#pyrakto

[soulpart]

GRIPS U

SQUEAKY TOY SOUND

[constellatory]

[salveticn-a]

‘  does  it  hurt?  ’ / hey did u kno i love u

@pyrakto || ☆

     oh , it ached horribly , it was the sort of pain elidibus didn’t wish on his worst enemy -- that insurmountable pain that tore at his heart with every beat , and with every beat he felt breathless and desperate .   it didn’t have to end that way , and , much to his own surprise , the youth found himself unable to flip the tables to his own advantage , like he used to .

     but it was always like that with lahabrea , was it not ? regardless of what he said or did , lahabrea would always walk on his own trail by none’s will but his own . he was a flawless work of art -- one that elidibus could only look at . while his heart wished to cling to it like he used to during a beloved past life , he knew he couldn’t . not like that .

     but he missed him ... oh , how he missed him .

     ❝ it does . ❞   the youth commented , mismatched hues somehow finding the courage to look away from him . they said that crying was useless , that tears would not fix anything -- yet , he wished with all his heart for tears to somehow fill that emptiness that was devouring him .   ❝ living in a world without you by my side ... it is worse than death itself . ❞

[starsfreckled-archived]

 @pyrakto​​  asked : ❝  what of me? shall i rot?  ❞ ( circe quotes // accepting ).

the word rot sends a cold shower down her back and persephone shifts, uncomfortably. memories come rushing back to her. her mother sighing, watching her when she was still little. when she was still kore.

( ‘you are supposed to make the flowers bloom, kore. not wilt and rot’ but whenever she heard that nickname, her anger flared up and the flower in front of her rotted only faster )

emotions had ever been her downfall. she never had a grip on them like her colleagues. or maybe, as she looks at lahabrea in front of her, she had just been the first to discard the mask. had that anger always been there, boiling underneath his skin? had it always lingered there, between thoughtful words, spoken to an equally thoughtful convocation? 

“I would never let you rot”

she finally says, her memories still chasing shadows. part of her wants to say ‘I will never make you rot’ she remembers the first beasts that had appeared in amaurot... she had already left the convocation back then. as the final days approached and they prepared to summon zodiark. then the first beasts appeared. and persephone, though no longer under the name azem, had made them rot. sometimes she could still feel it, the twisting of flesh and skin underneath her hands, the way those bodies changed, the disgustingly sweet smell of decay. if she wanted, she could make people rot.

persephone steps towards the speaker, hands carefully take his, not caring if he would burn her or not she simply smiles. a tired smile, but for once genuine “let me heal you, lahabrea. once you are recovered we can return to disagreeing and fighting.” persephone lowers her head, sighing “it’s pathetic, I know. I would rather risk the lives of a thousands than lose someone else I care about” 

for someone who so proudly had proclaimed herself the shepherd to the stars, a protector... she caved when faced with the risk of losing one of the others. because parts of her still clung to that old amaurot. that amaurot and its people that have long rotted away from history.

[solvina-archive]

im gonna go run bunker until i (hopefully) get seti’s chestpiece i 🔫 will be back

[lavender-ancient]

@pyrakto​ liked your post “All I got from this raid is that Lahabrea fucks....”

“You naughty dog~”

[motherswrath]

iloveyouiloveyouiloveyouiloveyouiloveyouiloveyouiloveyouiloveyouiloveyouiloveyouiloveyouiloveyouiloveyouiloveyouiloveyouiloveyouiloveyouiloveyouiloveyouiloveyouiloveyouiloveyouiloveyouiloveyouiloveyouiloveyouiloveyouiloveyouiloveyouiloveyouiloveyouiloveyouiloveyouiloveyouiloveyouiloveyouiloveyouiloveyouiloveyouiloveyouiloveyouiloveyouiloveyouiloveyouiloveyouiloveyouiloveyouiloveyouiloveyouiloveyouiloveyouiloveyouiloveyouiloveyouiloveyouiloveyouiloveyouiloveyouiloveyouiloveyouiloveyouiloveyouiloveyou

             SOL !!!

[crystalblut]

steals ur funny mask @pyrakto

[soulpart]

@fatebrker / @noatheria, @mortulo, @pyrakto , @augurate, and @moogleborne aare all so unbelievably cool and you should followthem

[constellatory]

@pyrakto  /  PARAGON OF KNOWLEDGE .

