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jjungkooksthighs · 4 years ago

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Claws of Carnality | jjk (3)

Pairing: alpha jungkook x omega reader

Genre: smut, fluff and angst, abo/werewolf, fantasy

Rating: 18+ / nsfw

Word Count: 3.2k

Warnings: alpha!jungkook, possessive!jungkook, omega!reader, mentions of breeding/ruts/heats, mentions of a mark, slick and pre-ejaculatory production, scenting

Summary: Denial is a crude adversary in how it battles your want to accept the alpha that has no shadings of doubt that you are, in fact, his mate. He intends to clear things up for you using the one surefire thing that will, however, prove him to truly be yours and you are utterly helpless in denying him.

A/N: So, here we are with part three already. Goodness, I can’t even believe how much attention this has gotten so far. Please keep it up, you guys! It really feeds my creative juices and encourages me when you guys let me know what you think of the stories I put out! Anyway, I hope you all enjoy this next part. Things are gradually going to begin to heat up from here on out and I can’t wait to see how you all react!

Part 1 Part 2 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9

You try to swim through the flurry of thoughts, the floundering disbelief heavy as you wade through it in spite of the amused alpha that watches you with interest as a myriad of expressions pull at your features. It’s difficult to keep yourself afloat amidst the frenzy of emotions that cascade over you and your alpha notices this in the way that you fidget where you stand in the intensity with which he regards you, your hand clutching at your skirt as you inhale through your mouth to attempt to replace the air that eludes you.

One side of his lips curl upward in the effect he’s already had on you that only deepens in your silent refusal to acknowledge the final piece of the puzzle that would complete the missing segment of conviction still lost to you.

Unlike you, Jungkook has not an inkling of doubt that you are, without question, his mate. He just hadn’t known up until a few moments ago that you are to become something so much deeper than that to him that will extend into his very being, for even he’d had no idea that you are destined to be his soulmate in which there hasn’t been a pair of wolves like that for many thousands of years.

It all made sense to him in how his eyes had found themselves magnetized to the opposite pole that was you, the constant holder of his attention whenever he’d had the privilege to watch you frolic gleefully with your omegean friends outside your den whenever he passed by through the cover of the trees after a successful hunt, his own scent masked by the carcasses of his prey.

He’d never been able to explain the inexplicable pull toward you that had grasped him unrelentingly until he’d managed to catch sight or smell of you to, nor had it made sense to him why he’d wanted to express himself to you so much so that he’d danced in effort to satisfy the need to bask in the warmth of your intrigued gaze.

Nothing has ever quite compared to the way that his blood races when you so much as glance at him now that he thinks on it and gods, he longs for you to welcome him now as eagerly as you had in the supposed safety of dreams. Even now the inebriating scent of you coils around him insistently as it begs for him to come closer to the source of his desires he’s yearned for years.

It’s not as easy for you to accept this, though, no matter how much you want to. Gods, do you want to.

In light of the bright, flashing signs that your wolf begs for you to heed, there’s a very critical and very crucial element that would immediately clear away the lingering shadow of denial that this creature before you who looks to have been crafted by the gods is meant to be yours. Despite your purebred omegean blood that distinguishes you as the most desirable of candidates for alphas and betas alike in the rarity of such a pedigree amongst your dynamic, Jeon Jungkook could have any bitch in the pack he wished. There were many others who you believed looked better and gave back to the clan more than the likes of you.

And in the self-consciousness that shackles you, you had not breathed through your nose ever since he’d brought himself near to you.

You know that the moment that you do, there will be no question that he is truly the alpha from your dreams who boldly claims to be your mate, for the intoxicating scent of him that had incensed itself within you was deliciously unforgettable in the way it had had the power to have you glistening with slick upon a single whiff. Because of that, there is a reason that you are actively choosing not to use your olfactory sense around him.

Only within the old tales written in the aged tomes of the compound’s archives which are guarded by the elders has there been recollections of the legendary lupi antiquis, who were the progenitors of the werewolf race. These creatures were incarnations of nature manifested into the bodies of wolves that were guided by the moon’s phases in the celestial body’s wish to bring life to the earth in the decay of other mythical creatures who had grown sad and lifeless without a companion in the rarity of which they’d roamed.

To ensure the strongest and most virile of the moon’s creations found a partner that would belong and be designed solely for them, it was said that the celestial body preselected the companion that would remain loyal to them through the entirety of their life by choosing for them a soulmate.

The word has always been held close your heart in the romantic radiance of it, for it had been said that a bond unlike any other in the lupine world burgeoned inside two destined mates of the moon’s selection among the abilities that allow such a pair to share thoughts and feelings with one another telepathically across insurmountable distances in addition to each wolf becoming stronger where the alpha would gain physical strength while the omega would be granted bolstered mental fortitude.

Beyond that, the wolf’s kiss could cure their mate of any ailment or injury in the profound love that the very essences of each kindred spirit were vested with as they longed ardently to remain together forever and always.

As time had passed, the word had begun to become diluted in the diminished occurrences with which it happened as more and more werewolves began to populate and once pure bloodlines became soured by excessive mating between different partners in the uncontrollable ruts and heats that drove them to couple with any wolf in the vicinity under the influence purely of instinct to breed and be bred.

Many lives had been lost during the violent, territorial battles over both alphas and omegas for a partner that often ended in death to one or both participants, the lessons of the past yielding guidance to the future generation in the written accounts left behind so that the fledgling pups that came after would not suffer as the earlier wolves had.

It is why your pack has such defined rules now upon the presentation or period of peak maturity for omegas in particular because they have always been the desired mates of alphas.

It is also how the entire compound knows when the last happening of two soulmates was, which had been a couple thousand years ago when the moon had aligned with the rest of the planetary bodies in the meticulously structured history courses that all maturing wolves are mandated to take and in the stories that are told by the elders over annual bonfires celebrating the bonding between two wolves.

Perhaps it is all of these reasons that have every wolf in your pack still able to discern and recognize the defined series of circumstances that present themselves between two lupine creatures fated to be each other’s soulmate.

The first is the gift of sight, which allows each lupine creature to see the eyes of their mate. The second is the gift of olfaction, which is the amalgamation of scents naturally produced from the scent gland of each wolf that have the ability to draw the undivided attention of their destined other so temptingly that it causes sudden production of either slick for omegas and pre-ejaculative fluid for alphas. In addition, this one is powerful enough that it acts an effluvious vice that impulses each lupine creature in how desirously their mate can waft into and draw out their counterpart’s instincts.

Each are granted only after the moon lights a path for them both to meet, but that hadn’t happened for you, had it? After all, it’s not like the stream of dreams every night after the last eclipse could have-

Your eyes widen bigger than the largest star as your cheeks color themselves redder than a ruby in mortification as the links join together and that has the alpha relishing in the adorable sight of you as he croons, “There it is, pretty. I knew you would come around soon enough,” he fixes his sight on the edge of a reddened petal he’d caused to fall over your skin in your supposed fantasy that peeks out from under the edge of your silken choker that he wishes he could tear off of you and add more of his marks to as he continues, “Did you think I would allow my mate to suffer with how desperately you whined and how loudly you howled for me?”

You fumble for words in the embarrassment that soaks you as you try to speak past a mouth that is dryer than the desert while you shake your head like you’re in a daze and you might as well be in how incapable you are of rationalizing at this point.

“This can’t be… it can’t be possible.” You whisper quietly as if thinking aloud and Jungkook finds that he appreciates the sound of you, that he is pleased in how you’ve finally chosen to use that cute voice of yours and let him into your thoughts.

The alpha coos, “Oh, my pretty omega, but it can,” he takes one calculated step closer, “Come on, little omega, smell me. Do not think that I have not caught on to the fact that you haven’t used your nose in your efforts to deny this, to deny me.” His honeyed voice slathers itself over you, as you melt under its thickness, “You asked your alpha to come find you and I have, pretty. Now, it’s time for you to do the same. Scent me and see that I am the one the moon has promised you to, that I am the alpha you belong to.”

He delivers his words to you in the form of a command as he takes another step toward you only to have your heart beat faster against your ribcage, your wolf lowering its head in submission as you try to make yourself smaller under his searing, prompting gaze and the longer that you dangerously surrender yourself to those golden irises that are still speckled with the silver that mirrors your own, your resistance cracks and folds gradually under his increasingly prominent pressure. It can only be compacted and compressed so much until nothing remains and, unable to disobey his directive, you swallow a thick lump of nervousness down your throat before clearing it as he looks on expectantly.

His avid attention sears into you doggedly and, under its power, your omega blood boils in need to heed him and, purely driven by your body’s desideratum to yield to him without the input of any cognizant thought, your hand finds itself slowly and tentatively lifting toward the exposed neck that he has bared torturously against the obscenely opened shirt. The fluttery wings of anticipation flap animatedly within you as the alpha watches with intrigue, allowing you to slowly near him.

Your fingers do not stall as they ghost over the notch between his collarbones as you dare to allow yourself to touch the skin that tries to reach for you in the waves of heat that roll off of him and when you turn your hand so that the soft underside of your wrist just barely manages to rub against his sensitive scent gland that all but strains and pulses against you, your breath hitches as a deep rumble of a growl tumbles from his throat in response.

It is not a sound born of aggression, but of satisfaction that has your omega preening under its euphoniously low trill and when his fingers close around your forearm to possessively drag your radiocarpal joint back and forth over the intimate area that secretes pheromones wantonly for you, your wolf sings at his hot touch, at the way that his fingers curl deliciously over your delicate skin.

The whole time, his irises flash tellingly in gratification that has you helplessly falling for the way he looks at you like you’re the only thing that exists, the only thing that matters as he greedily drinks in the way your mouth has parted dazedly while he coats himself in your own essence that is produced richly from the glands in your wrist.

The scent glands of the neck were far stronger, far more potent, but right now, he will take from you what you decide to give. There will be time for more later, he is sure.

Your delicious scent is quick to consume him, the sound that drips from his lips deepening in pitch as your aroma drapes itself over him in its entirety before sinking into his very pores until he’s momentarily drunk off you, his pupils enlarging until there is only you.

“Gods,” he utters, “you smell like sin, pretty. You’re like a fucking aphrodisiac in how you tempt me.” Somewhere in his pants, his cock twitches to life at the mere scent of you as your carnal essence awakens something far too primal within him.

“J-Jungkook,” you whimper, your wolf baying in delight at his admission and wantful actions.

In response to him, your own irises dilate as your heart pangs wildly against your chest, breath a hard companion to come by in his overbearingly alluring presence that seeks your own in the warmth of his skin that reaches longingly for you.

You can’t begin to rationalize how long he slides your wrist sinfully against him as he makes a point of trailing your radiocarpal joint over the vast expanse of muscles that line his neck as they all but jump at your touch as the sound that tumbles from his lips darkens impossibly more only to draw out a whine from you. Minutes or hours could have passed since this started, but you have no care in the world because of how caught you are under his simmering stare.

Once he’s secure in the knowledge that succulent scent of you has smeared him to the point of no return, that’s when he pulls your hand back until he holds it under your nostrils while his mouth waters at the delectable waft of you through his own that sets his very blood on fire.

His fingers sink wonderfully into your skin and it is positively unholy in how his heat permeates you until you’re filled gloriously with it he orders, “Go on now, my pretty omega. Breathe me in until every last doubt is torn from you and all you can think about is me,” his breath is hot against your cheek as he inches impossibly closer in the need to be impossibly closer to you as you shakily exhale while he finishes, “Drink me in until this little body of yours is sated in the sweet recognition of the alpha that owns it.”

His words settle viscously over you and in the command of the alpha that you are helpless to resist with your omegean blood, you do. You did not want to fight this, did not want to fight him. It went against your baser instincts and nature to do so. It was all just your self-consciousness that had bound you back and away from him, but under his attention that does not waver in the imposing neediness of it that glints with a savage saturation dripping from his very being, you can’t withstand it. So, you obey.

The change is immediate.

Upon the first whiff of him that drizzles up through your nostrils to trickle fluidly like that of a delicious philter through you, your every cell is flooded with stimulation that is guided by the heady essence that is decidedly and uniquely him. He tastes of newly dewed grasses that are accented by an earthly underlayer and somehow it is all bolstered by the overwhelmingly delicious amalgamation of blooming gardenia, black vanilla and freshly matured pear.

A sudden deposit of slick finds itself between your folds that glisten to life and it earns a sharp growl from him as he brings one lip between his teeth.

He reeks of pungently dangerous desire that beckons your very being and your eyes roll to the back of your head at in its insistent invitation as he fills you with his quintessence and soon your body can no longer bear your weight in the way that his strong incense curls around you to have your limbs grow weak under its inexorable consummation of you.

Your weakly whisper, “Alpha…my alpha,” the concession quick to run through your veins as you yield to him.

Your legs begin to tremble precariously with each breath you take in effort to collect as much of him as you can, the familiar smell exactly alike to that of the one belonging to the wolf from your dreams as understanding and recognition saturate your being.

“Omega,” Jungkook breathes, satisfaction washing over him as he watches your body react so affectedly to him.

And when your body is no longer able to bear your weight in how quickly the alpha has drawn away their strength through his own power, he is there.

At the same time that your head falls back and your sense of equilibrium leaves you through numbed legs, one of his large hands finds its place along your nape while one muscled arm wraps around your back to pull you against the built planes of an aureate chest as he croons, “My beautiful omega. You’ve acknowledged me at long last. Such a good girl for me, you are,” he angles his head low so that his heated breath once more billows against you, “I’m going to take you with me to the forest now, pretty. Once we’re there, you’re going to watch me shift so that I can hunt just for you. When I return,” his pink tongue darts outward to wet his lips as his gaze surges with hunger, “I expect my mate to be waiting for me before I let every wolf in this fucking compound know that you’re mine when I claim you at the ceremony tonight.”

Your breath stutters at that and when his arms dip to collect you like his bride as he tucks you against the muscled chest that you subconsciously lean into you in the safety that pours from him that your wolf relishes in. Through it all, you can only barely utter, “As you wish, alpha.”

As he holds you close, you nuzzle your alpha and there’s a high-pitched, satisfied purr that easily cascades through your throat in the warmth and security that his able body offers. You care not how far your song of satisfaction is carried in the winds that swell against you only to roll tauntingly over all the alphas in the distance that Jungkook is in charge of as the pack alpha’s son who is meant to one day lead the compound.

All that matters is that you’ve found your alpha and that he, in turn, has found you.

High in the sky, the moon hides behind the awakening sun as golden rays begin to filter searchingly through the thick underbrush of the forest lining the horizon as far as the eye can see.

