antlereign

[antlereign]

hey all!! im back now officially. after . like. a month? like this for a short starter! i’d like to get the ball rolling again

[antlereign]

👀 slowly im comin back

[antlereign]

knightsduty‌:

SELF PROMO .    do u like soft boys, good boys, and jaded, tired dads? well, hi! it’s orca here with a new fe3h multi-muse featuring ferdinand, raphael, and jeralt! please give this post a like and / or reblog if ur interested in interacting :* 

[antlereign]

previously went under the url of roareign ! but, that account got sniped! so, let’s try this again. please like/reblog if you would like to interact with a low activity dimitri alexandre blaiddyd rp blog! 

[antlereign]

i don’t think you’re FUCKING sorry

[antlereign]

hartsgold‌:

          “it’s a long way back, isn’t it?” claude doesn’t mask the wariness in his voice. there’s no need to –– they’re completely alone ( in more ways than one, now that sothis has taken to fusing souls with his brother and they’ve fled from seiros’ grasp. ) his muscles still ache from the thrashing done unto him in the alleged holy tomb. when he sits by the window, he’s careful to close the curtains despite his wish to see the sun. wandering eyes can’t afford to see the riegan twins at some inn; word will pass to rhea before they’ll have any chance of running. 

          when he looks to his brother, he forces himself not to listen to the uncanny, slow pulse in his chest. “we should probably think about food soon. neither of us are any good running on fumes.” and him –– well, he hasn’t done half as many morning decompression-sessions as he’ll need to compartmentalize his too-fatal encounter. “but after that… we can get to talking about our next move.” he glances back to his hands; to the torn fabric and the would-be scars underneath. “it’s hard to believe so much happened in so little time. still, we’ve got to move forward.” if he can keep his spirits high for his brother, maybe there’s less to fear. “everything we’ve already survived is just a testament to the fact that we’ll get through this. you believe that, don’t you?”

@antlereign 

they ran too fast too long too hard and as much as they should rest, claus doesn’t want to stop. he wants to keep moving, needs to keep moving. further and further away from the monastery, away from the ever-repeating memory of a tomb desecrated by the too-still form of his twin. even so, claus hadn’t protested when claude led the two of them into the inn, showing enough coin for the two of them to take a room for the night. but then again, claus hasn’t said anything at all.

it’s so-- so still in the room that the air itself is stifling. and even with the company of another voice, it’s too quiet. he breathes in, out. in, out. looks at claude as he speaks, before having to tear his eyes away. claus was asleep when those wounds were made to adorn claude’s skin. claus was asleep, right up until there was no hope in ‘ turning back the hands of time ’ as she once said. claude’s still speaking, has been speaking, but he can’t hear any of it.

he doesn’t know when he sat down on the edge of the bed, but he’s aware of it now as he bends at the middle, elbows digging into his knees as he buries his fingers into his hair. eyes shut. breathe. he just needs to breathe for a moment--

[antlereign]

"i can't lose you. you know that."

claus glares down at the coin that lays in the palm before him, as if a small circle of silver could consciously betray him. he’s of half a mind to accuse the other of some sleight of hand, some trick, but he knows better. claude wouldn’t, not about something this significant. not to him (as if they were capable of lying to each other in the first place).

he looks away instead, deciding to ignore when his uninvited guest prompts him:

while the result of your wager frustrates me so, a covenant must be honored, when made.

he pays no heed to the flash of indignance in the back of his mind at the lack of response (but even she can concede this is a matter for family alone), tearing his gaze away from the traitorous silver piece to meet an identical pair of eyes.

then claude speaks.

“ i can’t lose you. you know that. ”

that earns his brother an incredulous scoff.

“ you can’t lose me? you can’t lose me? ” his tone is sharper than he intends, but claus is scared. surely he’s earned the right to be afraid? not for himself, but for what this scheme of theirs entails?    “ that’s unfair, and you know it. i can’t lose you either. that’s not– you can’t just– ”

he has to look away, shut his eyes, breathe in sharply, drag fingers through already messy locks (it’s not an easy thing, getting him to lose his composure, but this–). his hand remains there as holds the air in his lungs for a moment before expelling it in a slow breath. when he opens his eyes once more to continue speaking, his voice no longer has that keening edge that he hadn’t realized crept into his words.

(he’s actually pretty surprised by how steady it is, himself.)

“ you don’t get to justify it to me. i’m not going to stop you, so let me be upset. ” swallows, hard.

