#✦ [ 💀 ] 𝖠 𝖭 𝖲 𝖶 𝖤 𝖱 𝖤 𝖣 ‚

[death-ism]

@ermiis   ​  ​     /       *   𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩 𝐭𝐲𝐩𝐞𝐬 💛 childhood friends 💌 one muse has a crush on the other muse

I   would   be   lying   if   I   said   I   didn't   love   both   of   these   two   dynamics,   especially   if   they're   together.   sdlfkjsdkrj   I   imagine   Than   is   no   stranger   to   longing   ,   but   that   it   wouldn't   be   often   anyone   would   be   amorous   for   him.   come   to   my   office,   lets   talk.   let's   talk   right   now.

[death-ism]

@blood-ism​​    𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐬    𝖉𝖊𝖆𝖙𝖍  !!

‘unfortunately I did just that, though I appreciate your faith in me.’

❛❛   𝐎❜  𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐋𝐄  𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐇   !          A    moment    tucked    in    the    deeper    corners    of    the    underworld    where    the    bureaucracy    and    shades    do    not    dare    to    tread    often    there    is    a    silence    brought    on    by    a    lack    of    understanding.    what    could    he    possible    mean?    and    then,    he    remembers    just    a    few    days    ago    that    they'd    been    on    about    his    silly    desires    to    cause    trouble    just    to    be    seen.    it's    all    he    wanted    was    to    be    seen,    and    no    amount    of    reassurances    from    anyone    would    get    him    to    cease    them.    he    would    not    when    all    these    violent    thrashings    were    outright    cries    that    seemingly    fell    on    a    father's    ears    deafened    by    time    and    bitterness    in    endless    life    endured.    here    they    were,    again,    in    the    same    place,    different    setting,    touching    upon    the    same    lines    as    a    blink    in    time    ago.

for    someone    that    lived    his    days    in    the    same    manner    a    hero    set    adrift    in    the    hungering    bowels    of    the    underworld    too    early    to    the    very    many    faces    of    death,    these    long    runs    of    time    forfeited    trying    to    escape    …    such    deaths    that    were    far    too    violent    to    be    met    by    Thanatos.    he    could    not    be    the    one    to    cradled    his    bloody    and    beaten    body    to    his    own    form    and    set    him    drifting    down    the    currents    of    styx    to    be    reborn    anew,    still    very    blood    and    stronger    than    before.    no,    he    had    to    be    picked    apart    by    his    fearsome    sisters,    keres,    doing    their    foul    work    like    vultures    drawn    in    to    devour    his    godly    flesh.

Thanatos    would    never    pose    more    harm    to    him    than    he    has    yet    endured.    not    him.    never    Zagreus.    No    matter    how    much    they    could    disagree    would    he    think    he    deserved    this    fate.    he    deserved    to    led    benevolently    to    death's    embrace    —    into    his    embrace.    if    he    would    only    cease    this    foolishness,    he    would    not    have    to    be    led    into    death    at    all    by    him    nor    by    anyone    else.

❛    tell    me    you    did    not,    ❜    disappointment    tainted    soft    phrase,    released    from    lips    much    like    an    exhale    of    a    sigh.    ❛    you    have    not    learned    a    single    thing    in    this    self-inflicted    journey    you    undertake,    have    you?    ❜    he    may    have    bothered    to    inquire    of    it,    but    he    knew.    Thanatos    knew    better    than    most    the    brazen,    stubborn    nature    gifted    him    by    his    lord-father.    Zag    would    carry    on    for    spite,    if    he    deemed    such    action    necessary.

it    seems    he    has    deemed    this    much    necessary    now.

❛    do    not    expect    mercy    from    me    next    i    must    save    you    from    yet    another    death    at    the    hands    of    the    creatures    your    father    sends    to    do    you    in.    what    will    you    do    if    one    day    death    does    not    release    you    back    into    the    arms    of    the    living?    when    you    die    like    the    gods    do,    permanently,    will    you    learn    then?    ❜    it    flies    from    his    mouth,    covered    in    vitriol    and    hard    enough    to    set    his    teeth    ringing    from    the    force    they    are    delivered,    ❛    the    point,    Zag    —    what    would    it    all    have    been    for?    ❜

[death-ism]

@blood-ism​   𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐬    𝖉𝖊𝖆𝖙𝖍  !!

winks at him. one quick little wink that he's sure none of the other denizens of the underworld will catch. is he flirting or up to no good? it is a mystery.

