Jon Bernthal | Arms Appreciation

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YOU ARE THE REASON

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@abelczarlinski
Jon Bernthal | Arms Appreciation
Jon Bernthal | Daredevil 2x09
JON BERNTHAL as THE MUTE | PILGRIMAGE (2017)
Person: @abelczarlinski Location: Near the Strength Training Competition Grounds He doesn't mean to stop and chat with anyone at all, not entirely, Emory's on a mission that he's been looking forward to for months. And that mission is literally no one's, but especially not Marco's, business. But he sees Abel with his arms crossed, watching people get greased up and he has to take a moment's pause. "Do you think Serkan is still using the crystals?" It's not quite a whisper on account of the fact that he's maybe had a little to drink, perhaps a bong rip from a dream blunt rotation of lycans.
He'd been the subject to so many of these; Lupercalia grew in raucous tandem as each year went on, maybe it was the constant shifting of society, but it felt more like a music festival than this old lycan tradition to usurp the former alpha and roll around in the mud. Regardless, Abel was a silent spectator; where a younger Castle would have perhaps joined in on the trivial games, a more seasoned witch sat back and merely laughed or turned his nose up at each scene. Emory was something else entirely, and Abel, much like a concerned Dad Vibe, often had to close his eyes to anything the younger witch felt inclined to do. "I should really dock your pay for even reminding me of that."
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Hwijid wanted no mercy or misfortune for her, only a gentle end to the long life she had walked. Witnessing would serve as his salvation too, granting a sense of completion that was lost beneath the terrible pace of his current workload. The slowness was reminiscent of the old days when he didn’t question his job. “It is not a flaw,” Hwijid corrects, unable to begrudge a human for turning their back on Death. “His inevitability is what makes life meaningful. There is nothing wrong with fighting for life, the wrong comes from thinking like yours. I am on her side.” As inconveniencing as it was to give this amount of attention to one soul, Hwijid still disregarded his busy schedule for this drawn-out moment. Plus, given she was fated for the Void, Hwijid couldn't imagine any greater way to show his allyship than granting her comfort on her final journey. When she was ready, she would look upon his face in the same, unfettered way the reaper looked upon the face of the witch. Hwijid took no offense to being avoided, no mortal should gaze upon a reaper before their time. “When it’s your shadow I walk in, the choice to fight will be yours. I have patience, which is why she won’t be scared when she finally sees me. I have been coming to her for some time now.”
The biggest problem Abel witnessed, this unavoidable clause of humanity, was how they each feared death. It was an inevitable and yet so many sought to leap from the linear path and carve something new for themselves; many believe it spoke of power, but the Castle only viewed it as a form of fear. Mortals were meant to live, age, and die; it was how it had been written and yet nefarious magic, infernal means, so often tinkered with such balance. He was as gruff and gray as any who'd been through the trenches of Rome, had witnessed the rise and fall of corruption, and watched it's seeds be planted and culled continuously. Life was cyclical and within that, death was a necessary means. He understood it and through the brief member of the End, when he had been so violently cut down, Abel had not feared it. "I thought the final stage was acceptance," he'd plenty to learn from reapers; Marisol seemed to be the very antithesis to this one's work ethic and it warranted Abel to be so flippant now. "No matter what, we're gonna have a difference of opinion here, but I guess you trump what I think, considering you're Death's right hand."
Abel basically already had a foot out the door already when Micah had stopped him in his tracks. Maybe he could have chosen a better time to have this conversation but they were already here so there was no turning back now."You've run this shop for as long as I've known you; you're the sovereign of your coven now." These were just statements and weren't really questions, but Micah was getting to it. "You'd consider yourself a success, right? Like you're, you know, well off now and everything?" He didn't want to pry, but it seemed like Abel was doing pretty good for himself.
"....Right," Abel nodded, throughout all of life's tumultuous twists and turns, the Castle's success had been his own to culminate; nobody could take such credits from him. "You're not asking me to sign the deed over to you, yeah?" As subtle and vague as wondering if Micah had his own little mom and pop shop in the works or any variation of the sort; Micah didn't scream manager of the year material but anything was possible and the Castle was rooting for the guy.
There is a part of her that will always be the sad for the girl who died too young, being a terror meant that there was a dividing line between who she was when she was alive and who she became after she crawled forth from the grave. The Dahlia witch that she was is so far from where she is that she views herself almost as a distant character but without her humanity, the desperate urge for revenge and violent justice was demanded. Only the villain was long gone and all that remained were those who were trying to rebuild and put together the pieces and with her regained humanity, she knows she has strength and will no longer be going for the throat for those who are trying to find the good among the bad in their life. "It's a terrifying ritual, I don't blame you in parts. It took another ghoul to follow through as Emma understand what it meant from living through it."
