{ Hello! I just wanted to make a quick update. I decided to combine this blog with my canon multi, and since I prefer my canon multi’s url, you can find most everyone from this blog over on @moon–wake now! }

祝日 / Permanent Vacation
Monterey Bay Aquarium
dirt enthusiast
Stranger Things
todays bird
trying on a metaphor

Kaledo Art
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"

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will byers stan first human second

JVL
Alisa U Zemlji Chuda
One Nice Bug Per Day

shark vs the universe
Mike Driver
NASA
cherry valley forever
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hello vonnie
AnasAbdin

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@asteriiism-blog
{ Hello! I just wanted to make a quick update. I decided to combine this blog with my canon multi, and since I prefer my canon multi’s url, you can find most everyone from this blog over on @moon–wake now! }
{ Hello! I just wanted to make a quick update. I decided to combine this blog with my canon multi, and since I prefer my canon multi’s url, you can find most everyone from this blog over on @moon–wake now! }
{ Hello! I just wanted to make a quick update. I decided to combine this blog with my canon multi, and since I prefer my canon multi’s url, you can find most everyone from this blog over on @moon–wake now! }
{ Hello! I just wanted to make a quick update. I decided to combine this blog with my canon multi, and since I prefer my canon multi’s url, you can find most everyone from this blog over on @moon–wake now! }
{ Hello! I just wanted to make a quick update. I decided to combine this blog with my canon multi, and since I prefer my canon multi’s url, you can find most everyone from this blog over on @moon–wake now! }
{ Hello! I just wanted to make a quick update. I decided to combine this blog with my canon multi, and since I prefer my canon multi’s url, you can find most everyone from this blog over on @moon--wake now! }
{ I figured I should make a proper post on this blog due to my inactivity here, which is more or less due to the same thing as my other blog. I don’t have a lot of threads on here that are active at the moment, and I find it very difficult to get new interactions started on this blog. In addition to this, I just don’t have a lot of time to invest in multiple blogs at the moment (and most likely won’t for some time, basically, my friends and I have planned a dream vacation for next year so I’m working over-time at work to help save up more and I already work really weird hours so it’s hard for me to manage multiple blogs, especially blogs where I haven’t gotten replies in a while or started new threads in ages) so I’ve decided to cut myself down to one active blog at the moment, and I chose the blog I have the most activity on. I love all of my muses and threads on here, I’m hoping I can get my days changed to work more hours but less days, but I can’t get anything changed until April at the soonest and that’s only if they pick me. I apologize, but I thank you guys so much for humoring me here and for interacting with my OCS. If you want to find me, I’m over on @vantagx and that’s my only active blog at the moment! }
weiwuxiian:
❝Oh, it’s fine. It’s fine. Children forget things as soon as they see something good, don’t they?❞ he lets the child slide from his chest down to his leg. Even once his bottom hits the ground, the toddler refuses to let go off Wei Wuxian’s leg. ❝Didn’t you say you wanted to eat berries for a long time? Someone is giving them to you now, and now you don’t want it?❞ he teases, shaking his leg, but for such a small child, Wen Yuan possessed an incredibly strong grip and refuses to relent. However, after a while, he really did lift his foot and stood, but one hand is still clutching to Wei Wuxian’s pants as if he’s afraid that he would vanish as soon he lets go.
Seeing this occurrence, Wei Wuxian takes a step forward towards Ambrose, so that Wen Yuan could take a step further too without releasing his pants. ❝Hahahahaha, I’m sorry, Ambrose. He is always so shy when he meets strangers. Hey, Wen Yuan, can’t you be braver? This is humiliating me.❞ He pats the toddler’s head. Feeling Wei Wuxian’s hand on his head, Wen Yuan couldn’t help but feels a little braver, moving towards the bush of berries, he begins picking them one by one. As Wei Wuxian watches him, he cocks an eyebrow in question, as if something is missing in the atmosphere. A moment later, he says, ❝A-Yuan, what are you supposed to say when someone gives you something?❞
Hearing this, Wen Yuan’s embarrassment becomes inherently visible on his face, realizing he’s forgotten something. He stands up, turning around to face the strange man, saying as he bows. ‘Thank you…..’