❛❛   𝐎❜  𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐋𝐄  𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐇   !       Shuffling    prince    draws    his    eye    from    the    very    edge    of    sight,    golden    hues    flicked    to    regard    Zagreus    with    the    briefest    of    attention.    infernal    stare    to    heterochromic    pair    narrowed    to    slivers,    wing    beat    of    butterfly    wings    passed    before    the    raising    of    a    brow    in    response.    what    was    this    silly    man    doing?

[death-ism]

u single? 😏😏

❛❛   𝐎❜  𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐋𝐄  𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐇   !      ❛    And    if    I    am,    what    then?    Are       you    going    to    fix    it?    ❜    question    rumbled    from    his    place    curled    up    on    his    mountainous    range    of    pillows,    shifting    to    lean    his    head    upon    raised    arm    at    the    wrist.

[death-ism]

@legacyheld   𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐬    𝖉𝖊𝖆𝖙𝖍  !!

“  don’t bury your feelings.  sadness.  hurt.  rage.  feel it.  acknowledge it so you can decide what you want to do with it.  not what it will do to you.  ”

❛❛    𝐎❜    𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐋𝐄    𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐇    !        And    gentler    still    is    the    silence    exuded    of    him,    midas    eyes,    golden    as    the    corona    of    sunlight    rings,    turn    to    regard    the    mortal.    Intently    does    death    pass    judgement    over    the    man's    form    as    he    speaks,    picking    through    him    with    hues    that    have    gazed    into    the    abyss    and    been    greeted    by    those    things    that    dwell    there    within.

If    only,    he    could    —    a    pause    in    his    thoughts    to    press    a    sigh    through    lips    that    fell    lax.    He    is    a    god,    a    being    living    to    represent    a    law    of    this    universe    in    living    flesh    and    bone,    icor-blood    divine    in    his    veins.    what    would    happen    if    he    simply    allowed    himself    these    luxuries?    What    happened    to    men    when    gods    allowed    themselves    to    feel    as    they    pleased?    Had    they    not    been    inflicted    with    enough    pain,    enough    suffering,    from    the    selfish    nature    of    gods?

Death could not be more than an impartial viewer. A wraith simply waiting for the END — of men, of them, of him.

❛    i    cannot    for    I    posses    no    hurt    nor    do    I    entertain    much    in    the    way    of    rage.    Death    has    little    feeling    to    speak    of,    truly,    ❜    and    he    could    believe    just    that    when    he    thought    hard    enough    of    the    consequences    of    the    truth    purest,    ❛    and    it    is    beyond    you    or    I    to    go    about    poking    a    slumbering    dragon;    lest    you    desire    to    be    burned.    ❜

[death-ism]

@blood-ism​    𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐬    𝖉𝖊𝖆𝖙𝖍 !!

reaches out, fingers outstretched as he tries to discreetly snatch his scythe without making a sound.

❛❛   𝐎❜  𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐋𝐄  𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐇   !     there    is    a    faint    disturbance    to    be    sensed    around    his    being,    very    faint,    familiar.    a    faint    tilt    of    his    head,    midas    eyes    shift    only    enough    to    catch    sight    of    Zag's    hand    out    of    the    corner    of    vision.    corner    of    his    lips    flirted    along    an    up-raised    line,    sharp    like    the    edge    of    a    blade,    suble    in    it's    devious    quality.    Vice    grip    of    fingers    relaxed    on    the    ornate    polearm    of    his    sythe,    and    he    wondered    briefly,    if    he    were    enough    to    lift    his    weapon.    Could    the    son    of    Hades    shoulder    the    weight    that    came    of    a    blade    soaked    in    so    much    death    that    it    thirsted    for    such    infernal    business?

Could    Zagreus    afford    deaths    dowry?    he    is    utterly    curious,    and    so,    he    does    not    stop    him    in    the    midst    of    his    mischievous    thievery.