warpathos

[warpathos]

overawake·:

Inside  the  modern  temple  resides  the  broken  image  of  the  would-be  god.   His  body  shares  itself  with  its  own  statue:  half-him  and  half-approximation.   Even  if  the  body  is  dressed,  it  is  still  demolished.   Helene  watches  him  through  the  corner  of  her  slit  eye.   His  sharp,  starey  blue  eyes  hold  their  aim  toward  the  roof  of  his  observatory.   The  false  stars  shimmer  their  pale  insentience,  and  James  looks  to  them  as  though  he  had  a  task.   Something  stirs,  is  moved  in  Helene’s  heart.   He  wants  to  become  a  star  in  the  sky.

Helene  leans  over  him  then,  drooping  like  a  flower  which  had  been  left  too  long  in  the  rain.     “ Do  the  stars  have  anything  interesting  to  say  today? ”

@warpathos

They  reflect  in  his  eyes,  shining  back  in  fractured  lights,  painting  his  sorrow  and  his  bitterness  and  the  rising  anger  a  blank  white.  (  Let  not  light  see  my  black  and  deep  desires   -----   )   His  hand  is  still  his  hand.  If  he  could  take  a  great  fishing  net  and  gather  them  as  if  they  were  minnows,  he  would.    He  blinks.   Orion,  like  him,   sparkles  with  unease.

“  I’m  afraid  that  they  still  won’t  give  up  their  secrets  to  me,  “   said  with  a  fond  smile.      “  It’s  funny.  We  made  stories  out  of  them  because  it’s  the  only  way  we  could  possibly  hope  to  understand  them,  ourselves.  “   

[warpathos]

"hey--j, 're y' awake?" hushed tones come as corvid turns over beneath the sheets to face general where he lays beside him, hands smoothing over broad chest as pink hues watch through mused fringe. sheets rustle as scarred fingers lift to brush over james' cheek, look of concentration on qrow's features. "ah... rwy'n dy garu di--" (perish) @crviis

his eyebrows furrow as he shifts underneath the corvid’s hands, bright eyes flickering in the quiet of night, only partially awake, still drifting towards sleep’s uncertain embrace. his arms reach to pull qrow closer, his expression softening when he realizes that qrow is there, present, safe beside him. a noise of confusion escapes him, a muffled      ❝    mh ---- ?   ❞      as he presses his face into the crook of qrow’s neck. the foreign language is lost on him, drifting away with his consciousness as he travels back towards sleep.

[warpathos]

james is bad at listening to music but he’d like orville peck

[warpathos]

/   /   PEARL :

He  looks  awful,  Pearl  observes.   The  pale,  dispassionate  light  of  his  screen  sends  shadows  to  carve  out  the  slopes  of  his  face  and  shape  him  to  look  like  the  negative  of  a  person  Pearl  had  never  met  before.

From  her  place  across  the  room,  her  eyes  find  and  hold  his.   Yes,  ask  me,  knower  of  all  things  romantic  and  cellular.

“ That  depends. ”    She  says,  smiling  a  slow,  ambiguous  smile.     “ What  color  is  it? ”

❝     Red,   but  they’re  occasionally  blue  .  .  .  Though,  you  would  imagine  that  they’d  be  purple  .  .  .   considering.    ❞       He  leans  closer,  the  light  reflecting  in  his  eyes,   turning  them  an  even  more  inhuman  blue.     After  a  moment,  he  looks  up  at  her    ----    there  is  something  in  the  depth  of  his  gaze,   an  anxiety  pertaining  to  the  romantic.   (  The  way  she’s  looking  at  him  gives  him  anxiety,  he  decides.   )    He  chooses  to  fire  a  rebuttal.   It  would  give  him  some  form  of  and  answer  and  reflect  the  tension  back  onto  her   ----   two  birds  with  one  stone,   one  could  say.      ❝     What  is  it  ?      Would  you  send  this  sort  of  thing  to  Amethyst  ?     ❞       

[warpathos]

WAR!  HUH!  (YEAH!)  WHAT IS IT GOOD FOR?  ABSOLUTELY NOTHIN.