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edenmemes · 4 years ago

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hades sentence starters

❝ somebody else came through earlier. you should have seen the look on my face when it wasn’t you! ❞ ❝ let’s forgive each other and forget, go back to how things used to be? ❞ ❝ right now i wouldn’t talk to me if i were you. ❞ ❝ i’ll have to pick up the pieces somehow, and figure out how to get on with my existence. ❞ ❝ we have caused such violence in the intervening time, that we must take this as a real victory. ❞ ❝ i’ll wait for you however long it takes. ❞ ❝ i’m sorry. but this is something i have to do. you wouldn’t understand. ❞ ❝ the only one responsible for all of this is you. and i thought even you would have understood that by now. ❞ ❝ i don’t like it when you’re quiet for too long, what’s on your mind? ❞ ❝ what is it with you gods talking behind the backs of all your friends? ❞ ❝ the world you seek out there...it’s even crueler than the one you know. ❞ ❝ look, i don’t hold grudges, you know that. ❞ ❝ i’m worried you’re going to burn yourself out if you keep pushing yourself past your limits. ❞ ❝ your lapse in judgement here is not so easy to forgive, yet easily punished. ❞ ❝ i didn’t mean to lose my temper with you. ❞ ❝ the fates are pretty mean to keep on doing this to you. ❞ ❝ i hardly think this is the time or place to indulge your overwrought imagination. ❞ ❝ for our sparring practice, there's no teacher than the real thing. ❞ ❝ they say a lot of things about me; and they’ll tell you, ample caution is in order. ❞ ❝ either your limitless power has considerably waned, are you are up to something. ❞ ❝ i risked everything by helping you out there. ❞ ❝ my voice is nothing but the crunch of gravel underfoot compared to yours, which soars as though on wings. ❞ ❝ to doubt is an important instinct. without it, we could not conceive of better circumstances than the ones we know. ❞ ❝ let’s not set a bad example for the family. we’re better than all that, they’ve many bad examples as it is. ❞ ❝ you are persuasive like your mother, and determined like your father. ❞ ❝ if you think for an instant that i shall go easier on you, you’ll soon learn otherwise. ❞ ❝ is clinging to a memory what keeps the soul from fading? ❞ ❝ don’t know what it is about you, but i feel like i can be me with you, you know? ❞ ❝ war, much like the heavens and the sea, can be considered as a force of nature. ❞ ❝ if you know that you could only see me for but a moment’s time...would you still make the journey for me? ❞ ❝ i, too, wish for a lot of things. unfortunately there’s no unraveling the fates’ patterns. ❞ ❝ i left when it was necessary. i thought of you and hoped you’d understand. ❞ ❝ all of which you think you have achieved was merely handed to you. ❞ ❝ the past me, it’s as though...it wasn’t even me. this is me, now. ❞ ❝ in war, one must take sides, and you had best choose mine. ❞ ❝ i do not act by whim or by mistake. ❞ ❝ i just don’t understand. why keep on being nice to me, like this? ❞ ❝ you’re so much more than what you said. i wish you could see that. ❞ ❝ it’s really nice, sometimes...knowing somebody really cares about me. ❞ ❝ my father? he’d not a one redeeming quality. ❞ ❝ we can learn from our mistakes or we can keep repeating them. ❞ ❝ there’s nothing you can do to hurt me. ❞ ❝ soon doubtless it’ll be your portrait hanging on that wall back there. ❞ ❝ just don’t go starting any wars you don’t intend to finish. ❞ ❝ you do something for me, in the meantime: don’t give in to what you’re feeling now. ❞ ❝ it is not often i attempt to kill someone and they survive. bravo! ❞ ❝ why does the soul remain, after the body bleeds, and dies, and turns to ash? ❞ ❝ all gods and goddesses are to be feared. ❞ ❝ what more could i have even done? could i have swayed you, in any other way? ❞ ❝ i tried, with all my might, with all my heart, you must know that, and still, it never was enough. ❞ ❝ i’m pleased to see your father’s stubbornness is manifest in you as such determination. ❞ ❝ i’m really starting to hate you. you know that? ❞ ❝ know that i am grateful for the outcome. even if i fail to act like it ❞ ❝ i’m with you every step. then i will probably ignore you like the rest. just warning you ahead of time. ❞ ❝ i only wish we met sooner, though i’m grateful to have met you at all. ❞ ❝ you work too hard. live a little. ❞ ❝ i warn you: i shall hold nothing back. ❞ ❝ that’s something very private that you’re asking... ❞ ❝ use caution with the tone you take with me. ❞ ❝ if you have any sense remaining in that head of yours, i caution you not to discuss this here and now. ❞ ❝ you saw something in me i never knew was there. in turn, with you, i felt....calm. whole. ❞ ❝ i only know that i was filled with rage. ❞ ❝ the fates decided this for us, i guess, and so...who are we to complain? ❞ ❝ i pray the fates not ruin all your dreams as they did mine. ❞ ❝ what’s the worst that could happen? ❞ ❝ they left their mark upon the world. shall you? ❞ ❝ your mockery of me may temporarily embolden you, but achieves nothing useful in the end. ❞ ❝ what exactly is it that makes you feel entitled to show me such disrespect? ❞ ❝ i’ve got to admit, you are really frustrating, you know? ❞ ❝ i seem to have this whole ‘easy-to-underestimate’ thing about me. ❞ ❝ you seem a little quieter than usual. dare i even say a little somber and remorseful, for some reason? ❞ ❝ it’s because i like you. in case you still have some misgivings about that. ❞ ❝ keep following that heart of yours. it’s good enough a guide, believe me. ❞ ❝ you always seem in good spirits, though. ❞ ❝ i cannot change the past. and there is only so much i can do about the future. ❞ ❝ a loving heart is a forgiving heart. ❞ ❝ just in case it hasn’t been made clear as crystal lately, let me tell you: when presented with the opportunity, don’t ever reject me. ❞ ❝ you know, i got to say i had a few concerns when we first met, your father being who he is and all. ❞ ❝ i like it when my prey bites back. ❞ ❝ my attempts at making peace are going to be rather subtle for your tastes. ❞ ❝ you'd best not take for granted my affection yes, i’ve lots of it to go around; but i can just as easily rescind such privileges. ❞ ❝ don't be messing with my feelings. my loyalty's hard-won and quickly lost. ❞ ❝ the truth is i’m a lover, not a fighter. ❞ ❝ if i may say? you’re a hell of a guy. ❞ ❝ you truly take me to the best of places. ❞ ❝ death shall come. either to your enemies, or you. ❞ ❝ a mortal’s life is short, and fraught with pain; is that truly the life you yearn for? ❞ ❝ you think you are superior to me? you are a fool. ❞ ❝ even i have doubts, from time to time. ❞ ❝ i wasn’t expecting to make any new friends here anytime soon. ❞ ❝ i grow angry merely thinking of your situation. ❞ ❝ i wanted to apologize for when i pried about your past. ❞ ❝ nobody gets out of here, whether alive or dead. you think i jest? you think i haven’t tried? ❞ ❝ they got me, finally, of course. but not before i broke them first. ❞ ❝ you are immortal, but in a manner, you can die. ❞ ❝ you have a lot of nerve --- but little else. ❞ ❝ oh, you look terrible, if i may say. ❞ ❝ you’re either naive or you’re much too kind, or both. ❞ ❝ despite whatever difficulties you’ve encountered, again and again, you have never yielded. ❞ ❝ though, that war? don’t ask me about it again. all right? ❞ ❝ you may not make your father very proud, but it is just the opposite with me. ❞ ❝ even i’m beginning to fear you, i think. seems i don’t know you as well as i thought. ❞ ❝ you have a worried look about you. spare me your thoughts? ❞ ❝ names are there to be forgotten. ❞ ❝ it’s not your fault. you couldn’t have known. ❞ ❝ i know it’s not been easy for you. ❞ ❝ you honor me...i have done nothing to deserve this. ❞ ❝ oh, how i hate to fight with you like this! ❞ ❝ follow your heart? that’s odd advice, especially from you. ❞ ❝ the fear of death keeps mortals well in check. you’d best learn to fear something yourself. ❞ ❝ you are going to get me in a heap of trouble before all is said and done. ❞ ❝ i'll hear no more such wicked lies, half-truths, or quarter-truths. ❞ ❝ well, if you won’t say it, i’ll say it. good-bye. ❞ ❝ i know of no one, nothing stronger, other than the love we share. ❞ ❝ i’ve some memories i’m not quite ready to give up on, yet. ❞ ❝ you seem less warlike than the rest. ❞ ❝ can’t always trust what feelings say. ❞ ❝ my temper i shall keep in check, but only barely so. ❞ ❝ i am unmade, unwhole, here in this place, alone. ❞ ❝ my past is not really worth mentioning. ❞ ❝ you may not really need me, but i will take these opportunities to help. ❞ ❝ you sound a little tongue-tied. just like you always used to around me. ❞ ❝ you should be ashamed of yourself, and learn your place. ❞ ❝ this look like a shoulder to cry on to you? ❞ ❝ ...you know who you sound like right now, don’t you? i can’t believe this. ❞ ❝ i think, deep down, you are still that inexperienced little godling that you used to be. ❞ ❝ i always had doubts the gods were listening. that they could even hear. ❞ ❝ i was just checking up on you, just...let me know if you wanted to talk, for any reason. ❞ ❝ if there’s one thing i know, it’s that the three fates always get their way. ❞ ❝ hey, you’re not alone. you’re not alone, ok? ❞ ❝ you're not exactly easy to approach, you know. ❞ ❝ i grieve for you, my friend. ❞ ❝ are you lecturing me about healthy relationships with family? your family is the most broken and corrupted in the history of the entire concept. ❞ ❝ you think you can just walk away from me? ❞ ❝ how about it, then? care for a drink, with me? ❞ ❝ you are entirely too young to have had meaningful experience with loss. ❞ ❝ something the matter, there? or have you come to torment me some more with idle chat? ❞ ❝ you will find me waiting for you once you get here. every single time. ❞ ❝ men worship ares willingly; they are so much like him. ❞ ❝ while love’s the force that brought me and countless other’s low in life, it also brought me and countless others strength. ❞ ❝ others shall always doubt me. you may doubt me. ❞ ❝ beware the narrow distance between hastiness and swiftness. ❞ ❝ a crashing wave or thundering tempest are nothing to a broken heart. ❞ ❝ think back on when you started all of this. you now know so much more. are capable of so much more. ❞ ❝ as ever, you think only of yourself. ❞ ❝ this is where you belong. you feel out of place? where would you even go? your place is here. ❞ ❝ your path is yours to shape as you see fit, regardless of the fates’ design. ❞ ❝ you’re no god! you’re nothing but a piece of trash, born into all of this. ❞ ❝ you seem to have me all figured out. and here i thought we were still getting to know each other. ❞ ❝ are there truly no depths to which you would not stoop? ❞ ❝ leave me be, and don’t think you’re going to be so lucky next time we meet out there. ❞ ❝ you have the tendency to ask too many questions. ❞ ❝ i smell the blood on you. you are severely wounded. ❞ ❝ don’t be messing with my feelings there. my trust is hard-won and quickly lost. ❞ ❝ if you wish to test the fine relationship we’ve built, why then, i can confirm you’re testing it, all right. ❞ ❝ don’t ever take me for some thoughtless nymph to be manipulated. ❞ ❝ don’t get on my father’s bad side like that and you’re going to be fine. ❞ ❝ how’s your endless toil treating you? ❞ ❝ i’d never trade my bow for all that pomp and armor. but, to each their own. ❞ ❝ let me see you now for what you truly are. ❞ ❝ was i deceived, in thinking this of you, of us? ❞ ❝ i get what i want around here. ❞ ❝ don’t you understand i’m trying to fix the problems you caused? ❞ ❝ the gods are on my side, not yours. ❞ ❝ don’t you dare look at me like that. ❞ ❝ life isn’t particularly fair. i’d have expected you to know as much. ❞ ❝ i’m leaving. try and stop me. ❞ ❝ you have no concept of which impulses to act upon, and which to keep in check. ❞ ❝ when i inevitably, inadvertently trample all over your feelings at some point, please tell me, all right? ❞ ❝ you don’t even know who i am. who i was. ❞ ❝ won’t you come back to me? when you are able, please. come back. i shall be waiting here, however long it takes. ❞ ❝ never met a god that bleeds like you. red. like a worthless mortal. ❞ ❝ i got to hanf it to you. you don’t back down. you don’t ever back down. ❞ ❝ i’ve a tip for you: don’t be slow! ❞ ❝ you can’t escape your problems. you have no choice but to confront them, and work through it, sooner or later, one way or another. ❞ ❝ i knew you had a more sinister trick at play, because your fighting style certainly is of no concern just on its own. ❞ ❝ i...feel awful. i...i have to go. ❞ ❝ once people set their minds to certain things, it can be difficult to show them other possibilites exist. ❞ ❝ there’s something that i’ve wished to tell you: there’s no shame in your upbringing. ❞ ❝ i have known too many far too proud to accept help, even when it was sorely needed. ❞ ❝ may you yet come to your senses. ❞ ❝ i have virtually done everything within my powers to prevent this. all of it...for nothing. ❞ ❝ you can’t be serious. you’re going to pretend as though it never happened? ❞ ❝ seems i’m left to thanking myself, since you’re too proud to do it. ❞ ❝ fight like i’d fight out there. ❞ ❝ what have i done to deserve such scorn? ❞ ❝ you left, without so much as telling me good-bye. ❞ ❝ you’ve such weak blood, and such a temperament... ❞ ❝ i am very, very sure i haven’t murdered anyone. ❞ ❝ i am truly blessed simply to have made your acquantince. ❞ ❝ you wish to take advantage of my pity? ❞ ❝ it comforts me to see how far you’ve come. ❞ ❝ i’ve always wanted to kill a god. you’ll have to do. ❞ ❝ you don’t have to give me something in return, it was a gift! ❞ ❝ you know i’d take you if i could. ❞ ❝ you shut your mouth right now, with that. ❞ ❝ it’s never been an easy time for me. ❞ ❝ why do you think i keep on showing up? ❞ ❝ who might you be, wandering all the way out here? you’re trespassing on private property, you know. ❞ ❝ i’d rather have you as a friiend than as a foe. ❞ ❝ really, you’re kicking me out? why? ❞ ❝ you’re funny, but you’ll break. they always do. ❞ ❝ you must think that i abandoned you. you think i had a choice?❞ ❝ you’re stuck with me forever. remember that. ❞ ❝ you know these heroes by their deeds, not by their character. ❞ ❝ some would question the destruction which you sow, but i shall never do so. i fully understand your impulses. ❞ ❝ you’re quite effective at locating me, but not so good at leaving me in peace. ❞ ❝ you don’t need me & i don’t need you. ❞ ❝ you lived through all that? ❞ ❝ my heart soars, knowing you live. then it breaks, that our time together was so brief. ❞ ❝ you’ve only me. and i have only you. ❞ ❝ sulk in your chambers all you like, for i care not. ❞ ❝ where did you go...? what did you do...? ❞ ❝ monster! you have no bearing, grace or courage! ❞ ❝ you’re beneath the notice of the gods. i have earned their favor. ❞ ❝ your youth provides you with a certain mindless strength. ❞ ❝ wait. i don’t think i owe you any favors, here. ❞ ❝ you appear to have grown stronger since when last we interacted. ❞ ❝ please...it was never my wish to hurt you. ❞ ❝ death is your only family. ❞ ❝ i too was born of darkness, but i chose the path of light. ❞ ❝ don’t know how come everybody doesn’t sing. lightens the mood, passes the time. what’s not to like? ❞ ❝ you come from the bowels of hell. this is not your place. ❞ ❝ heroes? mere mortals, same as all the rest. ❞ ❝ offend me, and i’ll drain the last traces of colour from your cheeks. ❞ ❝ punishment is not the path to rehabilitation. ❞ ❝ you’re nothing like your father. i mean that as a compliment. ❞ ❝ i just hope that their intentions are as pure as they appear. ❞ ❝ don’t be sad, pretty much everybody dies sometime. ❞ ❝ i’ve done some things that maybe aren’t great. ❞ ❝ actions beat intentions. ❞ ❝ look! i’m grinning ear to ear! ❞ ❝ my fits of anger come and go just like the tides. ❞ ❝ you know, i’d rather have my eyes put out, but thanks for offering! ❞ ❝ you will need to face your fears someday. ❞ ❝ true wisdom only comes with age. ❞ ❝ something has stirred within your heart. i can always tell. ❞ ❝ or...wait...what is this, did you just ask me out? ❞ ❝ i’m getting awful sick of seeing your smug face, time, after time, after time. ❞ ❝ your humility is matched only by your perseverance in the face of adversity. ❞ ❝ your stubborness shall only bring you pain. ❞ ❝ sometimes, our hearts become so full that they could burst. if only you could see how much i care. ❞ ❝ let’s see if you’re as skillful as you think. ❞ ❝ wait, you’re not serious. that famous sense of humor shining through. ❞ ❝ i’m surrounded by my family, but i always feel alone. ❞ ❝ i shall make myself quite clear in one respect: i fear i have a lack of patience for discussion. ❞ ❝ thought i might find you all the way out here. although, quite frankly, i’m surprised you’re still alive. ❞ ❝ absolute silence is my general preference. it may not be yours. ❞ ❝ i just like to see you menacingly smile. ❞ ❝ don’t tell anyone about this, understand? ❞ ❝ i told you i don’t need your help. ❞ ❝ you’re much too modest for someone with such a number of heroic deeds to their name. ❞ ❝ if anybody asks, we’re even. ❞ ❝ we had a lovely time getting to know each other. we laughed, we cried! ❞ ❝ what’s the matter, you gone soft or something? ❞ ❝ be sure to add those to the list of words you’ll eat someday. ❞ ❝ you know i’d do just about anything to aid you. ❞ ❝ you again. i told you to stay clear of me. ❞ ❝ in spite of all your efforts, it is probably the case that you still have a long and painful road ahead. ❞ ❝ you’ve always cared for me. i can’t ever repay you for that. ❞ ❝ i just thought i’d say, that was well fought back there. ❞ ❝ hush, it’s the god of trash, come once again to filthy up this place. ❞ ❝ changed your mind yet, or looking for more pain and suffering? ❞ ❝ maybe get some sleep or something? you look pretty beat. ❞ ❝ look, i’ve got a reputation to uphold. ❞ ❝ your father’s quite the big shot around here, but that means nothing to me, understand? ❞ ❝ you don’t have what it takes. nobody does. ❞ ❝ there’s no returning to the way things used to be. ❞ ❝ can i offer you some words of advice? get over yourself. ❞ ❝ fear is for the weak. ❞ ❝ you now what i like about you? the way you bleed. ❞ ❝ may all the death you bring become the stuff of legends told in fearful mortal whisperings around the world. ❞ ❝ i just happen to think you deserve better than you’ve got. ❞ ❝ no love without pain. ❞ ❝ failure is the greatest instructor of all. ❞ ❝ i think you feel like you have some sort of fearsome reputation to uphold. ❞ ❝ you know what? i think we’re finished here. ❞ ❝ i know you’re not in a good spot right now. ❞ ❝ what you’re attempting is impossible. ❞ ❝ i’m not your practice partner, fool. ❞ ❝ i know you don’t mean any harm, but it just isn’t something i discuss with anyone, ok? ❞ ❝ first you defy me openly, and now you lie. ❞ ❝ admit it. you can’t stop thinking about me. ❞ ❝ i’d like to be alone again, so you go on ahead. ❞ ❝ maybe this might numb the pain a bit. ❞ ❝ something’s troubled me a little, about you. ❞ ❝ your failure is quite easily imagined. how often it recurs! ❞ ❝ found this, thought of you and all that, so...here. ❞ ❝ how i love these unexpected little run-ins with you. ❞ ❝ what brings you back around this way again? ❞ ❝ now what’s the matter? it’s like you’ve been up feasting day and night, you’re barely standing, everything ok? ❞ ❝ first i found you, i was certain that you had no chance at all. ❞ ❝ if it wasn’t you proposing it, i’d like to call it madness. ❞ ❝ i'll sleep when i’m dead. ❞ ❝ thank you for not forgetting about me. ❞ ❝ you must see plainly, then, what your birthright amounts to: you’re no better off than any of us here. ❞ ❝ i’ll do my best. for both our sakes. ❞ ❝ the world is not all lies and deceit as you make it out to be. ❞ ❝ you fight so desperately. at first i thought you simply lacked in patience. but now i see it’s urgency that drives you. ❞ ❝ you don’t know who or what you’re dealing with. ❞ ❝ who are you to judge, you misbegotten, shameful, unfilial maggot? ❞ ❝ you’re getting real predictable, you know. ❞ ❝ no one can avoid taking sides forever. but you can take the more sensible side, at least. ❞ ❝ ahh, so you are taking pity on me, then? ❞ ❝ thank you for making me feel welcome in your pleasant home. can’t say the same for most places i’ve been lately. ❞ ❝ i would very much prefer to think we both know better than to let old grudges stew forever. ❞ ❝ nothing is ever perfect, right? no matter how hard you try. ❞ ❝ while i know what you meant, i don’t want you to say such things again. ❞ ❝ look at you, you’re hurt there pretty bad. ❞ ❝ i can’t be completely sure but, what you said just now i think contained some of the component pieces of a compliment? ❞ ❝ don’t fall for mortals. use them if you must, but do not waste your love on those who waste away. ❞ ❝ you’re stubborn. however, so am i. ❞ ❝ you think me cruel, yet know nothing of cruelty. ❞ ❝ you just stick with me, i’ve always time for you. ❞ ❝ you look a little down and so i was just wondering, would you perchance fancy a song right now? ❞ ❝ i get the feeling we’re starting off on the wrong foot. ❞ ❝ a harsh winter is coming for you. and i’m afraid you’ve brought it on yourself. ❞ ❝ i was unkind last time. forgive my indiscretions there...or don’t. but i wished to apologize. ❞ ❝ don’t suppose i can talk you into fighting back this time? ❞ ❝ go occupy yourself someplace else. ❞ ❝ don’t feel bad! it had to happen! but if it’s any consolation, it’ll probably happen again! ❞ ❝ you’re running from yourself. ❞ ❝ wine does have a rather special way of making everybody look even more beautiful than ever. ❞ ❝ i am not interested in having company, especially from you. ❞ ❝ my faith is prone to shakiness sometimes. ❞ ❝ you’re not your father, thank the gods. ❞ ❝ i’d ask you to join me for a drink, but i know you’ve a task ahead of you, and liquor dulls the senses. ❞ ❝ you’re more stubborn than your father. i never thought that such a thing was possible. ❞ ❝ remember, next time, that on my whim i can take everything from you. ❞ ❝ haven’t we had more than enough of each other by now? ❞ ❝ i get the feeling i’m being watched. ❞ ❝ you’ve berated me repeatedly and often. ❞ ❝ you ever lose somebody dear to you? ❞ ❝ as you grow long in years, perhaps you shall learn better judgement as to whom to trust, and whom to never, ever disrespect. ❞ ❝ sometimes things weigh heavily on me, but then i hear from you, and it’s like i don’t have a care in the world. ❞ ❝ stay focused on the hunt, and it’ll help keep the pain at bay. ❞ ❝ you are just so spontaneous, and i’ve a liking for that sort of thing! ❞ ❝ no one gets out of here, whether dead or alive. ❞ ❝ what is it that you’re after, really...? ❞ ❝ don’t take my silence the wrong way, all right? ❞ ❝ that’s terrible...wish there was something i could do to help. ❞ ❝ your unpredictability is one of your assets. ❞ ❝ do not throw away your life as i did mine. ❞ ❝ you do not take all your defeats to heart, do you? that’s good. ❞ ❝ the fates can twist intentions. i don’t want to take the risk. ❞ ❝ sometimes you make me feel alive again. ❞ ❝ why...i was much stronger once, than this... ❞ ❝ sometimes i wish i knew more about your past. ❞ ❝ you shall not goad me into anger with a petty insult such as that. ❞ ❝ we’ve been through a lot, and i think we’ll be going through a lot more yet. ❞ ❝ feelings we shared...they faded, with time. ❞ ❝ learn well to shut that foolish mouth of yours, or i shall shut it for you. ❞ ❝ i knew so many warriors who would throw away their lives for glory, believing that the gods were on their side; refusing to consider that their opponents felt the very same. ❞ ❝ you didn’t need to vent all that inner turmoil onto me throughout my life. ❞ ❝ swear to me that you shall never repeat what you are about to hear. swear it! ❞ ❝ sometimes i wonder what’s going through your head. ❞ ❝ i can do this. i can do this. i can do this. ❞ ❝ i heard you got yourself into another mess that needed cleaning up. ❞ ❝ you have a good heart. keep listening to it. ❞ ❝ you picked sides, and things are not the same. ❞ ❝ all the terrible choices i’ve made. by the time you have existed for as long as i have, pray youo will have made fewer. ❞ ❝ i must admit i have grown fond of you. ❞ ❝ please open your mind to the fact that there are those who care about your wellbeing. ❞ ❝ i know you mean well. from the bottom of my heart, i thank you truly for the thought. ❞ ❝ how can somebody be so brash yet hate to take unnecessary risks? ❞ ❝ i know we can’t exactly change the past, but we can try to move forward. ❞ ❝ you didn’t answer my question. though, you know something? forget i asked. ❞ ❝ just checking in on you, but i’ll be on my way again shortly. ❞ ❝ you would speak to me of foolish mistakes? ❞ ❝ do not question my power. ❞ ❝ there is no point in doing it but pride. and pride is dangerous. ❞ ❝ i must admit, your strength of will is quite inspiring. ❞ ❝ i don’t hate you. i don’t think i can ever hate you. ❞ ❝ i've decided not to kill you. no sport in cornered prey. ❞ ❝ i never thought i’d hear you talking about looking forward to working. you feeling alright? ❞ ❝ it has been far too long. although, the passing of the time was very kind. ❞ ❝ i have been thinking on this for some time, and i’ve a declaration i must make: i shall hear no more of your silver-tongued lies. ❞ ❝ oh good, somebody’s here to save me from myself. ❞ ❝ i wonder how much more insulting you could be. ❞ ❝ may i have this dance for old time’s sake? ❞ ❝ no matter how far you run, it doesn’t make your problems go away. ❞ ❝ i ever tell you you’re a real sweetheart? because, if not, i’m telling you right now. ❞ ❝ oh don’t worry, i’ll be back in fighting shape in no time. ❞ ❝ it’s not that i’m upset or anything. you know i’m not, but truthfully i’m a bit annoyed. ❞ ❝ you’ve got quite the fighting spirit in there, i have to say. ❞ ❝ ...answer me something. what am i to you, exactly, as of late? ❞ ❝ if you’ve not anger enough for it yet, you’ll learn, i promise you. ❞ ❝ i shall bring desolation upon those who wrong you. ❞ ❝ you know nothing of tempers if mine is your frame of reference. ❞ ❝ let me save you lots of future suffering: i happen to be the jealous type. ❞ ❝ i was really hoping we could change the subject. please? ❞ ❝ finally you cleared the mess you caused. ❞ ❝ i never grew accustomed to the air, up here. it gusts senselessly whichever way it pleases. ❞ ❝ i need your help with something. as i’m about to risk it all. ❞ ❝ love tends to blossom in the strangest places at the strangest times. ❞ ❝ normally they grovel, then they scream. they shut up eventually, but not you. at least, not yet. ❞ ❝ you know, you ain’t near as bad as i’d heard! ❞ ❝ so now you know. but, only half the truth. ❞ ❝ you are and always will be an insufferable brat. ❞ ❝ they say both gods and mortals are notoriously poor at estimating how long it takes to get anything done. ❞ ❝ flattery never got me anywhere with you to begin with. doesn’t mean i won’t keep trying. ❞ ❝ i’m warning you, i’m not susceptible to bribes. many have tried. ❞ ❝ by my estimation, you have slain at least a thousand souls. ❞ ❝ everyone’s saying i went easy on you. ❞ ❝ no, on quite the contrary i’ve been under no impression that avoiding conflict is an option here. ❞ ❝ you really won’t tell me anything about you? you’re just going to leave me to speculate, forever? ❞ ❝ fears, i think, are born of ignorance. ❞ ❝ i don’t exactly know the ways of mortals. ❞ ❝ it’s not just you swept up in all this nonsense now. you didn’t ask for me to get involved but what did you expect? ❞ ❝ if only i had wisdom such as yours, so that i was more capable of picking up on subtle jabs and insults such as that. ❞ ❝ did i detect some hesitance on your part just then? perhaps you knew that you were making a mistake. ❞ ❝ i need you in my life! how can you just...turn me away like this? ❞ ❝ no. no mournful speeches. now get out of my way. ❞ ❝ you needn’t lavish me with your faint praise. ❞ ❝ our memories are warnings. when you have lived as long as i have, you come to understand your weaknesses. ❞ ❝ you speak none of this, to anyone! ❞ ❝ it seems to me your strength outweighs your smarts ❞ ❝ you’re really too much for me sometimes, you know that? ❞ ❝ you speak as one who’s not experienced war. ❞ ❝ you’re looking kind of down. normally you’re all smiles, for whatever reason. ❞ ❝ your heart shall never carry you astray. ❞ ❝ it almost sounds as though you’ve broken up with me. ❞ ❝ come now, i don’t think that’s anything to be concerned about. ❞ ❝ where did you steal that kingly blade you’re brandishing about? it seems ill-fitting for one such as you. ❞ ❝ you overstep your bounds with me. but i shall make you fall right back in line. ❞ ❝ if there’s one thing i’ve learned since we met, it’s that the trust we share is at the very foundation of our relationships. ❞ ❝ it is woefully infrequent that i’ve cause for this, but i do have to thank you. ❞ ❝ so you’re realizing now that your entire image of me came from your imagination, is that it? ❞ ❝ sorry, my lips are sealed. how about we change the subject? ❞ ❝ you mistook me for someone who blindly follows orders without considering the implications. ❞ ❝ you, in a healthy relationship? why yes, that i have to see. ❞ ❝ you won’t tell me anything about you? you’re just going to leave me to speculate, forever? ❞ ❝ oh, would you look at whom i found, all by their lonely self. ❞ ❝ sometimes our tempers get the best of all of us. you’re fortunate mine didn’t get the best of you back there. ❞ ❝ you really need to learn to stop meddling in others’ affairs. ❞ ❝ was just thinking about you. ❞ ❝ the mortal concept of what constitutes as a hero is absurd. ❞ ❝ i may not be the one to kill you. but i’ll soften you up for whoever does. ❞ ❝ i have been waiting for a special moment to confess my great appreciation for your deeds. this moment’s special enough, isn’t it? ❞ ❝ all mortal life is fragile; it simply is a struggle to survive. ❞ ❝ it wasn’t any of my business to pry into your personal life. i should have asked. ❞ ❝ what do you say we deal some death together? ❞ ❝ the more you step away from your responsibilites, the less you shall want anything to do with them. ❞ ❝ what we were once, i wonder if it’s but a falsely ringing memory of mine... ❞ ❝ in all your boundless intellect, i’d have expected you would know i see through your intentions, plan as day. ❞ ❝ ii shall not lie to you again. that much, i swear. ❞ ❝ oh, i don’t have the heart to keep exacting vengeance on you. ❞ ❝ privileges are earned, not begged for. ❞ ❝ i thought we had an understanding. but, this wouldn’t be the first time i was wrong about someone. ❞ ❝ i have every confidence you’ll someday clamber from the shadows into the light. ❞ ❝ no paradise awaits you. ❞ ❝ did you miss me? i thought i’d steal away a bit and that together we might make up for lost time. ❞ ❝ when blood is spilled and death is dealt, i simply cannot remain discontented for too long. ❞ ❝ unlike my present company, i do not ask too many questions. ❞ ❝ what’s life without a little pain. ❞ ❝ i would do anything that you would ask of me. ❞ ❝ such a waste, all for your foolish pride, that you should care more to be remembered by those you shall never know than to be loved... ❞ ❝ look, if you don’t feel the same way about me at this point, i would rather know. ❞ ❝ you chose to die in glory, not to live in peace...and all for what? ❞ ❝ what’s the matter there? gone awful quiet. did i hurt your feelings? ❞ ❝ please, if not for your sake, then for mine...do not return. ❞ ❝ you blame your ancestors for your own weakness? ❞ ❝ i still grow frustrated with myself quite often and don’t always know whom to turn to. ❞ ❝ i’ll just remain here, comfortably at rest, for some untold millenia. ❞ ❝ the world has a limitless capacity for pain. ❞ ❝ well, if you do require some emotional support, know that i likely shall be standing over here. ❞ ❝ you’re not fooling anybody with your feigned benevolence, you know. ❞ ❝ i'm just an old killer, yet you treat me like i’m the one who’s royalty around here. ❞ ❝ life and death are inextricable, and war is often what connects the two. ❞ ❝ someday or night you shall look back on this, and thank me. ❞ ❝ i can no longer tolerate my life here in this place. ❞ ❝ they said you were headed this way. i said i’d stop you. ❞ ❝ if you were being too pushy, you better believe i would have put you back in your place, royalty or not. ❞ ❝ i am leaving, even if it kills me. ❞ ❝ hey, can’t ever be too careful when it comes to people’s past and feelings and stuff, right? ❞ ❝ should you ever go to war...do look me up. i imagine i would take your side. ❞ ❝ have you given any thought to just...leaving me alone, and going back to wherever it is you came from? ❞ ❝ and here i was beginning to think we had something special going. ❞ ❝ i’m worried you’re going to burn yourself out if you keep pushing yourself past your limits. ❞ ❝ whoever it was you used to be, i believe you’ve changed. ❞ ❝ i’m no mere mortal. ❞ ❝ i suppose this must be what it’s like to be a god. being shown affection such as this. ❞ ❝ admittedly i was quite good at it, but i was nothing other than a killer. ❞ ❝ no need to get emotional, is there? i’m not the sentimental type. ❞ ❝ all that pent-up rage behind your smiling words... ❞ ❝ don’t ever fall for mortals. use them if you must, but do not waste your love on those who waste away. ❞ ❝ i was never terribly fearful of gods. they seem to have their struggles much like mortals do. ❞ ❝ i would ask you to think of your well-being for the time, not mine. ❞ ❝ must say you’re very good at hiding your worries. ❞ ❝ anger fades. anger burns hot, then burns out. what’s left is a dull ache. ❞ ❝ you have much to be proud of. you’re a great warrior. a great instructor. a great friend. ❞ ❝ you must know the seven types of love by now, don’t you? why, i have several types of love for you! ❞ ❝ sometimes i fear i shall develop some sort of grudging respect for you. ❞ ❝ as you grow long in years, you gain more burdens and responsibilities, until they bind you. ❞ ❝ you’re being very nice to me, and that makes me suspicious, understand? ❞ ❝ you like me? i never thought, i...don’t know why that sounds so strange, coming from you. ❞ ❝ just know that...if you feel the way i do...you know where to find me. ❞ ❝ i still have feelings for you, i think. ❞ ❝ you’re a god. i’m telling you to learn to act like one. ❞ ❝ we were invincible together, weren’t we? though, i have never missed those days... ❞ ❝ i like being on my own and all, but it’s been nice, talking to you like this. ❞ ❝ you’ve done more for me than i’ve any right to expect, from anyone. ❞ ❝ the heart can make us do the strangest things, can’t it? ❞ ❝ i would never have been remotely prepared for everything i’ve had to face, if not for all your guidance. and i don’t just mean the violent stuff. ❞ ❝ you’re not so bad, you know that? careful with that, or you’ll undermine the ruthless reputation you have. ❞ ❝ well, for all his failings, i’m thankful that he did not teach you how to hate. ❞ ❝ i don’t know that i hate anybody, really. ❞ ❝ why am i never proud of you? don’t take it personally. i’m never proud of anything. ❞ ❝ there are a myriad of tales to be told, of both great deeds and of vainglorious defeats, and this has been a tale that falls somewhere in the middle. ❞ ❝ why your path keeps on crossing mine, i’ve not the slightest clue. ❞ ❝ there is no replacing your presence. i felt that before we ever met, and now i know for sure. ❞ ❝ mortals are so bent on clinging to their lives, that many among them would gladly kill for it. ❞ ❝ listen to me. i don’t know how else to put this, but, i want you to come home. ❞ ❝ i think we understand something of loss, now, don’t we? ❞ ❝ hey, look, i can tell you’re struggling right now... ❞ ❝ you must know i often hunger for destruction, almost uncontrollably at that. ❞ ❝ you still have no idea how to be up front with me, do you. why don’t you tell me why you’re here, and what you want. ❞ ❝ the destruction you have sown, the sheer carnage...nothing can surpass that. ❞ ❝ i do not think i ever would have asked for help, at any point, because...i don’t entirely know how. ❞ ❝ but hope alone is worthless without action, is it not? ❞ ❝ as bloodshed has become somewhat of a necessity in my situation, i am very grateful that you’re with me in this. ❞ ❝ many mortals strive for greatness all their lives, never quite realizing there is no existing formula for it. not even a specific definition for it. ❞ ❝ there are aspects of my country that i miss, from time to time. the stark, bright beauty of that strange, wondrous land. ❞ ❝ pride is perhaps our family’s worst trait. ❞ ❝ i think for many of us, it can come as a surprise to learn that love and war often go hand in hand. ❞ ❝ you don’t have what it takes. ❞ ❝ had a feeling i would find you all alone out here. ❞ ❝ quit messing with my heart. ❞ ❝ swear something to me. that you’ll discard your fears about our bond. ❞ ❝ each time we fight...i think i learn a little more. ❞ ❝ you’re nothing to me anymore. ❞ ❝ say, you must know a lot of big shots, don’t you? other gods and all that? ❞ ❝ i trust, from time to time, you stop to ask yourself how come you choose to fight. ❞ ❝ you cannot change the course that has been set. try all you like. ❞ ❝ we don’t all share the same demeanor, nor see eye to eye. though all of us, i think, wish you the best. ❞ ❝ i’ve known great men throughout my life, and i can always tell when someone’s better than their circumstances. ❞ ❝ i am quite capable of making your life plenty difficult. ❞ ❝ i bet whoever it is that loves you...it’s because of who you are. ❞ ❝ i lay the blame entirely upon you, yes. who else? ❞ ❝ i think, deep down, you are not the heartless harbinger of retribution that you want everyone to think you are. ❞ ❝ in my domain, you either find your place, or you learn your place. ❞ ❝ you have no idea how good you’ve had it here. maybe someday you’ll come to understand. ❞ ❝ do not mess with me right now. ❞

