#acherie Tumblr posts

[science-lings]

If it’s part of the character design I am going to latch onto it as a character trait, if you don’t want me to lean into Ryunosukes proficiency with a bow you shouldn’t make him wear an archery arm guard with every single one of his outfits

[dvarapala]

you know that one gif of that white lady pulling at her curtains or whatever because she's mad? that's me whenever i find out spn took bits and pieces of my culture and whitewashed it.

[noxianwilled]

[ TOUCHED ]  for receiver to trace one of sender’s scars

always accepting memes!

— @acherys

Everything about the Deathlord should be taken as a warning to stay away. The Ebon Blade is infamous, and everyone knows the carnage Death Knights can wreak. As if undeath alone would not be a deterrent for most, Zoen warns to steer clear as much with attitude as with gloomy armor, the danger she poses no empty threat — but when had the prospect of danger ever made anything unappealing to Katarina?

He may succeed in placing a wall between herself and the easily frightened, but the attempts do naught but intrigue her. She is tempted closer, drawn in, enticed by each stutter in the effort to drive her away. There is pleasure to be found in a hard-won victory, in the cut of a well-placed dagger, in the spilled blood of the assigned mark; she finds a different form of it in how utterly disarmed the Wraith sometimes is at the prospect of contact or an attempt at being charming. A small delight, to see one so fearsome stumble with something so simple.

The Uncrowned are not strangers to death, even those still with a heartbeat. Undeath is not enough to push her away any more than the warning signs are; in her line of work, there is no room to be squeamish, and she had known naught but the life of an assassin from childhood. Perhaps what they say is true, and this is but like calling to like; she has witnessed her brutality firsthand, but so had he seen how Katarina thrived in bloodshed, after all. Or perhaps it is simple curiosity getting the best of her, that and the lingering high of battle, of having her life on the line.

Green eyes linger upon the Death Knight, a brief study of fine features, hair no more disheveled after battle than before, seeming almost joyous after the confrontation. Katarina wonders briefly how the other would react to contact, and before the thought receives due consideration, already her hand has reached for the ice-cold skin. Fingertips clean a stray drop of blood, unlike to be more significant than the stains upon her own skin; and though her gaze does not remain upon the scars for long, contact follows their shape, leaving its original purpose to touch the raised skin (featherlight, barely there; it is not a touch meant to bruise, but one of gentleness, and one so distant as to be the wordless question on whether the touch would be allowed at all). She knows from her own experience how much of a nuisance it can be, to carry a scar so visible; yet it is not morbid curiosity for the tale behind it that moves her. Katarina does not know what it is, exactly, but she knows no question about it will follow — a scar is a scar. Something hurt the Deathlord, and yet she survived. There is no need to know more.

"Does it still hurt?" The question ought to have been made before, though impulsiveness leaves little room for consideration until the thought occurs to her, and Katarina withdraws her hand entirely. She doesn't care about the story, she won't speculate the tale behind it, but she finds it does matter what he feels, and it is that, not the unsurprising icy feel of her skin, that causes her to withdraw. "Sorry — I should have asked that first."

[deathweaved]

Beyond Thassarian, how does Koltira get along with the other Knights? Any friends, rivals, enemies?

always accepting asks!

— @acherys

i think he gets along with the others well enough, for the most part. he is, pardon for the word choice, very chill. sure, koltira is prone to brooding and being gloomy, but that's. baseline dk behavior. he's not open in the sense of like, being willing to let others know him, sharing his struggles or anything of the sort. but i can see him being quite friendly in general, striving to make others feel welcome in what manner that may be possible. it's just something he never lost entirely, even in death — both the sense of humor and the innate friendliness. and it's why, i think, he's so promptly welcomed back in the ebon blade despite his prolonged absence.