"Emma always had a good head on her shoulders, even through what happened to her," it was almost impossible to believe that Emma had gone from impassioned faiman to a flesh-eating ghoul, passionate for all the wrong reasons as an insatiable urge took over the terror. Despite this harrowing transformation Emma pulled through and it proved there was even a thread of light at the end of it all for terrors. Abel could hope that for Aelia, there was a similar path aligned to her, something far more gratifying than just retaining her the barest insight to her former humanity. "Aelia, if there was something you wanted to do, anything, I'd like to know how I could help you. Your entire life was taken from you, and even when you were summoned, your humanity was stripped; I want to help you rebuild. It's the least I, and the Dahlia, can do for you." Abel paused, head bowed, "We can never correct the wrongs you endured, but I think this would be our greatest start if you'd allow it." As sovereign he'd plenty resources to aid the reformed ghoul.
@abelczarlinski location: Lupercal notes: dads
Happy to not participate in Capture the Flag, Nathan grimaced at the state of the Top Dogs as they wandered back from the field. "All that running? Yeah, not for me and my bowlegs." Nathan said as he finished off the warm beer he'd sat down with, "I wanted to ask you something though, it's about this halfblooded, he's a dhampir. I made him take a leave a few months back and I'm still not sure if I made the right call." Abel was a senator and a sovereign, he'd been a watcher and a marshal, he'd get it and hopefully have some kind of advice for him.
"I'd have kicked your legs out from under you if I was on the opposing team," Abel grinned wickedly; if the two were ever on opposing ends of a competition there would be hell with their competitive streaks. A grimace followed suit as the Castle brought his own beer to his lips, the warm liquid offensive but manageable, "Guess what's most important is why you asked him to step down in the first place." A shady crime or an existential crisis were distinct and important differences though he figured Nathan wouldn't have asked someone to merely step down for the former; the Thief had come a long way where this city and crime were concerned.
husband reveal
Jon Bernthal | Arms Appreciation part 2
There's a heavy silence that follows as Avery stares with discernment, a guarded look at his face and sometimes when he looks at Abel he sees flashes of gore and how the Sovereign had looked as Avery had slit his throat. A smile creeps on his mouth at how violent and wicked he is capable of being, how he would sacrifice everything for the dreaded book and yet there's this coldness that wraps around his core, a feeling of regret because he feels like Abel gets it, that the other witch is capable of being a good influence but Avery is too far gone to be reached, there isn't a way where this doesn't end in blood whether it's his own or his blood soaked hands and he's too selfish and greedy to be self-sacrificing. Maybe his parents saw the devil within and tried to bar their doors to such wickedness but he had found them in the end and forged his ties to the Asphodel with the sacrifice of their souls. "Thank you for saying so.. you'll make a good Sovereign. I think you could make a difference, help some lost souls." Maybe things would have worked out differently, but Abel was young when Avery was a kid and the blood witch disappeared into the darkness until his return.
"You're right there along with me; as a Watcher I practically did everything alongside Viv, to support her, the coven. You're my right hand now," and Emory, but that went without saying and Abel was really trying to make that impact on the Hidden considering he'd been absent from the Dahlia for so long before his fateful return. Abel understood it couldn't be easy, everything Avery likely knew about the Dahlia had been forever changed since Silas was dismantled and destroyed, but Abel could only hope that who Avery was, within his very core, was somebody that supported this newer vision of the Dahlia. The Castle was a bleeding heart, foundations worn thin, he often made judgements that could go awry, but the man truly believed that everyone could become their best self at any given moment; Abel believed when others often gave in, he had to accept that those who were chosen as Watcher's would put their best foot forward.
Valentina's lips quirk at the mention of little guy, it was cute and she could be monstrous at times, it was part of her charm to seem unsuspecting when she was capable of dark witchcraft that had stolen more than her own life. "I was a witch when I was alive, it's why I haunt the Narcissus coven still. We can be a team ya know, it was difficult when I lost Kaan, he was very important to me." She pours Abel more drink, stays away from drinking the cocktail that was spiked with the river lethe because she didn't want to escape into oblivion. "You'll do a lot better than Silas, Vivianne was good but she carried a lot of the pain from her father who came before her. It could be a good and new chapter having you as Sovereign."