#sentence starters #roleplay meme #roleplay starters #rp meme #like i said !! more is gonna be added to it the more i play the game <3

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hysterialevi · 4 years ago

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Hjarta | Chapter 19

Fanfic summary: In an AU where Eivor was adopted by Randvi’s family instead, he ends up falling in love with the man his sister has been promised to despite the arranged marriage between their clans.

Point of view: third-person

Pairing: Sigurd Styrbjornson x Male Eivor

Author’s note: Don’t worry, I haven’t stopped writing this fic ;)

This story is also on AO3 | Previous chapter | Next chapter

THE CEMETERY

Venturing down the neatly carved path, Eivor wandered through a tunnel of trees as he made his way to the cemetery, crushing little twigs underneath his boots. The snow in front of him lay disturbed thanks to a recent chain of footsteps belonging to the jarl, and up ahead, he could see the man himself.

Arngeir was currently sitting amongst all the tombstones, wallowing in the silence of his clan’s resting place. A touch of sunlight broke through the naked branches dangling above him, and kissed the top of his head as if it were a beacon sent from the divines.

Despite the serene nature of the graves lying around him though, the jarl seemed equally as lifeless as the souls he accompanied. Within a single day, he had lost two of the most important people he ever knew, and the grief was starting to take a toll on him.

He looked absolutely exhausted. His eyes were bloodshot due to a lack of sleep, his expression hung low from having mourned for so long, and his somber gaze seemed to lose itself in the nothingness before him.

It broke Eivor’s heart to see his father this way. He had gotten so used to the fortitudinous shell that Arngeir always wore, that now, it felt as if he were looking at a completely different man.

It was understandable, of course. Considering their clan’s recent losses. There were few things in the world that surpassed the pain of a child’s death, and Eivor couldn’t help but wonder how this would affect Arngeir in the battles to come.

Would the jarl even be able to fight in this state? Would he be capable of surviving? His mind had already been left in tatters ever since Thora’s passing, and the young man feared he’d be too weak for the ordeal ahead.

He just hoped that Gorm’s information would be enough to spark some hope in Arngeir before they faced Kjotve again. Thora may have been gone, but their clan had not yet been defeated. There was still a chance to recover from the damage that had been done, and Eivor prayed he’d be able to make his father realize that.

“Father?” He called out, approaching the forlorn man.

The jarl barely turned his head in response, showing a complete lack of interest in chatter.

“...Eivor.” Arngeir greeted bluntly. “What brings you to this place?”

His son stepped next to the bench he was sitting on, gazing at the grave before them. “I’ve come to tell you that Sigurd and I managed to get Gorm to speak. He told us where Kjotve is.”

The other man hardly seemed fazed. “Is that so.”

“Yes. We interrogated him just now.”

Arngeir was totally silent in response, leading Eivor to carry on the conversation.

“...He said that Kjotve intends to sail west. To England. Apparently, he has allies there, and plans to rally them in the war against us. He hasn’t departed yet, though. He’s gathering supplies on an island not too far from here before embarking on the journey. We still have time to catch him.”

Still, the jarl said nothing in return.

“Kjotve has powerful allies, father,” Eivor reiterated, trying to get the man’s attention. “According to Gorm, these men are more than simple raiders. They’re part of something bigger than we ever imagined. We can’t let him roam into English seas. Otherwise, we’ll all be finished--”

“--Hush, my son.” Arngeir said softly, raising his hand. “We will discuss everything later, I promise. But for now... allow me to grieve for our loved ones in peace. I grow weary of all this turmoil.”

Eivor nodded in sympathy, putting the subject to rest for the moment. “...O-Of course, father. I understand.”

Arngeir took a deep breath, refreshing his mind with the icy winter air. “Thank you, my boy. I realize our situation is urgent, but we must always make time to remember those we have lost, for we would not be here without them.” He glanced at the younger man, beckoning him to join. “Come. Sit. You would do well with a rest.”

The Wolf-Kissed complied and took a seat next to his father, basking in the tranquility of the graveyard. It was oddly peaceful, despite the tragic tales behind each of the shrines. The rustling of the trees harmonized beautifully with the wind that glided throughout the cemetery, and carried the scent of saltwater within its grasp.

Meanwhile, a profound presence watched valiantly over the lost souls who now roamed in the unseen oblivion, guiding them from a realm that existed beyond rational understanding.

It almost felt as if Thora and Ulfar were still there, despite not having a physical entity anymore. The mark they left on the clan’s heart had yet to wither, and even now, Eivor could hear their last words whispering in his head.

He just wished he could’ve responded to them. There were so many things he wanted to say, and so many questions he wanted to ask. He would’ve given anything to have one more conversation with his deceased friends, but now, all he had were regrets.

“Father...?” Eivor said. “Can I ask you something?”

Arngeir’s interest was piqued. “Of course.”

“What did Ulfar do before he found us? Who was he when they still called him Wulfgar?”

The jarl paused. “...You know about that?”

“I overheard Ingrida saying a prayer for him at the funeral,” Eivor explained. “Instead of calling him Ulfar, she used his Saxon-given name. Apparently, he always requested her to do so. I tried asking her about his past, but she was reluctant to speak. She said I should talk to you instead, since you were closer with him.”

Arngeir’s eyes lit up with remembrance. “...Indeed. That man was like family to me. A brother from a different land.”

He turned to face his son, shifting in his seat. “Well, if you’re really curious, Ulfar always wanted to go by his birth name, but feared that his Saxon roots would instill suspicion in our people’s hearts. The only ones he trusted with his identity were me, Ingrida, and of course, Linnea.”

“But why all the secrecy? Our clan knew him well. They knew he was a man of honor. Surely, having Saxon roots wouldn’t be enough to change that.”

“Well, it wasn’t just about his roots. If people ever learned that Ulfar was originally from England, naturally they’d become curious. And with curiosity would come questions. He’d have to explain how he ended up living with a Norse clan, and the reason why he was no longer with them.”

Eivor urged him to continue. “And what reason is that?”

Arngeir sighed out of hesitance. “...Ulfar did not forgive so easily when he was younger. Even though the Norseman who raided his village provided him with a new home, he still wanted justice for what happened to his family. He wanted revenge.”

“...So what he did he do?”

“Nothing, at first. He was just a boy, after all. There wasn’t much he could do to begin with. Ulfar spent the rest of his childhood and adolescence living with the clan in peace, adapting to their culture. He learned their language, held faith in their gods, trained with their techniques. He became a Norseman in everything but blood.”

Eivor could already see where this was going. “But that didn’t last forever, did it.”

The jarl shook his head. “No. When Ulfar finally became an adult, he betrayed his clan and killed the four raiders responsible for his family’s deaths. Three of them were slaughtered within a single night. The fourth one -- a man named Geirmund -- escaped.”

That name sounded familiar to Eivor.

“Geirmund...?” He repeated. “I think Ulfar told me about him once. He met Linnea while he was searching for him. I never knew the history between them, though. What happened to Ulfar after he killed the other three?”

“Originally, his clan planned to have him executed. They wanted to put his head on a pike for his treachery, but his father convinced them to simply exile him instead. So, as a young man, Ulfar was banished from his home, and spent the next handful of years wandering Norway as a jomsviking, offering his services to anyone who could afford them.”

“What about his father?” Eivor wondered. “Did Ulfar ever see him again?”

Arngeir frowned in pity. “...No. The day he left his clan was the last time he spoke with him. Ulfar never forgave himself because of it.”

“He regretted his betrayal?”

“Very much so,” the jarl confirmed. “Ulfar often told me that he wished he could return home. Not for the sake of a reunion, or for making amends... but to simply apologize. He never had the chance to watch his father grow old, nor bid him farewell when he wandered into death’s embrace, and I know the guilt haunted him for years.”

Eivor’s gaze sank to the ground. “That explains much.”

Arngeir quirked a brow. “Does it?”

“Indeed. Back when you first adopted me, I often expressed my desire to go after Kjotve. To kill him for what he had done. I wanted to avenge my parents and reclaim their honor, but Ulfar was always there to soothe my pain. He told me to never lose sight of what matters.”

“And he was right. Not too long from now, Eivor, you and many others will be leading the final charge against Kjotve and his clan. It will be a battle that determines the future of this kingdom, and you must not lose yourself in your grief. Fight Kjotve with honor, and perhaps, the gods will grant you the opportunity to reclaim Varin’s.”

The young man nodded assuredly. “I understand.”

The jarl seemed pleased. “I know you do. You’ve always carried Odin’s wisdom, even when you were just a boy. I trust that you will do what’s best in the storm to come. My only hope is that the Allfather can protect you where so many others have fallen. I couldn’t bear it if you and Randvi perished too.”

Arngeir quickly changed the subject, unwilling to let his spirit dim again. “But enough about that. Go on, my son. Wait for me in the longhouse. I will meet you there shortly. For now though, I'd like to spend some more time alone.”

“Are you sure, father?”

“Yes. Don’t worry about me, Eivor. My heart sits heavy in my chest with sorrow, but I am not ready to lay down my axe just yet. I will be alright.”

Eivor rose from the bench and straightened his tunic, preparing to leave. “Okay, then. If you’re certain, I’ll meet you in the war room later.”

