#Nyx ashkala

[smokin-gun]

Song Here

𝒮𝑜𝓂𝑒𝒷𝑜𝒹𝓎 𝓉𝑜𝓁𝒹 𝓂𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓇𝑒'𝓈 𝓉𝓌𝑜 𝓈𝒾𝒹𝑒𝓈 𝓉𝑜 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝓁𝒾𝒻𝑒 𝐼 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃𝓀 𝐼 𝓂𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉'𝓋𝑒 𝒸𝒽𝑜𝓈𝑒𝓃 𝒹𝒶𝓇𝓀𝓃𝑒𝓈𝓈 𝑜𝓋𝑒𝓇 𝓁𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉

𝒮𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓉𝑜 𝓂𝑒, 𝐼 𝒶𝓂 𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝒹𝑜𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓌𝑒𝓁𝓁 𝒢𝑒𝓉𝓉𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓉𝒾𝓇𝑒𝒹 𝑜𝒻 𝓂𝓎 𝑜𝓌𝓃 𝓌𝑜𝓇𝒹𝓈 𝒮𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓉𝑜 𝓂𝑒 '𝒸𝒶𝓊𝓈𝑒 𝐼 𝒸𝒶𝓃'𝓉 𝒽𝑒𝒶𝓇 𝓂𝓎𝓈𝑒𝓁𝒻 𝒯𝒽𝓇𝑜𝓊𝑔𝒽 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓁𝑜𝓊𝒹𝓃𝑒𝓈𝓈 𝑜𝒻 𝓂𝓎 𝑜𝓌𝓃 𝒽𝓊𝓇𝓉𝓈

[finalsongxiv]

Nyx Ashkala - Manwhore, lover of cigarettes and booze. Kicks ass and asks questions later.

@guns-smoking

*Strokes my chin* I’m getting cocky/romance vibes off Nyx where you WANT to love him but he’s not the type you take home and settle down with b/c he’d prob store his knife in your floorboards and ruin the finish -- SO I GIVE YOU THESE: 1st Impression:  Rodeo - Lil Nas XIf I took you everywhere, you wouldn't know how to walkIf I spoke on your behalf, you wouldn't know how to talkIf I gave you everything and everything is what I boughtI can take it all back, I never cared 'bout what you thought Assumption: Youngblood - 5 Seconds of Summer And I'm just a dead man walking tonightBut you need it, yeah, you need itAll of the time Bonus: Summer’s Lost - Hurt Nights without end seem to bleed into daysTry to forget that it turned out this wayI am still mortified yet believed in a wayThat when my days are doneWe'll be in the same plane

[zellbellart]

Just some new shots of Nyx.

[smokin-gun]

(I wrote this blurb because the quests completely inspired me, however, I’m also falling asleep so don’t expect much, lmao. It’s not done.)

He’d left her.

He’d actually left here there, like a jackass.

The timing was horrid. Absolutely hellbent on destroying everything before that vital moment when he’d have to leave again. His mind was torn between an actual connection, lust, desperation, and a call to duty he’d never felt himself pulled to before.

Nyx hissed through his teeth as the frigid air of Ishgard lashed against the stubble on his face. He tugged the thick, lined coat that concealed the inkings on his neck from the world further up until his face was obscured enough to begin this trek home. It was well past the twelfth bell and nay a single life could be seen on the streets.

She’d been wanted by a thug, a man who couldn’t be scorned by a woman, and he’d mentally left himself back in her room, that instinctual need to protect springing into action. But instead, his body had moved of its own accord. His heart had a mission that his mind disagreed with.

Rook had already placed his preparations at an undisclosed location and he found the pack with ease despite the snow having drowned it from prying eyes. It smelled like the bar. Like Rook. It comforted him to some degree even though he would never admit to it.

The Seeker hoisted the thing into his back and reached into a coat pocket for a pair of leather gloves fitted with fur from some fiber bearing creature, and began pulling them tightly over each finger. He’d only snapped out of the early process of travel when something fell to the ground. The red spade shone brightly atop the corporeal bitterness that lined the street and he reached for the card that hosted it. The ace of spades. She’d tucked it into his coat as he left and even now he wondered why she’d been content to lose a card from her deck. What did it mean to her? The explanation had been lost in his haste to get moving.