which is also relevant on the topic of friendships. developing bonds under arthas' control is suggested to simply not be the standard, though it's obviously still possible, albeit not likely. i don't think anyone got as close to him as thassarian, obviously, and i think whatever friendships he had there would have been second guessed to an extent when they're initially freed. not that they weren't there or that he renounced to them or refused to see friends as that; more so that there's this confusion about feeling and how to deal with that when they're just allowed freedom, which only doesn't get in the way of his certainty towads thass because their bond was too strong for that. it's all part of why he didn't feel the belonging, initially. i consider it to be a mix of several things, from clinging to what he had in life now that he could choose for himself again, to not expecting the knights' unity would last beyond the quest for revenge, and that's just the start. by which i mean to say he likely had friends in the ebon blade, but he distanced himself from them a bit by leaving to join the horde and whatnot.

considering he isn't around acherus proper for a time but is the first death knight in the horde and remains involved with the faction until sylvanas sends him to gay baby jail, i can see him having closer friendships with other dks that were developed in their time together serving the horde. he also probably got to strengthen friendships during the northrend campaign to a smaller extent, because by that time there was still too much vengeance on the brain (and shadow ghosts) for him to deal with.

so, generally speaking, i think he gets along fine with the other knights for the most part, and that he'd always have been welcoming and helpful to those who needed it. which is not to say there aren't people he dislikes or who dislike him. being friendly doesn't mean he gets along with everyone, and though koltira isn't prone to picking fights, competition is not beneath him, nor is being mean-spirited on occasion. actual enemies in the ebon blade i don't think he'd have. maybe he dislikes someone who also dislikes him, but ultimately koltira would see none of them as actual enemies — not unless they turn against their other brothers in some way. and i suppose i don't need to say it but i will either way: this is of course the case with anyone who harms (or tries to, the attempt is enough) thass. then they'll have his enmity forever.

i'm sure much like we have orbaz being homophobic and/or xenophobic blatantly condemning thass for caring for koltira (and speaking in a way that's more derogatory towards koltira himself tbh) there are other people who might take issue with him being the way he is, or holding on to life prejudices or whatever. but quite frankly i think he doesn't care and would lean towards just keeping his distance in those cases. it's possible some of them do think he should have been left behind for his weakness (in both occasions he was captured) - and i feel that may get under his skin more, but i do think this sort of thing seems to be? more of an exception.

rivalry is very possible, specially if it leans more on the friendly rivals sort of thing. he can be very competitive, and he would enjoy it, even, having someone to engage in this sort of contest that would also push him to improve. but honestly i'm just speaking in general lines because all i said here is subject to change and i haven't considered individual dynamics that much to speak of them. he'd like mograine, and i already said he'd most definitely like zoen too. thalanor was also a farstrider who died during the scourge invasion, and that alone is reason for me to say they're probably friends (maybe even before death! idk). but yeah i don't think i have lots of specifics to offer when it comes to relationships.

[hemoarchy]

“ Your daughter. He let you --- he let you choose? What to do with her? ”

Intensity roils beneath the hollow grave echo of his voice --- it spills out into the world in a thin coat of rime, cracked to glittering dust with every nervous rock from one heel to the next. She is never still. The solidity of ice has never taken root within her, like it has with ---

“ Explain. You could have done anything. You could have let her go, let her stay dead, why did h-- why did you --- ”

But its brittleness, its propensity to crack --- to shatter ---

“ What was the point? ”

That, she has inherited in full.

spicy drama ♡

— @acherys

The similarities are striking in certain lights. A line in facial structure, a shadow of demeanor. This time, it is the commanding tone — Explain — as if he is the Lord and not his father. 

Who is she to question the heir to the Throne, regardless of the fact he is never meant to inherit?

The question does not move the Blood-Queen from her apparent calmness, not even when presented with such turmoil. Why? It makes her think of Thal'ena when she was brought to Icecrown without her knowledge, returned to her as reward for her loyalty (a frightened little thing, so fragile, so mortal, so easily lost had Lana'thel taken one false step). You could have let her go, he says, and isn't it such a fitting sentiment for a daughter, to think it would be so easy to let go? To want it, freedom, desperately and above all things? To think she knows better?

Lana'thel smiles. It is not wry, really, perhaps motherly even. Sympathetic. Zoen needs not to pry for her honesty; it is freely given, saccharine in her justification. "I would never be so cruel as to condemn her to the fear and powerlessness of the living. I would never be so uncaring as to abandon her to simple death if it could be avoided, if she could be kept by my side."