“Good. We have much to discuss, and I imagine Sigurd will be eager to devise a plan. Until then, take care of yourself, my boy. These next few days will be the most harrowing yet. Do not allow yourself to fall prey to the grief, or this will have all been for naught.”

~~~~~~~~~~

A LITTLE LATER

OUTSIDE THE LONGHOUSE

Peering at the view before him, Sigurd sat quietly on the very same hill where he and Eivor shared their first conversation, waiting patiently for the man as he lost himself in the distant horizon. At the moment, the sun’s light was being obscured by a gathering of wispy clouds that circled around the mountains’ peaks, causing its beams to spread across the land in a golden haze. It glimmered on the ocean’s surface like a handful of scattered coins, and warmed the sheets of ice that clutched onto the shore’s edge.

It was as beautiful as ever, despite the mayhem that thrived in it. An illusion of peace concealed the pandemonium raging amidst their kingdom, and sheltered the death that littered the ground below. It made Sigurd feel as if he had stepped backwards in time, and he found himself wishing desperately that he could rewind the clock.

Only a few weeks may have passed since the prince first arrived at Bjornheimr, but to him, it seemed like an eternity. So much had changed in less than a month, and he could scarcely recognize his own face anymore, nor the faces of others.

Ulfar was dead. Kjotve was losing this war. The son of the jarl had taken his wife’s position, and now, the man he once called brother lay forgotten in a traitor’s tomb. It was as if the Nornir were toying with his fate -- plucking at whatever threads they could find -- just to see how much of a mess they could make.

It felt cruel to Sigurd, to curse him with such an arduous path. In a strange way though, part of him was grateful for having braved this trek. If it weren’t for the gods guiding him to Bjornheimr, he never would’ve met Eivor, or discovered the true nature of those he trusted. He would’ve lived the rest of his life believing in a false brotherhood, and possibly have fallen to one of their blades sooner or later.

This war had caused him a tremendous amount of pain, that was true, but it had also taught him lessons that no mentor ever could. It would be a chapter in his saga that he would never forget, yet at the same time, never wish to remember.

“Sigurd?”

Tearing his eyes away from the view, Sigurd looked to his side and spotted Eivor approaching him from the longhouse, prompting him to rise from his seat.

“Ah, Eivor,” he said with a smile. “There you are. Have you spoken with your father?”

“Yes. I just finished talking to him in the cemetery. He’ll meet us in the war room later to discuss our next move, but for the moment, he wishes to spend some time by himself.”

Sigurd’s brow furrowed in concern. “...How is your father?”

Eivor sighed, his breath turning into a trail of mist. “He’s... faring surprisingly well, in spite of our recent losses. He seems to be doing alright, but part of me suspects it’s only an act.”

“You don’t think it’s genuine?”

The younger man lowered his voice. “He just lost a child, Sigurd. And an old friend. No one passes through an ordeal like that unscathed, especially during a war. I can tell my father is hurting on the inside, but I also know he’s far too proud to show it. He would never risk hurting his clan’s morale like that. Or mine.”

Sigurd nodded in understanding. “A man who cares more about his people than himself. Admirable, but I hope he doesn’t neglect his own needs.”

“As do I. We’ve already lost so much in this past week. I can’t lose him either. Not when we’re so close to victory.” Eivor trailed off into a brief silence, softly clearing his throat. “...Anyway. We’ll have plenty of time to talk about the war later. You said you had something to show me?”

The prince reached down and picked something up from the ground, patting it clean before presenting it to his lover.

“Indeed,” he said, flicking some snow away, “I brought a gift for you.”

Eivor’s expression beamed at that. “A gift? What is it?”

Sigurd held his arms out, laying the object flat in his palms. “See for yourself.”

Looking in the man’s grip, the Wolf-Kissed found a beautifully-crafted shield resting proudly in his hands, waiting for the touch of its new owner. It had been fashioned out of a wood darker than ebony itself, and bore the intricate design of a raven on its surface. A vibrant mixture of blue and white pigment had been used to paint the majestic bird, and the edges of the shield were outlined with a ring of engraved iron.

Overall, it was an impressive piece of craftsmanship. Its small yet sturdy build made it an effective piece of armor, and the colors stood out from the wood like an aurora in the night sky.

“You got me a shield?” Eivor said, staring at the gift in awe. “It’s gorgeous, Sigurd.”

The prince grinned. “Ah, but it’s not just any shield, my love. This shield was passed down to me from my mother when I was only a boy. She gave it to me at a young age so that I could start my training, despite my father’s protests.”

A wave of reminiscence washed over Sigurd’s face. “...I used to carry it with me everywhere I went. Even after my mother’s death, I would wear it proudly on my back and use it as a... good luck charm of sorts, I suppose. An accessory to ward off the shadow lurking in my step. I don’t use it much nowadays since I don’t want to risk breaking it, but I’ve always kept it close nonetheless. It serves as a good reminder.”

Eivor tilted his head. “A reminder of what?”

Sigurd’s tone faltered with melancholy. “...Of what really matters.” He paused for a second and glanced down at the shield, unlocking the memories that lived inside it.

“With all the losses that we’ve suffered recently, I’ve found myself thinking about the past more than usual. My mind is often preoccupied with the burdens of regret, and my dreams are tainted by the men I’ve killed. In times like these, it can be difficult to remember why we’re even fighting in the first place. Hatred can become a familiar face if you indulge it for long enough, and eventually, you’ll find yourself burying an axe in someone’s chest without really knowing why.”

“It’s frightening to lose control of your life in such a way,” he continued. “It feels like... all the love you once cradled is slipping out of your grasp, and that there’s nothing you can do about it.” He slid a hand down the shield’s surface. “But when I look at this, I think about all the memories I hold dear. I think about my mother, about Dag, about a life without constant terror. I think about the hope I once carried, and how alive it made me feel.”

Sigurd flicked his eyes up to Eivor, unable to hide the glint of hope shimmering in his gaze.

“It’s the same feeling I get when I look at you.”

Eivor was flattered by the comment. “It is?”

The prince displayed a faint smile. “Yes. You remind me of the life I wish I could give to our people. But more importantly, you give me the strength to fight for it. Had it not been for your company throughout this past month, I’m not sure I’d be the same man I am today. And that’s why I want you to have this.”

The younger man carefully brought the shield into his grasp, mindful not to scratch it.

“Are you sure about this, Sigurd?” Eivor checked. “I mean, this shield used to belong to your mother. If you want to keep it, I’ll understand.”

The prince shook his head, holding up a hand of refusal. “No, no. It’s yours now. Even if you don’t use it in battle, I still want you to have it. I trust you to keep it safe, and I know my mother would’ve been honored to pass it onto someone such as you.”

The Wolf-Kissed slipped his arm through the strap, testing its weight with a few gentle swings.

“I... I don’t know what to say, Sigurd. It’s a magnificent piece of armor. I promise I’ll treat with the utmost care.” He closed the distance between them and leaned forward, pecking a small kiss on his companion’s cheek. “Thank you.”

The older man’s face radiated with a warm delight. “You’re welcome, Eivor.”

Coming to an abrupt halt, Sigurd’s attention was suddenly diverted to the longhouse when he noticed Arngeir striding through its doors, eager to get started on devising a strategy. It looked like Styrbjorn had also decided to join his small entourage and was currently accompanying him to the war room, looking more determined than usual.

“I think your father’s ready to meet us at the war table,” Sigurd observed. “We should join him as quickly as possible.”

Eivor chuckled softly, letting out a short breath. “This war never waits, does it?”

The prince returned the laugh. “It would seem not.” He placed a hand on Eivor’s shoulder and guided him away from the hill, bringing his lover along for a quick stroll before heading into the longhouse.

“Come.” Sigurd beckoned. “We have a battle to plan.”

#hjarta #assassin's creed valhalla #ac valhalla #eivor wolfsmal #eivor wolfkissed #eivor varinsson #male eivor #sigurd styrbjornson #sigurd x male eivor #ac valhalla fanfic

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supercasey · 4 years ago

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So I've been playing The Hades Game like fucking mad for the last few weeks, and although I'm not very far in it (at least, I don’t think I am; I’ve only beat Hades once!), I'm absolutely in love with it! Anyways, a certain idea has been kicking around in my head for awhile now, so I thought I'd share it with y'all; feel free to tell me what you think of it! (Warning: spoilers for when you beat Hades the first time!)

Anyways, I've already seen a really cool AU post for if Demeter raised Zagreus on the surface by herself (which you can find HERE; please check it out, the outfit for Zag alone is an amazing concept, and I love the artwork!!!) but I keep thinking about an AU where, after Zagreus dies at birth, Persephone runs away and takes his wrapped up body with her.

On the surface, she reconnects/reunites with her mother Demeter, and with her aid, the two of them manage to resurrect the newborn baby, though now he has more white in his hair than anything else. After that, Persephone sends Hades a letter to tell him that Zagreus is alive and well (because she actually has some fucking class), before proceeding to raise Zagreus on the surface with her mother, far away from the entrance to hell. The Olympians also help her out a bit, but mostly they just help by hiding Zagreus when it’s necessary.

(The rest is under a cut ‘cus this got a bit long, sorry!)

Years pass in relative peace, until Zagreus is about as old as he is in-game (I think he’s around 20-25ish???) and is living well, working with his mom and grandma to take care of their gardens and live peacefully away from mankind; he especially loves tending to the animals and guiding lost mortals to safety. However, one day while foraging for fruit in the deepest corners of his mother’s signature garden, Zagreus happens across a strange man in long robes, who introduces himself as Thanatos.

The two men get along swimmingly from minute one, and after agreeing to meet with each other again soon, they leave and tell their families/friends all about the experience, having no clue who they are to each other. After all, Thanatos was told growing up that his lord’s first wife died giving birth to their first and only child, who was a stillborn, and Zagreus thinks his father died of disease (his mom didn’t have to heart to tell him anything bad about his dad). Needless to say, they’re gonna be in for quite the shock soon.

Cue Hades losing his shit and calling on Thanatos, Megaera, and Achilles to go find his progeny and bring him home; he gives them special permission to leave the Underworld without any resistance, trusting Than to lead the way back to Zagreus. Achilles is less than thrilled to be performing such a morally grey task for his master, but Meg and Than are eager to prove themselves, so he begrudgingly agrees to help, even if it hurts his conscience to do so.

Persephone and Demeter also freak the hell out on their end, scared shitless by the fact that Death incarnate has just met their son/grandson, and they’re worried that he plans on coming back again soon. Demeter suggests sending Zagreus to live with the Olympians until this all blows over, but Persephone disagrees, wanting her son to stay nearby in case he grows ill (it’s implied that she’s a bit overprotective of him, mostly because she’s afraid of him dying again; this also means she refuses to let him know that he’s in any danger, believing it would only make things worse for him in the long-run). Frustrated but understanding her daughter’s pain all too well, Demeter at least convinces her to call on the Olympians for aid, which Persephone agrees to do.

The gods promise to help of course, but... well, they're low-key lying; they wanna see how this plays out first.

After several days of traveling through hell (literally), the “let’s kidnap Zagreus” gang makes it to the surface, and they immediately head to Persephone’s garden. All this time, Zagreus has no idea that he’s being targeted, so he goes about his chores as usual, only to run into Than again, and hey, he brought some more friends for him to meet! Zagreus is friendly with all of them, being raised to be very polite by his guardians, and while he’s busy chatting with Than and Achilles, he doesn’t notice Meg sneaking behind him. Just as Zagreus is rattling on about how the animals have been faring this summer, Meg stabs Zagreus in the back with a blade coated in Hades’s blood, cursing him to belong to the Underworld again.

With Zagreus now unconscious from a sedative that was mixed with the blood, the trio hurry off with him back to the Underworld, but not without Persephone seeing what they’ve done to her son. Horrified, she begins to sob, and winter arrives in the mortal world without so much as a fall season in-between this and the summertime.

When Zagreus comes to, he finds himself in a bedroom similar to the one he has in the game, but it’s much cleaner and has less objects of personal value to him. Hades is standing at the foot of his bed when he wakes up, and very calmly, Hades tells Zagreus that he’s his father, and that from now on, Zagreus will be living in the Underworld with him and his people, where he so obviously belongs. It’s a shame his mother can’t be here, of course, but they just need to wait awhile, that’s all; surely she’ll come to her senses and return home soon, now that her husband and son are here.

Zagreus jumps out of bed and faces his father as soon as he’s done monologuing, ready to tell him off for what he’s done, but to his shock, Hades hugs him as soon as he’s on his feet, and admits that he’s waited for this day for a long, long time. He asks his son to please just accept that this is his home now, and despite still being a bit surprised (and subtly hugging Hades back because Longing), Zagreus tells him straight up that he can’t, that he has to get home, especially with winter coming in a few months!

Dejected but not overly surprised, Hades simply nods in acceptance, but he still warns Zagreus that it’s no use trying to fight it; he’s stuck here, now and forever, so he may as well get comfortable and try getting along with him, because no one’s going anywhere anytime soon. Zagreus is horrified, but he nods nonetheless, unsure of what to say or do just yet.

Later that night, as Zagreus is struggling to sleep in this new, unfamiliar place, Achilles comes to him and apologizes about what’s happened, and although he can’t magically fix everything for him, he tells Zagreus that it actually is supposedly possible to escape; it’s just that no one’s ever done it before. Driven by his desire for freedom and the thought of reuniting with his mother, Zagreus tells Achilles that he’s going to find a way out, no matter the cost. Achilles congratulates him on his tenacity, but warns him that it won’t be easy. Still, he’s willing to help Zagreus as much as he can.

From then on, I imagine the game playing out very differently from the original, with a rather frazzled and scared Zagreus trying to get home to his mom and grandma, but with none of his training from Achilles in this AU, he has to rely on something his mother taught him; his connection with earth and all it’s inhabitants. Or, in his case, his connection with the spirits of animals (a cross of his dad and mom’s powers). That’s right, I’m making The Hades Game into a fucking Pokemon-ripoff, but still with some rouge-like elements mixed in (mostly with Zagreus not keeping his animals after runs).

Having royally fucked up in not stepping in sooner to protect Zagreus, the gods end up helping him out by sending down animals associated with them for the young god to tame for a run (I’ll come up with them later). They usually offer a selection to choose from, and from there Zagreus can build up a team and use it to try and escape the Underworld.

To replace weapons, I like to think he’d have “signature” animals that can help him out for any of his runs, specifically ones from Achilles, Poseidon, Zeus, Demeter (once he reaches the surface at least once), and eventually even Hades gives him one if they bond together enough ((yes, it’s Cerberus... kinda; it’s a puppy version of him, otherwise he’d be OP as fuck)). Zagreus’s signature animals can all be given names, and they keep certain skills that they pick up through enough experience battling in the Underworld for Zagreus.

As for story-line stuff, Zagreus ends up in a very fish out of water situation as he tries to get to know everyone in Hades’s house (he’s still our kindhearted Zag, after all, and he knows most of them aren’t to blame, not even really Than!) while also focusing on his goal to get home to his mom. Hades ends up being a lot nicer to him in this AU, perhaps overly so, as he’s trying to make his son like him more in order to make up for lost time (and fill the hole in his heart that Zag’s initial death as an infant and Persephone leaving with him created). It’s part of the reason he’s even letting Zagreus try to escape; he wants him to learn that it won’t work on his own terms (and maybe also scare the kid so bad that he comes running to him for comfort afterwards).

Also, I should really note that Zagreus is 100% a sweet country farm boy in this AU, and he has no idea what the fuck is going on with pretty much anything in the Underworld, much to everyone’s astonishment. For example:

Meg: Gods, it must be weird getting used to everything down here, huh? Sick of stepping in bat shit yet? Don’t worry, you’ll get used to it, and Dusa’s pretty good about cleaning it up to begin with. Zagreus: I mean, I guess? It’s not that different from chicken shit tbh. Meg: What the fuck is a chicken???

After that... yeah, I dunno. I’ll try playing Hades some more, see if I think up anything else that could be interesting, but for now, I hope at least someone ends up liking this dumb AU (if not, I’ll still like it... might even try my hand at drawing for it a bit tbh). Again, please check out the person who’s post/art I linked earlier in the post, ‘cus their art is really awesome and inspired me to include Demeter more in this AU!

#supercasey ramblings #hades game #zagreus #zagreus hades #thanatos #hades #persephone #demeter #megaera #achilles #hades farmboy au #i dunno what else to fucking call it #thanzag #if ya squint

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himitsu-luna · 4 years ago

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Nct 127 - Creatures series

File #1 - Taeil, the grim reaper

Warnings: mentions of death / car accident

Genre: fantasy / supernatural/ Angst / fluff

Pairing: reader x Taeil

Nct 127 - Creatures series masterlist

---

The story

In some indertemined past, far back from now, Taeil was once a human.

He, without any warning, turned into a soul, and vagued for so long, alone, trying to be seen.

It was like God had forgotten about him, and he himself couldn't remember where he belonged to anymore.

But he patiently waited, and waited, and waited. He never lost his hopes, neither let his soul be corrupted.

One day, this strange entity offered him its own job. It told Taeil that all of this waiting was part of his preparation to become a grim reaper.

And then Taeil had once again a purpose

But don’t be misleaded. Reapers are not evil beings like humans paint them to be.

Only the kindest and most resilient spirits are chosen to be reapers.

Taeil gives desperate souls some comfort and hope, and help them solving their pending matters in this world, so he can finally guide them to the afterlife without any regret.

The powers

God gave his own powers over life and death to Taeil, under the promise he would never use it wrongly.

He can disconnect a soul from their body, but he also can connect them back. In other words, he can resurrect someone, or put souls into another bodies

He can see people’s life span.

He has the ability of giving or taking life time from living beings.

He can control dead bodies that no longer have a soul attached to them

He also has some control over time. He can freeze time as long as he wishes.

Invisibility and shape shift are also amongst his powers.

°°°

- Report: Incident number 1

The soul that was assigned to him to take. “Y/N”, Taeil whispered, looking at the golden letters shining on a page of his little black notebook. For some reason he was feeling restless. "Weird", he thought by himself. “Well. let’s go.”

---

"What happened?" - that was the first thought you remember being able to formulate. As you saw your own inanimate body, layed down on a hospital bed, you understood. "Ah. The rain. The car. It happened so fast". You looked around. Everything seemed completely normal, the world keeps moving after all. "So that's it? Am I dead?". You asked yourself, just to hear a honey like voice murmuring the answer - "Not yet". You turned your head around to see this man, with gentle eyes and a comforting smile, approaching you, his dark coat waving in resonance with his large and graceful steps. He had this weird aura, strong yet compassionate, of someone who had lived too much and had seen too much. "Not yet"- he repeated. "Do you see this thread? When it comes to an end and completely disappears, then you can say you died in this world". You, numb and still in confusion with the mysterious man, turned your attention to the string he was pointing at. It had a color you had never seen before. But it was so short. You understood you didn't have much time. "Oh, I get it. Who are you, by the way?" - you said, looking back at the young man. "I have lots of names. Some call me death, some call me grim reaper, some call me shinigami. But I have my own name. You can call me Taeil. I'm here to guide you to the afterlife". For some reason, you felt safe with him. For some reason, you said, without thinking twice: "It's ok then. I accept my fate. Just stay with me, please, until the end"

---

Taeil was expecting none of these three things. First : the moment he saw you, he doubt his own capability of taking your soul away. Second : your "Just stay with me" made his non existent heart pump, bringing back a warmth he had not felt for centuries. Third : he desperatly wanted to save you. He never failed to fulfill his duty. He was always a good reaper. But seeing your life thread getting shorter and shorter day by day made him want to break all the rules. He knew that once he sent your spirit to afterlife, he would not be able to see you again. When your thread was about to vanish, he took a decision. The taboo. The consequences. He was ready to go through everything for you. "I must be crazy" - he said, while ripping off out of his notebook the page with your name written on it.

---

There you were, holding Taeil's strong and soft hands. "So now that you connected your own thread to mine, no one can catch us, right? You won't be in trouble, right?" - you asked him, concerned. He looked at you, and gave you a reassuring smile "Yes, you're right. Don't worry. Everything is going to be ok now." You were unsure. In reality, just one thing mattered to you at that moment. "But when I come back to my body, will I be able to remember you?" Taeil chuckled at your naive question, and, giving you a little peck as he rested his forehead on yours, he replied to you, smiling -" Don't worry. Even if you don't remember me, I'll be with you. It's a promise. We are connected to eternity now. I... I just want you to remember one thing.... I love you".

And your soul sinked into your body, becoming one with it once again.

°°°

- Report: Incident number 2