[warpathos]

crviis·:

          it’s still new, sleeping beside someone else. something that corvid still couldn’t quite get his mind around. it’s nice, not feeling so alone when he lays his head against a pillow when he eventually offers himself the time to rest - being able to feel someone else as uneasy at the idea of closing their eyes and allowing their mind to take full control. he thinks they’ve found something of a routine, a way to ease into it, even if they only allow the briefest or most gentle of touches. just enough to tell the other that they’re there, they’re both together beneath the sheets. 

          it doesn’t prepare him, though, for the sudden shift. staring bleary eyed at the ceiling above and finding the body beside him shifting. he isn’t ready to hear the choked denial when scarred hand reaches out to james, flinches away at the harsh words. he’s sat up, then watching with wide eyes and parted lips, watching as strong shoulders shake with a deep breath. concern settles in the pit of his stomach and rises like bile as frame shifts, hand covering the back of general’s own. “hey,” though he doesn’t move closer, not until he’s invited. no matter how much corvid wants to press himself close and allow lips to find nape of james’ neck, he holds back winding scarred fingers ‘round the hand offered. 

          for once, his words are chosen carefully, slowly - “tha’… tha’ don’ look like fine, ta me…”

the feeling of qrow’s calloused hand against his allows his shoulders to relax. calm claims him, slowly. he brushes his thumb over qrow’s fingers and his heart lurches behind his ribs. the intimacy of it all remains unfamiliar.      ❝    occasionally, i have .  .  .    ❞      a shuddered breath as he attempts to regain control of his thoughts. he searches for an adequate word or term. flashbacks. night terrors. nightmares. all are far too visceral. if he were to speak them into existence, that would give them truth, give them power, make them real.       ❝    .  .  .  dreams.   ❞      

he feels  ----  vulnerable.      ❝    i’m ----   ❞      the vulnerability is intense and sickening and something like the beginnings of an apology forms upon his lips in spite of the burning anger that makes his forming migraine intensify. an anger at allowing himself to be in this position, an anger for feeling guilty, an anger for being angry, an apology for being angry and having nightmares and getting too close and  ----

his hands still shake. the hand that qrow holds tightens.

qrow. qrow wouldn’t be here if he didn’t want to be, he tries to remind himself. finally, he turns to him. there is no anxiety or agony or sorrow spread across his face. it would be difficult to tell that he was struggling if his hands had not been shaking. james simply looks tired, but in his eyes, something fond and soft and only for qrow is held. he blinks, and it is replaced with that perpetual exhaustion that lurks under his steely resolve.

❝    you shouldn’t have to see me like this.    ❞     

[warpathos]

me being able to hear ur muse's voice in One Word? WHACK. the fact that u got me on a ship i previously couldn't care less abt? WHACK. the way that ur so good and kind and i genuinely couldn't wish for a better friend after the time we've known one another? WHACK.

nev i would simply die for u if u asked me to

[warpathos]

{ Can I just say I REALLY love your URL? I love the fact someone has Pathos in a url, especially knowing what it means and how it applies to your muse! )

OMG THANK U SO MUCH it’s a play on like. “war path” and ALSO pathos as a mode of persuasion

[warpathos]

in the quiet early morning, when daybreak lurks just behind the glimpse of the horizon, he stirs with unrest. sleep is never easy :   it is elusive, and when he catches it, it always bites back. beneath the warm sheets, his spine ignites, burdened with a terror that is not there. he jolts, suddenly, awake with a desolate nothingness in his throat where a scream should be. he gasps, and as the body next to him shifts, as it begins to reach for him ----       ❝    don’t   ----     ❞      he chokes out, raising a trembling hand in protest.

he tries to breathe, throwing his legs over the side of the bed. his feet hit the floor in his attempt to ground himself, to feel something other than the way the sheets twisted around him.    ❝    i’m fine,     ❞      harsher than he means. he breathes, finally, closing his eyes, body coiled into itself like a spring as he rubs the back of his neck. his own heartbeat pounds in his ears, a reminder of his fragility, his faults, his capacity for failure. he opens his eyes again, placing his hand where qrow can reach it. gentler, then :     ❝   .  .  .  i’m fine.    ❞      

@crviis​     /   /     .