Wei Wuxian isn’t deliberately being picky, but he is the sort of person who values morals, thus, he had always taught the kid to say ‘Thank you’, and ‘Sorry’ whenever appropriate. Once Wen Yuan appears to be more comfortable on his own, squatting in the soil as he picked his berries, Wei Wuxian turns towards Ambrose, ❝I apologize. He’s still young, actually, he’s no more than four. His father died in a war, you see—-what’s left of his family isn’t much. But, he’s still too young to realize what is life and death. Perhaps it’s quite fortunate for him. I know he will forget all of this once he grows older. All these memories will fade like it never happened.❞
❝Oh–! And I haven’t thanked you, but, I’m grateful you let us into the forest.❞ he couldn’t tell what was so strange about it, but as someone who also links to the mystical arts, he knew when something or someone was radiating with unusual energy. In this forest, it seemed like every plant, tree, and leaves did so. ❝I know there’s not many people here. I haven’t met a soul since I entered. It must have a restriction spell or some kind, right?❞
“Indeed,”
He chuckles at Wei Wuxian’s easy dismissal, but despite his seemingly carefree nature the child appears rather attached to him. Not that he could blame the boy for being frightened. Children might be quick to forget or easily distracted, but they tended to be more in-tune to the spiritual and otherworldly aspects of everything around them than adults (at least those who have dabbled in the supernatural). There was no doubt in his mind that the boy was capable of sensing something off about the forest and himself; his caution, perhaps even fear, was very much justified in Ambrose’s mind. It would serve him well if he ended up stumbling down a path of the divine and unholy. Regardless, it’s terribly endearing to see the way the child clings to his caretaker and mildly humorous, if only because it reminds him of how the animals who reside in the forest tend to cling to him whenever there’s a stranger traveling through their land.
“It is quite all right, I do not mind.”
With a bit of coaxing, Wen Yuan finally works up the courage to begin plucking at the brightly colored berries before them. He’d chosen ones that weren’t too sweet or bitter - a more mild flavor in hopes they would be better suited for a child’s tastebuds. Admittedly, though, it had been some time since anyone, let alone a toddler, had wandered into the forest (with the exception of Wei Wuxian and the hunters who had slipped past the forest’s raging branches in an attempt to take his life). An amused smile slips across his lips as Wei Wuxian begins pestering the boy. He hardly needed to thank him, but Wei Wuxian truly looked like a father scolding his child as he tried to convince him. He couldn’t help but think they meshed well together.
“It is my pleasure. I hope you enjoy them.”
He tries to ease the boy’s painfully apparent embarrassment, and, after a moment, Wen Yuan seems to settle in - squatting down in front of the brush to pluck the berries from its tiny branches. His attention doesn’t remain on the bumbling toddler for long before Wei Wuxian begins to speak. His dark eyes lifting to glance over at the other man. War is such a common thing amongst men, though he would be the last one to claim that Gods and demons were free from the sin of violence and war. The news that the boy’s father had died in a war didn’t come as a surprise - after all, very little of this world wasn’t somehow connected to this forest. It was a shame, regardless, of course. Whether or not he agreed with the other’s claim that the boy’s ability to forget his family as he grew older was a mystery (there’s not much of a difference between life and death in the eyes of a man trapped between them).
“You need not apologize, my friend. It is a cruel thing that he lost them so young, but he still has you. Though, perhaps, the loss of those memories is not as much of a blessing as one may believe it to be.”
Much as he tries to swallow it, a light laugh still manages to exhale past his lips at the other’s words. He’s hardly the one who granted them permission to enter, he’s simply preventing his moody protecter from tangling them up in its spiny, thorny arms. The forest had a will and life of its own and though he could control it (as he could any plant or animal), that didn’t mean it always obeyed him - if the forest truly didn’t want them in it, it would have devoured them ages ago (perhaps that’s a detail he should leave out). And his guess about a spell as fair, but just as incorrect as his misplaced gratitude. He wasn’t one to lie or shelter the forest’s true nature (or his own) from those who enter.
“I am merely protecting you from it so there is no need to thank me. As for your question, I am afraid there is no spell on this forest. It is very much alive in its own right. Truth be told, this forest is not the beautiful and calm place you must imagine it to be. It is a bridge that connects the world of the living to the world of the dead. If it does not wish for someone to enter, they will be be able to wander within, even if they are capable of seeing it. And I am afraid that those who attempt to force their way in or who earn its scorn are met by a rather gruesome fate.”
charmsol:
“Not for sale, but free to take.” Smooth, easy words, with small nod of permission. There’s some small disapproval, however, at the aesthetics of dimmed faux gem beside rusty auburn and earthy colors–as much as these were throw away luck, there was no contrast! No drawing of the eye! Whilst cohesion was all well and good in an outfit, and it certainly blended in well, there was such a thing as too much. The stone’d be as invisible on his collar as in his pocket.
Hm, not that it was much his business what one did after transaction. Or that he was even getting many of those today–so, thin fingers plucked up a brighter gem, more orange than red, really, loose of gold or setting, merchant leaning, reclining forward to hold up by the other’s face, a soft brush of touch so fleeting and gentle it might as well not have happened, as peddler’s features softened in appreciative approval. Still not the best color, but the best on table that he could afford to let go.
“Though I think this would suit you better. Perhaps you need not the luck, but it accentuates better with such lovely hair, hm?”
The offer comes as a surprise, but he allows an easy smile to settle upon his lips regardless. It would feel a bit awkward to take something from this man without offering anything in return (perhaps it was his nature as a fox, even if he couldn’t claim they weren’t exactly honorable creatures, but he’d feel as if he owed this stranger something if he simply accepted his offer). But when he opens his mouth to speak, the merchant has plucked a brighter gem from his collection, and has lifted it up against his rust-colored locks with a fleeting touch he likely wouldn’t have noticed if not for all of the time he had spent as both a guard and prisoner.
‘Lovely’ wasn’t exactly a term he would use to refer to his own hair, even if his former master had brought it from time to time. And it feels a bit strange to hear those words now, especially given the fact that the last thing he is a fashion guru (if that’s not painfully evident by his plain clothes and overall bland look) so actually thinking about whether or not something suited him never really occurred to him. He preferred dull, simple things - he couldn’t say he was worthy of something as bright and beautiful as the gem the merchant had presented to him. Suppressing a chuckle at the compliment, a long, emerald iris glances at the stone in the other’s hand.
“You have my gratitude, it’s a lovely piece, but I could hardly take something so beautiful from you. Is there something I could do for you in return, perhaps?”
{{ I’m so sorry for posting this late! I meant to put it up yesterday, but I had a really awful day at work that resulted in a pretty bad migraine so it was difficult for me to look at my laptop for any period of time. But, anyway, I’m heading out of town this week, so this is just a mini hiatus notice until Monday/Tuesday! I don’t know if I’ll have wi-fi at the hotel, I joined a rewards program just to get it, but I just got an email saying we wouldn’t have it because I didn’t book directly through the hotel??? But, anyway, thank you guys so much for understanding! }}
eiriini:
Quickly she was seeing the wrongs in her actions. That things shouldn’t be pushed, like he said. But for the fire that burned, it wanted results. Results that could drown it back within the stubbornness that was her mind. Was it her own pride or something else that wanted her to push the lines? A force, unseen by all, but felt by only her. She can feel the frown growing at the disaster that finally simmered down. How long would this last for? Praying to whomever would listen to a silent plea ( even if she was no true believer ) for assistance in adjusting her body to all of this. All of this magic, all of this swordsmanship, all of this – everything.
“My hands..?”
There’s no resistance when he takes hold of her hands. The warmth of his hands hurt – a stinging effect with each movement. No, it’s more like the after effect of Flora and Felicia’s morning trick to wake her, but if she hasn’t woken after the first two times. Times that but ten, and that’s what she feels in that region. Crimsons darken, pride hurt, holding back sympathetic words. Only moving her hands to remove her gloves, she struggles slightly. Moving the old tome from one hand to the other to slide off the leather that were meant to protect. She lets them fall upon the damp earth, still trying to cling to the tome.
