sentientbook:
This just in, Kalne loves cake. especially the kind with jam in the middle @behemxth
“I don’t see the problem, it tastes good.”
cherry valley forever
h
will byers stan first human second
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"

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I'd rather be in outer space 🛸

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@behemxth-blog
sentientbook:
This just in, Kalne loves cake. especially the kind with jam in the middle @behemxth
“I don’t see the problem, it tastes good.”
betelguise: what's something that calms you down when you're upset?
space asks
betelguise: what's something that calms you down when you're upset?
“Food...”
he hums as he considers the answer for a second. Dwelling his response in his thoughts rather than on the tip of his tongue. It takes him a moment to notice the awkwardness of his silence before he continues.
“Comfort eating; people call it” his seriousness does well to contrast the subject matter of his response “meat makes me happy. So does a good broth, but...” he slowly comes out of his shell, smiling about his confession “what I really enjoy is a nice cake. Baked to perfection, something with jam in the middle.”
space asks i guess 💫
nebula: put your itunes on shuffle, give me the first 5 songs that pop up
cosmos: what are you like when you’re angry at someone?
shooting star: what are you like when you're sad?
eclipse: what are you like when you're happy?
luna: favorite names?
space dust: are you happy?
constellation: have you ever read a book that is worse than the movie?
black hole: do you have any diagnoses?
comet: do you like the person that you've become?
galaxy: are you a sun, moon or star person?
milky way: do you prefer math or humanities?
satellite: when was your first kiss?
betelguise: what's something that calms you down when you're upset?
solar system: if you could live anywhere in the world, where would you live?
sunspot: are you a sensitive person?
andromeda: describe your first best friend
saturn: what do you think about before falling asleep?
pulsar: what kind of person do you want to be?
cassiopeia: what do you like most about yourself?
orion: what do you dislike most about yourself?
meteor: do you have a favorite historical figure?
@sentientbook
Curious rumours left the lips of a few shopkeepers and salesman. Blacksmiths told tales of a mage who roamed. A stranger capable of magic unparalleled. Tales had been told of the ultima spell illuminating the night from deep within the forests. An emerald green had protruded from the trees of the woods, shining and decimating those too close.
Of course, Kalne could only believe the hearsay of strangers so much. The ultima spell had not been seen for centuries, neither a black mage. Both were but legends poised off of the tongues of the suspicious elderly and naive young and although Kalne was open to the wonder of such an extravagant world, even he had his doubts regarding such wizardry.
The knight had been wrestling a beast most foul when the magic had illuminated it’s body from behind. He’d watched with a tentative gaze as the very rumours he’d doubted became real before his very eyes. Failing to act on his surprise, the warrior simply stood rigid as he watched the fray unfold. The beast howled, at what - he still couldn’t decipher.
Amidst the shadows of the trees was a phantom. A tale spread like wildfire through the small villages and towns of the world; now personified before his very eyes.
He sheaths his sword. No longer would he need the blade, not with a magic-user at this side.
“Impressive.”
Would anybody like a starter with my socially-stunted mean bean?
@trashkingizunia
The tide had been rough, the storm only extenuating it's strength against the pine of his boat. It'd been enough to twist his stomach though luckily not enough to evacuate it's contents.
The warrior, adorned with the clothes of a hunter; would explore the island in search of a beast. A griffon; one with a legendary rumour, renowned enough to have reached his ears. The 'behemoth' undoubtedly looked his namesake, as he hopped off of his boat and began to traverse the land. His hand grasped a short-sword tightly and another slightly, longer sword hung loosely from a strap across his back. On his feet were boots made of a Coeurl's skin and Garula fur; his clothing took much of the same material. A simple loin cloth and shorts, his top nothing but a breastplate and shoulder pads. The war paints across his body and braids hanging loose aside his ears only further proved his origin as a hunter. Blonde as the sun and scarred with a purple birthmark to taint almost half of his face, it'd be an obvious answer to anybody as to why he was known as the behemoth.
His eyes are firm and poised ahead of him as he takes slow, near-silent footsteps toward the depths of the island's embrace. The island of Angelgard was a decidedly lonely place, enough so that not even the rattling of thunder could break it's silence. A bleakness corrupted any and all discernible features. Standing where he stood ; the island no longer looked in tune with the rest of Eos. As if drawn into another world, Kalne could feel the oppressive lure of the land's atmosphere over him like the jaws of a snake. Despite his boat being just south of his feet; an escape suddenly felt impossible. The draw of the centre of the isle was irresistible, beckoning him closer like a lamb to slaughter.
Kalne follows the draw of the ornamental blades almost-blindly. He keeps his wits about him and yet his face feels numb, his muscles are rigid with the undeniable pull of curiosity. No longer are his thoughts or footsteps tracking a griffon, but instead - a mystery.
He edges closer, eyes now blind to the darkness before him ; his mouth slowly begins to drop agape as he spies a figure’s shadow dancing against the light of the crackle of sparks in the sky. He approaches slowly, legs aching and body now rigid with a strange, unexplained fear. Whatever was before him - was a ghost.
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“For the last time: My name is Grimoire Weiss, and it is NOT to be abbreviated!”
Private / Selective Weiss of NieR: Gestalt Multiverse / Selectship / 18+ themes This blog will contain spoilers of the following: NieR: Gestalt / Replicant &. NieR: Automata Penned by DES.
Muse Information - The Arm
Kalne’s right arm is an important part of his character. Some might read that and think ‘that’s a weird thing to say, Han, are you on the druggos?’ But hear me out.
Kalne’s right arm is - ALWAYS - hidden behind a sleeve of armor and a gauntlet. It has been since he was twenty-three. The reason for this is because the skin from the tips of his fingers to his upper arm/shoulder was flayed when he was tortured brutally under the hands of an enemy.
The warrior was in a partnership with a young dragoon knight; one of whom he fell in love with. The two had a mutual relationship and Kalne considered himself her loyal guard. When the pair stormed their enemy in search of a rare crystal, they found their enemy to have ten times the strength they did.
Overwhelmed by their foes, the pair had to flea the compound - however, the lady dragoon was wounded on the way back. Due to the extent of her wounds, she couldn’t climb a wall they needed to hop in order to escape. Kalne aided her up the wall, hopeful she’d pull him up after helping her.
However. She didn’t. She fled. Terrified of the enemy - because they had drawn forces from somewhere other than the rabble of man. No, their army had been born and bred in hell. An elite legion of demons had chased them down - one the dragoon knew she nor Kalne stood a chance against.
Thus she left him to die.
But they didn’t kill him.
Kalne Estenea was taken captive by the enemy forces and tortured for a little over a year. During this time, his body was used and abused in ways most men couldn’t comprehend. Including the flaying of his skin and tearing of his flesh with whips/chains/maces etc.
Eventually, the warrior managed to escape ; half-blind by a lack of light and emaciated by a lack of food. His body was too weak too even stand, so he dragged himself from the enemies chamber. Setting alarms and alerting the foes led to a dreadful chase outside of the base. Kalne found himself surrounded at the tip of a mountain by the demons once more.
Fearful of another year or even lifetime of torture - he jumped to the sea below. Allowing fate to decide his life.
A little while late, a skeleton of a man dragged themselves from the salty water of the sea. On the beach, he knelt. His arm and body burning from it’s salt-treated injuries. He was encountered by some villagers who took him in and the rest is history.
Kalne has been building his strength and body mass since - his emotions and expressions are further stunted by his trauma.
HOWEVER.
Despite everything - Kalne forgave his dragoon friend. Deciding instead to distance himself from her. He also holds no bitterness in his heart - only shame for the things that were done to him. Kalne will never, unless seriously prodded talk about this.