“ please. ”

[antlereign]

roareign‌:

it’s pitch black outside, now. when dimitri had wandered his way into the court yard, the sun at least had been setting. above them, there are barely any stars, and the moon is a slither of white in the void.  “   ——  ah, claude. the same could be said about you.   “   dimitri’s gaze lifts from the ground to meet claude’s own greens. the warmth that claude brings with him is comforting, and a part of him wishes to lean in close just to savor the warmth, the company. 

(  it’s a little like the feeling of coming inside after hours spent lost in a blizzard you werne’t prepared for and immediately hopping into a steaming bath. a nice sort of almost-burn, as if it’s simmering you like a vegetable over the stove, but you’re too numb to feel it yet, so you’re just relieved instead of in pain. )

instead, he takes what is given to him. 

( even if he wanted to be just a little bit selfish, just this once. )

instead, he focuses on the creases that come from claude’s brows furrowing. though, the handsome planes of claude’s visage is illuminated by the moon. he looks — flawless, as though carved from jade beneath the moonlight. he must look bad, after all. watching the repressed emotions and instincts collapse over a person like a tidal wave is akin to bearing witness to the growning of someone you care about without being able to swim out and help them. ( he doubts claude would swim out, even if it seems like there’s nothing he can do. dimitri can’t ask him to be a rock for him to cling to to stay out of the rolling waves. )

“   ah, i’m…well, you probably won’t believe me if i were to simply say i’m fine. let’s just say that…i will be fine. it’s nothing to concern yourself with, after all.   “   he doesn’t try to school his expression into something neutral, dimitri doesn’t find himself wanting to hide. the ghosts; the guilt stirring in his chest, suffocating him until he could no longer breathe or think  — no, no use in thinking about it now.  he swallows thickly, breaking eye contact and looking up at the endless sky.   “   apologies. i fear i’m being…anyway. let me ask you this, what has brought you out here, this late?   “

the urge to reach out, to touch, washes through him, fades, pulses again, ebbing and flowing like lazy waves under the moonlight. not enough to drown him, just enough to leave him with a soft pull. an ache. he hasn’t forgotten himself just yet, hasn’t forgotten the yawning distance that separates them by bold lines on a map and the knowledge that time spent at the monastery is-- transient, at best.

he wants to pry. he sees something lurking just underneath dimitri’s knightly veneer, and it makes him curious.  he wants to see. he wants to know. he has a guess or two- it’s not as if the blood that stains dimitri’s past is concealed from the world, but even so. even so, he feels like there’s a piece he’s missing.

but if claude reached out, would he do the same when their paths inevitably diverged? if their goals happened to meet, steel to steel? his gaze follows suit when dimitri breaks eye-contact, settling on the crescent of light cutting through the dark. he stays put, shoulder inches away but not quite touching. close enough to feel the warmth off of him.

his lips curl upwards in lieu of further movement, a smile that never quite seems to reach his gaze. even so, his next words are-- well. they’re truthful in their own right, even as dimitri hides himself.

“ came to stargaze, actually. or, more like skygaze. can’t really see many stars on monastery grounds. ” he watches from the corner of his eye. “ big and empty as it is. makes you feel pretty small, yeah? ”

[antlereign]

"I'm not going to let you die. Not again."

i noticed the black sky and all those lights

          quiet cloaks them for a short time. claude’s not so quick to call it strange, though he notes its static. so rarely do they fall victim to silence, save for the moments in which they communicate with anything but noise. it’s the line of his brother’s shoulders that claude catches in his peripheral that feels too-stiff, too-tightly wound. and how wound he must be, in the weeks that have followed incident after incident of fatal exchange. 

          claude remembers the violence that kissed his skin; his muscles remember the aches as they would when forced to run. he remembers the pain, but his brother must remember the sight. he couldn’t see himself then, unmade in a hopelessly desecrated tomb. rhea’s madness was an anchor that would have wrapped chains around his ankles and sunk him to the bottom of the sea. she would have had her devout knights dig him a cruel, early grave. she would have had claus carry his absence for the rest of his life. ( when they already carry so much, claude could imagine asking his brother of nothing more. the weight of the world’s new dawn is enough, isn’t it? how could she force one of them to shoulder the other’s gone-ness? it’s the marred horror of their every dream. ) 

          he can only speak for them both because of all the time he’s spent feeling exactly as his brother does. as claus would. even now, they’re more connected than they’ve ever been. that says as much could possibly be said –– it is as though their veins connect to the same pulse –– not unlike they pump blood to the same soul. 