Some stirring in the chain of rumor had hinted that all who were willing to offer a hand in Garlemald were to convene at a specified place and time, but he’d missed it by several suns. His only choice was to pay for a private service to drop him in the wilderness outside of the main city. Regio Urbanissima. He’d manage to find someone, but only by the skin of his teeth. He’d not be arriving with the others, but he’d still manage to get to Garlemald no matter the cost.

—————Several suns later————-

His feet landed on solid ground after far too much time in the skies. Nyx wasn’t quite fond of leaving it for extended ranges towards the heavens, but he’d endured. Much to the disapproval of his stomach and his head.

They’d named the Camp “Broken Glass” and as he treaded ground, his coat pulled as close to his body as possible, he realized why the name had stuck.

The sun had already begun to disappear beyond the mountains when he’d arrived and to his surprise, someone amongst the machinists had prepared a cot for him in one of the annex buildings just south of the aetheryte. What little fire they could conjure up managed to keep the cold at bay enough that everyone inside would be able to sleep with some degree of comfort.

Golden eyes analyzed every soul within his temporary housing and he eventually laid back on the cot, one that might have been a touch too short for him. After all, telling organizations that he was a Miqo’te often led to… misunderstandings about height. Nyx had been about to roll over when the voices of two Garlean refugees made his ears raise the slightest bit. He’d almost failed to notice their allegiance until he noted a very familiar insignia across the shoulder of a jacket.

His jaw set and he went deathly still, finally rolling over just so that they wouldn’t know he was eavesdropping.

“Do you really believe they’re here to save us? Have you lost all sense? We’re going to be delivered soon and then we can fight back… These savages won’t pull masks over all of our eyes… You’re too soft.”

“You’ve lost all reason, all sense. We can’t do this on our own. It’s certain death if you run from them and deny their aid… Do you want to end up like your family? Stubborn… and very dead.”

Nyx’s eyes widened as the conversation continued on, but more to his horror was the realization that he’d been misled to attend a Garlean recovery process. He sucked in a breath and his fingers dug into the cotton of the cot. Tonight, Grace would remain at his side, her body polished and her chambers filled.

A hushed breath spoke into the fabric and a huskiness settled in his chest, one that came out in a whisper, “Garleans… they’re helpin’ tha Garleans… Wha’ fresh hells is this?”.

[zellbellart]

I did the thing! I’m not 100% on the text yet, buuuuut, I did it anyways. Can always change it later.

[astroflux-ffxiv]

(via https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zuMjIShQdvM)

I found this for gunsmith-cat since I envision Nyx singing this song with a boy band. :D Nyx actually kinda reminds me of Ren, the long haired blonde one who sings “I kiss you, R”. Haha

[smokin-gun]

𝔑𝔬𝔱𝔥𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔠𝔬𝔲𝔩𝔡 𝔭𝔯𝔢𝔭𝔞𝔯𝔢 𝔪𝔢 𝔣𝔬𝔯 𝔱𝔬𝔫𝔦𝔤𝔥𝔱 ℑ'𝔪 𝔮𝔲𝔦𝔢𝔱 𝔠𝔲𝔷 ℑ'𝔪 𝔟𝔞𝔯𝔢𝔩𝔶 𝔟𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔱𝔥𝔦𝔫𝔤 ℑ 𝔞𝔠𝔠𝔦𝔡𝔢𝔫𝔱𝔞𝔩𝔩𝔶 𝔰𝔢𝔱 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔴𝔬𝔯𝔩𝔡 𝔬𝔫 𝔣𝔦𝔯𝔢