“  does it hurt?  “  it is a thin thread of innocence,  masking something thicker,  more shadowed.  her tenuous thread on the aether wavers,  more a dog on a leash than in the hand,  and he watches with his head tilted.  curiosity burns ever-bright,  a flame flickering in the curve of his mouth.  “  ah  ah,  don’t lose it.  focus while you speak.  difficult,  committing to two tasks at once,  i know.  

          she  inhales  to  speak  and  her  control  suffocates.   one  or  the  other  —   the  limitations  of  an  amateur  and  source  of  many  a  beginner’s  frustrations.   though  intimately  familiar  with  such  a  hindrance,  that  is  not  what  gnaws  at  her  heart  and  causes  an  already  fragile  grasp  ‘pon  a  concept  so  unknown  to  flicker  like  dying  candle  stood  at  open  window.   does  it  hurt ?   (  are  your  feathers  scorched  by  the  flames  of  another,  little  bird ?  )    

          he  must  know  the  answer,  this  paragon  of  knowledge  and  all  things  unfathomable,  of  course  he  does,  yet  still  insists  upon  a  question.   though  his  tone  would  suggest  otherwise,  a  youth  already  at  odds  with  the  very  presence  of  such  a  creature  almost  thinks  it  senseless  commentary,  lighting  most  subtle  spark  of  irritation  ‘neath  veins  already  alight  with  a  force  unfamiliar  and  invasive.   and  that  is  all  it  feels  like :  wrong.   like  a  splinter  burrowed  into  sensitive  flesh,  something  that  does  not  belong.  

        ❛ it—  ❜   a  lapse  in  control  and  hitch  of  thin  voice,  arms  are  drawn  closer  into  her  body  in  a  hopeless  attempt  to  keep  her  hands  from  shaking.   too  tense,  own  mind  supplies.   hells,  she  knows  it  is  delicate  work  and  not  heavy  machinery  grasped  like  rowdy  canine.   and  viktoria  has  always  been  excellent  at  the  finer  details,  so  why  must  her  hands  betray  her  now ?   ❛ it  feels  wrong, ❜   neglects  to  mention  the  burn,  the  ever  growing  heat  spreading  like  needles  up  her  arms  and  giving  furrowed  brow  a  twitch  as  lungs  take  a  more  patient  breath.   (  the  aether  wavers  and  grows  ever  thinner,  but  yet  lives. )   ❛ my  head’s  full  of  warning  bells,  like  an  itch,  telling  me  to  get  it  off. ❜  

[salveticn-a]

a break in consciousness; clarity, like sunlight through the clouds. his hand curves around the youth's shoulders -- memory, filtering through the cracks, of the many times he had done it before. how had he forgotten this? he draws him into his arms, and it is a desperate, hard hug, struck through with grief.

his other hand closes over the youth's wrist, the hand clutching white auracite. " elidibus -- " his voice is almost tender with resignation. " you cannot save us all. finish it. "

@pyrakto

     No . His story wouldn't end that way, he refused to finish the chapter without an appropriate ending. How could he -- who did not know the meaning of the term   “ surrender ”   -- abandon all hopes just when he was so close? But so close was Lahabrea , who desperately clung to Elidibus as if it were the last contact he would have ; although the youth believed that he would wake up one day and find him next to him , he felt in his heart that the chances that that thought would come true were minimal , almost infeasible .

     It felt different , the contact . He found blood in his hands from shards of a heartbreak , meanwhile Lahabrea held on tightly to him like he was some sort of final hope . Beautiful , breathtaking , and colorful flowers blossomed on his ribcage -- a metaphor of all the things that Elidibus sealed away finally in bloom ; yet , the pressure was unbearable and the weight oppressive , even more so when it was Lahabrea to voice torment . His back broke , slender arms wrapping around the other in fear of letting go and losing him forever .

     And as the blond spoke his name , the youth gritted his teeth and sunk his face deeper into his abdomen , almost as if he wanted to suffocate between his arms . “ No ! ”   he muttered , a muffled cry spoken through the same temperament of a child who refused to tidy up his room .   Oh , how he wished this was about tidying up his office ...

     The pressure in his heart was starting to make him feel sick the moment Lahabrea revealed it , the white auracite -- a small curse in the palm of his hand , the end of a lifetime , the erasure of a soul , of its knowledge , memories , and essence . The sole thought of being forgotten was enough to inflict in him a sense of unrecoverable shock , but to meet his demise ? who would remember him , then ? Who would have kept him alive in their heart ?

     No . It won’t end here ...

     Recklessness . Stubborness . a quick wave of the hand to slap away that curse from his palm . If the world had to end , if they were to die , Elidibus accepted to meet his demise in between his arms -- for he knew he couldn’t find any better way of going out , and accept it . A childish behavior , perhaps , but it felt right ... it felt right .