ˢⁱʳ’ 𝖂ɪʟʜᴇʟᴍ⠀𝕱ɪᴛᴢʀᴏʏ.
@oilslicked.bsky.social
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⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀Wilhelm. ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘰, ( will, desire ) .͟.͟. ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘮, ( helmet, protection. ) ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀vehement protector. ⠀
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⠀⠀⠀⠀ sir wilhelm fitzroy
⠀⠀⠀⠀ #sdvrp #mvrp
⠀⠀⠀⠀☾ medieval event
⠀⠀⠀
Reposted by ˢⁱʳ’ 𝖂ɪʟʜᴇʟᴍ⠀𝕱ɪᴛᴢʀᴏʏ.
a period of emptiness. everything feels so shallow. even happiness is dull. maybe everything would be better if nothing existed.
Reposted by ˢⁱʳ’ 𝖂ɪʟʜᴇʟᴍ⠀𝕱ɪᴛᴢʀᴏʏ.
she's a princess, and you're an ogre . . that's something no amount of potion is ever going to change.
Reposted by ˢⁱʳ’ 𝖂ɪʟʜᴇʟᴍ⠀𝕱ɪᴛᴢʀᴏʏ.

⠀⠀⠀hana farah hawke—

don't look too close.
⠀ she's not meant to stay.⠀

medieval event. #sdvrp #mvrp
/ there's just a side to him that's so much more tender & capable of feeling more ,, and i think he'd be INTENSE. what do you even do with all that man. good lord
/ fuck it will is a medieval character now im never going back /hj /or am i
Reposted by ˢⁱʳ’ 𝖂ɪʟʜᴇʟᴍ⠀𝕱ɪᴛᴢʀᴏʏ.
and leave you with only your imagination? that would be cruel.
.. don’t promise such things you won’t act on, sir wilhelm.
i could whisper things into your ear that'd make the dirtiest wrench blush with shame, if you need test it yourself.
/ usually i write one big story i've plotted with someone & then the rest of our interactions don't have to be chronological or "canon" 🙏🙏🙏 let's have fun
𝕷ow tavern lamps, lagers lined up, laughter. a drinking contest to end the day.
Reposted by ˢⁱʳ’ 𝖂ɪʟʜᴇʟᴍ⠀𝕱ɪᴛᴢʀᴏʏ.
i could whisper things into your ear that'd make the dirtiest wrench blush with shame, if you need test it yourself.
 "speak quickly." the last threads of light are fading. only night awaits, and the blaze of fire that comes after it.
attaining useful information. perhaps she belongs to a coven. she might even point the way, if given some false hope.

the knight tips his face up with a begrudging air. the metal of his sword gleams as he puts it away to show he's willing to listen.
spite of his suit of armour, will is not impervious to curiosity. he still has an enemy to slay. it wears under that cloak a pair of wings. if she wants to speak, supposedly having given up all hope of flying away already, there exists a chance of
behind his helmet will's black eyes harden.

 "you are in no position to make demands," he reminds her, all too wary of the danger growing every wasted breath. any fool with even the faintest lick of sense knows not to play games with a witch.

but in
conceals her face.

looking upon the same presence as he, ferrant snorts and stamps his hoof. with a click of his tongue will settles the horse, which moves a few steps then stills.
𝕿o his satisfaction the growing vines shrivel, leaves coiling tight to their stem. the trees grow densely in this part of the woods so that when the witch appears, will sees only slivers past birch trunks ; slender hands rise, pulling back the hood that


speak of my case. I won’t ask for your cause nor your secrets. Grant me this mercy so I know that someone might hear my side before I am smeared from the earth. I give my word not to harm a single soul. ”

a hard swallow. it’s slow down her throat and hits like a stone.

“ .. 𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦 .. ”