sundered

a private the dark crystal rp blog written by tori

[andundone]

spiritfarer   /   accepting !

@crystalcracked​ asked: ‘shit, I’m much more emotional than I thought I could ever be.’ // now you know this shit just leaves hup as 'hup... sad TTATT' @ gra tbh

THE HERETIC REMEMBERS FLINGING PODLINGS ASIDE with cruel, gleeful ease back in his days of blood-spattered conquest. But his heart had ached a strange swell of fear to see this one thrown over their heads from the clutch of skekMal’s claws; had tightened his throat with worry when he'd found his small body crashed into one of his hammocks like a battered doll.

“Hussshhh, small one. Still need your rest.” He's there at Hup's makeshift bedside, head tilted as he watches the podling wrestle with more emotion than he thought them capable of. It mirrors his own feelings all twisted up and tangled inside his chest, throbbing with conflict and an uncertainty he refuses to voice aloud. Especially since he’s removed himself from urVa’s wounded side when his worried whimpers weren't helping as much as urGoh’s long, low song notes. He’s always detested a sense of helplessness.

So his talons fidget restlessly together and his voice pitches higher with doubt piled and pointed beneath his tongue. “The Archer will be fine, the gelfling will be fine, you will be fine! Yes, yes— all will be fine!” But he actually seems to catch himself what with the Wanderer’s warm throat-music sinking in past the barriers of flimsy flesh. Forces a wave of calm into his tone as he exhales a shuddered breath and leans down slightly closer. Lets a weak smile slot itself into the subtle tilt of his brow and the corners of his eyes.

“...You were very brave, you know. Never seen a podling do that before.”

[andundone]

RIAN,

𝐓𝐇𝐄  𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒  𝐀𝐑𝐄  𝐊𝐍𝐈𝐕𝐄𝐒  𝐀𝐍𝐃  𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐘  𝐂𝐔𝐓  𝐃𝐄𝐄𝐏  ⸻  to  be  seen  is  a  weakness  he  will  not  allow  this  one  to  savor  ,  not  for  a  moment  !  there’s  a  brief  second  or  two  where  his  fire  threatens  to  consume  ,  and  yet  he  holds  back  for  want  of  looking  the   dousan  square  in  the  eyes  when  he  fabricates  lies  as  truth  .  he  doesn’t  care  one  way  or  the  other  what  this  one  chooses  to  believe  ;  only  that  he  won’t  confess  with  his  lips  that  he  cannot  tolerate  more  losses  .  that  he’s  never  wanted  them  in  the  beginning  ,  and  that  this  one  ,  in  the  stonewood’s  skewed  perception  ,  represents  and  reveres  the  very  thing  he  fears  :

death  .  not  his  own  .  just  of  those  he  loves  .

❝   i  fear  nothing   ,   ❞  he  says  ,  smoothing  the  sharp  edges  of  his  voice  into  something  a  little  more  tidy  ;  something  collected  like  the  dousan’s  ,  only  his  composure  is  like  that  of  a  dam  waiting  to  burst  open  .  ❝   you  must  think  you’re  so  keen  .  so  wise  ;  so  discerning  …  well  !  you’re  wrong  .  i  simply  know  a  snake  when  i  see  one  ,   ❞  the  soldier  steps  back  a  pace  or  two  ,  voice  laced  with  a  sickly  -  sweet  air  that  is  naught  more  than  mockery  .  any  other  gelfling  with  a  sounder  mind  would  have   thought  him  to  be  suffering  from  sun  frenzy  .  the  desert  air  is  hot  and  dry  ,  after  all  ⸻  nearly  seems  to  feed  into  a  stonewood’s  blaze  .

❝   i  suppose  you  have  a  funny  way  of  bestowing  your  …  seeds  of  friendship  .  i  may  not  know  you  ,  but  i  know  you’re  quite  crafty  at  hiding  your  intentions  behind  pretty  ,   innocent  words  .  kylan  ,  bless  his  song  telling  heart  ,  would  be  enraptured  .  pretty  sure  he  was  .  except  unlike  him  ,  somehow  ,  i  simply  can’t  trust  you  .  i’m  quite  certain  i’m  not  the  only  one  .  hup  doesn’t  trust  you  either  ,  and  he’s  a  podling  .  but  …  they  can  be  quite  perceptive  when  they  wish  to  be  .  but  i  do  wonder  what  reason  he’d  have  to  mistrust  you  ,   ❞  rian  says  with  a  shrug  of  his  shoulders  ,  his  gaze  never  wavering  from  the  dousan’s  .  ❝   so  go  ahead  ,  sand  snake  .  by  all  means  ,  do  not  heed  my  words  .  but  i  will  unearth  you  .  and  if  you  ever  ⸻  ever  ⸻  hurt  the  princess  ,  my  steel  will  be  the  last  thing  you  ever  see  .  for  steel  is  all  i  am  ,  and  i  will  never  hesitate  to  use  it  .   ❞

THOUGH THE SANDMASTER CARRIES A COMPOSURE cool as the Claw Mountains, he was born from dunes and fire. Felt a blaze flare white-hot through him when he'd first been inked; remembers the burning of the embers at the base of his throat to prowl besides skekMal himself to stalk prey together across vast, treacherous landscapes. Knows the licking of flames low in his belly to gaze hooded across a bonfire at someone with the same, come-hither look calling to the smolder of his blood. So he is no stranger to fire and its burn beneath the skin.