Her hands should of been fine. They shouldn’t be what they look, now. Fingertips are blue, yet some of the skin has darken in color, and not in the way even she is liking. Like fire had burned her flesh, enough to cause physical damage on the top few layers. Veins are popped out in color, and major channels of where the magic had flown through are announced to him. Clear as day, as if they, too, are either stuck or burned onto the skin. What’s, perhaps on her end, more disturbing is seeing something else. More-so in her index and middle finger, something like thin ice has formed. A reference to too much output ( so, this is what water’s was, wasn’t it? ). Why is that so? Was it because of her loss over magic? Was it just a side effect?
Gods, she really is like a fumbling kit or an overzealous mage, isn’t she? Rushing off and pulling that stunt. All on gut feeling; it’s a miracle she hasn’t been killed as of yet. This whole time, she had been looking down at her hands. Lips press into a hard line, brows furrow. Disappointment hits harder than ever. A short sigh follows, hoping to release some of the building emotions. A way for them to release within the tension that’s growing.
“I am sorry, Jasper.” No wonder Shade always kept her away from magic. Was it because of this? What could happen if you pushed yourself too far?
He waits while she slips her leather gloves off of her hands, still clutching the tome despite the mishap. While her devotion and dedication might have been admirable it was worthless if it only proved to endanger her (pride and determination could one get one so far before they backfired on their master). Should he have been stricter with her? Should he had have made his warning a bit more clear - intense, intimidating? No, he doubted she would have taken his lesson more seriously even if he had been more severe in its delivery. The only way for her to learn was to experience the bitter sting of magic when it bit the hand that dared to cast it without care, even if that seemed cruel. He’s compared learning magic to learning how to wield a sword to help her understand the gravity of the task she had taken on, but now he realizes that his mistake. Magic has always been far more dangerous; more wild and chaotic. A sword wasn’t capable of burning the hands that held it. Well, at least not most blades.
He can see the extent of the damage that had been done when she finally manages to get gloves loose with a bit of difficultly. Her skin is kissed blue and black; her veins protruding beneath her chilled skin where the magic had been channeled through and attempted to break out of its confines, leaving behind patches that resemble burns. And upon her index and middle fingers a thin sheet of ice has formed. It’s not uncommon for castors to underestimate the power of water magic, while his own kin specialized in fire magic, he had seen his far share of water mages during his time in the arena. They always believed their magic was benevolent; incapable of harm unlike fire which was viewed as cruel and chaotic. They always found out the hard way that water was capable of just as much when used incorrectly or pushed too far. It was a pity to see her hands in such a terrible state.
His ears perked up at her apology. He was grateful if this managed to teach her lesson, even if it was extreme, but she hardly needed to apologize to him. She was the one who had been hurt, even if she had come about those injures due to her stubborn nature. He should have stepped in to stop her, but if he had, would she have continued to push herself behind his back without understanding the consequences of her actions? Ahh, there was no point on dwelling on it now, he had made his choice and she had made her mistake. Hopefully that would be enough to make her slow down a bit.
“We’re done for today. I’ll continue teaching you tomorrow. Don’t move for a moment, this might sting a bit.”
A sigh flutters past his lips as he cradles her hands within his own; a small, faint heat forming between their hands and beneath her fingers where ice still clings to them. Fire can’t heal, of course, but he can, at least, warm her hands and melt the ice that’s grown upon her skin. It’s a painfully slow process, he doesn’t want to rush and risk burning her or risk the wounds her own magic had produced worsening as a result of his intervention. Even if her hands must feel frozen to the bone, he can’t imagine the heat from his own magic feels good. If anything, he imagines it must sting with the mixture of hot and cold upon her skin. But he manages what he can, and releases her hands when he’s done everything in his power to lessen the pain she must be feeling.
“You should rest, and don’t touch that tome when I’m not here.”