"You are young, little prince, and not a parent yourself. Perhaps that is why you cannot understand. I could tell you a story, spin the tale of beautiful Quel'thalas and all that was lost in its fall," All that could not be recovered, memory a stab in the chest even now. She will not think of him. "But you are familiar with loss yourself. I could speak of powerlessness and inevitable ruin, but who among us did not taste bitter defeat in facing the Scourge, in some way or another?"

Were Zoen not obviously distressed, a gentle finger may have soothingly brushed the scars upon his face. Lana'thel will not test her limits when the signs are so obvious in the way he speaks, in the restlessness displayed. Instead, she tilts her head, eyes upon the prince. "The answer is simpler than that."

"Take it from one well-versed on the matter: blood is not a bond easily denied." The pause does not give edge to her velvety voice, regardless of how steely resolute in the certainty of her choice. There was no other path. There is no version of events where she asked for her child to be spared, kept alive, sent home safely, never to be seen again. That would have been losing her once more.

There is no version of events where Arthas gazed upon the face of his child and chose to leave her dead. "The point, darling, is that Thal'ena is my daughter — as you are his."

And it is all in that one word, is it not? Mine. If she shares one thing with her king, it is that neither of them is good at letting go. 

[azurequeen]

Since her reanimation, has she been to the Dragonblight?

always accepting meta asks! ♡

— @acherys

no. dragonblight is a particularly sore point, as it was meant to be her final resting place, as habitual to her kin. it was where her bones were supposed to be laid to rest, undisturbed; the last possible mercy those she loved in life could have given her, after she met such a bitter end. but arthas never had to contend with dragons protecting dragonblight to raise her from the dead, for none of them ever cared to lay her to rest there.

it is extra bitter considering the literal last thing she tried to do was reach it, but she no longer had the strength, no one heard her call, and we all know how that turned out... Sindragosa’s final thoughts turned to bitterness and hatred - etc.

since her reanimation, she sought no contact with her former life. she did not seek those she knew, she did not seek the places she had loved. all those things that she cared for, that were precious and kept in her heart, were left buried in the ice. whenever forced to confront them, she is prone to rage and viciousness — a defense against the twist of the knife that anything once loved will always be. dragonblight would only make her relieve the misery of her last moments, the bitterness she was denied safe rest there. perhaps eventually that could turn into enough resentment to make her want to go there if only to destroy and disturb the rest of others, but the truth is her unhealed wounds hurt too much to allow her that.

[kingsmanne]

" How did you die? "

It was supposed to be a routine sweep. Something they had done countless times before, even with the inherent danger that plagued the forests of Lordaeron, there was something comforting in being in sync with your brother, knowing what the other would and would not do, how to play to their own strengths. Nothing special. Maybe that certainty was their fatal flaw. They had got too comfortable in what they were doing, too proud in their skills. Arrogance is a sin, that held always true. And it had been too late when the ambush happened, archers shooting them down, and Alexander throwing himself in the way of the arrows and his sister.

He never stood a chance, with an arrow sticking through the neck, and he rattles as he goes down, eyes so wide open in panic. Run, is what he wants to say, please run, save yourself, but she can't let him die like this, she can't just leave him behind, with everything considered, she couldn't just let his death go unavenged now. She pulls her own bowstring, to do what is expected. She doesn't notice him.

The plated hand hits her hard in the face and she almost stumbles to the floor, and surely bones must break, but she can't just lie down, she needs to-

But it's nothing against the runed blade digging deep into her abdomen.

A gasp as it pushes out the last air out of her lungs, the last proper breath she'll ever take. Her eyes, glassy already, stare at the figure digging the blade ever deeper, and she motions to grab it, more desperation than an attempt to pull it out.

She falls to the floor, and her vision already blurs. She lies next to him, staring at her twin's face, mouth slightly ajar, with blood still pouring, and one eye more open than the other. He was so pale under his sticky curls. He was the last thing she'd see. And they'd be soon together again, in the Light, and they'd be happy and there would be no pain, no death.

And her vision darkens now, as she bleeds out on the forest floor, and she feels almost calm now. She wasn't strong enough to make one last stand, not strong enough to fight the inevitable. It wouldn't be long now. It would be all over soon. They were not important enough.