Clearly, it is all Rian feels. Plain enough that Rek'yr's ears pin back in a languid swivel as he lets the soldier spit his suspicions freely. No need to keep them caged, though he finds himself wondering how other gelfling can express themselves so brazen and boldly. His own people speak more in signed hand gestures and body language than in the fall of their voices. But Rian uses his breath to its fullest, mocking him shamelessly to further bury the exposed nerve that had shown itself mere moments ago in the widening of his eyes.

In most circumstances, the dune-walker might simply bow his head and walk away. But because he knows the root of it — the fear so crudely denied between those tightened teeth — he would rather persist. Would rather cut to the quick and see what bleeds forth from all that guarded resolve that must’ve been built up strong to protect a noble heart. A noble heart with quite the mouth on it that should still learn to curb its lashing tongue.

“...If steel is all you are, then I've been speaking the wrong language.” And in the snap of an instant, Rek'yr glides forward and lifts his arm. Slips a hidden blade from the sleeve of his cloak to press just beneath the Stonewood's proud chin and tilt it upwards only slightly. “Perhaps you will hear me now?” He lazily presses more weight on his dagger as he leans closer with voice low and velvet-soft. “I have a feeling you don’t want to listen. Not until I show you why you should.”

[stardustprompts]

spiritfarer  sentence starters  part 1 change tenses/pronouns as needed !! tw : death ,  depression / mental health ,  language 

‘I thought for a second you would never wake up.’

‘I’m afraid you will have to pick up things where I left them.’

‘In a few minutes I will be gone from this world.’

‘there is no task more important than this one.’

‘oh, how highly inappropriate.’

‘hope is a flame, the light that never falters, the beacon of eternity’

‘it is heavy and inconvenient, but there is no greater duty than this one.’

‘funny how I used to be the one getting you out of trouble before.’

‘I’m not one to jump for joy but this feels good!’

‘you need to come here and give me a hug.’

‘let’s take a look at this chaos.’

‘you know me. I plan things meticulously. very. meticulously. ‘

‘I know you must feel overwhelmed.’

‘I’ll do my best to help you and try to make sense of it all.’

‘the world is your oyster.’

‘hard to know what he has in mind but it doesn’t sound reassuring.’

‘you know how terrible a cook I am.’

‘something scares the hell out of me. a dark presence, and even I cower from it.’

‘yes, I’m fully aware of the irony.’

‘I’ll have to face my fears.’

‘but you’re here. with you I can do it.’

‘I’ll be patiently waiting. slowly digesting myself.’

‘speaking of sleep, time for me to take a nap.’

‘congratulations! for you have become death, the destroyer of worlds!’

‘you know me, I would kill a plastic cactus, so don’t take my work on this.’

‘since I don’t want you to get swindled, I’ll come with you and do most of the talking.’

‘oh let me guess! I’m a bit of a psychic you know …’

‘a stroll a day keeps the doctor away. which reminds me … I haven’t been to the doctor in forever.’

‘I won’t let him get away with this.’

‘people like you are the reason we have middle fingers.’

‘next time I see you, I’ll try being nicer. if you try being smarter.’

‘don’t follow me, please. I hate it when people know where I live.’

‘listen. I just don’t want junk mail.’

‘you’ll have to find better mentors than me.’

‘my fingers were all sticky. it just sorta slipped.’

‘it was lonely with my thoughts.’

‘let’s set sail for a great adventure.’

‘you sure know how to treat yourself.’

‘they never stood a chance. you sure don’t mess around.’

‘get ready for the thrill of your life!’

‘I wasn’t sure if you were going to make it for a second there.’

‘I kinda lied earlier. it’s not so great up here. but you’re here so it might get better.’

‘I’d show you the secret handshake, but I don’t know where your hands have been.’

‘my sister keeps asking me for money. how can I say no without saying no? maybe I should ask someone to rob me.’

‘you came to rescue me again, have you?’

‘this time, I’ll be the one doing the teaching.’

‘yes, I feel I can grow quite nicely here.’

‘you see, a garden is a vessel of our love, a mirror we hold to ourselves.’

‘I didn’t want to disturb you with this but for the last several weeks, I’ve been having strange dreams.’

‘you’ve been terrific up to this point and it would be terribly rude of me to blame you for anything.’

‘see, even I can be filled with nostalgia sometimes.’

‘you know me, I’m ‘mr. personality’.’

‘you don’t have to worry. I’ll be alright. sorry I even brought it up.’

‘I’ve been passing the time by writing letters and throwing some in the water.’

‘I’ve been writing poetry. it’s not very good.’

‘our destinies, well, they’re intertwined, are they not?’

‘I don’t know if you’ve noticed but I have been very tired recently.’

‘I’ve got this surplus of energy.’

‘don’t be scared.’

‘I’ve long wondered why you were so sad. and the best I could come up with is that you were sad in my stead.’

‘now don’t get mad. I don’t have any money to repay you.’

‘apparently I snore at night.’ 

‘I must admit, I’ve been actively trying to avoid it.’

‘as I’ve spent much time with you here, I think I’m ready to tackle this challenge.’

‘I’ll probably only find regrets and sorrows there, but it’s worth a shot.’

‘it did make me miss my kids a whole lot.’

‘I wish I was still there. to see them laughing. for them to fall asleep on me.’

‘it takes real skill to find a target, aim, and hit a bullseye.’

‘I just love that I’m good at something!’

‘I could spit off tall buildings forever! on the off chance that I might hit someone right in the head!’

‘I’ll be back to full health in no time at all.’

‘stones and crystals are connected to the world on an elementary level.’

‘don’t you think it looks lonely?’

‘it’s curious, I’m both excited and anxious.’

‘shit, I’m much more emotional than I thought I could ever be.’

‘nostalgia is not my forte.’

[cityrun]

i do Not take constructive criticism

[andundone]

DEET,

@andundone​ sent ❛ how have you been ? ❜ skekGra @ deet!! fav granddaughter pls

“I…”

On the list of people she had expected to see, he was very low. But, then, the point of travelling this far out had been not to see anyone at all. Not Hup, or Rian, or Brea, or any of her wonderful friends. Not Bobb’n and her fathers, not her clan–Gelfling and Arathim alike. Not even the little creatures who crawled and tunneled and flew across this beautiful, beautiful world.

A tear rolls down her face, seeming to cool before it makes it even halfway down her cheek. Everything she loves will have to be beautiful from a distance; the only thing she can do to protect Thra now is interact with it as little as possible.

“N-not… not very good,” she admits, her voice cracking. Her wings droop, ears turning downward as she clasps her arms around herself and takes a shuffling step back. “P-please, you shouldn’t come close, I–I’m so sorry to be rude, but I’m afraid I might hurt you.”

THE CIRCLE OF THE SUNS IS FAR BEHIND THEM NOW; a monolith left to puzzle any traveler that next climbs its rocky spire. It is urGoh who had known in what direction they would go and skekGra had followed without the usual clacking and cawing of questions gnashed around in his beak. Because the same pull had been gnawing at his insides just as deeply; the familiar burn of the light that used to be their flesh, their mind, their soul folded perfectly together.

But this far out, he hadn't expected to see one of the gelfling trio they'd passed the prophecy to. And it'd been shocking enough to render him a very rare speechless when he'd first glimpsed her sad, sickened shape.

His scarred heart lurches with her answer just as much as the unnatural oozing of an eerie void stirred like some parasitic shadow in her large eyes. Especially when it's her — the one who had smiled and laughed and applauded their theatrics so graciously. The one who had been so eager and helpful and hopeful. The one with so much of Thra's love so brightly personified.

“O-oh.... Oh, sweet gelfling. The Darkening...?” He extends a hand regardless of her warning, though retracts it back in with a second thought. Not out of fear, but to try and be more mindful of her wishes.

Even if something in him does shiver with that raw, innate terror stirred cold inside any skeksis like a poison; a closeness to death's breath that he does not and cannot fully understand. Once he'd wondered if it would bring him closer to completion, only to have the Wanderer warn that it might prove the opposite... and bring him back to square one.

“How...? What happened? We knew you had found the Glaive, but this...?” Extreme in everything he feels, emotion builds up bulky in his chest and lodges itself in a tight lump at the base of his throat that he swallows thickly around. “We— We'll fix it! Yes, that is what we will do!” He suddenly nods very determined and dramatically, straightening his own, slumped posture and slamming his staff into the ground for emphasis. Ignores how his talons dig so tightly around it. “urGoh and I— We created life itself! A-and so we will make more and give it to you, small one! Nothing to cry about! No tears, no tears!” 

[andundone]

KYLAN,

𝐓𝐇𝐄  𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐆  𝐓𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐑  𝐇𝐀𝐒  𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐌𝐄𝐃  𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐘  𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄𝐒  ;  and  all  those  times  it  had  been  with  a  confidence  least  expected  from  one  such  as  himself  ⸻  a  timid  and  soft  -  spoken  little  thing  ,  given  renewed  courage  through  song  .  out  of  every  other  thing  in  the  world  he  knew  how  to  do  ,  this  is  the  sole  thing  he  could  never  bring  himself  to  give  up  ,  for  with  every  strum  of  his  lute  he  gives  breath  to  his  father  .  with  every  sung  word  he  gives  voice  to  his  mother  .  if  they  are  to  be  gone  forever  ,  he  thinks  ,  let  them  live  through  him  and  every  note  of  music  he  fashions  from  lute  and  lips  and  firca  alike  .  

so  when  the  hunter threatens  to  take  his  tongue  ,  it  is  not  without  the  shake  in  his  voice  ,  evened  out  gradually  by  the  will  to  enchant  a  beast  .  nervousness  is  a  blight  on  the  magic  of  a  song  teller’s  spells  ,  though  he  wonders  if  this  creature  is  as  receptive  to  music  as  much  as  gelfling  are  .  he  seems  to  have  stopped  for  now  ,  at  least  …  cares  enough  to  listen  to  the  rest  of  the  song  ,  but  …  he  cannot  very  well  stay  here  singing  forever  ,  could  he  ?  after  the  song  is  done  ,  he  must  flee  ⸻  and  fast  .  with  his  heart  aflutter  ,  the  spriton  continues  the  jaunty  tune  ,  fingers  dancing  upon  lute  strings  .

❝   he  found  two  of  the  moons  at  the  edge  of  the  sky a  lake  at  their  feet  from  the  tears  they  had  cried “the  brother  sun’s  fire  for  us  is  too  bright while  they  rage  in  the  sky  we  cannot  bring  the  night so  we  sisters  take  turns  going  first  into  dawn to  spy  on  the  brothers  to  see  if  they’ve  gone ‘twas  our  second  sister  moon’s  turn  to  go oh  li  ,  oh  la  ,  oh  lo but  the  second  brother  sun  ate  her  whole oh  li  ,  oh  la  ,  la-lo  .”

the  moons  were  too  fearful  since  their  sister’s  sad  fate to  bring  night  to  the  sky  ,  to  bring  nine  to  the  eight so  gyr  left  them  to  watch  the  brother suns  from  the  land he  returned  three  days  later  and  told  them  his  plan the  remaining  two  sisters  scaled  the  edge  of  the  sky their  fingertips  wet  from  the  tears  they’d  cried from  their  lips  came  a  song:  a  mournful  ,  sad  sigh and  from  the  belly  of  the  sun  came  a  lonely  reply for  the  second  sister  was  still  alive oh  ,  the  second  sister  was  still  alive   …   ❞

and  then  ,  a  deep  breath  as  the  final  part  of  the  song  dawns  upon  his  lips:

❝  …  to  this  day  ,  while  she’s  hidden  by  brother  sun’s  light oh  li  ,  oh  la  ,  oh  lo her  song  tells  her  sisters  to  bring  out  the  night oh  she  ,  oh  sha  ,  she  knows to  bring  out  the  night oh  she  ,  oh  sha  ,  she  knows  …  ❞

MUSIC DOES NOT SOOTHE THIS MALICIOUS MONSTER. And yet, it still forces him to take rare pause. Has him listening in silence as the notes align too close to those of a thousand trine ago and beyond — to a pale, luminous wraith of a thing that was sent hurtled through the stars to find itself. In doing so, it lost itself, broke itself, halved itself into whatever it is that furrows its brow in confusion of this heavy, innate rousing deep in its guts.

In the far, far back of his mind, he even wonders if he feels it too.

So there's a low growl budding in the back of his throat. Doesn't gather momentum and break into a rasped snarl, but remains more like a gravely warning as the great beast narrows his eyes through sockets of bone. As though this small slip of a gelfling might have trickery up his Spriton-crafted sleeves.

“Tell me, weakling...  Ever sing songs of the Hunter?” The two arms mounted atop his shoulders flex their own sets of talons restlessly as skekMal cocks his masked head to one side. Enough so that the moonshine glares off the paleness of bone and also the splay of his own, jagged teeth tucked beneath. “Maybe you should. Might keep so many more from running into the woods when it's so very dark.” 

Lazily unhurried — dangerously at ease — he lifts one of his dominant hands from the dirt to scrape his claws slowly over the strings of that sweet-singing lute in a way that makes the notes clash ugly and soured against one another. “What else ya got?”

[promptfairy]

❥     𝐁𝐎𝐓𝐀𝐍𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐋 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍𝐒    [   𝚆𝙾𝚁𝙳 𝙿𝚁𝙾𝙼𝙿𝚃𝚂    ]   .

headcanon prompts with questions based on plants   &   what they represent in flower language .  happy roleplaying !!  ♡

abatina :   is there anything in life your muse has changed their mind about over time   (   due to becoming more educated on the topic ,   certain experiences  ,   etc .   ) ,    or that they   would   change their mind about under certain circumstances ?  

acanthus :   is your muse deceptive ,   or willing to lie or deceive to achieve certain means ?   why or why not ?   

aloe :   how does your muse handle grief ?

amaryllis :   what is something or someone that your muse takes pride in ?   how do they express that pride ?   

anemone :   how does your muse view the world ;   as a cruel   &   unforgiving place ,   a land full of wonders ,   or something in - between ?  where does that world view come from   (   what experiences ,   life lessons ,   etc .   ) ?  

angelica :   where does your muse draw inspiration in life ?   what motivates them ?

apple blossom :   how does your muse go about expressing or not expressing their sexuality ?  

bachelor’s button :   does your muse actively seek romantic companionship ,   or cherish the liberties of being single ? 

basil :   does your muse have a love - hate relationship with anyone or anything ?

bay tree :   does your muse seek glory   &   accolades ,   or do they favour a simpler ,   more personal life ?  

begonia :   how cautious is your muse ?   are they prone to noticing red flags ,   or paranoid to the point of untrusting most everyone ?   why or why not ?  

belladonna :   how does your muse respond to silence ?   do they take comfort in soundlessness ,   or seek to fill the void with noise ?   

bluebell :   does your muse learn from their past ,   or are they prone to repeating the same mistakes ?  

carnation :   what is your muse’s relationship with their gender ?   how do they express or not express this relationship ?  

chamomile :   what is your muse likely to take away from a painful experience ?   are they one to be haunted by adversity ,   or to use what they’ve gone through to become stronger ?  

chrysanthemum :   how does your muse express romantic love ?  how do they feel about love as a concept ?  

daffodil :   is your muse one to be loyal in relationships ,   or are they likely to quickly move from one bond to another ?

daisy :   did your muse ever feel as though their innocence had been lost ?   what moment in their life could be described as the end of their innocence ?  

edelweiss :   what was the bravest moment in your muse’s life ?  are they known to be courageous from then on ?  

fern :   does your muse believe in magic or cosmic forces ,   or are they more likely to think their life is ultimately a matter of their own control ?  

forget - me - not :   has your muse ever forgotten something that is or was important to them ?   are they afraid of forgetting things like that ?  

gardenia :   is your muse one to confess romantic feelings early on ,   or to conceal them for long periods of time ?  

gladiolus :   describe a moment from your muse’s life that they will never forget .

goldenrod :   does your muse believe in luck or fortune ?  why or why not ?   where do they believe these things come from ?  

heliotrope :   does your muse believe in soulmates ?

hibiscus :   how does your muse view the gentler ,   daintier things in life ?   as things worth preserving   &   caring for ,   or things only bound to wither   &   disappear ?  

holly :   how strong is your muse’s sense of intuition ?  are they aware of it ?   do they ever fear that it is only paranoia ?  

hollyhock :   how strong is your muse’s sense of ambition ?  what’s something they strive for in life ?  

hyacinth :   is your muse athletic ?   does it come naturally to them ,   or have they had to work for their physique and/or skill ?  

hydrangea :   how much does your muse value communication in their relationships with others ?  are they prone to being misunderstood ?

iris :   if your muse could convey one last message to someone they have lost or left behind ,   what would it be ?  

ivy :   what are your muse’s views on marriage ?   do they believe it is something strictly for love ,   or an institution rooted in business   &   social benefits ?   do they desire or have they desired to be married ?

lavender :   how easy is it to gain your muse’s trust ?  once their trust is broken ,   how might one go about mending it ?  

lilac :   what was your muse’s childhood like ?   how has their upbringing affected them as they’ve aged ? 

lily :   how does your muse view their mother ?  

lotus :   has your muse ever felt as though they’ve been reborn ?  have they ever desired the feeling of a fresh start ,   or a better understanding of themself and/or the world around them ?  

magnolia :   describe your muse’s relationship with nature   &   the natural world .  

marigold :   is your muse prone to jealousy ?  how might they handle envious feelings ?  

mint :   does your muse view themself as virtuous   &   moral ?  what do these words mean to them ?

nasturtium :   describe your muse’s relationship with their birthplace ,   or homeland .  

oak :   who would your muse consider the strongest person they know ?  

pansy :   does your muse often reflect on their own actions ?   do they ever think a lot about the past ,   and what they could have done differently ?

parsley :   describe a holiday your muse enjoys ,   and why they enjoy it .

peony :   what would a   ‘  happy life  ’   look like in your muse’s eyes ?

poppy :   what comforts your muse ?

rhododendron :   is your muse receptive to warnings   &   advice given by others ?

rose :   how much does your muse value other people ?   do they wish to have many friends ,   lovers ,   and/or associates ?   are they an easy person to love ?

sage :   what is your muse’s legacy ?   what do they want to be remembered for   &   what might they actually be remembered for ?  

salvia :   is your muse possessive over people or things that matter a lot to them ?  how do they express that possessiveness ,   or lack thereof ? 

snapdragon :   is your muse merciful ?  why or why not ?

southernwood :   how seriously does your muse take themself ?   do they prefer a solemn   &   intellectual atmosphere or do they delight in jokes   &   banter ?  

sunflower :   what brings your muse the most joy in life ?  

tulip :   how does your muse view people in general ?  

violet :   how does your muse respond to betrayal ?

willow :   how does your muse handle sadness   &   depression ?

zinnia :   how has the loss of fallen comrades and/or loved ones affected your muse ?   has it taught them anything or given them any new perspectives ?

[goldleaf-art]

Hotel? GraVaGoh

[andundone]

RIAN,

𝐈𝐓’𝐒  𝐎𝐍𝐄  𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆  𝐅𝐎𝐑  𝐓𝐇𝐄  𝐁𝐋𝐀𝐃𝐄  𝐓𝐎  𝐂𝐔𝐓  𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐇  and  provoke  a  sought  -  after  scream  ;  another  to  see  it  slice  and  for  the  deep  crimson  to  flow  and  receive  naught  but  that  ugly  laughter  from  gnarled  beak  ⸻  is  it  from  amusement  ?  for  the  sake  of  mockery  ?  not  that  it  matters  ,  the  gelfling’s  eyes  are  blown  wide  with  the  sight  either  way  .  doesn’t  this  one  feel  any  pain  ?  he  wonders  ,  blue  eyes  locked  upon  the  hunter’s  with  an  equal  mix  of  determination  and  dread  .  

or  perhaps  he  likes  it  ,  rian  thinks  to  himself  a  pause  later  ⸻  tugs  on  the  handle  of  his  sword  with  a  grunt  as  if  to  free  it  from  the  hunter’s  clutches  .

❝   my  heart  ,   ❞  he  says  ,  a  growl  between  gritted  teeth  ,  a  sound  so  feral  one  must  wonder  whether  it  comes  from  delicate  gelfling  or  ravenous  beast  .  ❝   shall  never  be  yours  !   ❞

big  words  from  one  so  small  ,  but  one  thing  he  knows  for  sure  :  meekness  has  never  suited  him  ,  however  content  his  people  are  to  hide  within  it  .  and  perhaps  they  should  stay  that  way  ⸻  for  a  heart  full  of  such  contempt  and  desperation  is  far  too  heavy  for  one  to  bear  ;  let  this  be  his  burden  and  no  one  else’s  .  there’s  no  need  for  anyone  else  to  suffer  this  .

none  except  the  wretched  gods  he  plans  to  vanquish  .  and  perhaps  he’s  feeding  right  into  the  hunter’s  desires  ,  blazing  fire  that  he  is  as  he  frees  his  blade  from  a  talon  ,   jabbing  forward  this  time  .  being  half  the  monster’s  size  is  ,  of  course  ,  a  predicament  ,  options  relegated  to  disarming  or  maiming  his  opponent  ,  perhaps  ⸻  the  stonewood  thinks  ⸻  aiming  for  his  legs  .  would  they  scream  if  he  buries  his  blade  right  through  one  ?  the  very  idea  of  that  satisfaction  ⸻  and  the  fact  it  is  a  satisfaction  at  all  ⸻  both  perturbs  and  encourages  him  to  pursue  it  :  this  flicker  of  a  monstrous  craving  .

❝   look  who’s  talking  now  ,   ❞  rian  says  ,  and  there’s  a  hint  of  a  smirk  upon  his  lips  despite  himself  ;  despite  the  fact  it  very  well  could  herald  his  end  .  ❝   are  you  scared  ,  beast  ?   ❞

RED, RED BLOOD OOZES FROM HIS PALM in rivulets beading the blade crimson as he squeezes it tighter, guides it in closer. A mockery of the cut that will never come, the killing blow that will never fall. Because the Hunter is skeksis — a being beyond this world and its people. His existence spans over hundreds of trine, hundreds of hunts that have him coming up ever-hungry for more. To little things like Rian, he is a dark and ravenous god who will take his tribute in blood, in flesh, in so many still-beating hearts.

But Rian is showing spirit enough to pique an interest long left lacking. And that is enough to provoke some fire in those eyes and make him wonder how far he'll be pushed. How far he'll go.

The steel is finally ripped from his clutch and he prepares for the next swipe. Aims down with a thrust of his own dagger to swat the blow aside in a fresh clang! to rile his veins anew in an approving rush. Gelfling are supposed to be Thra's favorite and yet they fight too fair, too pretty, too clean. Their morality forever stalls their strength from its true potential. So this? This spilling of a hate so raw, so white-hot that it's boiling through the placid surface of all that gelfling niceness? It's a refreshing change of pace.

“Scared? Hah!” He leaps to avoid the lunge for his legs, twisting his body to lash out with a whip-like thrash of his tail to try and throw Rian off his feet. Lands back in the dirt with another laugh all husky and growled through his toothy beak. “I do not know the word. But you want me to, don't you?” He rushes abruptly forward in a cackling charge, making a grab for the soldier’s throat. “That is why you are making this game fun. More anger, more hate! Strike to kill or I’ll just keep coming, little liar!”

[andundone]

the urRu/mystics are super underappreciated within the fandom and it bums me out, man. they represent such an interesting opposite to the skeksis and i just wish more people saw how fascinating that is to dig into and explore. what makes the skeksis tick lives in them too, after all! in different shapes and forms and angles that compose one whole at the end of the day, which is... rly cool, when you get down to the bones of it. and of each individual urSkeks too.

[allthefights]

Gidakai kae. To the great All, may the dead become one with Thra again. May we feel their tears in rain and their warmth in the suns. Though they are gone, they remain with us still.

[andundone]

GURJIN,​

@andundone​ said: ❝ you’re in rather a good mood. ❞ rek'yr @ gurjinnn

❝   𝐀’𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓  ,  don’t  judge  me  ,  but  look  what  i  got  my  hands  on  ,  straight  from  sog  !   ❞  the  young  lord  of  sog  looks  no  different  from  a  childling  up  to  no  good  when  he  holds  up  a  rather  unimpressive  green  jug  ;  aside  from  the  intricate  leaf  -  like  carvings  on  the  handle  ,  the  jug  gives  no  hint  as  to  what  its  contents  are  …  but  gurjin  does  carry  two  glass  cups  with  him  ,  and  the  grin  plastered  on  his  lips  gives  at  least  some  of  it  away  .  ❝   ‘ever  had  sogflower  wine  before  ,  rek’yr  ?  it’s  a  drenchen  delicacy  .   ❞

GAME  OF  THRONES  S.4  ✧  OPEN

THE EXPRESSION IN THE DRENCHEN’S FACE is enough to shift a smile across Rek'yr's amber eyes. Tilts his head very slightly to notice the jug smuggled in one hand and so very proudly so. “Can't say that I have. The desert doesn't agree with most of what makes it that far from your... very wet homeland.” He tries not to sound impolite with his phrasing, even if he can’t help the smooth note of amusement lowered in his voice. Such an unlikely pair, a swamp-swimmer and a dune-dweller about to share a drink away from the crowd. So he’s perfectly content to offer his palm out to take one of those glasses off him.

“All the more reason I should try some, hm?”

[soracities]

I found intolerable the thought of being known in the way that he seemed to know me. Better than I knew myself. Worse.

John Banville, The Sea (via soracities)

[andundone]

DHAHR,​

@andundone i promised u this starter like 2 days ago forgive me 

“can — will you take me across the desert?” dhahr wouldn’t lie to himself, he was nervous. he had always been more comfortable at sea and on a boat ( though he could certainly tolerate the land, considering how much of it he had travelled upon ) and the idea of travelling across endless sandy plains, entirely reliant on someone else to guide him through it … well, it he didn’t like it. “I’ve got money, if it costs me.”

THE SUNS ARE LOW ON THE DUNE-CRESTED HORIZON and Rek'yr gathers up bones from the sand. Places them with delicate care into the satchel at his hip when a voice calls his attention. Lifts his head with a very subtle, upward tilt of his dark ears as he spots the traveler's approach. Bennu had signaled this hours ago, which is why he had lingered here at a circling of small stones.

“No need to offer your coin. Passage across this sea is not ours to speak for, only to learn and to offer.” He approaches the rope ladder to his skimmer's saddle, offers it forth as his eyes smile gently where his mouth only curves a little at its edges. He senses nerves, uncertainty, caution -- all of which are commonplace, even for the rare Sifan passing through. “Come. To the Wellspring, then? Or do your travels take you elsewhere, stranger?”

[andundone]

no one but @byhalves understands how much these masterpieces mean to me

[andundone]

skekMal is afraid of urVa. it’s not something he understands or could ever truly admit to because he lacks that kind of self-awareness (literally lol), but it’s why he can’t stand being around him. not only is he a reminder of what he considers his “weaknesses,” but he’s also the only creature he is incapable of killing. much as he might not mind getting a few scars while hunting (in fact, it usually excites and thrills him), he obviously doesn’t want to die. he’s still a skeksis and still fears that great, unknown “beyond” that awaits them should they be slain... as is shown when he does meet his end in the show.

and whenever the archer is around, he usually knows exactly what to say to unnerve the hunter’s resolve, much as the latter might hide it in snarls and hissing. urVa is an unwavering, fearless obstacle in skekMal’s path and he truly doesn’t know what to do about that whenever he’s forced to acknowledge it. the way he solves his problems is usually by slaughtering them so it’s extremely unsettling to him that he literally cannot do that in this case. it doesn’t help that they did get along in the earlier trine of their division and that they might’ve had moments together that were considered more private and vulnerable.

in short, skekMal cannot kill urVa and also knows that urVa understands him on some level..... which is terrifying to someone like skekMal, who does not want to be perceived as anything besides a grim spectre of death. fear is not something he can recognize, so he interprets it only as anger and hatred. don’t talk to him about the archer unless you wanna get stabbed idk. 

[andundone]

KYLAN,​

IT  FIGURES  ,  and  it  was   a   possibility  kylan  had  tossed  over  and  over  in  his  mind  since  the  very  night  the  hunter  snatched  his  spriton  mother  and  stonewood  father  ,  both  of  them  never  to  be  seen  for  the  rest  of  his  days  .  he  could  think  of  a  myriad  of  ways  that  the  hunter  could  have  brought  about  their  end  ,  and  after  his  mind  tormented  him  so  ,  it  would  perturb  him  with  a  new  thought  :  his  own  death  ,  brought  forth  by  skekmal’s  hands  .  after  all  ,  if  he  killed  the  parents  ,  why  not  the  son  ?  surely  the  skeksis  had  something  to  fear  if  they  would  go  as  far  as  to  murder  his  unimportant  parents  ,  but  he’s  never  figured  out  the  concrete  why  and  it  has  bothered  him  for  countless  trine  .  did  it  really  simply  come  down  to  his  mother’s  and  father’s  different  races  ?  whatever  the  reason  may  be  is  unimportant  now  as  that  tormenting  shadow   edges  closer  from  the  trees  ,  each  inch  closer  making  him  feel  smaller  and  smaller  and  more  helpless  .

another  gelfling  would  have  stood  his  ground  and  fought  .  but  he  has  neither  an  effective  weapon  nor  the  skills  to  wield  it  ⸻  only  the  wit  and  words  of  a  knowledgable  song  teller  .  but  …  how   does  one  use  that  against  the  very  shadowy  death  -  bringer  he  has  sung  about  ;  the  very  one  in  his  song  -  tales  that  scared  childlings  off  to  bed  so  they  wouldn’t  get  snatched  away  at  night  ?  