You and Taeil have been together for one year now. You still have crystal clear in your mind the memory of the first time you met him. That soft looking man, owner of the kindest eyes you’ve ever seen, knocking at your door to introduce himself as your new neighbor. But the thing you remember the most vividly is not exactly the vision of Taeil, but the emotion you had when you laid your eyes on him. The strange feeling that you already knew him for a long time dominated you. It was like your mind didn't recognize him, but your heart, on the other hand, did. Sometimes you catch yourself thinking : "Was it really the first time?"

---

It's heavily raining outside, and it's his turn to spend the night at your apartment. You two snuggle into the cozy and fluffy blankets, and you feel grateful he is there with you. You hate rainy nights. It reminds you that day. That car accident that almost got you into the eternal sleep. You get chills just by hearing the water drops hiting your window. But you look at Taeil, and his calm and sleeping face makes you feel weirdly untouchable. You close your eyes, and the sound of the rain starts vanishing, as you dive deep into the dream that will change your life.

Everything is coming back. The hospital. The thread. The dark coat. And... Taeil. He was there. And now you listen to his voice calling you from far away. You wake up with your face wet in tears, and with Taeil's shocked and worried face looking at you.

– "What happened, baby? You were sobbing! Was it a nightmare?" – Taeil asks you, carefully caressing your head

–" Taeil... I remember... I remember everything..." – you finally say, looking at him with wide eyes, ready to release a new wave of tears.

Taeil freezes. He is not a fool. He knows exactly what you're talking about. And he won't try to deceive you, or give you any excuses. But he can't help feeling the despair and the saddness starting to consume him. He feels like his own being is falling apart, sensing your rejection and the tragic outcome of something he knew he should never have started. He is about to speak when you engulf him in a tight hug.

– "Taeil! It all makes sense now!! I remember everything! And I.. there's something ... I didn't have the opportunity to say this to you that time. But please, listen. This has a new meaning now! I love you!! I love you so much!" - you almost scream, releasing all the feelings you didn't know you had burried inside of your soul.

Taeil is crying now, holding you dearly against his chest, thinking about how, for the fourth time, you got him completely by surprise.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

°•- taglist - @starrdustville

°•- Nct 127 - Creatures series masterlist

-;-;-;

#nct 127 #nct reactions #nct imagines #taeil #nct drabbles #nct headcanons #nct blurbs #nct scenarios #moon Taeil #alternative universe #taeil x reader #nct x reader #nct x you #taeil x you

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riteburdened · 4 years ago

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Hu Tao abilities meta + hc

Since she demonstrates some abilities outside of the norm for humans, even for vision wielders and exorcists or thaumaturgists, I have wanted to write about them for a while and address some speculative stuff too!

Canon:

- Ability to see spirits. Self explanatory, a clear part of her job and it’s shown that not all humans can see them. - Can physically interact with spirits at will. There are times when her blazing spirit (I love the fanon name ‘bootao’ for it haha) passes through her body while others where she physically manipulates it, such as her ult and idle animation. - Able to sense supernatural energies. From her quest, where you make up an excuse to speak to people, “I didn't sense the presence of anything otherworldly.” - Ability to speak with and summon the dead, even those who have passed on. “I can even inquire with those who no longer speak.” / “I was fishing around on your behalf through the channels that aren't accessible to you.” / “I'm not an expert on tracking down the living. However, if you want me to summon someone from the other side of the 'border’--” Quotes from her personal quest about helping the traveler find their lost sibling. - Can perceive and navigate the border between life and death. She mentions it being her duty to guard the border - both metaphysically in ensuring the living and dead are where they belong, and the ‘border’ as in the physical space. "For those unable to see 'the border,' they're best kept as far away from it as possible.” As for navigating it, she knows how to find it and is aware it is a space where the leylines go ‘haywire’ and it is deliberately filled with perspective puzzles and a looping area designed to deter the living and make them turn back. - Combat related, she has a unique (afaik) sprint that allows her to physically pass through enemies. This intangibility is not unlike some elemental skill dashes but since it’s not tied to vision usage I find it and the uniqueness curious and worth mentioning. - The Hu line are empowered from being near death and somehow draw strength from it due to their own lack of fear. Not only is it related to her kit, but Dainsleif has a voiceover line in her Miscellany trailer describing it thus. “..their directors pass down a secret technique to traverse between life and death. Unafraid in the face of death, they instead unleash yet greater power.”

Speculative/hc:

- Hu Tao claims to be able to erase memories. She hasn’t lied about any of her other abilities thus far, and while this could be a weird joke I can’t say for sure one way or the other. It’s interesting to me though that she chose this wording over making a simpler death threat like she did to Meng! “Don't get all worked up over nothing, okay? or else by the time we're out, I'll have to erase your memories.” Personally, I don’t hc her having this ability and it isn’t part of my portrayal, but found it worth mentioning as it’s something she canonly says. - Her method of guiding spirits to the other side seems to be for the most part peacefully nudging them to move on, with funeral rites designed to gently put them to rest, and this methodology fits her title of ‘spirit soother’. However I also believe that due to the repeated themes of cleansing via fire that are mentioned in association with her, Hu Tao is also able to perform more forceful exorcisms and banishment. There is also this flavour text from her talent: ‘Supernatural activity by those who have already left this world is a source of great anxiety for the Wangsheng Funeral Parlour. In such cases, cremation always lets Hu Tao find peace of mind. The more anxious she feels, the stronger the flame.” which again reinforces (stronger) fire as a more forceful purification agent. - Pāramitā papilio: Despite being her elemental skill, I feel that it is not entirely linked to her vision. The fire aspect perhaps is; but her butterfly motif is something inherent to Hu Tao and the meaning/symbolism of her character, and pāramitā is a Buddhist term associated with enlightenment. This may be a bit of a stretch, but elsewhere in Liyue’s lore, enlightenment is something innate to beings and not granted by an outside force. - Purification. Outside of burning bodies, how the Hu line took care of the plagues during and after the Archon War is not explored in any depth beyond a mention that it also involved rites. Given how deadly it was, and the effects we see in-game of the tatarigami in Inazuma which is fundamentally the same energy as that of the dead gods in Liyue and likely akin to that of the karma of the yakshas, the Hus must have had a way to protect themselves. Personally I believe due to the nature of exceptional abilities already shown canonically, it’s not outside the realm of possibility for the Hus to have something innate to repel filth and corruption. I headcanon Hu Tao to have a ‘purification aura’ that functions as an unseen barrier keeping her safe, metaphysically burning away exterior negative energies. She is after all the unbound flame.

#( this post on local psychopomp is one that's been in the works since i started this blog. thank andraste it's finally done )#( i didn't even get into the research i did on vedic rites due to homa so that can wait for another post! )#°◦.｡.◦· ʚῖɞ | heart and soul are as one like clouds | headcanons

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justhewayfaringstranger · 4 years ago

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So, I've wanted to address this topic for a while and this post I read this morning while having breakfast is a sort of response from the universe.

I would say to start by explaining a simple concept.

Demons and spirits are not the same thing, but rather, they vary from each other. Likewise, spirits and ghosts are not the same.

• Creatures understood as "demons" exist in all religions; they are supernatural beings, typically associated with the evil, historically prevalent in religions, occultism, literature, fiction, mythology and folklore;

• "spirits" are instead organized energy with at least a certain level of sensitivity that has an energy body and in most cases also an astral body. The Latin word is a translation of the Greek prneuma ("breath", "air", "vital breath") and to some extent it can be seen in the apeiron of the Presocratic Anaximander, who had to some extent dematerialized the archè (Greek: ἀρχή ) of the other Ionian naturalists, the original principle of the universe and of every part of it, impalpable and invisible but still material, as shown by another void that, blowing inside it, fills with air matter. With the Stoics, the term begins to be compared to today's one of spirit. The pneuma belongs to the god who gives life to things and guides them according to his wishes. The pneuma is a force that manifests itself not only in the individual man but is present in all things as the "soul of the world". They are ancient entities like the world itself, part of the primordial chaos and consequently neutral in themselves;

• the term “ghost” refers instead to any incorporeal entity. The term ghost comes from the Greek φάντασμα phàntasma, which in turn derives from φαντάζω (phantàzo, "to show"; from the root φαν-, which expresses the idea of "appearing" and "showing"), and had the meaning of apparition (understood as a supernatural manifestation) and only with time has its meaning been restricted to indicating the apparition of a deceased.

In 1800, with the birth of the practice of spiritism in France, it ended up rendering in the common imagination "spirits" and "ghosts" similar entities, if not true synonyms.

The French pedagogue Allan Kardec after observing a series of phenomena, formulated the hypothesis that such phenomena could only be attributed to incorporeal intelligences (spirits). Spiritual communications took place "thanks to the intervention of a medium", that is a person with particular skills who acted as mediator between spirits and living beings, during the so-called séance. This became a busines for many and most of the spiritualists were actually charlatans who swore to the victims that they could talk to the dead. In most cases, those who could afford to turn to a medium, were economically wealthy and of high rank lost and therefore for the scammer it was certainly not difficult to obtain information (even intimate) about the deceased and those around him, if at this was added some well-orchestrated play of smoke and lights, here is the "grandmother's ghost".

Having understood this, one wonders what it is then what we understand as a "ghost of a person". It is a trace left by the living. On a scientific level, death doesn't exist. From the chemical-physical point of view we are isolated systems that receive energy and produce it. But the universe itself is a closed system. So our energy is the energy of the universe. We are universe. What happens when we die? Our energy returns to the universe system. But as we know, energy is neither created nor destroyed, but it changes. So our energy is energy that has been changed in the past by others, and will be changed by others when we are gone. Death doesn't exist because energy is immortal. The energy that I am using now to tap on my laptop keyboard is the same energy that Gaius Julius Caesar used to pull the reins of his horse and to cross the Rhine. And it will be the energy that in the future a scientist will use to to be able to travel between the various space-time dimensions. Death doesn't exist, and the life of one is the life of all.

To simplify then, what we mean as the ghost of Marilyn Monroe for example, is nothing more than a sort of energetic gif of Marilyn Monroe.

I'll give you another example. Anne Boleyn died by beheading, therefore by a violent and unjust death. In this situation, she is likely to have felt strong emotions and released a huge and consistent huge amount of energy as a result. Let's say that Henry VIII was present at the execution along with a bunch of other people, let's also say that he went back to that place (or others where Anne felt strong emotions and therefore released large amounts of energy) and thought about her, let's say that Elizabeth I also thought of her mother and so many other people. All these emotions have turned into energy. If we saw energy as a palette of colors, it would be as if: the more consistent the emotions, the more intense the color, therefore, the more energy we send (even unconsciously) to the energetic image of Anne Boleyn (the energetic gif), the clearer this will be where most of the energy is concentrated (eg the Tower of London, a room in the building, etc.).

So when we go to a "haunted" place, what we see is not the "person", but a kind of still image. And according to the speech above, it is therefore normal to find this type of freeze frame in places such as castles, hospitals, etc. then if these are found on natural energy centers or lines… bingo!

Speaking instead of spirits, as mentioned before, there are no good or bad spirits. Good and bad as well as light and dark, like day and night, are a contrast present in many traditions, including native ones. This duality can also be referred to the human being and represent a moment of acting or thinking of a person. You can think and act towards the light or towards the darkness and this can also happen to shamans.

Just think of the ego and when it takes over, or when you try to manipulate, at that moment you are not in the light. But it can happen and that doesn't mean being good or bad. Acting, in fact, can also be connected with a person's karma and precisely follow what is required by this spiritual law.

Light and darkness, as in the human world, are also reflected in the world of spirits and even in this case they do not absolutely determine the condition of goodness or badness. Spirits, who in the light can be protectors, guides or allies, can also move in the dark dimension.

And if we think like the natives that everything has a spirit and that it can move between light and darkness, we can understand how there can be spirits that are particularly powerful and able to move very strong energies such as to create an effect in ordinary reality.

It is important to know the distinction between light and shadow because, from an early age, we were educated to separate the good from the bad, the right from the wrong, but for this we have become very sensitive when it comes to going to work on our shadows. As I told you, light and shadow are states of being that we all have within us. Working with shadows doesn't mean black magic, witchcraft or whatever. Simply observe the aspects of light and be able to deal with those of shadow as well. Light and darkness are two sides of the same coin that it is important to integrate.

Being half Latin, therefore leaning towards a culture extremely linked to its roots and above all to the relationship with mental spirits, it isn't difficult for me to understand this concept, and therefore despite being a Christian, I have no problem in defining myself as a witch. Of course, coming to this awareness wasn't easy, as I am partly European and therefore I grew up in a society in a Western society that is scared of what it cannot control. After years of researching my origins, my culture and theological studies, I have come to find my balance.

Returning, however, to the main reason for this post, having made the necessary explanations (and given the tools for a critical analysis of the matter), here are the points on which I personally disagree and why:

Reading books about witchcraft: Knowledge for educational purposes is by no means negative, quite the opposite. The question is whether the aforementioned "about witchcraft" book is a "spell book" or some sort of "sacred book". For example, if I find the Necronomicon tomorrow and start reading it without knowing what it is, it is likely that I will find myself living the remake of The Conjuring in the real life.

Casting most types of spells, including hexes: Same speech made in the previous point. One of the first rules of witchcraft is "know your practice". You must be aware that what you are doing is not a game and every action has consequences, even if you don't believe in the rule of 3 (everything you do comes back to you 3 times). In the specific case of curse and hexes spells, they are the most treacherous and dangerous, because you are working with dark and malevolent energies. This type of practice in particular is a double-edged weapon, which is why many witches advise against them and propose alternative methods if possible.

Practicing divination: It isn't always negative, but in some types of divination the help and guidance of spirits and divinities is sought. For example, I often do bibliomancy with the bible and even if I first ask for God's guidance, in front of each answer I ask for confirmation, because the devil was the most beautiful angel in heaven and just as darkness does not allow us to see. where we go, even a dazzling light can deceive us.

Playing with Ouija or other talking boards: Ouija is not a game and it is an extremely dangerous tool, precisely because what you do is contact spirits and entities and you cannot know who will answer the other side. Nothing good anyway.

Putting up fantasy or non-Christian artwork: Have you ever seen Annabel? Here, the principle is the same. Be careful what you bring into your home, as home is a sacred space, and nothing can enter without you giving it permission. So if you not only invite it, but rather you bring it inside and give it a space, don't come and complain to me if it is difficult to send it away.

Celebrating pagan holidays: If it's a holiday of a closed religion, avoid ruining your life. Holidays basically consist of performing rituals that often involve spirits. Learn about the history of that holiday you want to celebrate, the symbols, the rituals, and why it is celebrated in that particular way.

Celebrating Halloween: The same as the previous point, except that we all (or almost all) know that samahin is the day when the space where the veil falls and the two worlds come into contact.

Watching scary movies and TV shows: I'm not saying that if you watch The Exorcist you will be possessed, but I can't assure you otherwise either. I took The Exorcist as an example because it is known that a real ritual is performed in the movie and a lot of "disturbing" things have happened on the set of the film and to the actors. When you watch a movie, even if it is fictional, if for example it performs an evocation or a ritual you are not only witnessing, you are participating in all respects. Be careful, every person is different.

Reading (horror novels, fantasy books, comics and graphic novels). Playing (tabletop RPGs, LARP games, video games): Same as the previous point.

Listening to heavy metal music, dancing: It goes for any kind of music actually. Do you know how many pop songs I use as a spell?

Dyeing your hair: I'm not saying you'll invoke a demon, but for many cultures cutting your hair makes you more vulnerable to spiritual attack and color is an essential aspect of witchcraft.

Swearing: Wishing someone who has crossed your path death is considered a curse in all respects. Even if done unconsciously.

Drinking: Drinking, smoking… shamans have used alcohol and drugs for centuries to connect with in the spiritual world.

Having tattoos and piercings: As long as you don't tattoo Aramaic words that you don't know the meaning of, everything is fine. Before getting a tattoo in a symbol you saw in a temple in Mexico, find out the meaning of it. I'll give you an example: my cousin once bought a T-shirt with the words "puta madre" (mother whore). He had bought it only because he liked it, without knowing the meaning of the word.

Now, most of these points are mainly related to intention. As I said before, I often use music in my spells, but if for example, I use "can't be touch by Roy jones" for a protection and encouragement spell (eg a manifestation) and a few months later I listen to the same song on the radio doesn't mean it will work like a spell again. In many cases it is a question of intention. Yhat's why it is important to educate yourself.

#witch #christian witch #afro witch #green witch #witchraft #education #educate yourself #witchblr #witchy things #spirit #ghost #demon

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writing-the-end · 4 years ago

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LoL Chapter 50- To the East

Masterpost

A Wizard Hermits tale (AU, designs, ideas belongs to @theguardiansofredland)

A dragon spirit, guardians and attendants to the gods, is in peril. When a few hermits and the wanderers go to face the trouble, they’re not the only ones fighting against dark magic.

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Not all of the hermits could afford to leave Doc behind, nor could they all make the trip in time. Avon’s insistent they leave now. She was about ready to transform into her dragon form and carry the wanderers to the eastern fjords. It was Ren that was able to calm her down just enough to think. In the end, they decided less is more. Avon doesn’t know what has her on edge, but she knows it’s not good.

“My mentor, Flaryn, I… I have a really bad feeling.” Avon paces the floor.

“Your mentor, like the dragon?” Mumbo squeaks, already feeling faint as he remembers facing Avon in the duel. What could possibly be causing a massive dragon trouble?

As soon as Cub opens a portal, the wanderers are the first through. Following them is Iskall, already brandishing a spear of iskallium. Ren volunteers as well, offering up his dynamic, versatile magic. Three hermits, plus the three wanderers, set off through the portal, from the dark wooden bookstore to the verdant evergreen forests around the eastern fjords. Arriving beneath the pine canopy, someone was already waiting for them.

“I got your message,” The long, ebony black haired sorceress reaches out, taking hold of Red’s hands and holding him close. Prolonged, pointy ears rise from the black curls like rocks from the sea, and deep purple eyes gaze upon the small group. “What’s going on?”

“I don’t know, Selene.” Avon growls, brushing past everyone present. Her eyes wander across the tall mountains, covered in snow as they slope to the waters below. “Things just feel...disturbed. Out of balance, like a rockfall about to collapse.”

“You called your master Flaryn, correct?” Cub questions, boots crunching heavy in the snow. Ren realizes he’s wearing sandals, and uses his imagination magic to conjure up a pair of boots. “You don’t mean to tell us that the dragon you learned your magic from is a dragon spirit? Flaryn, dragon of the east, guardian of balance, master of flame?”

“Why does a dragon need that many surnames?” Iskall huffs. Cub’s eyes only widen when Avon gives a curt nod. Cub has gotten used to his fellow hermits being from incredible or strange backgrounds, but to master a magic from the very spirits that aid the gods?

“Well, go big or go home, I guess.” Cub chuckles. “So...if something really is wrong, why don’t we go to Flaryn’s roost and check for ourselves?”

“Because Flaryn lives at the top of that mountain,” Selene, now carrying Red through the snow as tall as the kipling, interjects. “And that isn’t just a mountain. That’s a fucking active volcano.”

As if to prove her point, a low growl escapes the peak of the mountain, and smoke roils free like the maws of a dragon. And within the smoke, a massive shadow, wings outstretched, appears. Bigger than Avon’s dragon form, so big that even this far away the hermits can tell it’s great size. This was a dragon above dragons, a beast that could bend nature to it’s whim.

And it was under attack. The dragon banks hard within the smoke, dancing with embers and tendrils of flames as lava erupts from the mountain peak. From the bottom of the mountain, the hermits can’t tell who is attacking, though they can make an educated guess on who would possibly have that much hubris to take on a messenger of the gods.

