugliness', though she'll never describe him that way. and somehow she knows that if dorren truly wanted to stop her, he would pull away .. he wouldn't be looking at her like that. truthfully she had almost spitefully revealed her burns to him that night .. as if trying to hasten the 'inevitable' of his finding her form disgusting & disfigured (he didn't think it, and doesn't. she tells herself that like a mantra so she doesn't fall into believing otherwise) dorrens' hand trembles, and hers is steady. vida keeps his hand facing down, her palm sliding against his with her touch exploring better than her sight could .. because she's looking at him. her fingertips run over raised scarring, clean-edged but old — and her other hand comes to rest atop his. the healer doesn't even note the way she draws closer so there is only space between the two of them for his larger hand cupped within hers. her right hand, the one beneath his palm, still has fingers splayed, resting, over the well-hidden burden the bear lord carries; she doesn't flinch. she doesn't waver for a moment. "breathe, dorren" she coaxes quietly, tenderly, as she fights off images of her coming to bear island to have been met with a statue ... and not the man that has found a way to take root in her heart. and it makes her stomach turn.

vida can see, so clearly it causes a physical ache in her chest, how completely dismantled dorren seems in this moment. she's never seen him like this and as much as it hurts to see the angst on his face in this moment; it's where she wants to be, is supposed to be. she lifts his left wrist to her lips, resting there for a moment .. not a kiss, something sweeter; her breath rushes against the scarred skin and she closes her eyes for a moment. .. "it's alright," she breathes out, like a whisper almost. when her eyes open again, they are fierce despite the tears that threaten to spill from the corners. "dorren .. don't go," vida declares, she's begging in an unspoken way, not meaning just for him to stay in this moment with her, but to stay in this world. the thought of it without him is a fear settling like a deathly chill in her bones; "i'm sorry this happened." vida's other hand rises to cup his cheek .. familiar stubble almost-soft under the soothing stroking of her thumb against his cheekbone, she leaves a fluttering trio of kisses on the inside of his wrist, and then draws his head down so she can rest her forehead against his. " .. fight me next time; give me to your darkness so it can't swallow you. and if you can't, let me stitch you back together .. just, don't — go."

flinching from her touch,ㅤthe dread settles in the pit of his stomach,ㅤlarge hand moving to cover the raised cuts at his left wristㅤ-ㅤtypically covered by his shirt,ㅤby his wrist straps,ㅤhis his armour,ㅤthey were reminders for him and him alone.ㅤspace is created as northern features of a lord are lost and instead a frightened young man stands before the healer,ㅤvulnerable and at her mercy.ㅤ

"ㅤplease . . .ㅤ"ㅤthere's a pleading to his voice,ㅤa weakness in his eyes and a tremble of hand on wrist as he swallows thickly.ㅤ"ㅤplease don't vida . . .ㅤ"

the memory was fresh in his tortured mind,ㅤthe blade freshly sharpened that morning and letter left among possessions of a facade.ㅤhe had laid by his mother's likeness,ㅤthe crypt of bear island a cold and unfeeling placeㅤ-ㅤa mirror of the man he was to become as lord to this place.ㅤit was dacey that found him,ㅤspurred on by words of the cubs.ㅤnobody besides her knew,ㅤnobody but vida now.

source / @bruiisedpetals

dorren + vida.

with. @sovlbound.

"huh." the twice-flint says, or neutrally exclaims. the only sound that comes from her mouth at his words. —- she turns her doe-like eyes to the woman in question, she doesn't know her from the other northern folks torgha is in the current company of within the tavern. and then her eyes wander back to the man bearing the sigil of the beast he seems to mimic in this moment, just visible on a leather bracer on his forearm. "if that be the case, why not have her dead? i killed a man at breakstone hill two years ago for crippling his fellow scouts' horse and leaving them both to die. i stabbed him twice in the neck, to be specific. once because that was traitorous behaviour, and the second time because i didn't like the fact he took it out on the horse." they had lead a party to find the man first, only to discover the horse had been stabbed in the belly and died slowly, with his rider pinned underneath in the snow. it still pulls her lips into a disgusted leering sneer.

the first flints are rougher, even, than the mormonts. they're a noble mountain clan, their customs are close to that of the wildlings in some ways .. she'll likely have answered the same way if torgha had known it was his kin, but perhaps in a more tactile way. no, that's a complete lie. torgha doesn't believe in using pointless tact in the defense of someones bloody feelings. "and if that's the case, and she is 'no friend', then would you advise me to call her foe instead? there is very little in between if you ask me — which you didn't, but i didn't ask your opinion on the card-playing girl — so that makes us even." she waves for two more drinks, and pushes one to the mormont sigil-ed man, she doesn't comment on it .. she's also not fully seated or making to do so; she's reclining against the somewhat dirtied wooden bar. torgha finishes her prior drink in a large gulp, and then wraps her hand around the next one. "it breaks down to the ones you love, the ones you tolerate, and the ones you hate .. and, by best reckoning, the rest are those you haven't met yet. so — should i call her friend, or foe? keeping in mind — we flints don't like to leave our foes alive."

