SOHR KHAI

“Never shall our grief be assuaged nor our loss forgotten, but reconciliation may yet halt the spread of this plague of enmity. Forsake thy vengeance and be at peace.”

[akhafah-blog]

(Apologies for the short disappearance, had computer problems for a few days and generally had a busy week. I'll pick back up later tonight)

[akhafah-blog]

((Hey all sorry for being absent for a couple days kinda Basically been incredibly sleep deprived bc of life stuff I'll get to responses and stuff within a couple days))

[akhafah-blog]

Nobility Obliges

[akhafah-blog]

bloodcursed:

☩ | “DEPENDS ON WHAT YOU EAT.”

Meat, blood, souls, magic, gold— the myths around dragons and their diets were as infinite as the blue skies above them. It was a depressingly mundane concern, regardless of what the answer actually was. Truth was, the prince of darkness could only infer from his own distant life-time as human. 

        “THERE ARE MARKETS AND STORES IF YOU EXIT THE PARK TO THE NORTH.”

He paused, dulled eyes observing the reptilian creature. It dawned on him that the size was misleading, this manner of speaking was simply not that of a fledgling. There was something older about this creature but… how old? He cocked his head back, continuing his explanation while trying to puzzle out what he talked to. 

         “THOSE SCIENTISTS ALLOWED THEMSELVES A REAL JOKE TO SUBJUGATE ONE OF YOUR KIND TO THE CHORES OF MORTALS, DRAGON. IT’S HOW HUMANS DEAL TO SURVIVE. THEY BUILD A SOCIETY. THERE ARE MARKETS AND STORES ALL OVER THE CITY BUT YOU WILL STILL NEED MONEY. YOU HAVE MEANS OF ACQUIRING MONEY,… DO YOU?”

Both immortals seem to be equally as curious of each other. There’s still something to this man that the dragon can’t quite place. He has no light in his eyes, Hraesvelgr can’t help but notice.

“... Diminished though my size is, my frame is larger than that of a human. How am I to seek employment if I struggle to fit through doorways?” He mutters, irritated. “Cursed mages see fit to watch me struggle for scraps. So... no, I certainly do not have means of acquiring money.”

The dragon’s mouth curls into a haughty sneer, not directed at Dracul, but present all the same.

“I suppose what we were given at the start was not intended to last us the full duration of our imprisonment, then. I thank thee for your advice, regardless.”

[umbralsun-blog]

akhafah:

The dragon gives a great sigh. “I feared this possibility. At even the most diminished level of my strength, I possess the capacity to project the meaning of my words into the ears of others. This place hath robbed me of my own tongue,” he bitterly explains.

“This place hath robbed me of so, so much more. Eons upon eons of work, of blood, of growth, and I am spirited away with no struggle or effort.” The dragon seems to simply be… venting. Hraesvelgr hesitates for a moment.

“If you would lend an ear, I wish to tell my tale. Perhaps it will lend clarity to this pitiful creature’s odd melancholy.”

They were certainly in the same boat, weren’t they. Divine creatures brought low, humiliated. Gwyndolin saw no point in wallowing in one’s own self-pity, but there may be few others in the city who could sympathize with him. They were alone, for the moment.

“Go ahead,” she settles back into her chair, getting comfortable, in case this was long. Knowing dragons, it would be. That was fine, though. It was a long train ride.

[akhafah-blog]

Hrasevelgr nods, then starts. “I shall keep it brief.”

“Long ago, my kind and the mortal races were at war, as they attempted to claim our lands from us without diplomacy. The war was bloody, and raged on ceaselessly. The end came as a mortal woman named Shiva approached me one day, fearless as she was. She made an attempt at reconciliation, to stem the tide of violence and prevent the senseless conflict from claiming another life.” The dragon pauses momentarily, seeming lost in his own thoughts.

“We quickly found beauty in each other. Our love was as deep as the blue seas. We inspired both of our nations to be at peace. Shiva’s true wish.” Yet again, the dragon has to pause, wrestling with his own mind.

“But the life of a mortal is but a mere grain of sand in a desert when compared with a dragon’s. Thus, when the reality of such a pairing sank in, she bade me... consume her. An end to her life by my doing, to forever intertwine our souls.”

“It was not long after that the races of man betrayed our peace, killing my sister, Ratatoskr. In retaliation, my brother Nidhogg cajoled me, convinced me to lend him a portion of my power so that he may wage war on mortals. Beyond that, however... the thought of my beloved Shiva kept me from enacting the bitter revenge I so craved. Conflicted, I retreated to my roost, desiring naught but the embrace of oblivion, a rather distant promise for my kind. I allowed myself to succumb to despair and anger, the faintest glimmer of hope being shrouded in the darkness of night.”

“It is only mere months ago that the Warrior of Light was able to pierce the bitter shell I had constructed around myself, as well as... another. A woman who believed herself my love, reborn. She used my lover’s legacy for her own purposes... a belief given form and turned into a weapon. Despicable. And, yet...” The dragon shifts in his seat, having grown stiff. He peers over at Gwyndolin, as if checking to see if she is still listening.

“Both her and the Warrior of Light held a genuine desire for peace, to end a cycle of bloodshed in response to a sin committed in times immemorial. She shone a light on the merest speck of hope I harbored in my heart, for I could not truly give up on the world which Shiva loved so dearly. Thus, I lent the Warrior of Light a portion of my power to slay my power-maddened brother and end the Dragonsong War, creating peace in Shiva’s nave.”

Hraesvelgr sighs once more.

“And now, in the wake of my metaphorical revival, it hath been snatched from me mere moments after my victory. A bringing of peace in which I could allow myself contentment in the wake of my beloved’s departure, a pain which feels as if it occurred mere days ago...”

[umbralsun-blog]

Slowly, the dragon’s neck cranes over to peer at the goddess. He simply shakes his head, returning to staring firmly at the floor. Quietly sitting for a few moments, he finally opens his mouth,

“Gwyndolin. Thy presence is come at a time of great… turmoil,” he starts. To her, he mutters something. The words are unfamiliar, but the tone is striking, forceful. He looks for recognition in Gwyndolin’s eyes, seemingly testing to see if she can understand it.

Unfortunately, there is no recognition in her face, only puzzlement, her pale brows knitted. She didn’t speak his particular dragon tongue, only those from her own world, and Seathe had made an effort to meet the gods halfway when it came to communication. “Pardon? I can see you’re upset, there isn’t any reason to go speaking in tongues at me.” Her tone is gently chiding. “What is the matter?

[akhafah-blog]

The dragon gives a great sigh. "I feared this possibility. At even the most diminished level of my strength, I possess the capacity to project the meaning of my words into the ears of others. This place hath robbed me of my own tongue," he bitterly explains.

"This place hath robbed me of so, so much more. Eons upon eons of work, of blood, of growth, and I am spirited away with no struggle or effort." The dragon seems to simply be... venting. Hraesvelgr hesitates for a moment.

"If you would lend an ear, I wish to tell my tale. Perhaps it will lend clarity to this pitiful creature's odd melancholy."

[akhafah-blog]

εїз

The Lighthouse

The train clatters along the track once more. It’s late, very late, and the train’s nearly empty. Certainly, there’s some element of nightlife hustling and bustling about, but in small enough numbers that the dragon quite nearly has a train car all to himself.

Things have been… rough. He’s nearly been in this place for a month. In any other situation, the passing of a single month would have felt like nothing but a single grain of sand in the hourglass. But this was torturous. This city did not afford him a moment’s quiet. All of the housing in that wretched underground was cramped together, and the city was full to bursting. At least, it seemed that way.

For such a secluded figure, it was a nightmare. He had no moogles to pay him tribute while he sat alone on his spire near Zenith. Nobody to deliver him food, he’d have to do that himself. Riding back home from another of his excursions, it all quite suddenly overwhelmed him.

He mutters to himself, his tone dour and contemplative, anxiety only serving to spark lethargy and apathy. “This place is set to break…” He hardly notices a familiar face take a seat beside him. It’s hard to tell whether he’s trying to compose a poem, or simply speaking, given how he normally speaks.

“…I embrace the storm and the night…”

[umbralsun-blog]

“Hraesvelgr.” Ah, see. She remembered. Gwyndolin looks just about as beat herself, resting her chin on her knuckles, her coat carelessly thrown on over her dress. With her illusion dropped, she looks extra pale and worn out, but she’d used up her teleport slots and the train was the cheapest way home. She didn’t fancy the idea of standing out on the street trying to get a cab this time of night. “Feeling inspired, are we?”

[akhafah-blog]

Slowly, the dragon’s neck cranes over to peer at the goddess. He simply shakes his head, returning to staring firmly at the floor. Quietly sitting for a few moments, he finally opens his mouth,

“Gwyndolin. Thy presence is come at a time of great... turmoil,” he starts. To her, he mutters something. The words are unfamiliar, but the tone is striking, forceful. He looks for recognition in Gwyndolin’s eyes, seemingly testing to see if she can understand it.

[akhafah-blog]

εїз

What Time Taught Us

The dragon sat calmly amongst a small patch of greenery in this... bizarre, dangerous city. Moments of calm are a scarcity, both for the city and for the wyrm himself. Some time prior, he’d been in the grip of a panic attack, but now he sits awaiting the dawn, letting the emotions wash over him in a moment of peace, not unfeeling, but... coping. Getting by.

He opens his eyes to see a familiar face. One he still had so many questions for, left over from their last encounter. After a few moments, he rumbles out a comment.

“Nothing lasts for good, or like you thought it would. I feel certain we both have lost much coming to this place. We parted hastily in our prior meeting. Please, if you would honor me with a conversation. I wish to know more about your ‘Naga’.”

[professionaldreamjester-deactiv]

Send me "Switcheroo!" and I'll redesign your muse as if they were from my muse's universe

[passafrisk-blog]

Alternatively, send me “Switcheroo Reversed” and I’ll redesign my muse for your muse’s universe.

[akhafah-blog]

εїз

Circles

It’s all so overwhelming. So very overwhelming. First the apathy set in. Then the panic. Thousands of years of wisdom held nothing for him in this very moment. He was who-knows-how far away from everything he’d ever held dear. Everything he knew how to deal with. Him and his departed beloved moved a society, a world. And now... he was a nobody.

At first, the shock left him numb. Just earlier he felt as if he’d come to terms with his imprisonment. But sometimes it gets us on our better days. The dragon wanders in the night, feeling as if he were to suffocate. The hyperventilating dragon draw a few glances from passers-by, obviously. Not every day you see a dragon have a panic attack. But that ancient mind succumbed to all its basest fears, in this place where he was utterly, entirely vulnerable. He barely even noticed as he passed by a certain Prince of Madness...

“You’re just a victim of the circumstance...” was his attempt at calming himself, at finding some solace in this.

[akhafah-blog]

εїз

The Lighthouse

The train clatters along the track once more. It’s late, very late, and the train’s nearly empty. Certainly, there’s some element of nightlife hustling and bustling about, but in small enough numbers that the dragon quite nearly has a train car all to himself.

Things have been... rough. He’s nearly been in this place for a month. In any other situation, the passing of a single month would have felt like nothing but a single grain of sand in the hourglass. But this was torturous. This city did not afford him a moment’s quiet. All of the housing in that wretched underground was cramped together, and the city was full to bursting. At least, it seemed that way.

For such a secluded figure, it was a nightmare. He had no moogles to pay him tribute while he sat alone on his spire near Zenith. Nobody to deliver him food, he’d have to do that himself. Riding back home from another of his excursions, it all quite suddenly overwhelmed him.

He mutters to himself, his tone dour and contemplative, anxiety only serving to spark lethargy and apathy. “This place is set to break...” He hardly notices a familiar face take a seat beside him. It’s hard to tell whether he’s trying to compose a poem, or simply speaking, given how he normally speaks.

“...I embrace the storm and the night...”

[roleplayerpositivity-blog]

send me a εїз

and i’ll make a starter with a line from the last song the mun has listened to.

[akhafah-blog]

Nobility Obliges

[bloodcursed]

akhafah:

bloodcursed

The train screeched to a halt at its stop. Over time, the small(ish) dragon became accustomed to this strange mode of transportation. And thus, he was more willing to get off at unfamiliar stops, his exploration became much more ambitious.

Such was how the dragon ended up in Sector Six. Seemingly ‘normal’ in most regards. For a modern mortal, that is. Still alien to the dragon, however. Hraesvelgr wanders off the platform and simply starts to march down the streets, observing the normal citizens and fellow abductees alike.

That’s when it happens. A sudden pang of hunger. The dragon sighs, hopelessly looking about his surroundings for some way of acquiring food. His eyes catch a passerby ahead of him, and the dragon begrudgingly approaches. The less social contact, the better. The less dragon-related terror he has to deal with, the better, too.

“Do not be cowed by my presence, mortal. I merely wish to ask…”

Hraesvelgr cuts himself off. Something is… odd about this one. Something he can’t quite put his finger on. It gives the wyrm more than a moment’s pause.

☩ | Even before he turned to look around who this voice belonged to, when he heard it in his head he felt something stir beneath his skin. The cursed blood reacted, like it coursed faster for a second. Almost as if this heart beat again. It carried something overwhelming in a way he did not quite understand.

Though once his eyes met with the speaker, he felt he understood better.

      “…I’M NOT A MORTAL.”

Came the correction nevertheless. Was it the cursed heart of him that reacted to a possibly real dragon? The red-eyed man held back with his questions concerning this- or whether it was another kind of creature capable of taking the form of one. In a way he was like that after all. Even if a dragon represented his true, bestial form, his preferred and usual state was this one. And what he was talking to or who, he’d find out soon enough.

Lifting his head, he motioned for the wyrm to continue.

     “SO…WHAT DO YOU WISH TO ASK?”

[akhafah-blog]

Hraesvelgr is taken slightly aback by Dracul’s appearance. His mind raced with possibilities for just who and what he was facing. A voidsent? No... it’d be too easy to classify anything as a voidsent in this place. Some practitioner of ill magicks? He’s almost certain he’s heard whisperings of an undead emperor of Allag, it’s certainly possible...

Speculation wasn’t helping him any, so he asked the vampire the mundane question he intended to.

“... Where would thy go to obtain food in this region? I’ve never been to this Sector before.” He almost feels foolish asking the question. It’s certainly not a question he’s had to ask before.

[akhafah-blog]

Phobia Drabble Prompts

Agateophobia: Your muse thinks they're going crazy, and mine is trying to talk them down.

Agliophobia: My muse nurses yours after an injury.

Agrizoophobia: Our muses encounter a wild animal.

Amnesiphobia: Your muse has forgotten mine, and mine is trying to make yours remember.

Angrophobia: My muse is furious at your muse.

Anthrophobia: My muse brings yours flowers.

Arsonphobia: Our muses are trapped in a burning building.

Asthenophobia: Your muse passes out in my muse's arms.

Atychiphobia: My muse comforts yours after a (real or perceived) failure.

Brontophobia: Our muses are caught in a storm together.

Catagelophobia: Your muse catches mine doing something embarrassing.

Chionophobia: Fluffy drabble about our muses playing in the snow.

Chorophobia: Our muses dance together.

Chrometophobia: My muse helps yours out of a financial crisis, or vice-versa.

Chronophobia: AU drabble about our muses in a different time era.

Cibophobia: My muse cooks a meal for yours.

Cleptophobia: Your muse steals something from mine.

Coimetrophobia: My muse visits your muse's grave.

Coitophobia: A smutty drabble about our muses.

Cyberphobia: Our muses talk in a chat room, but don't realize their chat partners are each other.

Dikephobia: My muse is pressing criminal charges against yours.

Dipsophobia: Our muses drinking together.

Ergophobia: My muse hires yours to work for them.

Gamophobia: Our muses get married.

Gerascophobia: Our muses meet each other forty years from now.

Gymnophobia: My muses accidentally sees yours naked.

Iatrophobia: My muse accompanies yours to a doctor's appointment.

Limnophobia: Your muse saves mine from drowning.

Lockiophobia: Our muses have a baby together.

Macrophobia: Our muses are waiting for something bad, and trying to distract each other from the thought.

Mastigophoiba: My muse punishes yours for something (either smutty or angsty, specify).

Melophobia: My muse performs a song for yours.

Merinthophobia: My muse finds yours tied or chained up.

Metrophobia: My muse writes a poem for yours.

Necrophobia: My muse just found out that yours has died.

Nosemaphobia: Your muse is ill, and mine is taking care of them.

Oneirophobia: My muse has a dream about yours.

Phasmophobia: Your muse is visited by my muse's ghost.

Soceraphobia: Your muse meets my muse's parents.

Zelophobia: My muse is feeling jealous of yours.