But the Light never comes. Nor the warm embrace of her fallen friends and brothers and sisters in arms, nor Alexander, standing there to greet her from mere moments ago, with his bright smile and the curl, clean again falling in his eyes, healthy and happy. There was no pain any more, and no fear, and no death.

RISE.

Her limbs move. Like something was splitting her head open, the sudden and sharp pain as she heard the voice call out to her, pulling her back from the darkness. All of her senses seemed to dull, aside from that pain, the voice, and she couldn't do anything beyond it. She feels how she hoists herself up from the dirt without wanting to, how her knees bend to find balance, like a newborn foal finding itself in a strange body. She doesn't feel her body. She wants to stay down in the dirt, and rot. But she stands. Hair and dead leaves sticking to her, the abdomen torn wide open, and she can just stare at her own guts spilling out. She wants to sob. She wants to howl. But he doesn't allow.

Alexander moves, too.

source: DEATH ASKS (accepting) | @acherys

[bladebloodied]

how does she feel about the Ebon Blade?

meta asks ♡

— @acherys

unlike many of her kind, kelantir has no issue with any of the undead by virtue of being what they are — she canonically hangs out with one of the forsaken. to put it simply, she doesn't resent and isn't repulsed by them being what someone else made them. and sure, some of them are disgusting corpses, but i do think she's far more tolerant to that than most. she is neither easily frightened nor does she have a weak stomach. most of all, whatever they became, i think she simply sees them as people. some of them are kinder than many would expect. some will be utterly amoral. but when the blood elves spawned one such as dar'khan drathir, can they really claim a moral highground in that regard?

it also helps, of course, that her brother is undead, but kelantir still sees him as her brother, still loves him as her brother, and will continue to be his family for as long as she lives. keritose is one of the knights of the ebon blade (and he's an actual npc too 😎) so i don't think she's oblivious to the things they have done or that they continue to do, nor even to the fact they need to sate their endless hunger. but i don't see blood knights as paladins in the same way the silver hand are paladins. they don't really hold to the same morality and imposition of it, so even though kelantir is a paladin, i don't think that influences at all in how she sees them. (she was torturing m'uru not that long ago, and it was just for power, not due to any need or any other change suffered by being made into something else. so.)

which is all to say simply she sees them as people. capable of great good and terrible evil, but that's true of most people. mostly, i think she even sees the ebon blade in a more positive light because her brother found a family with them. as much as she loves him, i think she also understands there are things she can't understand, not like those who lived through the same things, and that he has a home with them would inevitably make her see them more positively.

sure, it's a little fucked up and concerning when they choose to ally with the lich king. it definitely isn't something she appreciates, as it wouldn't be for anyone who lived through the fall of silvermoon. considering that and what i said about her seeing them in a more positive light because of her brother, ultimately i guess that amounts to her being sort of neutral when it comes to them. the ebon blade is ok.

[thasdorah]

"What is it like, by the by? Dark and a heartbeat at once. Seems like a lot of hassle."

send memes and ic asks ♡

— @acherys

"It is," She replies, simple and direct as the course of a well-placed arrow. Her path is not one she wishes others to follow; and though it does not seem to be the Deathlord's intention to do so, Alleria has no intention to make it sound better than it is.

"Even as we speak," Abomination. Destroy them, kill them, end those beyond our reach. End the false powers who would bring only death, end — "It tries to exert its influence on me. There is no respite from it." Simple enough to see why madness was commonly associated with Shadow Magic. "Conciliating with a beating heart means I have to resist that influence constantly."

"Possible, certainly, but not easy, or pleasant." It didn't have to be. Her power was a means to an end; a tool to fight the Legion, as well as to protect Azeroth from the Void itself when the time came. And it would come. "It was a choice, however, and a necessary one I do not regret."

[thegenxorcist]

Acheri

Acheri are believed to be Nature Spirits that are created when a young girl dies a tragic and untimely death. Her spirit, tormented and cut off too short, to come back to the mortal plane to cause the suffering of still-living mortals. Sadly, it often targets other children…causing them the same fate and dooming them to become Acheris as well...