the eldest bear cub huffs a laugh,ㅤmug of bitter ale lifted to his lips as he shakes his headㅤ-ㅤa trip to winter town always brought around some of the funniest stories.ㅤpointing to the flint woman,ㅤdorren then flicks his finger in the direction of his youngest sister whom was currently losing at a simple game of cards,ㅤbefore shaking his head again.

"ㅤand you think you'll need wyllaㅤ?ㅤ"ㅤthere's a bitterness to his tone of voice,ㅤa form of resentment of long lived hatred and trauma minced and thrown towards the sibling that caused his beloved mother's deathㅤ-ㅤone day he could forgive her,ㅤbut today was not that day.ㅤ"ㅤfor what,ㅤexactlyㅤ?ㅤshe is no advisor,ㅤno knight,ㅤno friend.ㅤ"ㅤhe was deep in his cups at this point,ㅤand as they say,ㅤa drunk mans talk is a sober mans thoughts.ㅤ"ㅤshe'll leave you for dead if you have her at your side,ㅤnever bat an eye that one.ㅤ"

source / @bruiisedpetals

DACEY + VIDA

with. @sovlbound.

@sovlbound ( dorren )

Naevia. That is a name that holds no meaning. She was a different girl, young and foolish, ripped from this world by rough hands and hot breath upon neck.

her hair is unbound, uncharacteristic, obscuring the left side of her face where a back & blue bruise is blossoming, her appearance is ruffled and unkempt; it seems like dorren is the one who has surprised her, but that is not so .. she is numbly seething with rage and there is an unconscious man half-restrained by her wagon, her blood on his hands and the bruises from his. the man out of sight, just .. bound and booted feet can be seen when vida launches herself upon dorren. vida is still panting with adrenaline and exertion. "mercy? i'm afraid i'm out of that particular item," her face is thunderous, she's smaller and weaker than dorren .. but she's a wounded wild animal now, and she'll die before she backs down from an unwinnable fight.

"i have a friend of yours, see his boots?" she tosses her head, her black hair shifting to show the swelling, the bruising, there's some on her neck — vida doesn't know it yet. she twists a hand into his tunic, and shoves him against the wall again, flicks the second length of rope (that was going to be bound around the nameless mans wrists until dorren's appearance interrupted it) underneath the crook of one of dorrens' knees and yanks as hard as she can, upsetting his balance to give her the upper hand — if only for a moment, perhaps. she doesn't care. she's on the verge of seeing red. "he said lord mormont told him to bring me to the keep, that you needed my help. when i turn my back, and he slams me against my wagon. you sent a MONSTER to my door."

and at some point, her voice has reached a pitch that she is screaming at him ... and when her old rope trick had sent him to the ground moments beforehand .. vida has her arm barred against his throat, her eyes level with his for once, and her hand is curling around her blade .. tucked into her apron waistband. vida is on the verge of tears, hot stinging ones that come from waves of emotion she doesn't expect; she feels betrayed, and it hurts .. it doesn't usually hurt when people do her wrong. it happens so often to her, but something in her chest is aching — because it's dorren who is the supposed architect of this; whether or not he knew that the man had ill intentions, dorren gave her location away. he gave up her safety, her home, to some stranger. as she finds herself beginning to descend into a strange kind of defence-driven, primal madness, vida's knee presses into his thigh and she bares down against him with all her weight. "why?!"

he was amused.ㅤhis back flat against the cold stone wall,ㅤhands held by smaller ones in place against the ancient rocks as a cocky smirk pulls at his lipsㅤ-ㅤthis was certainly interesting.ㅤhe knew,ㅤwith his strength from his fighting and training over the years,ㅤthat he could easily flip their positions and hold vida in place,ㅤbut it sparked a heat inside him as he looks down at her with expectant eyes.ㅤalmost challenging her.

"ㅤoh dear,ㅤit seems you have me at your mercy,ㅤdear healer.ㅤ"ㅤhe feigns a voice of woe and distress,ㅤsmirk never leaving his features,ㅤgaze never breaking from her.ㅤ"ㅤwhatever will i do.ㅤ"

source / @bruiisedpetals