[akhafah-blog]

Nobility Sleeps

[mimiguard-blog]

akhafah:

dracoscion

Wandering the city is the best way to gather information on it. At least, that’s Hraesvelgr’s logic. Despite being somewhat of a recluse in his own world, he can’t help but feel quite the compulsion to find out as much as he can about this odd, strange city. Although he’d probably regard it more as a prison than a city.

Thus, he’s seen quite the interesting sights. Normal civilians inhabit the city, certainly. But they don’t draw the eye quite as much as the other oddities abducted by the scientists that run the place. At least, not Hraesvelgr’s.

In particular, one green-haired girl seems to catch his eye. She looks quite young, and her ears remind her of his world’s Elezen. But there’s something about the way she carries herself, something about the air she gives off that slightly confuses him. Something almost familiar about it…

He approaches the girl, albeit slightly hesitantly.

“Excuse my intrusion, mortal. I must needs know your name. I cannot shake a sense of familiarity I have about you.”

 Tiki, to be entirely honest, had thought she had been hallucinating. It had been centuries since she last saw a full dragon - or even just a Manakete beyond herself and Nowi - so it was hard to believe her eyes when she finally found one, diminutive as its size may be.

 Her racing mind was finally put to rest when she heard its voice, proving that it was not simply a mirage (or, if it was, a very convincing one.) It seemed to know her, somehow… Was this, perhaps, a forgotten God from her Archanean days? It was at this point that she remembered her status, along with the fact that she had been asked a question, and quickly composed herself.

 “Please, worry yourself not, noble dragon,” she excused him with a smile and a low bow. “I am Lady Tiki, Voice of the Divine Dragon, Naga. I hope it is not rude to ask yours in return.”

[akhafah-blog]

Divine Dragon Naga? Hraesvelgr certainly isn’t familiar with that entity, but this girl does seem to be involved in dragon affairs. Just... perhaps not in a world he knew. But is she...?

“I am the Great Wyrm Hraesvelgr, of the First Brood of Midgardsormr,” he states, tone dripping with pride. He apparently holds... some sort of status? “Forgive my intrusion into thy matters. Something about you reminded me of my own home. If thou art a mortal herald of some distant holy dragon, that feeling is explained to me.” 

Perhaps in her world, dragons were regarded by mortals as beings of worship, not entirely unlike the ‘heretic’ sons and daughters of Ishgard. He’s... not quite perceiving the whole of the situation, it seems.

[akhafah-blog]

Nobility Obliges

bloodcursed

The train screeched to a halt at its stop. Over time, the small(ish) dragon became accustomed to this strange mode of transportation. And thus, he was more willing to get off at unfamiliar stops, his exploration became much more ambitious.

Such was how the dragon ended up in Sector Six. Seemingly ‘normal’ in most regards. For a modern mortal, that is. Still alien to the dragon, however. Hraesvelgr wanders off the platform and simply starts to march down the streets, observing the normal citizens and fellow abductees alike.

That’s when it happens. A sudden pang of hunger. The dragon sighs, hopelessly looking about his surroundings for some way of acquiring food. His eyes catch a passerby ahead of him, and the dragon begrudgingly approaches. The less social contact, the better. The less dragon-related terror he has to deal with, the better, too.

“Do not be cowed by my presence, mortal. I merely wish to ask...”

Hraesvelgr cuts himself off. Something is... odd about this one. Something he can’t quite put his finger on. It gives the wyrm more than a moment’s pause.

[akhafah-blog]

((im pretty out of it tonight, i’ll get to that other starter tomorrow! ty for the patience!))

[akhafah-blog]

Nobility Sleeps

dracoscion

Wandering the city is the best way to gather information on it. At least, that’s Hraesvelgr’s logic. Despite being somewhat of a recluse in his own world, he can’t help but feel quite the compulsion to find out as much as he can about this odd, strange city. Although he’d probably regard it more as a prison than a city.

Thus, he’s seen quite the interesting sights. Normal civilians inhabit the city, certainly. But they don’t draw the eye quite as much as the other oddities abducted by the scientists that run the place. At least, not Hraesvelgr’s.

In particular, one green-haired girl seems to catch his eye. She looks quite young, and her ears remind her of his world’s Elezen. But there’s something about the way she carries herself, something about the air she gives off that slightly confuses him. Something almost familiar about it...

He approaches the girl, albeit slightly hesitantly.

“Excuse my intrusion, mortal. I must needs know your name. I cannot shake a sense of familiarity I have about you.”