"He and I should have had the air cleared between us a long time ago, but I'm stubborn as a bull sometimes," the Castle frowned, words bespoke of regretted fondness of the Sacrifice, Kaan true to his moniker to the bitter end. How often Abel had judged and scrutinized, when the Castle was truly no different deep down. Abel offered a nod of thanks as the drinks kept coming along, the frown twisting into an embittered smile, "I don't know, I bear similar scars from Silas, but I suppose we'll have to see where this year takes us." Abel's glass is raised as though Valentina will reciprocate a mock cheers to their situations, parallel but distinct from one another.
Ageless. She schooled her face away from the anxiety that she felt bubbled to the surface. Vivianne figured immortality was something she wouldn't truly understand any time soon, but it would be long enough from then that she figured she had time to prepare herself. She didn't reply, only gave Abel a small and nervous half-hearted shrug. "I am," Vivianne admitted, letting go of some of the tension in her shoulders to give him a true smile. "It's a little bit daunting. I've never known anything except being a Sovereign since I was 19 but being scared is a good sign, I think. The Dahlia is my family and I will give up anything for this family but sooner or later I would have had to pass on the mantel. Sovereigns aren't meant to be eternal, Pythia is a very good example of that. Better now... now that I trust those who would have followed me."
She smiled, perking up in her seat. "Abel, I never got to go to college." Many people didn't, but the difference is she had wanted to. Vivianne only ever showed faint expressions that she hid quite well when people suggested it in the past, hiding selfish desires to build many things for herself that weren't attached to her coven. She made the Dahlia her entire life and so it was terrifying to get past that and likely unbelievable for so many - she had never shown herself to be anything more than a Sovereign. That, Vivianne realized, was the problem. "I never really felt I had the choice to. I gave every bit of myself to the Dahlia that I didn't let myself start school or a family or a business or anything at all. The coven didn't stop me, I know that... I stopped myself. Even now I don't think it would be possible to give myself more freedom as a Sovereign without the guilt. The pressure I felt after Silas' shortcomings seemed to just narrow the choices I allowed myself and it was so much worse when everyone was looking at me to fix things as their leader. Now I'll learn and I'll be better. And I'll be right beside you all until the end, no matter what... Unless, of course, you finally kick me out of the House wards," she teased to be more lighthearted, "which would be very rude."
Witches had to grasp the notion of mortality long before they ever bit the dust; ancient power dwelt in their veins, schools of magic to master, but they each knew it wasn't about forever. Those who tinkered with their life force, pilfered from others, were merely on a swift descent on losing themself entirely; to keep his magic, Abel had never surmised that to be a fair tradeoff. What good could forever be if it came with the very cost of yourself? Vivianne, however, was no longer a witch; and Abel couldn't resonate to how she truly felt, not only on an emotional level towards the changes but on the very physical front that she no longer possessed magic she'd known all her life. Vivianne could handle the burden of an entire coven, she could often handle the idea of sacrificing herself for them entirely; and it resonated with her strength that she could handle this newfound immorality, this complete change of physiology. "The difference between your legacy and the Pythia's is that you had saved this entire coven, built it back from the ground up; they cannot say that about any nefarious practice they've ever upheld. You might be immortal now," he chuckled, for it was still weird to state, "-but your mark on this coven was immortalized long before you were ever changed, Viv."
Her influence upon the Dahlia was this vital cornerstone that permanently set the course of redemption for Silas' stain upon them; Vivianne's blood, her grit, tears, every ounce of care and devotion had been pried from the oracle and infused within the walls of this very coven. Abel would pass long before her, but the Castle would never forget the one he'd grown with, laughed with, and rebuilt with. A leader, his family, something of a sister that he'd never had before. Abel snapped his fingers, that sad look transitioning into more of a grin, "You better go to college, now." Now as in, inevitably; Vivianne had limitless time ahead of her, she could go to college a dozen times over if it suited her, but Abel wished for her to explore each avenue that didn't come with the worry of the Dahlia tacked onto her experience. "We'll be okay here without you, promise." Pride radiated off Abel, though she had been the Sovereign, there was often times Abel felt he was looking out for her and he merely wished for her to accomplish what she sought. "But when push comes to shove, the wards will always welcome you, I'll set it in stone," accompanied with a wink, he wasn't sure when Vivianne's Dahlia chapter would officially close but he was certain, considering her eternally bleeding heart, that she'd come to offer her influence for years and centuries to come.
upper right arm; cherry blossoms - these signify rebirth, renewal, and new beginnings.
back; various - a simple butterfly signifies transformation and hope. statue of david face significant of independence strength, etc.
left hand; just some cute lil leaves.
right knee; olive branch - signifies conciliation of goodwill, a symbol of peace.
stomach; cosmos - symbolize order, harmony, and balance.