𝔚𝔥𝔢𝔯𝔢 𝔡𝔦𝔡 𝔴𝔢 𝔤𝔬 𝔴𝔯𝔬𝔫𝔤 𝔗𝔥𝔦𝔰 𝔡𝔞𝔪𝔞𝔤𝔢 ℑ'𝔳𝔢 𝔡𝔬𝔫𝔢, ℑ ℑ 𝔠𝔞𝔫'𝔱 𝔢𝔳𝔢𝔫 𝔭𝔯𝔢𝔱𝔢𝔫𝔡 𝔬𝔯 𝔪𝔞𝔨𝔢 𝔦𝔱 𝔲𝔭 𝔗𝔥𝔢𝔯𝔢'𝔰 𝔫𝔬𝔴𝔥𝔢𝔯𝔢 𝔱𝔬 𝔯𝔲𝔫 𝔗𝔥𝔢 𝔢𝔫𝔡 𝔥𝔞𝔰 𝔟𝔢𝔤𝔲𝔫 (ℑ 𝔞𝔠𝔠𝔦𝔡𝔢𝔫𝔱𝔞𝔩𝔩𝔶 𝔰𝔢𝔱 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔴𝔬𝔯𝔩𝔡 𝔬𝔫 𝔣𝔦𝔯𝔢)

[zellbellart]

My finger slipped.... and I do hope to actually make this into a finished product :3.

[smokin-gun]

“Och, ye need somethin’?”

Nyx Ashkala - Mateus Server/Crystal DC

[smokin-gun]

Suddenly, the air sucked from his lungs and he felt like he was downing. The room was spinning, as much as he knew it wasn’t. Each attempt to inhale caught in his throat and he wondered if he’d somehow fallen into a river and the last several bells were a hallucination his mind had concocted in his final moments.

A hand rested on his shoulder and suddenly his soul returned to his body with a rather dramatic jerk of his body. Nyx’s eyes darted to the side and he watched her form his peripheral.

She was an incredibly attractive Seeker of the Sun. With hair a shade brighter than a summer sunset, fiery and red, and eyes that glimmered like emeralds, she was every bit the image of a wild coeurl. The woman’s smile was infectious and her frame was perfect in every way… except when eyes met her tail. It was shorter than usual and had obviously seen trauma with its bobbed appearance. It didn’t stop her though, instead jerking side to side with mischief as she spoke. A’lluca’s voice was melodic and musical, and it commanded attention without force.

“I know it’s a lot, but for what it’s worth, we’re all still here fighting. Most of us, anyways.”

Nyx’s eyes continued following her as she stood and splayed her hands out in front of her, stretching herself as she finally looked to his face, “Ye say most… m’guessin’ I knoo who tha straggler is…”. A’lluca’s ears pinned back and an expression of remorse spread across her features.

“If your guess was your father, than yes…”, she hesitated and green eyes rested on him, “When your mother passed away, he began coming here on expeditions trying to find some way to dismantle the Garleans from the inside, but as many do, he found himself drawn to them. While we see them for what they are, some find them rather charismatic and are unable to work against them.”

Nyx’s body stiffened and he sighed slowly through gritted teeth. Both fists curled in on the blanket that covered his lower half and sharpened nails nearly tore through the fabric.

“Weapons specialist, m’guessin’?”

A’lluca nodded and refused to make eye contact with him. The bob of a tail behind her twitched erratically as she sifted through the words in her head, “Magitek specialist. It would seem that he has a bit of an issue that should sound strikingly familiar to you”. She canted her head with an awkward smile and a finger raised to point at the ridiculous amounts of tattoos that covered her fellow Seeker’s body.

A shiver made its way down his spine and a feeling of something catching in his throat made him uncomfortable enough that he tried to rise from his bed. The splitting pain of wounds healed far too quickly resonated his entire being and he fell back against his pillow again. A sheen of sweat covered his face and he growled at the back of his throat.

“A’rihan, you should probably rest. One of our medics had to patch you up quicker than expected so you’re going to be in a lot of pain for a few suns.”

“Nyx.”

“Sorry?”

“It’s Nyx. Cut that A’rihan shite. Dunnae appreciate tha name.”

A’lluca’s face almost seemed sad at his sudden demand and she reached outwards to touch the man’s shoulder. The blonde caught her hand, almost pulling his own back just as quickly, and decided to press it back towards her. Her touch made him want to curl up on himself and the sensation was foreign to him. It was the first time he realized he didn’t want anyone getting close to him. She let forth a soft gasp whenever he moved her away from him and her brows knit together when she noticed he wouldn’t look at her, “I’m sorry we all failed you earlier in life. We want to make it up to you but you’re going to have to let us in to do that”.