If it wasn’t Dolios, then surely it was one of his council members. A roar shakes the ground at their feet, sending snow tumbling from trees. Selene uses her magic to create a shield, brushing aside the snow like it was little more than a gnat. Shield magic must be her power. Avon takes point, guiding the team up the mountain to the peak. Where she learned to control her magic. A battle continues at the caldera, fire blazing from the mouth of Flaryn and strikes of magic shooting from the ground.

A wayward breath of fire misses the combatant, orange flame burning down the mountain. Barreling for the team. Avon opens her wings to block the flame, but is little more than raising a hand to stop an avalanche. Iskall squeezes his eyes closed and waits to be burnt to a crisp by the superhot flame.

It never comes. He waits a second longer, still braced and prepared for death. Still nothing. Iskall dares to open his eye, about to ask where his untimely death has gone. He finds it, instead, under the control of Selene. She’s ensnared the fire, dancing with the stream like it was little more than a ribbon of silk. When she’s gained full control of the flame, she turns it back up the mountain, aimed directly at the distance figure they’re approaching.

Iskall blinks, stunned and confused. “I thought you were a shield wizard. Are you a multi-mage as well?”

Avon doesn’t stop, leaving the others to follow. “I’m not a multi-mage, but I can do multiple forms of magic.”

“How so?” That’s impossible. Most wizards only have one form of magic, as unique as their personalities. Multi-mages were an exception, as if the gods themselves couldn’t decide what magic the wizard would excel with.

“Ever heard of a learned mage?” Red questions, falling into the snow and clambering through. It’s as high as his chest. When all three hermits shake their heads, he continues. “Learned wizards are born without magic, but with enough time and dedicated study are able to gain the understanding of powers and use it themselves.”

“I had no innate magic. But I didn’t let that stop me. I’ve since learned more than twenty varieties of magic, and can perform them as well as wizards born with it.” Selene looks over her shoulder, a coy grin appearing on her face when she sees the stunned expression on the hermits’.

Ren opens his mouth to ask a question, but the words that rise from his throat are lost to the wind, the thunder of the dragon above. It wasn’t an angered roar, not like those before, when Flaryn fought the intruder. Rather, it was more of a cry, higher pitched, sharper. Grating against their ears. Alarmed, Avon takes off, leaving the rest behind to join her mentor in the sky. Her trident is already in hand, flame erupting in a blossom of purple.

The distant figure turns, curly brown hair falling across his blue capelet, a scowl creasing the charismatic expression. “And i thought you’d be too busy handling your criminal friend to get in my way.” Dolios sneers. He attempts to blast Avon out of the sky, but the draconic mage dodges in the nick of time. “You flying lizards have always been such a pain, but imagine the honor of being the person to slay a dragon spirit.”

“You’ll have to go through us first.” Avon hisses, then attacks. Dolios casts his wisping magic circle, corrupted by his dark magic. Just as unstable as the man that controls it. A heavy wind picks up, snapping the tops off trees and tossing Avon aside like she was little more than a leaf. With her out of the way, Dolios turns back to Flaryn. Another circle, this time summoning a swarm of wasps. The mottled monstrosities swarm the dragon, stinging and paralyzing the spirit. Forcing Flayrn to land as wings become overwhelmingly heavy.

Iskall lets out a war cry, and plows through the deep snow, to the peak of the mountain. He shoves his shoulder, all his weight into Dolios. The two both go sprawling against the ground. Iskall can feel the heat of the erupting volcano, burning at his cheeks in waves of intense heat.

“I think it’s time for you to meet your doom, you mega bastard.” Iskall growls, wrestling the magistrate. Dolios isn’t very strong, it turns out, all his attention focused on keeping Iskall from throwing him into the lake of lava.

“Do you know any other adjectives except ‘mega’ and ‘doom’, or are you just too dense to learn a thesaurus?” Dolios hums. His words spark an angry fire in Iskall, frenzying him.

Exactly how Dolios wanted it. With a swift repertoire of hand movements, Dolios casts his dark magic, and grabs hold of Iskall’s arm. Fingernails puncture under Iskall’s pale, exposed skin. Like venom from a wyrmbite, poison seeps under his skin, sending Iskall writhing backwards in pain.

Red catches Iskall before he falls all the way down the volcano, while Selene casts not one, or two, but three different spells at once. Despite the uncertain predicament Dolios finds himself in, he’s more interested in the magic that’s trapped him rather than the fight. Through all of this, his nonchalant, charismatic smile never leaves, and never fails to infuriate the hermits. “It seems we have something in common here. Though one of us definitely chose the harder route.”

“We are nothing alike, you asshole.” Selene hisses, reeling back and casting her magic. In the split second between the spell being summoned and taking effect, Dolios uses his own spell.. A concussive blast, just like he used in the chess match so long ago, sending the hermits and wanderers tumbling down through the snow. The mountain rumbles, snow shifting and threatening to collapse into an avalanche. To sweet away the rescue team.

“Well, at least now I have an audience to witness the beginning of a new sport.” Dolios rights himself, brushing the snow from his robes and turning back to the wasp covered, incapacitated dragon. “Dragons are so dangerous, only the strongest, bravest mages would dare slay a dragon. Think of the honor to be in such an exclusive group.”

“Fucker!” Avon shouts, launching herself free from the snow, unleashing every once of her magic, as well as her trident, against Dolios. But he bats it away, and grabs the draconic mage from midair, hands wrapped around a wing and tipping her towards the explosive volcano below.

“Well, if none of you are going to be a gracious audience, why not become willing participants as well? I may not have gotten the joy of seeing that criminal burn before my eyes. But I will relish in wiping you all from existence, right alongside this monster.” Dolios’s gaze turns wild, frenzied as he raises an arm. The sleeve of his robes falls back, wine red fabric and trimmed gold seams fleeing from the swirling black mist. The power of his dark magic grows stronger, more violent. Even from this far away, the hermits can feel the deadly, life draining energy that he harnesses.

Dolios lines up the shot, so that every last hermit, every single wanderer, and eastern fire dragon is in the line of fire. A maniacal smile grows on his face, thirst for death and the feeling of pure control and power overwhelming him. The angled fingers turn, ready to snap together and release enough dark magic to destroy every living being in the line of fire. His thumb rests on his middle finger, pressing down.

Then his eyes roll backwards, hand and body falling limp into the melting snow. None of the hermits, the wanderers, even Flaryn breathe for a second, realizing that Dolios is passed out. Not dead, unfortunately. But how? Did he overexert his dark magic?

Another person is on the crest of the volcano. Long blue hair, straight and flat as if it had been slept on. Mostly because it was. Tired, bored eyes sparked with a hint of determination, and finned ears flick aside the pyroclastic ash from the eruption. His chest rises and falls, body exhausted from overusing his magic.

“You don’t have much time.” Apatia breathes, body slumped. About to pass out as well. “I did as much as I could to keep him knocked out as long as possible, but his mgic took the brunt of my own. You leave, I’ll make sure the dragon spirit is okay.”

The councilmember steps forward, offering a hand to the hermits. Ecto recoils, preferring to sink deeper into the snow she hates than be anywhere near Apatia. “Why should we trust you? You’re a part of his crony gang. You’ve been letting him, helping him do horrible things!”

Apatia’s shoulders slump, and he looks as exhausted mentally as he is physically. “I don’t have time to explain everything. He’s going to wake up soon, and he won't fall for that trick again. Let’s just say I… I’m tired of just letting bad things happen to good people.”

Red’s the first up, the two kiplings looking at one another. Apatia offers a soft nod, some unspoken conversation between the two. Avon does her best to ease the pain and help her mentor from the wasp attack, while Cub opens a portal.

“Can’t we just drop him into the volcano?” Ren questions. “This could finally all be over.”

“It won’t stop his work, not with Eurynomos in the forest. Waiting.” The hermits glance at one another. Eurynomos. Is that the name of the beast they found? “Just...send him back to Milliara. We can’t have people wondering what’s happened to their beloved magistrate as well.”

“Just one stab?” Avon questions, still furious he called her a monster. “He deserves more than what we’re letting him off with.”

To Cub’s chagrin, he knows that Apatia is right. As much as he’d love to finish Dolios off now, to get this over with, nothing is ever that easy. Once Dolios is gone, there team of rescuers step through their own portal. The wanderers first, and the hermits following after.

Iskall steps through last, but turns while he’s in between places. Looking at the councilmember. Apatia looks back, exhausted. “Know that you hermits aren’t alone. This is your fight, but you have others on your side now too.”

#hermitcraft #hermitcraft au #hermitcraft fanfic #light of lairyon #wizard au #lol #also im a bit tipsy sooooooooooo #if there's spelling issues its cause i cant tell rn #wizard ren #wizard cub #wizard iskall #iskall85 #cubfan135 #rendog

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write-a-bad-romance · 4 years ago

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Holy Woman (Ikevamp Angst Week 2020)

Ao3 link: Here

Prompt: “Character Death” and “Loss”

Words: 2761

Made for Ikevamp Angst Week Day 8 and 9. Tagging @ikevampangstweek.

This work features mild spoilers for Jean’s route and a genderbent (female) version of Jean d’Arc.

dulce et decorum est pro patria mori

In the dark of the night, she ran amidst the clamor of gunshots and shouts far behind her. The blizzard became her cover —she was deaf to the entire world save for the ominous howling of the wind right beside her ears.

Her long silken hair, free from its bindings, trailed like spun silk as she bounded across the snow. With nothing to guide her, not even the hand of God Himself, she escaped into the wasteland.

Like a specter she vanished, abandoning her crown and a condemned history behind her.

"Drat!" Charles cursed, shaking his head as the horse finally breathed its last.

And when I'm so close to the town too! This can't be happening! Last night's blizzard was horrendous; he had to take shelter at the dilapidated empty house, horse and cart, and all. Delivering every crate containing vials of serum in tip-top shape had been his objective.

But there was little he could hope for, not when he had a horse with a broken leg.

"No, no, no." Tears pricked in the corner of his eyes. Years carrying corpses and dying men back and forth on the battlefield made him immune to the sight of mortality. But the combination of fatigue after days on the road and lack of sleep was more than enough to break his already dwindling spirits.

"No," he repeated, slapping himself on both cheeks. "This won't do. Think of the townspeople. They're waiting."

With heavy steps and an even heavier heart, Charles sat by the side of the road. It would take at least five hours to reach his destination on foot. Gears turned inside his exhausted head as he devised a plan: hide the crates inside the house, walk along the road, and see if there are any houses nearby. Walk up to their door, knock, smile and ask them if you can borrow their cart —

And risk leaving the crates unsupervised. Right. No one would have the mind to somehow spirit away crates full of vials of dubious substance, but Charles dreaded losing his precious cargo if that meant another three days' ride to the Medical Center.

What a conundrum! Charles's idle hand grabbed fistfuls of snow, feeling the raw chill bite into his skin. The sensation helped alleviate his fidgety nerves.

Besides, there's no guarantee I'm not going to get caught in another blizzard when running around seeking help. The rose-haired man sighed, scratching at the memento wound around his neck. What should I do now? Stay put and pray for a miracle to come my way?

Back at the battlefield, in the flapping tents where prayers die on the mouth of soldiers reaching to grasp at specters of their beloved, Charles lost his faith in the Almighty. H is more cynical colleagues joked that God had been replaced by the emperor, his enemy monarchs, and whatever whims they impose on us poor, downtrodden common folk.

It wasn't until his mother pestered him that Charles once again re-adopted a habit of praying. Ironic, considering his mother's pragmatism towards their soiled family business. War was capable of moving the smallest of things, it seemed.

Charles realized he had been dozing when he felt something approach. The tremor he felt underneath his feet signaled that it was another cart, most likely heavy duty. The young doctor jumped to his feet, regretting it immediately as he felt himself swoon and nearly losing his balance.

"Excuse me!" He waved at the cart, a figure clad in a dark blue cloak from head to toe at the reins. "Are you in any way passing through the next town?" Charles yelled.

The stranger stopped his cart right in front of Charles, silent. Worried he didn't hear him the first time, Charles composed himself and cleared his throat.

"Will you, by any chance, be passing through the town? The one with a mountain abbey?" He pronounced his words carefully, his heart beating in trepidation as the veiled stranger didn't seem to respond. He could wait for another cart to pass by but damn if he let this chance slip.

The figure nodded, and a deep-toned, feminine voice reverberated through the crisp, winter air.

"I am heading to that town." The woman answered severely. "How may I be of service?"

Charles was perplexed by her manner of speech but approached her nonetheless. "My apologies. I was transporting some cargo on my own cart when the blizzard came, and I had to take shelter in that empty house over there."

The cloaked woman regarded him in silence as Charles struggled to resume his explanation. Did she find him suspicious? Was she to be suspected, herself? Countless scenarios rushed through Charles' restless mind as he motioned vaguely at the dilapidated building.

"And then my horse broke one of its ankles—"

“Your horse?”

Charles was ready to receive whatever tirade the woman was prepared to discharge, judging from her pressing tone. But to his surprise, the woman was already jumping off her cart, the wind knocking back her veil.

Revealing a burn scar mark in the shape of a spark over her right eye, concealed in part by her thick, lavender bangs. It extended across the side of her face and neck, disappearing underneath her collar. Her left eye was hidden under a black eyepatch, revealing a scarce expanse of alabaster skin.

Charles' face grew red as he realized that he was staring. Her dark, empty orb seemed to suggest that she too had noticed. Quickly, Charles apologized.

"Forgive me, I didn't mean to stare—" but the woman had already turned towards the house.

"Show me the horse," she commanded.

Swallowing his guilt away, Charles brushed invisible snow off his pants and followed suit. "Right," he coughed. "This way, Madame."

"So, you've met Sister Joanna." Monsieur Faust concluded. He was the town's only doctor, a strapping young man in his late twenties. He had on him shapely, robust shoulders and intelligent eyes behind a pair of square, thin-framed glasses.

The only aspect Charles found disconcerting about his temporary senior was his penchant for sardonic, offhand remarks that seemed to serve as a barrier between him and the vernacular crowd.

"Sister?" Charles exclaimed, having signed the last of the transport papers. "Is she part of the convent?"

"No, not at all." Faust chuckled. "In fact, I believe it's been years since anybody's ever seen her inside the church or taking part in any religious gathering."

Charles recalled how the lean woman helped him move the dead horse out of the barn and buried the horse by a nearby tree. He was still amazed by the woman's astounding demonstration of strength as she loaded the bulky crates onto her own cart.

"It was the nuns who called her that during her stay at the abbey. The nickname carried long after she left," The older man continued. "I was the doctor who treated her when she first arrived a year ago."

Those burn scars, Charles gulped, amethyst eyes still boring into his own long after their parting. "What does she do now?"

"She's the town's handywoman, for lack of a better word." Faust's nimble hands arranged the vials into neat rows inside a cabinet. "She accepts odd jobs every now and then, though you're more likely to see her at the weapons shop by the square. She seemed to have lived quite close to the military at some point."

The man's curious pause before rolling the word military didn't escape Charles. Whether it was said out of genuine disdain for their country's warmongering exploits or twisted sympathy for his own history, he didn't know.

"Other times, especially outside winter, you can find her attending to flower beds just outside of town," Faust muttered. "She would bring back different-colored flowers in vases and deliver them to the flower shop. You'll see what I mean quite soon."

"Flowers? The military?" Charles was at a loss for words as the man slew exposition after exposition in rapid succession. And he had pegged him to be the quiet sort! "I take it she must have been living quite illustriously before she came to town."

"That she is," The other man nodded. "Quite the character, isn't she? Sister Joanna does what she likes, regardless of what others see."

Charles decided to take a stroll after lunch. Now that he's done resting and arranging his belongings at the inn, it was time to explore the rustic town.

The innkeeper was an amiable man with ivory hair and crimson eyes, not much older than Faust. The flower shop the doctor mentioned was adjacent to the inn's lobby, and the owner of both establishments introduced himself as Vlad. Not Vladimir, not Vladislav, just Vlad.

Charles detected something beyond mere eccentricity beneath the man's lighthearted disposition. There was a noble air to him that made Charles suspect Vlad was related to one of the hussar princes the Continental army overthrew seven years ago.

The man responded to Charles' prodding joke with a subtly accented, good-humored reply. "I hail from Targoviste! But now that you mention it, my family is descended from a long line of voivodes from the Middle Ages . "

Charles decided not to pry further lest he be turned to fertilizer for the pansies at the inn's backyard.

His feet took him to the town square, where Sister Joanna's weapons shop supposedly was if he remembered correctly.

In the center was a sizable statue of a peasant woman, her arm cradling a bundle of wheat to her bosom. The other arm was reaching towards the sky, a long strip of sash winding around the limb like a vine. Charles found it so lifelike it could've been fluttering along with the icy wind.

Sister Joanna was standing by the base. Her slacks visible below her dark robes and sinewy stature made it easy to confuse her with a man. Charles walked towards the lone woman, intending to thank her.

“Sister Joanna!” He called excitedly. “Sister Joann—”

Charles fell quiet as he observed the woman pressing her hands firmly pressed together in front of her breast, long fingers pointing towards the statue in silent prayer.

It took a moment before she finally turned to look at Charles. The young man noticed a bundle of freshly picked snowdrops and hellebore resting at the statue's foot.

Charles found himself speechless as he was once again met with Sister Joanna's hollow gaze.

"Yes?" Her dry voice penetrated the once-welcome stillness. "Do you need anything?"

It wasn't that Charles was unaccustomed to make small talk with women. It was Sister Joanna's mannerism that had put the younger man at unease. He collected himself and knelt down, paying heed to spare her some distance.

"I think I should pray, too." He smiled, hoping to reduce the tension. "But I don't have any flowers on me. Too bad."

"Do as you see fit." The woman replied impassively.

Charles' heart regained its composed pace after he offered hushed words of prayer for the souls of his fallen comrades. He rose and beamed at the indomitable woman, whom he caught staring.

Sister Joanna wasn't the least bit unfazed when Charles's youthful face broke into a grin. "Do you know who you're even praying for?"

His eyes returned to inspect the statue, the granite matron towering over the strange couple. "This statue was built in honor of the fallen soldiers and their widows, was it not?"

Sister Joanna didn't respond, seemingly absorbed in the statue's presence as well.

"The Emperor marched through these passes on the way to claim his first victory. Thousands of the men died in the expedition, and they were laid to rest by the abbey."

Charles stepped forward to run his palm over the statue's nameplate.

"The Weeping Widow," He read. "The woman's statue was meant to stand for the widows and lovers of the fallen men, waiting somewhere at the other side of the country. I can't imagine what it feels like to have someone come knocking on your door and tell you that the man you love is dead."

Ignoring Sister Joanna's lack of commentary, Charles continued. "This statue was built with the hopes that no more widows would have to share that fate. That's a beautiful thought."

"How did you come to know all this?" she finally interrupted.

"My uncle took part in the expedition. He lost an arm after the battle and was recuperating in this town when they built the statue." Charles recounted heartily. "It is sweet and proper to die for one's own country, he’d say to his nephews and grandchildren. He kept boasting about wanting to follow his friends to heaven. Or hell."

"It is sweet and fitting to die for the homeland is a more precise translation," The elder corrected. "They keep omitting the following lines:

sed dulcius pro patria vivere,

et dulcissimum pro patria bibere.

Ergo, bibamus pro salute patriae.

'A reasonable translation would be but sweeter still to live for the homeland, and sweetest yet to drink for the homeland. So, let us drink to the health of the homeland." She recited, her sonorous voice unwavering. "Why choose to die at the behest of unconcerned rulers when you can return to a loving home and family?"

Charles was taken aback by the mistress's sudden erudite lecture, almost sharp in its delivery.

"Forgive me," Charles blushed in embarrassment. He'd been correct —Sister Joanna was as enigmatic as her appearance, if not more.

“To die for one's own country. The Emperor's beloved quote." Sister Joanna murmured. "A flowery epigram befitting an equally deranged man."

"I beg your pardon?"

Two years after the Emperor's death, all of the Continent remained in discord after his abdication and subsequent death. There were demands of his generals' execution after they failed to have the ruler beheaded himself.

In some parts of the country, statues in his image were toppled, and his estates were raided. Angry mobs and disillusioned former soldiers banded together to hunt down possible adherents to the old, 'warmongering' regime.

The recalcitrant woman stood tall against the backdrop of a secluded, provincial town hidden among mountains. Maybe there was a truth to Faust's words about her past dealings with the military.

Speak no ill of the dead doesn't apply to warlords and rulers, it seemed. Joanna sighed. "I can't imagine anyone deigning to pray for his poor soul."

His family, Charles dreaded to say. Whatever was left of the royal family were chased to the shores, some immediately captured as they attempted to land in the Isles.

Their encounter had taken quite the morbid turn. Yet it didn't deter Charles from wanting to know more about the woman standing by his side. The young doctor felt small, figuratively and literally, considering his shoulder didn't quite reach hers.