a  deep  breath  as  he  wills  himself  not  to  panic  before  the  hunter  .  think  ,  kylan  …  think  !  how  does  one  disarm  a  killer  ?  how  does  one  disturb  them  just  enough  to  make  a  quick  escape  ?  he’s  small  ,  and  hardly  scary  with  his  tiny  ,  skinny  body  that  only  seems  to  tremble  before  the  shadowy  figure  in  the  night  to  begin  with  .  he  wishes  he  were  with  naia  ,  who  would  be  brave  and  strong  enough  to  fight  him  …   but  naia  isn’t  here  ,  and  this  was  an   encounter  he  had  long  expected  for  many  trine  to  begin  with  .  this  ,  he  thinks  ,  is  destiny  .

best  to  get  it  over  with  .  if  he  dies  here  ,  he  figures  his  life  got  a  little  better  than  how  it  started  .  he  made  friends  .  he  served  his  purpose  .  he  sang  many  songs  ,  and  played  many  more  on  his  ⸻  wait  .  the  song  teller  pauses  at  the  realization  ,  wide  -  eyed  ,  and  parts  his  lips  for  a  moment  as  if  to  say  something  before  closing  them  again  .  find  the  right  words  first  ,  he  reminds  himself  ,  and  tries  again  when  he’s  found  them  ,  trying  to  stay  the  all  too  nervous  quiver  in  his  voice  .

❝   i  …  i  see  ,   i  was  expecting  this  to  happen  sooner  or  later  ,    ❞  he  begins  .  ❝   i’m  afraid  i  am  just  as  helpless  as  my  mother  and  father  …  but  .  if  you  would  be  so  kind  ,  please  allow  me  one  last  performance  before  i  depart  this  world  ,   ❞  he  finishes  ,  before  he  reaches  out  for  his  lute  stowed  away  upon  his  back  ,  and  tunes  its  strings  with  practiced  ease  before  he  strums  a  beautiful  ,  harmonious  chord  .  a  short  overture  upon  the  strings  fills  the  air  ,   slender  fingers  gliding  over   the  neck  of  the  lute  with  each  shift  of  note  ⸻  and  then  the  song  teller’s  voice  rings  out  ,  as  pure  and  clear  as  a  bell’s  sound  :

❝   gyr  was  a  bard  that  traveled  the  seas oh  li  ,  oh  la  ,  oh  lo told  the  songs  of  the  rivers  ,  the  mountains  ,  the  trees oh  li  ,  oh  la  ,  la  -  lo  … one  long  summer  ago  ,  the  night  stopped  to  come the  sister  moons  hiding  ,  in  fear  of  the  suns the  daylight  was  endless  ,  scorching  the  plains so  gyr  went  to  find  them  and  bring  night  again  …   ❞

ONCE, THE HUNTER HAD REASONS TO KILL FOR. For protection, for food, for testing his strength as an asset to his fellow skeksis. Though he has always been a loner meant to stalk the wilds, his kinship hadn't thinned as far as it has now. Even had him slaying rakkida to spare the Archer's well-being in trine long past when that name, that title, wouldn't prickle such a foul taste over his tongue. But now, killing is all he knows. Killing is all he is in a wretched core gone rotten with each life ripped asunder, each jugular sliced or torn. And this gelfling's parents are just bodies in a bonepile; additions he remembers only because they had begged for him to show mercy. Not for them, but for the son he hadn't dragged away too.

His reasons are his own, kept latched behind his teeth like so many others. Mangled and mauled and marred up in the jagged maw of a beast that has no honor to spare for bards left to wonder why, why, why.

So he may as well finish the job. Wipe Thra clean of one more insignificant bloodline while the last, loose end is dangled tantalizingly in front of his curved beak. A pity it's so scrawny, he thinks whilst descending to the forest floor. Lands there with a surprisingly soft thunk of his feet in the dirt and a slow swish of his tail. Even hunches down to prowl slowly toward his prey on his four dominant limbs while the two atop his back angle greedily forward. Because there's something satisfying about looking into the eyes of something so defenseless, so afraid, that he doesn't want his height to keep him from enjoying the view.

But then the gelfling pulls out the lute.

skekMal goes stock-still as soon as that first chord strikes the air. Stiffens completely rigid beneath the sway of the melody floating up into the moonlight. It’s too reminiscent of ancient notes in the throat of a long, pale neck. Too pretty to invite anything besides an unnerved coil tightened up in his gut as he narrows his eyes through the sockets of his mask. Is this insignificant speck of a thing… mocking him? Goading him? Challenging him? He’s honestly stumped by this when all others flee or fall, fear-frozen, to their knees. And what’s worse is that he just keeps going.

“...Finish it,” he says when there’s a lull in the tune. Low, deep, quiet as the Hunter leans his pointed face deadly close. A command to mask confusion. Or a trap. “Unless you want your tongue taken first.”

@crystalcracked​