[warpathos]

:  /  /     WATTS 

     arthur rubs idly at his wrists, thankfully free of their restraints now that he’s stuck behind a foot of metal and glass, under the scrutiny of his own security cameras and without his aura to help him or heal the wound along his face. he scoffs. “the fact that you ask proves you know nothing about her.” he smirks, steps as close to the window as space will allow.

          “it means that ozpin knows nothing about her anymore either.” he looks pleased, smug even behind bars. “peculiar; you’ve already lost.”

he eyes the way that the wound curves against his face  ---  a half-moon of metal straining against flesh.  he finds familiarity, there, and the hand he holds behind his back clenches into a fist.       ❝     this isn’t about ozpin,  any longer.     ❞      james states, his voice dipping into a steeled baritone, as sharp as the blade of a claymore. bitter.       ❝     his connection to salem was his weakness   ---   what made him falter, what made him hesitate.  it’s why we lost beacon.  the same won’t happen to atlas.     ❞      

[warpathos]

❝      i have to know. what do you hope to gain from this,  arthur ?      ❞       the anger  ( if one could even call it that, a harsh shadow of what an emotion should be )   in his voice threatens to rise.     ❝      how do you come out of this on top ?   she’ll kill everything,  even you.      ❞

@atlasci​        /  /    .

[warpathos]

the  the  horizon  is  bright  with  the  day’s  end ,    the  hazy  glow  of  the  deep  night  sky  creeping  over  the  great ,   willowy  towers  that  surround  them .    the  light  of  the  setting  sun  pools  into  his  office ,   outlining  him  with  a  distorted  halo .      ❝    there’s  this  . . .  story  my  mother  used  to  tell  me ,   when  i  was  young .    ❞       he  begins ,   staring  out  into  the  lights .         ❝    she  told  me  that  there  was  this  entity  that  held  up  the  world .    she  said  it  carried  it  squarely  between  its  shoulders ,    caring  so  deeply  for  the  people  within  it  that  it  would  never  allow  the  world  to  fall .       ❞       the  sun  lowers  itself  below  the  horizon ,    slipping  out  of  reach .          ❝    i’ve  been  thinking  about  it  a  lot  recently .   i  came  to  the  conclusion  that  it  reminds  me  of  you .       ❞       

@veniaes​      /  /  .

[warpathos]

❝     . . .  You know what you need to do.    ❞       

@veniaes / /

[warpathos]

❝     Oscar  told  me  everything.    ❞       he  says .     The  shadows  of  the  night  creep  down  the  long  halls  that  they  walk ,   the  fractured  moonlight  dusting  them  both  with  its  soft  glow .         ❝     It’s  important  to  me  that  you  know  that  I  understand  why  you  withheld  the  truth  from  me  until  now .    In  fact,   I  want  to  commend  you  for  what  you’ve  done ----  your  leadership  qualities,   your  strategic  thinking,   your  doing  what  it  takes  to  keep  you  and  the  others  safe .      ❞          

@thuskindlyiscatter​ / /

[warpathos]

His  scroll  rests  in  the  dead  center  of  the  desk  he  is  seated  at,  its  screen  illuminating  a  bright  glow.  James  looks  at  it  as  if  it  has  teeth,  threatening  to  bite  if  he  were  to  come  too  near.   A  message  from  one Odet  Celant  sits  opened.  He  exhales  slowly  through  his  nose,  fingers  rubbing  his  temples  as  he  holds  his  head  in  his  hands.      ❝     Does  the  color  of  the  heart  emote  convey  different  meanings ?    ❞          he  asks  defeatedly.

@facingday​ / /

[warpathos]

some things about my james i guess? i may (or may not) make an about doc later.

- he’s gay  - he’s a quarter taiwanese (i’m projecting) - he has ptsd, both from his childhood trauma and losing half of his body, as well as undiagnosed anxiety and depression. just dissociation issues in general, too. he has some serious body image issues post-op that bleed into his gender identity but to keep himself from going insane he just identifies as a man. - along with the “tin-man” motif, i’m going to use greek mythos atlas motifs and prince siegfried from swan lake motifs. - idk if i’ll ship here bc i’m selfish!!!

[warpathos]

WAR!  HUH!  (YEAH!)  WHAT IS IT GOOD FOR?  ABSOLUTELY NOTHIN.