He shouldn’t be giving commands to someone of a higher status than himself; to the very person he’s currently serving, but he feels as if he must after what just happened. She’s stubborn, and he fears she still might not have learned her lesson after all of that, especially with how she still seems to refuse to let go of the book that had just nipped at her hands. He doesn’t regret agreeing to help her, if he hadn’t, he can only imagine what she had would have done, and he hasn’t given up on teaching her yet, assuming she still wishes to continue. But doing anything more today would be asking for trouble.
LUPUS
But only a dark shadow remains
weiwuxiian:
This time around when he visited the mysterious forest Wei Wuxian carries a child. A hand comes up defensively against Wen Yuan as someone protrudes through the bushes. Wei Wuxian blinks, taking a step back with doubt colouring his brows—he releases a breath of relief when his eyes recognize the man before him. The weight of his leg staggers and suddenly he feels as if he was dragging a few pounds with every step he took, Wei Wuxian looks down at the toddler and breaks into a laugh when he saw Wen Yuan clinging to his legs. The child had always clung to him when he felt threatened. Sometimes he felt like he is the boy’s father, although he wasn’t very repulsed by the idea of fatherhood; Wei Wuxian has always wanted his own child, as a companion or someone to dote on.
❝Hahaha. You don’t need to apologize to me. I’m not so oblivious that I would be afraid of the sight of blood, but it seems like you scared our dear little one here.❞ a hand reaches down to pluck the toddler by his collar before Wei Wuxian pulls him up and tucks him over his back. ❝He thinks if he can’t see you, then you can’t see him either. Children are innocent, aren’t they?❞ Wen Yuan’s arms were wrapped around his neck, his legs hugging his waist. He looked like a little koala clinging to its mother. The Necromancer smirks to himself when he thought how hilarious they looked. After a while, he turns back towards Ambrose. ❝I said I would bring a visitor or two last time, didn’t I? Here he is. He wasn’t too willing to come until I told him there are berries…❞ of course, that neither true or false. Wei Wuxian hadn’t seen any berries the last time he came, it was only an attempt to convince Wen Yuan to come with him.
The stranger’s body is as strange as ever. He feels shivers climbing up his spine when he saw him pluck the arrow from his chest as if one was plucking a thorn from their finger. Normal humans couldn’t do that at all, could they? Inwardly, he is slightly grateful that Wen Yuan is still a child and that he is too young to tell what is ‘normal’ from the unorthodox. But as seeing how Ambrose didn’t emphasize on his wounds, he didn’t want to ask more about it either. He seemed to be fine, anyway, and it’s not like he needed help. Wei Wuxian jumps a little to push Wen Yuan further up his back and winks at the other. ❝Hey, since I’m here already. Could you show us where to get some berries? Or any food is fine. I already told him there are lots of things to eat here. If he finds out I lied, he wouldn’t trust me anymore. So help a friend out a little, would you?❞
Golden irises lift to glance at the toddler Wei Wuxian has brought with him. This is no place for a child, but no harm will come to either one of them so long as they’re near him (and he doubts the forest would lash out at such an innocent being, typically it only reacted violently to those will ill-intent, and though children could be cruel they weren’t capable of the same crudeness adults were). Ahh, but his little performance seems to have frightened the little one. Not that he could blame him, children tended to be a bit more keen than their elders, he wouldn’t be surprised if Wei Wuxian’s little one could sense something strange or off about him. Regardless, a smile still stretches across his lips, and he kneels down in an attempt to make himself slightly less threatening to the boy. He can’t help but find the child’s logic adorable (maybe he should have played along, and pretended he couldn’t see the boy).
“Oh dear, I do hope he will forgive me for startling him. It would be nice if the world worked in such a simple matter.”
The way the child wraps himself about Wei Wuxian, he looks just like a timid kit clinging to his mother for protection. He looked more than a tad bit absurd. It’s endearing to say the least, and he can’t help but let an airy, soft chuckle slip past his lips at the thought. Of course, he recalled the other’s promise to bring someone with him next time, but he never placed too much stock in the words of others. If only because finding this forest can be a difficult task all it’s own, after all, it was a mythical thing that only allowed those it had a fondness for enter its tangled, twisted maze of spiny branches and thick trees. Regardless, he’s glad Wei Wuxian has returned to pay him a visit, toddle in tow; the sight still a bit amusing to him.