"I should return." Sister Joanna announced. "The sun is setting."

She was heading to the weapons shop, no doubt. Charles nearly forgot his reason for wanting to approach her in the first place.

"Wait!" He called, "I forgot to thank you for your help!"

"What?"

Charles panted as he struggled to match Sister Joanna's pace. Not only does she act like a soldier, she even walks like one!

"I haven't thanked you enough for this morning." He considered extending his hand but refrained, remembering that in proper circumstances, she would be the one extending her hand.

"I don't think I've introduced myself properly, have I? My name is Charles. Charles Henri-Sanson." He flashed her what he thought was his most bedazzling smile. "I might be staying here for the next four months or so,"

Sister Joanna regarded him with mild interest. "I see." She nodded. "Nice to have your acquaintance. I presume the doctor has told you plenty about me, considering you called me by name."

"He did!" Charles answered, not missing a beat. "He told me many things about you."

"Did he, now?"

The pair continued to make their way towards the edge of the square, Charles continuing to engage her with a barrage of questions, and Sister Joanna placating his curiosity with lukewarm zeal.

It didn't take long before they arrived at the entrance to the shop.

Sister Joanna uncovered her cowl and faced Charles. The entirety of her charred visage was now visible, unobscured by the midnight-colored fabric.

"You're a strange man," she observed. "Are you not revolted by the sight of my face?"

"Madame, I used to serve as a doctor until the last days of the war," He chuckled in earnest. "Before I was captured by the Coalition and became a prisoner.”

To be continued in Part 2.’

Special thanks to @batteryrose for her doodles of Jean with burn scars all over his body.

#ikevam jean #ikevam charles #ikevam vlad #ikevam faust #ikevamp angst week #ikevam fanfic #riri tries ikevam

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rightofmyheart · 4 years ago

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Keeper of The Stars

I told him that “I’m okay with dying. That I want to live a short and vibrant life. I don’t want to be here for long.”

He furrowed his brows at me, “That’s so morbid... Why do you want to die?”

“What I want isn’t to die. It’s to just move on is all...”

“That’s a scary thing to say...terrifying really.”

I turned my head on my pillow and looked him in the eyes. I smiled, “I do not fear death. I welcome it. With death comes rest. With rest comes peace.”

“How...can you feel that way? How can you not be scared of dying? It's the end! ...You’re just gone.”

I said, “...it’s probably...because I know God.”

“God?!" Bewildered, he shook his head at me. "So, because you believe in God, you just aren’t afraid then? You don't even know thats he’s real?”

Softly, I chuckle, “Well it is pretty hard to ignore someone who talks as much as he does.”

“Oh, so he talks to you? How does he talk? What does he say?”

I pondered and said, “He speaks with His voice...with the wind that blows through the leaves of trees. He shows us too. He wants us to see Him. He talks through the bones of creatures a hundred millennia past....He speaks through telescopes, and with the stars, and the planets with their moons...His voice is loud and exhilerating in the storms on the seas...He sings through the birds who call out...their truths carried by the breeze. He tells us he is here, using books and data...and through science and time...He speaks...through us, your voice and mine...”

Eyes narrowed, he asked, “so then what does “He” tell you?”

"......" I inhaled, then exhaled. "...The creatures of the lands and the creatures of the sea have stories to tell.... It's the stories of their lives, their lessons, and their troubles. They, along with the spirits past want to be found... They want to show us the story of their birth.”

“Their... birth...”

I sighed, “mmhmm...With their own bodies and voices, they tell us ‘I am here. Find me! Look at me...love me’...Through all of us, He tells us this... That He always has been. He always will be.

“hm well that’s a lot”, he scoffs.

“yes well He tells us a lot.”

I looks me in the eyes, I see an eagerness in them, “and so, what does he tell you about me?”

“...that...you are a child of the...Sea.”

Confused, he asked, “What does that even mean?”

“Well I’m not sure that means really, but what I feel like He is trying to say... is that your spirit belongs to the Sea?...which is Him. That maybe you will long for the oceans. Maybe he intends for you to find Him through the stories of the seas...maybe.”

“...I don’t know, this seems... I don’t know.”

I giggle, “you don’t know?”

He leaned forward in his desk chair, elbows on his knees, “Yeah, it just seems like a fantasy to me.. Like... is that really what you think you hear? What you see?"

"uhuh...yes it's very clear. As clear as you are."

"Well, I’m kind of a ‘I’ll believe it when I see it’ person.”

“Yeah? I would say I’m a 'I’ll see it when I believe it’ type of person.”

“Oh, well that’s deep.” he smirked.

“Well...I mean...for most of my life, the world seemed so loud and noisy you know? ...like, the people, the animals, and the weather... just life! There’s just so many things making noise and calling out. I mean...I didn’t know what people were really trying to say underneath their words. I didn’t understand what all the growling and chirping meant that animals were going on about....I just tried to ignore it all. It was just noise.” Then I whispered, “it was noise.”

He inhaled sharply, “and it is the world still noisy?”

“no”, I grinned.

“Why then? What changed?”

I slowly closed then opened my eyes, “hmm...I think...because one day, I think I was in my 7th year? Well, I was walking home from school, through this parking lot. It was quiet. There was this crow sitting on top of the lampost I was about to pass. I looked up at it and it cawed at me! One long drawn out ‘caw’ and as soon as it spoke, another crow down on the pavement cawed at me. Then the first crow cawed again and they cawed back and forth and back and forth. At some point, they seemed like they were in unison. I stood there staring at them. I wasn’t sure if they were upset that I was there? Or, just making noise?? I wasn’t sure if I should move and I just stood there, trying to figure out what they were cawing about. So, I watched them watching me and I listened.” I inhaled deeply, propping myself up on my elbow “and I finally... understood and I raised my voice at them and said “oKAYYY!” and they immediately stopped...”

“Really? Okay well that’s kinda weird. That would creep me out a bit.” He said, Wide-eyed.

“Well, I mean for the first time in my life, I had heard birds speak. I could actually hear them. They wanted to be acknowledged! They were saying “Hey! Look at me! Look at us!” They were saying “I am Here!” I felt so light in that moment! ... So clear-headed.”

He leaned back in his chair again, just looking at me. I continued on, “and then I began walking again and was going under these small-ish trees and the wind picked up just a tiny bit, but enough to rustle the leaves... and they made like this hush hush sound. It just felt weird...or...sounded off. So, I stood still again and the rustling turned into a shushing noise and I felt my chest tighten up because I felt like someone was there and then whisper in the trees happened...it was so incredibly subtle but, I could hear it all the same... I realized I had been holding my breath standing there, and I let it all out and I started to cry because suddenly, all at once, I could hear Him...I could smell Him. I could see Him. I could touch Him. The whisper of the leaves clear as day said "I. Am. Here." He said “I am here.” ...and He was. He was right there in the sun; and then He said “Guides"."

He broke eye contact with me and turned his head away for several moments then said, “okay so...then...”guides”? Whats “guides” supposed to mean?”

“I’m not completely sure, but I feel that He maybe meant the crows? The one crow stayed in touch with me for quite a while...was always waiting in the parking lot. It followed me home. I started giving it peanuts and it came and stayed for a while almost every day... until it was gone.”

“Is this that crow you kept taking about wayyy back?”

I nodded, “mmhmm, that’s the one!”

He turned his head back, facing me again. He held my gaze for a moment or ten. He sighed, grasped the arm rests and lifted his weight out of his chair as if he was suddenly heavier than he was when he first sat down. He walked over to the edge of his bed and crouched down with his arms crossed, one folded over the other. He rested his chin on them and looked up at me. “So... Chihiro...if you can see and hear all of this. Hear ‘Him”, then why do you want to leave?”

“mmm not ‘leave’, just...go.”

He bowed his head briefly and sighed “I just don’t understand how if you see and hear the world like you do that you’d be alright with not being here? Be alright with dying.”

I laid back with my head back on the pillow. My gaze went up, reaching beyond the ceiling. “I want to be with Him...”

“........Oh. I see.”

I shifted my head to face him again and looked at him with intent. I saw his eyes were tired and framed with day old eye liner. His mouth was frowning, the ring hugging his bottom lip. All the muscles in his face tightened and then slackened. I hadn’t seen a man look so confused, and lost, and terrified. I couldn’t be sure, but it almost seemed as if he was heartbroken. He looked like someone who had had something taken from him. Was it his clarity? Was it his reality?

Or was it me?

“I don’t know what say.”

“that’s okay”, I said.

“so, ‘see it when you believe it’ huh?”

“Mihael...those who don’t believe in magic, will never find it.”

Since that day, it was almost three years before we spoke again. I heard his story through the mouths of others. He spent his time in cuffs, with blood on his knuckles and money in his pockets that didn’t belong to him. Cut those who wronged him. Angry at the world he fought on. His little brother lost to the gun. The same gun he pointed at a man in a threat steal a car with and... so he wept.

I know he cried because somehow I could feel it. That salty water..

His world was silenced by a blade in each ear. A punishment for hearing too much. For saying too much to those who he let rule him. Without the noise of the world, he found his thoughts.

He was only ever to be seen perched up on the cliffs high above violent waves. He stared down into blue and foam. The sorrowful, gaping mouths of his memories. Sad with the world, he left. Far away, he crossed the ocean to a new place. To clean off the dirt and blood from his shoes.

The murmurs about him stopped. I was reminded of him from time to time when I could feel the salt that coated my hair or when I found sand in in the cuffs of my jeans. He felt faint, like a ghost on the shore.

I remained. I visited the sea almost every day to ask Him. How was Mihael? Was he alive? His spirit...was he alive? God always answered immediately. The scuttle of a crab who stopped at my feet. The drawn out screech of a gull. A tide wave that suddenly and strangely reached further than it was supposed to and grabbed my ankles.

When the sun was close and the grains of sand were hot. I would give my body to the sea. Bare, I would lay under the tides where it was gentle and let the waters run its hands over me. The waters are intimate. The sea whispers sweet nothings in your ear and caresses your skin if you ask it too. I listened and felt the vibrations of the sand. The ocean has stories to tell.

I messaged him and shared the stories with him. Recounting the tales of the blind fish that lives in the depths. The tale about the birth of a whale far away in a different sea. He never answered. I promised God I wouldn't stop. I wouldn't give up on him.

And time.

Time became an acquaintance of mine.

And time.

Time.

~My phone lit up. It vibrated just twice. I cradled it in one hand. A forgotten number...

‘It hurts Chihiro. It's like a longing’

'It's in my chest and It's starting to hurt.'

‘I need the sea’

‘I need it’

‘I can hear it’s voice. its so loud.’

‘I crave it’

‘I don’t know how you knew’

‘but I’m coming back’

‘I knew because He told me so and now He’s telling you.’

“I am here.”

‘Welcome home Child of The Sea.’

@taxpayerdollars

#sea #ocean #spirtual #christianity #God #spirit #journal #dialogue

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jackdawyt · 5 years ago

Video

youtube

Today I’m continuing my new mini-series paving the road for the anticipated release of the next Dragon Age game. Through these videos, I’ll be delving into very particular honed-in lore and plot threads that are rather telling for the future narrative of Dragon Age.

Last episode I discussed the blighted mineral known as Red Lyrium as it spreads throughout the land, tainting everything it touches, wreaking havoc on the eco-system of Thedas. However, today we have a subjectively worse rival that already has plans for Thedas and its people.

A most prideful, hot-headed fool lingers. One who you could consider to be an enemy, friend or lover. But ultimately, and most importantly, he’s a man who in the end is sorry, and believes he’s only doing what he must for the sake of his people. Of course, we talking about Solas and his plans for Thedas.

In order for us to look forward regarding what Solas’ future scheme may entail; we’ve got to recollect everything that has been instrumental in his plan to restore the elvhen kingdom by destroying the Veil.

“Cry havoc in the moonlight, let the fire of vengeance burn, the cause is clear.” (Solas, DA:I).

Solas comes from a time when everything sang the same. A time before the Veil was created. When the ancient elven kingdom of Arlathan flourished. Elves were seen as immortal, powerful mages that ruled the lands. The most impressive of their kind were the Evanuris, whom the Dalish call "The Creators".

The Creators

“Long ago, there were two clans of gods. The Creators looked after the People. The Forgotten Ones preyed upon us. And one god who was neither. Fen’Harel, the Dread Wolf. He was kin to the Creators, and in the days of old, often helped them with their endless war against the Forgotten Ones.” (Merril, DA2).

The Evanuris “were said to bestow all life's gifts and dole out its punishments” (WoT V.1). The pantheon consisted of nine “gods”:

Elgar'nan: God of Vengeance

Mythal: the Great Protector

Falon'Din: Friend of the Dead, the Guide

Dirthamen: Keeper of Secrets

Andruil: Goddess of the Hunt

Sylaise: the Hearthkeeper

June: God of the Craft

Ghilan'nain: Mother of the Halla

Fen'Harel: The Dread Wolf

“Fen’Harel was clever. He could walk among both clans of gods without fear, and both believed he was one of them.” (Merril, DA2).

While it’s unclear what exactly happened, the Elven Pantheon declared war on anyone who dare oppose them.

"It started with a war. War breeds fear. Fear breeds a desire for simplicity. Good and evil. Right and wrong. Chains of command. After the war ended, generals became respected elders, then kings, then finally gods. The Evanuris." (Solas, DA:I).

Codex entries point to a longing feud with both the Titans and the Forgotten Ones:

“One day Andruil grew tired of hunting mortal men and beasts. She began stalking The Forgotten Ones, wicked things that thrive in the abyss.” (Codex entry: Elven God Andruil).

"Hail Mythal, adjudicator and savior! She has struck down the pillars of the earth and rendered their demesne unto the People! Praise her name forever!" (Codex entry: Veilfire Runes in the Deep Roads).

Regardless of who or what was defeated, the Evanuris were victorious in their conquest. This triumph was the beginning of the pantheons’ corruption - with their hubris - the Evanuris became a villainous tyranny.

In their lust for power, members of the Evnauris plotted against Mythal and killed her. This act would bring forth the elven kingdoms doom known as “the Betrayal.”

The Betrayal

“You said the elven gods went too far. What did they do that made you move against them?” (Inquisitor).

“They killed Mythal. She was the best of them. She cared for her people. She protected them. She was a voice of reason. And in their lust for power, they killed her.”

A crime for which an eternity of torment is the only fitting punishment. (Solas).

This chain of events set Solas’ scheme in motion – to avenge Mythal and right the Evanuris’ wrongdoings.

Solas rebelled against the pantheon, he worked to free slaves bound by vallaslin, granting them sanctuary from their tyrannical masters.

He created the Veil, a magical barrier that separated the foundations of magic that Arlathan was built on. The Veil’s creation brought destruction to the Elvhen, countless marvels reliant on the Fade crumbled, the people lost their immortality and the majority of their magic.

Then Solas banished each of the Evnauris to the Beyond, where they linger forever in torment.

This was the great quickening that the Dalish elves in Thedas still believe today. The disarrayment and destruction of the elven empire. However, ‘twas not Tevinter, nor the pride of mortal man who destroyed the elves.

A few even claim their ancestors were immortal, and it was only the arrival of humans- "shemlen" or "quicklings” that brought death to the "elvhen" people. (WoT V.1).

It was indeed Solas who destroyed the elvhen world.

"It was not the arrival of humans that caused us to begin aging. It was me. The Veil took everything from the elves, even themselves.” (Solas, DA:I)

After creating the Veil, Solas fell into a deep slumber.

"I lay in dark and dreaming sleep while countless wars and ages passed. I woke still weak a year before I joined you." (Solas, DA:I).

Having slept for many years, Solas awoke. He witnessed the transition of his proud and immortal people, now reduced to the fringes of human society.

Once the greatest empire in Thedas, now a cluster of baboons with a false understanding of their existence. They spread false tales of the Evanuris’ feud, praising the false gods, and condemning Fen’Harel. Wearing vallaslin as worship, without realising their slave mark origin.

The elves today can’t even speak the same complexities of their old language, while the remains of Arlathan are nothing but a shallow husk, its memory long since gone, along with the majority of magic.

“My people fell for what I did to strike the Evanuris down, but still some hope remains for restoration. I will save the elven people, even if it means this world must die.” (Solas, DA:I).

While the blame falls to Solas for the elven people’s decimation, what the Evanuris had planned would’ve destroyed the entire world. Solas believed creating the Veil was the lesser of two evils.

“Had I not created the Veil the Evanuris would have destroyed the entire world.” (Solas, DA:I).

While Solas woke up still weak, he has plans to restore the elven people to their former glory. Originally, Solas planned to use his orb of destruction to destroy the Veil, re-establishing the world of his time. However, his slumber had made him too weak to unlock the orb, so using his agents, Solas indirectly gave his orb to Corypheus.

Corypheus, being an ancient and powerful darkspawn would then unlock the orb and die in the resulting explosion. However, that didn’t happen.

Instead, Corypheus uncovered the secrets of effective immortality, and the Inquisitor was the one who gained the orb’s power – the Anchor.

The Anchor

As a result, Solas joined the Inquisition with the sole purpose of defeating Corypheus and getting his unlocked orb back, so he could resume his plan to destroy the Veil. (which explains why he knew so much about the Anchor in the first place).

Of course, this plan too was unsuccessful because the orb was destroyed by failing rocks with the defeat of Corypheus. However, Solas did not expect to find someone he could relate to, as much as he did with the Inquisitor.

“You change everything.” (Solas, DA:I).

He cared for this world, and some of the people in it. And that truly surprised him. But that vulnerability is only going to make his plan harder. No matter how much the Inquisitor tried to sway him, Solas walks the journey of death, he would not have anyone close to him see what he will become.

“I walk the dinan'shiral. There is only death on this journey. I would not have you see what I become.” (Solas, DA:I).

If the Veil is successfully destroyed, the Evanuris (and whatever else lingers in the Beyond) will be released, after suffering years of torment. With their freedom, surely, they’ll unleash havoc on Thedas once again, exacting revenge at the one responsible for their imprisonment.

"Wouldn't the false gods be free?" (The Inquisitor, DA:I).

"I had plans." (Solas, DA:I).

In order for Solas to grant Mythal vengeance, he will need to silence the Evanuris for good. For this plan, Solas has taken an aspect of Mythal’s power so he can rise as the Dread Wolf.

The Dread Wolf

With that power now invested, Solas can transform into the Dread Wolf. In this form, the wolf is “lupine in appearance, but the size of a high dragon, with shaggy spiked hide and six burning eyes like a pride demon.” (The Dread Wolf Take You, Page 496).

Solas as the Dread Wolf has taken residence in the Fade where spirits and demons serve him willingly. He has an enigmatic ritual for the Fade that has been set in motion. Since his orb’s destruction, Solas has been looking at other alternatives for tearing down the Veil.

“As the Avvar do. But whatever fear the name Dread Wolf carries, he has earned. While we might visit the Fade, it is his natural home, and the spirits there serve him gladly. They whisper in my dreams now, accusing me of crimes I never.” (The Dread Wolf Take You, Page 498).

Currently, Solas hunts the Red Lyrium Idol, which apparently belongs to him, and he has a purpose for it. Other than that, not much else is known about it, not even its location.

"The Dread Wolf wants that idol, and he’s not afraid to get his hands bloody to get it." (The Dread Wolf Take You, Page 490).

“He intends something for the Fade, and if he wants the idol, then whatever he intends will be terrible.” (The Dread Wolf Take You, Page 498).

Solas has always had a network of agents working for him behind the curtains. However, the length of Solas’s spies has greatly increased. Many of the Dalish Elves truly believe in Solas's cause and have joined his fight and even the Ancient Elves have been acquired for his schemes.

“And now we know that the Dread Wolf has agents working for him.” (The Bard, The Dread Wolf Take You).

The elves who haven’t joined his ranks have begun to call his army - “Fen’Harel cultists”

Fen’Harel Cultists

“Each one of those damned Fen’Harel cultists. ‘Ooh, if we blow up enough people, ancient Elvhenan is definitely coming back.’” She caught my questioning glance. “They tried to recruit me a few years ago. I said no.” (Half Up Front, page 470)

Solas’ agents, or cultists, whichever takes your liking, already tried to manipulate a war between the Qunari Ben-Hassrath and Tevinter kinsman. An agent of Fen’Harel placed a Tevinter rogue on Qunari lands as a bomb destroyed the Qun’s new darvaarad.

Fortunately, the Ben-Hassrath discovered this plot before it was too late. However, If this plan was successful, it would’ve caused immediate chaos for all of Thedas.

“A Tevinter altus, striking at a Qunari settlement that had yet to enter hostilities? Ben- Hassrath wouldn’t be able to sit the war out anymore. Utter and complete chaos.” I felt nauseous. What I’d almost done, almost been responsible for. (Half Up Front, page 478).

And finally, most recently in a desperate attempt to intercept Thedas’ top spy factions, Solas disguised himself as an Orlesian Bard with a blonde wig and all the trimmings.

Interception

An Executor, Carta Assassin, Mortalitasi Mage, Inquisition Spy and, of course, Solas were present.

He listened as each faction shared their knowledge on the Dread Wolf, before the Executor could speak, Solas killed them. Then he attempted to lie about his knowledge on the Wolf, but was quickly caught out.

He turned the Mortalitasi and Carta Assassin to stone, and revealed himself to the Inquisition Spy known as Chater.

Out of his disguise, Solas appeared tired and sad. He knows that many oppose him and that they are not fools. Telling the Inquisitor what he intended to do was a moment of weakness.

“He sighed. “It was a moment of weakness. I told myself that it was because you all deserved to know, to live a few years in peace before my ritual was complete. Before this world ended.” (The Dread Wolf Take You, Page 506).