Muse Information - Emotions
Kalne is terrible regarding his display of emotions ; he’s never hot or cold nor is he black and white. The fighter has a tendency to be terribly vague in regards to what and how he feels without necessarily intending to be. He will - ALWAYS - have a straight face. He rarely smiles, laughs, cries or shouts. His voice is quite deep anyway, so shouting only makes him thunder upon a place. However; Kalne will near enough never shout at a person.
It takes a lot to make him mad.
In regards to upsetting Kalne or making him look emotionally distressed - only the rarest and most terrible of situations will call for such a reaction. As a whole, Kalne is straight-faced, calm and collected. A lot of the time, people will think he’s from another world due to his serious lack of self-awareness.
He will sometimes even appear somewhat naive to what is happening because of the fact he’s incredibly calm, collected and straight-forward with whomever he’s talking to.
Despite this seeming lack of emotion - Kalne does deeply care for other people and he shows this rather in his actions than in his words. The warrior will fight to the near-death for another and then when asked if okay, will simply give a thumbs up and a simple ‘yes’.
If he considers you a friend - he’ll care about you immensely.
“DAMN.” Questions for Muses.
BLOOD. -What types of injuries has your muse sustained? What was the worst?
DNA. -What was your muses home life like?
YAH. -Something your muse agrees on 100% of the time.
ELEMENT. -What is your muse “made of”, what is their character like? Courageous, loving, scared, etc.
FEEL. -How does your character react to a persons touch? A random stranger’s? A loved one’s? A friend’s?
LOYALTY. -Does your character have any loyalty to any group?
PRIDE. -What is your muses biggest flaw?
HUMBLE. -How does your muse handle praise?
LUST. -Who does your muse find attractive?
LOVE. -Does your muse have a “special someone”
XXX. -What’s the raunchiest thing your muse has ever done?
FEAR. -What are your muses biggest fears?
GOD. -Does your muse believe in a god? If so, describe it.
DUCKWORTH. -Has your muse ever thought about committing or committed a crime?
@vexenchillingworth
“A heartless...”
he mumbles, his voice deep but his musing naive.
The man is a boy in regards to his knowledge of the other worlds; of their customs and their daemons. There are no behemoths across the sky - nor are there swordsmen like he, but rather keyblades, nightmares and soulless creatures with nought to fill their chests? It sounds alien to him. Alien and...terrifying. But still, the knight does not falter. He remains steadfast, his expression unchanged.
“This is...” he pauses for a short breath “strange. Terrible.”
His eyes shift from his informant to the blackened sky above them; the system with which they resided was more than forests and mountains. The blue of a day’s sky was nothing but decoration in comparison to the underbelly of the world. Behind ever man, every beast - was a story. The heartless were just yet another to unravel before him.
He itches at the stinging on his right arm; shuffling back and forth the armor atop his wounded, mutilated flesh.
“I was ignorant. Unaware of heartless. Teach me.” He shoots words as if they were bullets, unassuming of how blunt he sounds in doing so.
@twdgdeadmanwalking
The dead had wiped the land almost-clean of other humans. Since the St.John’s farm, he’d seen nobody. No man nor woman had encouraged him to fight for anything other than himself, simply because there were no other men or women around. The living had perished beneath the strength of the dead and Kalne had wandered alone. Between and through the fray, on the outskirts of terror.
His shock upon seeing her had been widened eyes and stiffened muscles. His hands had gone rigid and the dryness of his mouth had become more obvious as it hung agape. He’d lost count of the days...the weeks, alone.
Yet there she was ; clear as day before him. A cap loosely hanging over her head and a slow, melancholic pace to her steps. Perhaps his world view were bleak under the circumstance ; but from the distance, he saw the sadness in her he also saw in himself.
“Y-you!” he struggles to talk, his voice fighting against a raspy tone “you’re alive!”
He practically howls at the child, excited to see somebody living and yet entirely puzzled over how a child of all people could have survived such destruction. He edges forward, the knife at his side bouncing against his hip in rhythm to his movements. As if naive, he has no intentions to use the blade or even flick it open.
“Not dead...!”