“I dunnae deal in emotions, lass… M’nae ‘ere to settle on past deeds either…”, he kept his face turned away from her and instead watched small winter birds flit by the window behind his makeshift bed.

(Here’s a continuation of the blurb I wrote a few weeks ago. Trying to get everything set up for Endwalker. We’ll get there someday!)

[smokin-gun]

[smokin-gun]

(With Endwalker looming ahead, I’ve been trying to write out some story for Nyx while I battle some pretty awful depression. Don’t expect greatness, but here’s some reading. I apologize for any typos since this was written on my phone.)

“Front Gate Breach… Did you fucking HEAR ME? Aleksander… answer your fucking pearl!”

“Aleksander…ALEKSANDER!”

“I ain’t feckin’ Aleksander… Bu’ ye ‘ave more problems than yer front gate bein’ breached…”

—————————————

**Fourteen suns earlier**

A large, three-toed foot caused dust to rise each time it plodded along a cracked and thirsty ground. Patterns rippled across its surface as if it tried its best to replicate the surface of the sun, the water scattering and snuffing out into the thick air before it could fully hide below.

The warking of a Chocobo, and a consequential cough as the dust choked it’s lungs, caused its rider to pull back the reins harshly before he joined it on the dried sands. A strong hand plucked the leather bits off the saddle and close to his waist as his boots added to the crunching around them.

A thick lilt was almost inaudible as a gust of wind enveloped them, “Jus’ think. Las’ time ye were here, ye wanted i’ t’be hotter”. The blonde Miqo’te elbowed the massive red bird next to him and it squawked in protest, head arching as it snapped close to his arm. “Believe me, dunnae plan t’be ‘ere longer’n we ‘ave t’be”.

The Seeker’s body was mostly covered by a scarf that clung around his neck, pulled up around his face so that the only things visible were the points of his ears and a determined amber visage. Bare shoulders rippled with ink work and tanned skin looked the slightest bit darker than usual. Thick work boots, laced tightly, treaded upon the dried lake beneath them without a hitch. A pair of hip-hugging leather pants were held aloft by a belt lined with more ammunition and tools than were likely necessary, but they were arranged enough that they weren’t burdensome.

The most noticeable detail about the man was the weapon that held closely to his back. It had a very obvious plethora of uses, but the form it held was that of a scythe, high above his head and glistening in the sun. Its wicked curved held an almost antique charm to it, but parts of it paid homage to the gunblades and firearms known by only Garlemald itself.

The thought of a homecoming for Grace made Nyx smile, the crooked grin creeping into the dimples close to his fangs. He often wondered whose weapon he’d recovered all those seasons ago and the thought of someone wanting revenge for improving its design made his tail twitch in excitement.

He’d already been traveling for some time, searching for the most remote entry to the empire that brought dread the world over. It wasn’t his first rodeo, but he wasn’t expecting the extreme change in climate. The last time he’d been in the hellscape, it was covered in a ridiculous layer of ice and snow, frigid to the point that he thought he’d die in his sleep if he had to take shelter somewhere. Thankfully, the destrier of a bird that he often figured would abandon him at his worst came through in a surprising series of events.

The current mission was something new. Knowledge that his father was, indeed, alive was jarring enough on its own. Unfortunately, the old man was found to be working under the Garleans either against his will or perfectly free. He’d said something that kept Nyx on his toes and his head swimming. A history in Garlemald… Had he really been holed up there this whole time or was it some sort of misunderstanding?

The Destrier jerked to a halt suddenly and Nyx’s eyes snapped forward and out of his own mind. A massive shadow crept towards them over the invisible horizon. Where the heat rose and swam with its false hope of clear oceans, a massive structure flew through the air like a giant crypt… Blood red hues clung to a black material that looked too organic to be leaving the land, like a great vulture, sickly and lurching.

Both sets of eyes followed it for a moment before they realized the thing was headed their direction. Nyx felt his heartbeat in his ears as he flashed glances around them. No cover. Not even the smallest hint of foliage. His bird companion seemed to understand the predicament, and like clockwork, began to run in the opposite direction from the Seeker. A few expletives escaped his lips before he sprinted after it.