He admitted he’s prideful, hot-headed and foolish. Most importantly that he’s sorry for what is to come next.

“I am prideful, hotheaded, and foolish, and I am doing what I must. When you report back to the Inquisitor . . .” His voice faltered. “Say that I am sorry.” (The Dread Wolf Take You, Page 506).

I’ve already addressed the most apparent plot points that regard Solas’s future scheme like the potential destruction of the Veil and dealing with the Evnauris. But other plot points linger that intertwine with Solas’s plan:

Solas's Ritual

As I already stated, Solas has started a ritual ongoing in the Fade with the help of spirits and demons. It’s a very ambiguous ritual, however, we do know that binding spirits and using blood magic undoes both the work that Solas has planned for the Fade, and the ritual that has been set in motion.

“And as clear as the Dread Wolf’s anger at what we had done— the Mortalitasi binding spirits he considered his own, the Tevinter mage using forbidden blood magic— was the feeling that we had disrupted his own work.” (The Dread Wolf Take You, Page 498).

Perhaps more of these types of magic is needed to disrupt his ritual? This would make the Mortalitasi and Tevinter Magisters great allies in the coming war.

The Inquisitor

Solas’ journey in modern day Thedas started with our Inquisitor, surely his journey should end with them too. The Inquisitor swore to either attempt to redeem or stop Solas, this narrative needs to reach its end. Will Solas and the Inquisitor reach a happy climax? Probably not, but that doesn’t mean our Inquisitor will easily give up. The two characters need closure to end their story for good.

Mythal’s Vengeance

I feel like I need to reiterate that Solas did not absorb Mythal’s spirt, he only took an aspect of her power before she placed a piece of herself in an eluvian, as she finds her next vessel. This means that whoever drank from the Well of Sorrows are still bound to Mythal, Solas did not possess or absorb her soul, she is still alive.

All Solas did, with Mythal willing, was absorb an unknown quantity of her power so he could rise as the Dread Wolf and fulfil her bidding to slay the rest of the pantheon. I truly believe Mythal has a greater scheme at play, and Solas has fallen ridicule to her, he’s blind sighted because of the bond they share, but I believe Mythal has darker intentions, and they’ll soon come to play once Solas destroys the Veil.

So, what does come next for Solas? There are a lot of future topics we’ve touched on, but all I can say is we should expect to see him transform into the most villainous Dread Wolf as he stops anyone who dare intercede with his scheme. Not only that, but he has an army of spirts and demons in the Fade, with his agents on the field in Thedas. The tensions are rising, perhaps soon enough we’ll witness the magic come back, as Solas rises to destroy the Veil. The Evanuris are too going to be out for vengeance, only time will tell if we can save our friend before it’s too late.

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the-kings-of-games · 5 years ago

Text

The Inhabitants of the Mountain Valley of Neo Domino

Or: The Signers Reimagined With Influences from Eastern Asian Mythology

Introduction

In the mountain valley of New Domino, there live some of the most powerful beings in this world. The path there is treacherous as the road is windy and a heavy fogs covers over it like a veil, and the large pillar like mountains stand tall and old even at a distance. The nearby villages and towns know better than to wonder close to it, and elders warn their children of the dangers—the spirits and the demons—that inhabit the valley. However, if one were to go and manage a way on that road and through the fog, there are wonders to behold—for gods and heavenly beings walk on the earth in that valley and call it home.

Jack, the Dragon Prince of Hearth

In the valley, the bowels of the earth are found in the hidden great lake, and it is there that the royal family of the sea go to nest their newborns. It is rare that a lord or lady of the Dragon Palace leaves for that place, perhaps once every five hundred years, but each one of them seeks the fiery nest under that great lake. For millennia, the princes and princesses of the dragon king have been hatched there, and it was no different for Jack, the youngest of the royal brood. Yet he is different. For the fires of the earth had imbued him with a power so unlike a being of the sea. His heart was made a hearth, and so his soul burns, the power within him seen only once before.

Unwelcomed by the Dragon Palace, Jack's home has always been that great lake, and its very water only strengthens him, nurturing him like a mother. He's grown beautiful over the past few centuries, and though his kind stays away from him, other creatures of the sea flock to him, mermaids, naiads, and minor gods among them. He doesn't mind their company, but often, he leaves the comfort of home to seek his bond brothers and friends.

That is the time when a mortal could wish to see him. No other dragon has coral antlers and scales as pure and white as he.

Luna & Leo, Immortals of the Ancient Fairy Dragon

They were traveling with their parents, rich and intelligent people, through the country side in the dead of winter. The ground was frozen, and no flowers bloomed. Nothing should be growing. And yet they came across a peach tree that bore two pink fruits, just ready to be eaten. Leo saw it and wanted them, and so he climbed that tree onto a branch, throwing one down to his sister. Together, they took the bite, and it was the most delicious thing they had ever eaten, its taste succulent and bursting with flavor. Soon, there was nothing but the pit left, and Leo was about to climb down. Then came a terrible noise, and suddenly, both branch and boy fell. So young and small, he died instantly, and Luna was in tears.

That was then when a spirit of the nature appeared, the Ancient Fairy Dragon, who told Luna that she and her brother had been trusted with a sacred duty. Having eaten the peach of the immortality before his death, Leo came back to life, well and unhurt. Thankful, the twins agreed to leave their mortal lives behind, and they were guided to the high mountain valley of New Domino where the body of the Ancient Fairy Dragon remains. It is through them that hope to return her to the mortal plane is rekindled. Through their laughter and dedication, she can regain her powers.

How long ago was it since they arrived? It's hard to tell; since their arrival, neither twin has grown, but no doubt that more than one lifetime has passed.

Akiza, Cultivator of the Knowledge of Healing

The first mortal in decades to ever safely arrive at the high mountain valley of Neo Domino, Akiza came to live among the gods and heavenly beings in order to study the art of healing. Since birth, she had powers beyond human understanding, and that was why she left her home at a young age, seeking the secrets that can only be taught by ethereal beings and watching them. When she arrived, she made a new home under giant boulders held together by the thick roots of a single cao huan dan tree. Like the peaches the immortal twins ate, Akiza arrived right as the ginseng fruit of the tree ripened, crying like newborns, and she ate all thirty of them, granting her immortality.

Now, with such longevity and power, Akiza dedicates her time in cultivation and in the art of healing. Her skills and knowledge have gained much attention from both deities and other immortals. Many fear her, but some have become her friend, guiding her as she takes her step towards ascension. Whispers say she will one day have a place in the heavenly court, but it would not be for a long time as Akiza feels that she is not yet worthy, that she still has much to learn, that there are people to anchors her to this earth.

Her aid is for everyone who needs it, and her price is nothing. Her beauty is beyond compare, her knowledge incomprehensible.

Crow, Winged Guardian of the Valley

With wings as black as night, Crow is the one who cast the mist of the mountain valley of Neo Domino. He is no trickster, however; he watches over the inhabitants, catching secrets and sharing burdens, and the lost humans who wander too far, he leads them back to the right path with a smile. There are, on occasion, when a child finds their way into the valley, an orphan. Adoring children and compassionate, Crow take them as his own, raising them in the mountains until they are of age. He teaches them the secrets of nature—how to listen to the wind, how speak to birds—and they learn a little of godliness. He has many wonderful memories, but the ones he remembers the most are the days when his children come off age and he sends them back out into the world where they belonged, never to see them again.

On those days, he seek out his friends, weeping over his loss and proclaiming he'd never take another human child as his own again. His bond brothers know, however, that he would fail, and the cycle repeats again and again and again. They continue to catch him when he falls, and Crow rises up each time with a smile, his feathers preened and his golden staff polished. Always, he returns to his duties.

To receive his love is to be marked by fortune; to incur his wrath is to be damned and scorned. No one can cross him without consequence.

Yūsei, Young God of Neo Domino

Born in the heavenly court, Yūsei is the first living god of Neo Domino. On the day of his birth, he fell to earth like a shooting star, and for years, he slumbered in the heart of the mountain valley, every exhale breathing life into the dirt, the leaves, and air. It is said that when he fell, Neo Domino had never been so beautiful, and the people prayed in gratitude for the gods had blessed them. They worshipped the young god long before they ever saw him, and when they did, they knew he was conceived by the Sun and the Moon, his heart beating in time with the universe and his words like water, tranquil and clear.

The son of the Sun and the Moon, he takes long slumber, sometimes for years. No one would see him, but they can feel him. Other times, he takes other forms, seamlessly shifting, and maybe even half asleep. Once, he was a rabbit, then a sparrow. After, he became a bear, then a deer. Finally, he was a rock. His friends had made it a game to find him in these forms, something the young god enjoys, and he runs as quick as thunder, here one moment and gone the next. His biggest competition is his bond brother, Jack, who refuses to stop chasing him. The others are right behind.

Certain nights a year, when the heavens creates a stream in the sky, his form gains an ethereal glow like starlight, wrapped around him like a cloak, and he embraces it back.

#yugioh 5ds #jack atlas #leo (5ds)#luna (5ds)#akiza izinski #crow hogan #yusei fudo #yugioh #ygo #kappachyun muses #eastern asian mythology #prose #fic ideas #:)#team 5ds #kizunashipping

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therainbowwillow · 4 years ago

Text

https://therainbowwillow.tumblr.com/post/639917088173113344/alright-its-been-a-hot-second-since-ive-written -Part 1

Okay, Hadestown Fanfic With Crossovers Where Orpheus’s Terms are Different and Also ✨Olympus Drama✨Part 2/???

I think my greatest struggle in writing is... posting it. And deciding on a consistent plot. That too. Expect changes. Edit: Well, well, well, there’s a draft feature on this website? I might just migrate to Tumblr.

I may make an overview post at some point so you don’t actually have to read this. A long TL;DR probably, because it is written by Miss What-Is-Concise. My TL;DRs need TL;DRs of their own. Anyway, I’m rambling, so let me actually get started.

Preemptive:

-Orpheus is Apollo’s kid in this version, as he is in many retellings. He is raised by Hermes.

-Hermes works for Hades, bringing souls to the underworld. He resides away from Olympus to fulfill said duties.

-Dionysus’ parentage is by Persephone and Hades. (Because there’s no way Persephone’s screwing Zeus in the other room. Also this is his more underworld-connected family ties.)

-You drink from the River Lethe, according to some ancient authors, to forget your past life. And if Virgil can blatantly rip off Homer, I’m stealing ideas too.

-Would you look at that? This “short” AU fic is expanding by the minute. Hades and Persephone’s are true to the musical and that’s about it at this point.

Eurydice drags Orpheus to his feet. He leans against her. “Eurydice...” he mumbles. “I... I’m so sorry.”

“I signed my life away. That wasn’t up to you. We need to get going.”

Orpheus nods. “Why’s he letting us go? I don’t remember... anything really. I sang. Then I...” he turns away. “It felt like I was sitting in a fire. I couldn’t sing, I couldn’t think. It was unbearable.”

“I’ll never let them lay a finger on you again.”

“You didn’t answer me. Why’s he letting us go?” he asks, softly.

“He’s not,” Persephone mutters. “He wants you to fail. Then he’ll have a canary for his mines.”

Orpheus shudders at the thought. “My song... I thought... Persephone, I think I rewrote every note a hundred times. I lost the love of my life for that melody. And... it failed.”

“Just walk, okay? Please. Once we’re out of here, none of it matters,” Eurydice pleads.

“H-how far?” He’s almost afraid to ask. The original walk had been a grueling task. This one, he thinks, might be a hundred times harder. Whatever Hades had done to him... the effects hadn’t faded. Eurydice must already think he’s a selfish, naive, worthless idiot, he’s certain, so he plans to stay quiet. Unless it gets bad. Only if he needs to tell her, he decides.

“A mile, maybe a little more,” Persephone replies. “We’ll rest in my old greenhouse. It’ll be a roof over our heads at least. Don’t look back,” she warns. “Hades’ servants will follow us. Don’t give them a reason to think we’re afraid.”

Eurydice wraps and arm around Orpheus’s waist. “Tell me if you need a break.” He nods.

———————————

Hades sinks into his office chair. A painting of his wife hangs on the wall. He’s posing at her side. They’re smiling. She’s holding a bouquet of flowers. He rises and storms over to the portrait. He rips it of the wall and it crumples to the ground, torn in two.

He glances out the window. He’s viewing his realm from the highest point in Hadestown. The landscape is as flat as a sheet of paper. No hills, no mountains, only rivers, flowing by some force that is not the gravity of the overworld. His tower is the only peak. And the smokestacks of his factories.

This is his realm. All of it is his. Every inch of dirt, every scrap of metal and gemstone beneath the ground. Every sullen face of every tortured worker who’d sold his soul away. The wall is his too. And the Styx, which wraps it 7 times over. He’s a king and his castle is protected by the highest of palisades and yet... that boy... that son of Apollo had taken it all from him. What is a king without his iron fists? Now he had shown softness, now he’d shown weakness. A crack in the wall will bring the whole structure down, he thinks to himself. But what else can he do? Persephone is his wife. She is *his*. To imagine a thousand winters and springs and summers without her...

The underworld is lonely. He cannot lose her. But he cannot let the boy escape. Nor his lover, nor his traitorous workers. If he shows them an inch, they’ll take a mile. Worse, the traitors were right. Orpheus is alive. Orpheus is not his. That poet is all that stands in the way of his kingdom. And like any barrier, he will fall. How? Hades wonders. How can he kill the boy, break his spirit and punish him without losing Persephone? What blinds his wife? he asks himself. That silly little song had manipulated him, taken hold of his heart like alcohol. And Persephone loves it. She believes, truly believes, that Orpheus deserves to live for the very reason he must die.

Hades slams his fists against the window. Perhaps she was right. He ought to follow in his brothers’ footsteps. Forget his wife. That simple action would be enough to fix everything. If he let her go, she’d have nothing to hold over him. He wouldn’t be her puppet. He’d kill Orpheus, chain up the boy’s foolish lover and send Achilles and Patroclus to the darkest mines, and force them to work day and night apart from each other. Sure, the bunch of them would whine like kenneled puppies, but he could take their cries. They’d forget everything if he could get them to drink from the Lethe. Orpheus would be easy. Threaten his pretty little muse and he’d be scrambling to his knees. Eurydice would be nothing without her poet. Achilles would resist. He’d fight a millennia before he or his lover bowed before their king. But they too would fall.

Only Persephone stands in the way, he knows. He likes to imagine he has her under his control. But he knows it’s a lie. The food of the underworld she’d eaten, it didn’t confine her as well as he’d hoped. Sure, her time above ground would be made unbearable, but she would still be out of his grasp. She could leave. She would leave. He knows her threats aren’t empty. So he’ll find a way around her. He needs her to come back. Without Persephone’s warmth, he wouldn’t know what to do with himself.

He watches the crowd of shades begin to disperse and it dawns on him. Orpheus gives them hope, but he makes them afraid. How many deceased reside in Hadestown? It’d take a hundred thousand mortal lifetimes to count. And how many had stepped forward to help the poet boy? Two. Among that crowd, he knew, were great heroes. Heroes who once resided in Elysium. And still, only two shades had betrayed him. Two out of a trillion. Hades smiles. He won’t need to kill Orpheus. One of his workers can take the fall. Even Achilles won’t succeed in standing against an army the size of his. And Hades will win. His wife will see that some dead man has killed the singer to appease his king. She’ll suspect, but without proof, what does she have on him? Eurydice will see she has no choice. Once the boy belongs to him, Orpheus is his to manipulate. She’ll be trapped. Achilles, for all of his strength, is nothing alone. Without his dear Patroclus, he’ll give in. And so Hades plots.

————————————

Hermes, god of roads and messages, receives word of his adoptive son’s predicament with astounding speed. And he fears for Orpheus. But Hermes guides souls to the underworld, to Hades. To betray the king of Hadestown by helping the boy would be to lose his work and by extension, his freedom to live on the railroad. Without an excuse, he’d be back on Olympus, listening to Zeus and Hera’s endless bickering, watching Ares and Aphrodite humiliate themselves, and helping Dionysus comfort Apollo over the death of the mortal pretty boy of the week. And they wonder why Artemis avoids the damn place at all costs. In fact, he’s stuck on Olympus right now, called to the counsel by Zeus? Athena? He can’t remember. Some mortal breaking some rule.

Orpheus is more important than the meeting. His messenger had interrupted the counsel meeting to bring him word of the poor boy’s situation. He’s not sure how to cover this one up. No one was meant to interrupt important matters as this. Plus, he’d given the kid directions straight into Hadestown, which was the opposite of what his contract with Hades had said. He wasn’t allowed to barter for the return of mortal souls and he wasn’t allowed to assist mortals in doing the same.

“Hermes!” Zeus booms. “What is the meaning of this?”

He rolls his eyes. “Begone, messenger.” He slips a note into the man’s hands: ‘Tell Orpheus I’m coming.’ “Nothing, father. Just... matters of work. You know how Hades is. And don’t get me started on Thanatos! I’m late by half a second and-“

“Enough! I’ve half a mind to banish you from this counsel.” Hermes smiles. His excuses have succeeded.

Dionysus laughs, considerably beyond tipsy on his own wine. “You mind if I go too? I’m sick of this awful alcohol and I’ve got something far better back home.”

“Dionysus, wasn’t there an agreement we made?” Athena inquires, icily. “You cannot come to our meetings drunk.”

He smiles. “Well, you see,” he snaps his fingers and shakes his head, washing away his intoxication. “I didn’t come drunk. I *got* drunk while here.” He raises a flask and shakes it, refilling the canteen instantly. “There’s a difference.”

Athena grits her teeth. “Father, one more of these counsels and I swear...”

“And husband,” Hera pipes up, “We were going to address that nymph girl you’re always hanging around?”

Zeus flushes a deep shade of red. “Out. All of you. We’re done here.”

Hermes rises, forcing himself to keep his composure, at least until he’s out of sight. He steps into the sunlight that dazzles Olympus, treks the road to the edge of the mortal realm and... “Hermes?”

“Gods have mercy,” he mutters. He turns. “Apollo.” The god is puffy-eyed, probably from crying. Even Hermes had to agree, his latest lover had been gorgeous. Hyacinthus, was his name, if he remembered correctly. Apollo himself had called the counsel to beg for mortality when the boy had died and he hadn’t found another for what? Seventeen years? Spare for Orpheus’s muse mother, of course. Still, this was unusual, even for Apollo’s mellow dramatic self.

“You’re afraid.”

“Don’t... don’t do that, would you?” Hermes snaps, recoiling. “Yeah, yeah, medicine and all, but I don’t want you telling me what I’m thinking.”

Apollo dips his head in acknowledgment. “It’s my son, isn’t it?”

Hermes shakes his head. One word to Zeus and... all Prometheus did was hand over a spark. This was treason. “No, just work.”

Apollo tilts his head. “You’re lying.”

“What cause would I have for lies? I cannot keep Hades waiting, now.” He whirls away from Apollo’s gaze.

“Perhaps... treason?” Apollo inquires. Hermes’s eyes widen.

“Strong accusations.” He forces his voice not to shake.

“I won’t turn you in.” Liar, Hermes thinks. He wants to get on Zeus’s good side. A chance at getting his lover boy back.

“Correct. You wouldn’t have anything to turn me in for,” he tells the son of Leto.

“Orpheus’s wife... no, fiancée. No... I don’t know! The girl. She’s dead. Orpheus’s song is a failure. I heard it from Olympus. Lovely, really. But not nearly enough to convince Hades to let her go. Nothing is.”

Hermes turns again to face his half-brother. “Keep your voice down, would you? If Zeus hears a word of this-“

Apollo cuts him off. “And you helped him. You broke your contract and you know Hades better than anyone, other than Persephone, if they still talk these days. He’s crueler than he once was. They say Elysium itself is no more, that there’s only Tartarus now. You’re afraid of his wrath. And you’re afraid of Zeus. He’ll punish you too. You saw what he did to Asclepius. Struck by lightning for treason against Hades. And that was before this... winter,” he says, softer now.

“I don’t want a lecture, Apollo. What do you want?” Hermes glares at the god.

“I want a deal.”

Hermes narrows his eyes. “What kind of deal?”

“You break me in to the underworld-“

“No. I’m in enough danger as is.”

“Hear me out.”

“I said no!” Hermes steps back onto the road. Apollo grabs his wrist.

“I can get you out of trouble. Dionysus!” The wine god steps out of the woods.

“I’m due to visit my mother. Hades won’t prevent me from entering his realm, I’m his son,” Dionysus explains. “You and Apollo are there on Demeter’s ask to learn why Persephone is late. You, because you’re the god of messages and Apollo because he was available, on leave from his duties to mourn.”

Hermes groans. “The walk is far. Even if you’re me. Days on end of moping and drunken ramblings for a plan almost certain to backfire? I said no.”

Apollo smiles. “Then I’ll turn you in,” he says simply.

“You won’t. Orpheus is your blood. You’d put him in more danger. He knew of my contract and he let me break it. You’d add a charge against him. And it’s me. You cared once, didn’t you?”

“You know I would. You said so yourself. I visited the poet boy twice, maybe. And you? Ask yourself: when was the last time you optionally visited Olympus? But Hyacinthus, I loved for years. If I turn you in, I’m one step closer to him. On Zeus’s good side again.” Hermes shifts on his feet. “It’ll be good to have a doctor at the boy’s side too, seeing as your instructions just about starved him to death.”

Hermes glares at him. “Don’t.”

“You know it’s true. So? Let’s go or you trade places with Prometheus.”

“Fine,” he mutters, through a clenched jaw.

“Good. Now, this is on our terms, Hermes. I will aid your son because you’ve always been good to me and because he is my blood. If he gets in my way, he belongs to Hades.”

#hadestown au #orphydice #hadestown #hadestown fanfic #therainbowwrites

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