6: right forearm; dahlia - tattoo/mark of his coven. dahlia's can represent dignity, inner strength, and kindness.
who?: open to all || @senatusstarters where?: parco savello
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She was old, Death was at her door and so Hwijid was her shadow when he had the time to spare. Her will to remain kept her body alive, but her soul was marked. Prayer was her only remaining comfort and he would be there to replace her prayers before she realized their futility. Hwijid only needed to play sentry for a while longer, all to ensure she received the natural death she currently was fated for. It was the least he could do, considering what came next. On the park bench, her breath haggard and shallow, it couldn't imagine she lasted much longer no matter how much she wanted to. "Do not interfere. She will make peace with it in her own time. Allow her the dignity," Hwijid says as he suddenly reveals himself on the bench next to her. Her mortal eyes couldn't perceive him, otherwise she'd recognize the shadow from her recent dreams. However, the creatures of the realm could be vicious and at the very least he hoped his appearance was foreboding enough. Seeing the Boss, even to submit a special request, didn't feel worth it since he'd inevitably have to see at least one cat-sith too. "Believe me, she deserves peace. If she accepts it this time."
Abel looked far away from the woman as the Reaper appeared; he understood the mechanics of it, but witnessing one die, even from natural causes, was almost this unbearable sense of bystander syndrome. "I know not to interfere with a reaper," where once they seemed infrequent and imperceptible entity within this realm, it was a little weird for the Castle to have met not one, but two. Abel didn't understand where Marisol, after making her ultimate sacrifice, would go but there was this strange twist of comfort in the message Abel found now that he'd run into another Reaper. Life had a funny way of translating grief, love, any transcendent message and his lips pulled in a tight line as Abel tried to blur out the haggard breathing of the woman. "I think it's every humans inescapable flaw, to keep fighting when everything else is against you." He still couldn't turn his head to look at her and as such the reaper, too, was not visible to him.
"Yeah, blades and stuff. You know..." She paused to pretend to use a sword and swung her hands back and forth. Actually, it probably looked more like she was using a lightsaber. Well, that was pretty much the same thing. Were lightsabers more dangerous than swords? She'd have to look into that. Lightsabers could burn you, but swords could, you know, cut you. Whatever. It didn't matter. She wanted to learn how to use either. "I would never try to kick your ass. What kind of person do you take me for?" Nabi was no fighter by any means and she had never pretended to be. Honestly, it seemed about right that she had gotten her head popped like a watermelon before everything else had happened. That was so crazy. "Yeah, you'll help me learn how to fight. I'm sure we can spar or something. I promise I won't go for your hip. You know, since you're old."
Often times he wondered how Nabi genuinely survived the quotidian thrum of life and this all but proved his concerns; but he smiled anyway. The Castle had learned long ago, established as a marshal and Watcher, to let go of any judgments and accept the face value of what was presented to him. People tended to reveal themselves, be more open-minded, convey honesty when the Castle didn't fit them into some pre-established box. A ghoul had once sought to destroy him and the Dahlia from the inside out and now they were practically allies; maybe Nabi, too, would surprise him with her strengths. "Okay, I get it, no sparing, I'll crack a hip," ensue the eye roll, "I can teach you about herbs, fundamentals of magic." A statement but it was meant as more of a navigated question; eladrin's practiced through song but perhaps some witchy ideals could translate.
"No, and I am glad for that. I've dealt with enough crying over a bad card reading," well, bad given that not all those that come for a tarot reading actually understand what the cards mean. Riley had a sensitive side, a soft spot for those suffering, but she was also a Scorpio, after all. A soft grin had tailored itself to her lips then, her own meager attempt at joking in the moment. Perhaps she could understand the need for the markets, for the party to celebrate loss. Though perhaps she just felt as if there was more to do. That the stars held some truth to what awaited the city beyond the next cycle. "And for you?" Her gaze now turned upon him, "You've had some changes. Is this helping?"
A light grin flourished, often the Castle had watched Rome be brought to the brink of destruction, had been the very witness as they all endured to rebuild. Each time was a bittersweet resonance that teetered a line of being consuming if one pondered too closely upon it; how many times would they have to grit their teeth, bear the thought of some inevitable end? Death often loomed close until He decided to skip them once more, exhausting and cyclical, but Abel never let it break him down completely. "I've always told Viv never to trust me with too much responsibility, but I think after a good twenty five years I can step up to the plate," consistently underselling himself, the Castle was an integral piece of the Dahlia.