As the structure loomed directly overhead, both of them fell to the ground, Nyx’s hands covering his head and the destrier’s beak pressed into the dirt as if two ilms of sand hid his entire body. It was in that moment that they both realized the massive Flying Fortress had continued on as if it hadn’t seen them at all. It was on a mission, perhaps seeing them or not.

The Miqo’te rose to his feet, dusting himself off as he looked over to his companion. The bird shook its head and fluffed up twice its size before it shook violently, dust shooting in all directions. If he hadn’t just experienced the massive craft, Nyx might have chuckled at the animal. Instead, he reached out and took the reins of the oddly compliant companion, tugging him forward and onward towards their original destination.

-——————

Suns passed by them like the slow, steady creep of death was behind them every step of the way. No signs of civilization showed itself and a few times Nyx questioned his ability to track his way. Even the usual stubbornness of his Chocobo had ceased and it simply went along with whatever the Seeker had him do, hoping that he’d find mercy on them both and head back towards Ishgard.

The horizon started to disappear for what was likely seven suns into their journey. Oranges and reds were swallowed up by deep purples and the smallest hint of real hid at the base of what looked like distant mountain ranges. The first signs of terrain change.

As before, the pair simply stopped where there were after Nyx made a few marks in the dried earth with a boot so they wouldn’t be disoriented come morning. A few rods and a tarp made for an easy shelter, but an odd wind had started to blow in once the sun had disappeared behind the range in the distance. The last gasps of orange cast an eerie glow on everything that could be seen, which wasn’t much.

Nyx had just laid out beneath the lean-to when he shot straight up. Chittering? Or howling… The wind that pushed dust along with it muffled a noise several malms away, but he knew he wasn’t hearing things as the great bird near to him raised its head and turned to face the same direction he’d looked.

/Skkkkkkeeeeee…. Aaaa…./

“Seven Hells… Damask… on yer feet… looks like we’re gonnae ‘ave company…”, the Chocobo clacked its beak as it stood, a foot pawing the ground as if readying itself. Nyx slid forward and out of his temporary bedding, a hand sliding out to grasp at the great scythe that hid beneath a blanket. As his fingers gripped the length of steel that made up the vast majority of the weapon, the tattoos along his arms glowed with a bright blue, the ornate details rippling down his flesh until each one had joined the first.

The Seeker took on a wide stance and his ears flattened at a new sound. His hearing was much more valuable than sight since the sun had disappeared entirely. All he could see were the crimson feathers of the beast beside him…. Which didn’t make the click, click, clicking sound surrounding them any less formidable.

He heard it every now and the. With the rushing of the wind, but it mostly drowned it out. One sounded behind him… then a few fulms away. A flash of silver and gold shone briefly in the light from his body, and then disappeared in the dust. He turned just in time for a flash of teeth and barely managed to side step it, although he found himself grazed by an unsightly appendage.

Again. A flash of teeth and another round of flailing claws breezed past him. This time Damask caught it with a kick of strong legs and the blood curdling scream they’d heard in the distance became disturbingly close for comfort.

“Aye, we’ve gotta get oot o’here… they’re underground. Damask, let’s go!”, he reached out just as another massive jaw lurched from the sands in front of him, sending the Chocobo hurtling to the side with a sickening thud. Thankfully he’d only been knock led away as far the Seeker could tell, but he was down for the count. It was time to draw them away or the bird would be a meal for what was likely four or five very hungry sand worms.

Nyx turned on a heel and ran in whatever direction fate would have him. A blur of blue was all he could see with inhuman screams sounding behind him. They reacted to sounds, to vibrations. Each step elicited a noise from them and it was obvious he’d become the hunt. The weapon in his hand dragged the ground as the Miqo’te continued forward. Added noise ensured they would follow but one misstep would be his last. Every now and then he knew he heard them breach the surface and then dive back underground.

Stopping would be suicide, and though his legs felt like they were on fire, he continued. The chase seemed endless and he knew he wouldn’t have much longer unless Lady Luck was on his side. He wasn’t afraid of death, but he’d definitely be disappointed if his story ended before he’d gotten answers.

Just as his mind had convinced him he’d need to come to terms with being eaten by massive worms in the deserts of Garlemald, he found himself tripping and connecting rather harshly with something metal. It echoed with the collision which also made his ears ring. “Fuck’s sake!”.