“Hmm, you must hungry then, little one.”
His voice is the same as always, quiet, but kind and enthusiastic. Berries would be a simple matter, he need only find an appropriate host for them and he could easily conjure them up. Most of the plants here were capable of bearing fruit, they were otherworldly, even if they weren’t sprouting at the moment. And asking them to produce something was as easy as a flick of his wrist. Hmm, he wondered what kind of berries the little one would want - nothing too strong or potent, of course, he hardly wanted to upset the boy’s stomach. And Wei Wuxian hardly needed to ask him, he had every intention of honoring his friend’s promise to the child.
“Of course, my friend, there are some nearby.”
He pushed himself, dusting off the petals and blades of grass that had collected on his knees and the hem of his yukata (which, truthfully, came off as a pointless gesture when he was constantly covered in bits of the forest, but he could at least try to make himself look vaguely presentable for the child’s sake). Turning on his heels, he waved for the other to follow him before slipping between weeping branches and thick bushes; always careful to never stop on the countless flowers that coat the forest floor in various, bright shades of yellow, blue, and pink. Though the forest itself was seemingly vast and endless, he knew it like the back of his hand and was capable of commanding the plants here whenever he pleased, which it meant it didn’t take him long to find a suitable bush to grow a handful of berries. Tossing a glance over his shoulder, as he didn’t want to startle the child again, he made sure Wei Wuxian was still a bit behind him before he pressed his index finger to an outstretched branch. And where there had been nothing, countless, various berries sprung into existence (hopefully one of them would get his friend out of trouble with the child).
“Right here, I hope I have not let down his faith in you.”
sincursed:
( @asteriiism → X )
❝Of ALL the times–❞
The Devil said this to no one in particular in an exasperated fashion. He barely had time to utter this sentence as he tried dodged the unrelenting assault of a blade delivered by none other than a half-demon, half-human. When disguised as flesh, Satan called these types of individuals Devilman. They aren’t exactly fans of the Son of the Morning Star. After all, he wanted nothing but destruction for their original species before their own possession. Devilmen are neither accepted by man nor demon: forever outcasts. Not even the Prince of Hell wanted them to be apart of his kingdom. Half-breeds can’t be trusted, in his mind. Ironic, for he could have been considered one when walking among humans.
The blond doubled over when feeling seeping, yellow blood from his stomach. Stumbling backwards, his hands pressed against the wound in realization that he was actually STABBED! That dastard actually got a hit in! This not only injured his blemish-less body, but his pride!
❝How is it that I, Satan, am hurt?!❞
His glorious wings attempted to spread, but he wasn’t able to take flight due to the how constrictive the forest it. There’s not exactly much room to move about towards the skies with how close together the trees are. Satan fears that escape might not be an option.
Old, twisted roots and rotted vines bubble beneath the lush, vibrant grass that coats the forest floor an almost unnatural green; making massive, thick trees tremble and the earth rattle beneath its master’s toes. There is a certain violent energy to the forest that, while not unusual given the land’s savage nature, is more wild and cruel than it typically would have been Ordinarily, the forest is a calm, wicked thing that lulls its victims into a false sense of sincerity before it devours them or damns their souls to its maze-like structure to wander for eternity with no hope for escape or salvation. Today; however, it almost appears to be bearing its fangs at the unwelcome beast that’s entered its land, reluctantly, perhaps, given who it’s master desires to shelter, but it can’t disobey its keeper’s will.
A potent stench carries itself through the forest, and reaches his nose, and the forest trembles (how dare an intruder spill the blood of someone he deems a friends upon his own land). There’s anger in golden irises where there is typically warmth and understanding - his rage is a rarity, and a fleeting one at thought; brought upon only by the desire to protect those he cares for. But its enough to make flesh and bone snap and crack and twist until it become fur as black as a moonless night, and massive paws replace bony hands and filthy feet. Powerful muscles shift and crack and pop as he adjusts to his true form - and it sounds like thunder despite the massive, endless forest that stretches out before him. He easily towers above the trees; their massive, spiny branches can only lick helplessly at his slender legs, and his massive head seems to touch the sky above (his jaw massive enough to swallow a man whole and his paws capable of crushing the trees commanded beneath them like spiders).