          in the face of their terrific loss, his brother took on a tremendous burden. the whims of the progenitor god had seeped through his brother’s head and into his, if only as an echo. he’s never wanted to be limited by the impossible, but all of what’s happened since –– byleth –– it’s been a little difficult to believe. still, to suspend his disbelief would be more difficult. there was nothing unreal about rhea’s conviction, or her will to be reunited with her mother. for once, claude struggles to empathize. there is nothing he would not do for claus, and yet, even he understands that the red she’s prepared to wring from the people of fódlan is ages too far. perhaps she is too far gone. perhaps some people always will be. 

          but there is nothing gone about him. 

          claude’s brows furrow. both their legs hang off the edge of claus’ mattress-side. ( so many days ended like this in almyra. didn’t they? they didn’t have to share everything, but so often they resorted to doing so anyway. there’s nothing to lose in the moments of closeness they’ve indulged in; there is everything to lose, now. that fact has never been more apparent than as of late. they’re each other’s strengths as much as they are each other’s greatest weakness. rhea knew that –– she saw an open wound and dug her fingers in. ) he tips his head and rests his temple against the jutting edge of claus’ shoulder. he stares at their boots as if they’re the most interesting, well-made things in the world. 

          in those seconds that his heart stopped, he can remember almost nothing. therein lies the kicker: almost. even worn down to nothing, unmoving, un-breathing, he could hear claus’ ragged breaths. looming over him, the strength and pull of his magics –– he could see it all behind his eyes. a vision from the goddess, maybe. or maybe not at all. maybe just them, a moment that only brothers who were connected before birth rather than by birth could share. maybe the miracle was the trust he felt when his eyes fluttered shut. 

          there was fear, yes. but he trusted, somehow. maybe that they wouldn’t be separate for long, wherever they were. and maybe that sothis wouldn’t really allow anything to happen to them. that claus wouldn’t let anything happen to him. ( and he was here, in the first place, to make sure of the same. claus –– the tremor on his voice –– it’s so unusual. they’re honest with each other, always, but this… it’s a cold unfamiliarity. 

         and claude wishes he didn’t have to know the pain in his brother’s voice. he doesn’t want claus to know this pain at all. but he does, they do, they do, they do. they know all things in the same breath and the same pulse. ) 

          “be reasonable, would you? just for a second. level with me here.” he doesn’t look up at claus’ face. he can’t bear it just yet. “no one let anyone die. that’s too big a permission. and definitely too big a responsibility.” he doesn’t think about the hypocrisy. it’s weird, right? to want to always protect someone and to refuse to let them think it’s their obligation do to the same? “and you, least of all. what did you do, other than wake up and save the day, hm?” there’s a lilt to claude’s voice, but his expression goes steely. when he leans up and their eyes meet –– the same eyes, and somehow different now ( what sothis has left with claus, claude is sure will never leave him ) –– he means every word. 

          “i won’t let you be cruel to yourself. that’s my brother you’re talking about.” 

          maybe something could have gone differently. and truly, he’s sorry that it cost them sothis’ voice. but… right now, what more could he ask for? 

         “we can’t afford to let blame eat us alive. neither of us could hope to control the will of those aligned with the church. you know that.” loathe as he is to admit, that was more of byleth’s expertise. “we can only move forward the best way we know how: side by side. no part of what happened was something you allowed. we fought our way back. it’s what we do, remember?” he’s said those words at least ten times before. 

        they fight their way back. and they struggle all over again. 

          “i’m not dead. so… no more of that.” claude gets to his feet, firmly crossing his arms. he only ducks to head-butt claus’ forehead and stand straight up again. “the only thing you’ve ever let me do is eat too much stew. all right?” 

[antlereign]

@hartsgold

[antlereign]

[antlereign]

bree and i are going to be unstoppable um we

[antlereign]

like this for a short starter! or if u would like to plot!

[antlereign]

changed url from tactichoice to antlereign!!! i am back from nats place + also finished golden deer route so i am !!!! ready to go 👀

[antlereign]

ive reached the timeskip....... we’re getting there lads

[antlereign]

@gasbardian

“ you! hey! ” claude comes trotting up (almost a run- almost) to the young knight-to-be, looking maybe a little more disheveled than usual. or, rather, a lot more disheveled than usual. now, claude doesn’t usually make a habit of wearing an assortment of ingredients on his clothing, but today seems to be an exception. a horrible, horrible exception.

he fixes his gaze on him, green eyes gleaming. “ you know how to cook, right? i need a favor, a big one. well-- maybe not so much big, but a reasonably sized one. and some of your time. ”

[antlereign]

ill be on here soon to do those starters 👀 im just getting further thru the game and screencapping to make more icons don’t mind me!