When he managed to open his eyes, realization struck hard and heavy. It was the supply crate that he’d hid in many many moons ago when he’d had to breach a laboratory. The writing on its side had a bunch of gibberish about medical things he’d rather not spend time on. With no hesitation, he rushed to the front of it and flipped up a metal door that rose with a little force. When he managed to get inside, he slammed it shut just in time to hear something outside colliding with it in a similar fashion to his discovery.

They had intentionally crashed themselves against, one after the other. The crate shook violently each time but somehow managed to hold its own. He was safe, for now.

[smokin-gun]

https://youtu.be/NA4uIFbVCPM

[smokin-gun]

(Don’t mind me, just dumping some headcanon ideas for Nyx. There’s gonna be typos galore and it probably doesn’t flow well, but this is more for my sanity than anything. Written on the phone so please excuse grammar and such... There’s more eventually so don’t worry about the confusing bits in here that make no sense!) Written while listening to this:

Daylight was fading in and out of existence as the sun ducked out from behind clouds in a feeble attempt to thaw the streets of Ishgard. It fell beyond the jutting staircases and the broad cobblestone laden walkways, snuffed out much like the cigarette grasped by the sun’s witness.

There was a slight movement in a dark room and suddenly a flame sparked to life with the click of a mechanism along the edge of a kerosene lamp. Amber eyes came alive behind it, a downtrodden expression keeping them company. The man’s age was starting to show in the lines around his cheeks.

Tobacco tinged breath drifted from between his lips as he sighed, leaning back in a creaky wooden chair with a worn leather backrest. A black tank top gripped his torso and a pair of well-loved machinist’s chaps clung to his thighs. He’d kicked his boots off haphazardly somewhere when he’d arrived to the apartment and one of them hung precariously on the edge of the bed, ready to join its matched brethren on the floor next to it.

Something about his posture gave away the unusual unease in the Miqo’te’s body. He was stiff. Too tense. The tendons in his arms strained as he simply picked up a few metal findings on the old cherry desk behind him and rolled them in his palm. In his other hand, a worn piece of parchment, small and discolored, threatened to rip between two tightly gripped fingers and when he stopped moving, it was obvious that a small tremble surfaced in the digits.

Nyx turned in his chair so that his back faced the lamp and he held the parchment up closer, scrutinizing everything about it to its core. His eyes frantically searched the page for any sign of error and when they were left wanting, he eventually slammed it on the desk and tossed the bits in his other hand atop it. The chair moaned as his weight lifted from it and he began to pace the small space. His bare feet padded along the hardwood until he stopped along the bear rug that peeked from beneath his bed.

The Seeker’s gaze shifted to the window, eyes scanning each drift of snow as they shot past it with the usual howling gales provided by Ishgard’s absurd heights into the skies. As if drawn to the panes with purpose, he hissed in a breath when the cold from the glass bit at his fingers. Having learned his lesson, he resigned to craning his neck to get a better view of the Brume below, trying to see if any patrons still weathered the blizzard making its way into town.

“Surely nae... “, he remarked to no one in particular as he turned away and walked to the other side of the bed. In a single motion, he’d swept up his boots and already begun to lace them up on his feet. The bed lurched as he pressed himself up andcleared the room in a few steps, grasping for a thick coat with a fur lining and swinging it onto his arms. There was a dull thud as he made his way down the stairs towards the bar that resided just below his dwelling. It was still in full swing even though the sun had retired and would be until it made its debut again.

A raven-haired Elezen behind the bar had taken notice of the sounds from above and his wolfish eyes fixed on Nyx as he cleared the corner. Too busy to exchange words, he simply nodded to the Miqo’te, assuming he’d be going out dressed as he was. His assessment was correct when he was met by a blast of frigid air and the complaints from several patrons seated near him.

The door clicked closed behind Nyx and he exhaled. Steam rose from already bluish lips to join the overhead of smoke rising from the Brume. He barely hesitated before he crept forward in the unnerving darkness in the poorest part of the city-state. Only the most prestigious parts would have lanterns outside. After all, who would want to rob the robbers? The malnourished? The destitute and the doomed?