Lips pulled back to reveal massive, sharp fangs as the trees parted to create a path for their lord. Roots began to twist into knives at the intruders feet, and lashed out at them, attempting to plunge their pointed ends into its flesh; the forest itself turning on the stranger with a grotesque and wild violence that sought only their life - clearly avoiding Satan, and making its intention clear. Ambrose’s massive form came up behind the Devil, looming over him as he lowered his massive, grayed snout; a growl vibrating within his throat that sounded like a grand storm tearing through the earth itself. And the wind he created by the slight sway of his massive tail was enough to tear leaves from treetops and knock the intruder down as the trees, flowers, and vines continued to lash out at them.
“I will not forgive those who would dare harm a friend of mine upon my own land. I suggest you use your final breath to pray for a swift death for I am afraid I can spare you no mercy or pity now.”
His voice is like a gunshot; echoing through the forest, and making the ground beneath his massive paws quake where he stood over Satan. Killing wasn’t in his nature, but it wasn’t against it either, though he was typically a peaceful soul, the only kindness he could bring himself to offer this stranger was the chance to say their goodbyes. Forgiveness was something he valued, but he could never grant such a blessing to those would seek to harm someone he considered a friend.
ARCHTYPES QUIZ
Tagging: @weiwuxiian, @cirocchio, @extravachance, @eiriini, @rulerborn, @blncheur
Tagged By: @sincursed
39% Caregiver
Friendly, sincere, and compassionate, the Caregiver finds their reward in helping others. No one could ask for a better best friend.
33% Visionary
Leave it to others to live by the status quo. The Visionary is interested in new ways of seeing, solutions not yet imagined, products not yet built.
28% Intellectual
The Intellectual is the ultimate dinner-party guest. Engaging questions and thoughtful debate are their trademarks.
@weiwuxiian || Starter Call
“Ah, my friend, you seem to be quite skilled at running into me at the most inopportune moments.”
He offers the other man a warm smile and short bow in greeting; silky, wayward strands of black hair swaying uselessly in the wind from where they’ve yanked free from his messy ponytail. The stench of blood and sap and pollen is heavy in the air that surrounds him, but he seems to pay it little mind; his keen nose not even wrinkling at the familiar odors. His slender shoulders are exposed; the old, worn fabric of his yukata draped haphazardly about his forearms. And a dark red, almost black, liquid stains his pale skin where an arrow has nestled its head just beneath his collarbone (but he shows no signs of pain, nor does he seem terribly invested in the wound).
It wasn’t uncommon for hunters to brave the twisted, violent maze of the forest for the sake of glory - the head of a God must be worth mountains of golds, or so he assumes. Oftentimes the vibrant, wicked plants that call this wild, untamed land their home are more than enough to chase them off, or devour those unlucky enough to earn the forest’s wrath; their souls forced to wander aimlessly with no hope for salvation. However, there were the rare few who made it far deeper into the thick trees and brightly colored flowers. He pitied the men who made it this far the most - the ones who dared to draw his blood within this cursed forest. For this land was not as forgiving as he was, and it would tear and rip and crush all those who struck its ruler (mind, body, and soul - all that remained of the hunter who had shot him was the single arrow he had managed to land before the roots swallowed him whole).
Dismissing the vivid images of the man’s fate from his mind, he reached up a bony hand, and yanked the arrow from his flesh; blood splattering upon the forest floor as he tossed the arrow onto the ground. Never did the smile slip from his lips; never did pain creep into his eyes, or make his body shutter. Instead, the open wound he had exposed twisted and pulled; roots tangling beneath his flesh, stitching his flesh and muscle back together while lapping up the blood that had oozed from his body. In the blink of an eye, the wound had vanished - the only proof that it had been there at all the arrow that now slept at his bare feet.
“Forgive me for delaying you, I am afraid I ran into a bit of trouble.”
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