The Acheri

[zealouswrath]

“ That was foolish of you, ” he snaps with a sharp tug of the needle, drawing the thread taut to close another stitch. The work is unnecessary -- his third-risen wields blood so well he sometimes doubts she’s his at all. But that had not stopped the Deathlord from pulling her aside after the battle, and playing the sawbones he’s slowly become in lieu of taking up Thorval’s more arcane instruction. 

If Sally may waste efforts ( and blood --- so much blood ) on Zoen’s behalf, it is only right she suffer that fate in turn.

Another tug of the thread.

“ Suppose you weren’t so clever as you think --- what then, hmm? Think I have much use of a Horseman without a head? It’s not Hallow’s Eve, Whitemane, and if you start speaking in rhymes I’m confiscating your tongue. So unbelievably stupid. ”

( Sentimental. Unthinking. Slavishly devoted.  Whose blood could she be but yours? )

always accepting ic asks ♡

— @acherys

The needle pierces her flesh, leads the thread through it, a repetitive ritual to close her wounds; yet to call the feeling of it pain, even after the harsh tug, seems like an exaggeration of what it is. She knows what pain feels like nigh as well as what it looks like to inflict it upon others. This is gentle in comparison.

Blood could mend her seamlessly enough, easily enough, and Sally knows it as much as she knows so does Zoen. The lifeforce of their enemies, so freely spilled and drained, was just as readily used to sustain her in battle — even when her deeds were reckless, too caught up in the Deathlord's defense to calculate what was unneeded risk.

Foolish, she is chastised, though in truth it felt necessary. There is no raising the dead by willing the Light to restore body and spirit any longer; her powers are not limitless. Blood was all there was to offer. Blood, and the potential sacrifice in the altar of an existence more important than hers.

If the Deathlord wishes to see to her injuries, she would not deny him, futile endeavor that it was. No annoyance is dedicated to her companion as she watches the hand wield the needle, an odd gesture of care (is there any other name for it, the act of devoting one's time to closing another's wounds?). Another sharp pull, another biting remark; Sally smiles as she listens, and that is perhaps the greater mistake — there is no disregard she could show the other and mean. Oh, she takes the Deathlord seriously when need be; but the irritation displayed only makes her endeared.

"You needn't be so afraid for me," Yet amusement and even jest are tempered by the lingering effects of battle. There is no heart beating in her chest any longer, but the sensation, were she to describe it, is not unlike the rush of blood and adrenaline in one's veins that followed combat in life. The clarity while in the thick of it is much the same: a clear goal and a clear enemy, something to be protected and something to be exterminated; the hunger for violence may be intrinsic part of what she is, now, but it is not foreign. Its absence may not have led her to insanity before, yet she had reveled in the heretics' suffering as if it had been sustenance, when her lungs still needed air.

The zeal, too, had always been hers. One could not have picked her amongst many to be raised as the third of four, chosen specifically for her devotion, and expect any less. That ardor is what makes her strong. "Those were paltry risks to defeat those who threatened you," It is a common thing for their kind, to tune down displays of emotion, to present themselves as coldly as the rime that follows in their wake. Sally cares not for it, even in pretense; when her eyes meet Zoen, it is obvious she sees something more.

What had she ever been without a higher purpose?

"They learned their lesson well enough," she eases in a tone somewhat more complacent; commitment to finding a middle ground. Learn may not be quite the word, when the inner workings of the grave were all their enemies would truly find; Sally will take the poetic license, though she dares not dabble in rhyme even for the sake of provocation. "My head remains very well attached to my body, and so does yours, which matters far more."

I would follow you in doing worse; I would willingly soak the ground with each droplet of blood from those who would threaten you. That needs not be said, does it? A fact proven; redundant to restate it. What is this accursed body made for, it not to bleed for others? For her? "It was stupid, perhaps, as you say. Effective, though — that you can't deny."

[noxianwilled]

.....................................

a wraith c:<

— @acherys

The smirk is nearly audible in her voice, were Zoen to avoid her gaze. "If you want to know, all you need to do is ask."