Snow crunched beneath his boots as he moved with a silent purpose towards the main aetheryte square. He often went there for thinking when things got quiet. When perched just right, one could see for malms and malms without the help of devices and gadgets. The Seeker paused at the edge of the architecture and raised one boot to steady himself near the ledge.

Just as he pulled out his lighter, hand tapping a pocket for a cigarette, he heard the faintest sound behind him. Slowly, he turned his head and he froze in places, eyes widened in an uncharacteristic expression.

The man that stood mere fulms behind him could have been his twin aside from the obvious aging on his face and seasons of scars littered around his visage. His eyes had a keen interest in them, one that looked neither friendly nor malicious, but remained half hidden behind a familiar looking style of coat... one with a fur lining that almost made him look like a lion. And when he finally spoke, the corners of his lips upturned in a crooked smile to reveal elongated canines and a tongue that harbored wit and charm.

“Huh. Fancy seeing you here...

A’rihan.”

[smokin-gun]

New art from the amazing Fusspot. She nailed it with this one. NSFW is on my AD Twitter at @zellbellad.

[smokin-gun]

It always started exactly the same.

A dish fell in the kitchen, a metallic clanging following suit before a solid thud joined them both. Somewhere in between was a barely audible cry of pain... desperation.

A door slammed open and the sound of footfall stopped, turning into a horrified gasp.

“Mom?”. That voice. It betrayed the body from which it rose. A small child with ragged, short blonde hair and wide, terrified eyes called out in a man’s voice... He looked down at the hand that had curled around the door handle in alarm only to be greeted with the crimson of life fluids.

Suddenly he towered over the crumpled form of a woman whose very life force was draining from her body onto the floor around her. She gripped at her distended belly, double over in agony, “Rihan, please... help me”. He couldn’t move, frozen in time as he watched her try, and fail, to rise it her feet. The blood that taunted him came form beneath her apron, clearly from the pregnancy.

Nyx clenched his fists as he found himself watching the small child that represented everything he hated about himself. His first person view shifted until he stood behind the past specter, watching with a strained jaw as the muted paralysis spread across his face. Every part of him wanted to berate the younger self, to strangle him... to put him out of his misery. Instead, he lowered his head to look away as the boy in front of him sobbed quietly against the doorframe, silently summoning his father as if whispered words would magic the man to them.

13 seasons. 13 seasons too soon. What an idiotic child. What a selfish child. Why didn’t he move?

The Seeker broke like he often did, yelling with broken lungs. Each jab of a fist slid through the memory’s hazy body and he fell to his knees next to his mother, hissing through his teeth in his mind’s eye. Why do I keep having these relapses? I hate this. I HATE THIS.

An oddly soft expression overcame the hardened one as his amber countenance scrolled over the dying creature’s face next to him. Despite knowing the outcome, he tried to run his finger over her face just to have it vanish beneath her cheek. Somehow, the vision of her recognized him and her brilliant pink eyes met with his, “A’rihan... it’s going to be ok. Please don’t hate her... please. She’s going to need you. And you... you’re going to do great things... I’ve seen it”. Her parting advice almost disappeared behind the screams of a hysterical child as he fell to the floor and wallowed in a fetal position.

Those words always wrenched their way into his nerves and the pained look on his face returned in the form of a snarl across his nose. He looked away from her and his hands moved to dig into his own thighs. You’re a liar. You lied to me... She never needed me. We needed you... I needed you...

Thoughts raced in his head like a headache, yet he continued humoring them until they roared like a coeurl. Why the fuck did you abandon me? I’m never going to fulfill your wish, so why do you keep haunting me?!

“Because I believe it... and I know it to be true”

It almost always ended the same way too... The gasp of a man awoken from his own personal he’ll filled the air around him as he sat bolt upright, a sheen of sweat covering his entire body. Blonde hair fell in waves in front of his face as his chest heaved, breath attempting to outrun him in a dash for supremacy. But he’d eventually always catch it, fingers digging into his chest.

“...fuck”

(My writing is awful, so I apologize. I don’t really do a lot anymore, but tonight I have been struggling mentally with my PTSD so I just figured I’d channel that into some little snippet.)