[deathweaved]

“  it’s time to come home now.  ”

send memes ♡

— @acherys

There was a moment, when the two Death Knights reached the cage he had been kept in, when Koltira wondered if prolonged solitude and pain could affect the dead as they would the living. Were they a construct of his mind, the soothing image of comrades come to free him at last? Was it no more than delusional hope, certain sign the Banshee Queen at last made a dent in his defenses?

It lasts but for a second, the fear it may not be real replaced by the certainty it is. Takes longer for him to feel like something akin to a person again, if the word is apt at all. Koltira recovers, dons his armor, pledges his service to the Deathlord — yet it is only when they are outside, when he accompanies her throughout the infernal scenery of the Broken Isles, that it truly dawns on him his chains were left behind.

Fighting is easy; he had a lifetime of practice and years of death to hone his skill (rusted, now, it's true; but some things are never truly forgotten, and his body remembers more of his training than he would have expected, after so long). The demons make for good practice, and between the slaughter and the focus on any misstep he notes to work on later, the day goes by fairly quickly. Enjoyable, even; whether a trait reinforced by his time imprisoned or merely one that persisted in undeath, being outdoors lifts his spirit further.

The company helps, as well. Zoen would have been considered as much a brother as the other knights, even before; the gratitude felt towards him for the aid in his rescue only increased the feeling. Koltira is glad to have company at all, truth be told. Connection may have seemed like it would be a trivial thing for the dead, but that had never been the case. Long months deprived of it, of anything more than the disdain of his captors, had been a stark reminder of how sorely companionship could be missed.

"Home," He considers, with all the newness the word carries. So long he had sought for it in all the wrong places, clinging to the ashes of what it had been in the past. That the admission tastes bittersweet is his fault alone. "I didn't think Acherus could be it, for a long time."

How wrong he had been.

[shxwmaster]

@acherys​ asked: “Your advice is to lie?”

quotes from things i’ve written

—

     Shaw regards Zoen coolly, not moving from where he stands with one shoulder leaned against the ivory bricks. The sun is beginning to set; he’s not going to let however this conversation plays out ruin it.

     “ You sound surprised, ” Shaw says with a hint of amusement. “ My advice is always to lie — that is, if you can manage it. Not everyone is a natural liar, but I don’t reckon such a feat is something you can’t accomplish. ”

     The Deathlord is quite capable of many things, or so Shaw has read in reports. “ Unless that’s something out of your expertise. In which case, you may attempt to persuade me into lending you a tip or two, if I’m so feeling up to it. ”

     But with how he’s enjoying the weather and environment of Stormwind, probably not.

[azurequeen]

gnaws on your bones

a gremlin >:c

— @acherys

BITES YOU BITES YOU BITES YOU

[kingsmanne]

What would a happy ending (keyword HAPPY) look like for Anne?

Right, I thought a lot about this and since I can't get a conclusive answer, I will just go at this from different angles.

Anne's happy ending from her own point of view would be a final death and knowing that she gave her life to protect someone, no matter who. And that people would remember her, and think of her more than just a codename that would get forgotten after some time.

Personally, I think she could have a real chance at being happy if she'd remove herself from the situation that constantly traumatises her, because without a doubt, she gets to face that moment in Iraq over and over again as long as she stays in her job. And with her taking the 'no time for emotion' mentality up to a very unhealthy degree, it's only getting worse for her. So her quitting Kingsman, the killer business, and try to live a normal life would in my opinion be the best chance at happiness that she could have and someday just work through it. The problem being that she is also the definition of professionally deformed; she sees almost everything through the lens of her job as a spy, and that's something she can't just unlearn. If ever. And the question is, if she actually thinks could be happy, since she considers that being a spy and killer is the only thing she's good at.

And her objective happy ending would probably be her finally having therapy and working through all the trauma she's gone through; with that, I don't even mean here murdering and taking lives in general, but the entire business with Alexander and those 3 years of being dead to the world. Not just put on antidepressants, but actually talk to someone about her issues, and maybe through that, make real human connections. Not necessarily with just her colleagues, but also normal people. So she can stay in her job that she obviously excels at, but she would need someone to take her hand and say 'I'm sorry about what happened to you'.

source: META ASKS (always accepting) | @acherys