the indomitable edge

[blademused]

#BLADEMUSED ━━━━ indie & selective yaa'rai vorje, an original fantasy-based character. mutuals only.

carrd \ please read the rules below before following. ↴

001 bigotry and harassment won't be tolerated here, or anyone who fetishizes r*pe / inc*st / etc. proship and those who associate with them dni. this blog is 18+ only. posts will always be tagged with the content warnings relevant to them, and anything explicit will be placed under a readmore.

002 please don't overuse formatting when replying to me, it makes it difficult for my dyslexia-having ass to read. accessibility over aesthetics, y'all. small text and consistent double spacing are fine.

003 my activity can be sporadic—sometimes i reply to things within a few hours, sometimes a few weeks. if it's been a while with no mention of something i owe you, though, you're more than welcome to give me a nudge; i'm very scatter-brained and a reminder is always welcome!

004 if i follow you, i'm interested in interacting. i have verses for star wars, warframe, d&d / bg3 and general sci-fi & fantasy. i won't, however, humanize yaa'rai or otherwise change his form; being a sword is an integral aspect of his character.

005 if you want to write a specific kind of dynamic with my muse, please discuss it with me before bringing it up in-character. i'm not against shipping, i just don't have a lot of enthusiasm for it with how the rpc seems to prioritize it over everything else. i don't practice mains or exclusives.

BLACKLIST please tag mentions of #child death and #child abuse. FANDOMS i will not interact with blogs that write for harry p*tter, h*llaverse, or attack on tit*n; this includes multimuses and AUs.

VERSES (tags tba!)

[vetchtibbles]

oh hey man so is your living weapon single or

[super-ion]

Uhh... we're pair bonded... I mean, yes, it is single, but I gotta be real with you, I'll be bringing *a lot* of baggage to this arrangement

[idyllisk]

“Do not unsheath me without reason. Do not wield me without valor.”

inscription on the sword of a Giovanni della Bande Nere statue on the facade of the Uffizi Gallery, Florence, Italy.

[fvneralpyred]

"... I was jokin'. It was a joke." All of it was, in technicality. She didn't know her preferences beyond maybe a few things she'd read in, erm... spicier novels. And even then, she was not at a level of friendship with Yaa'rai to even begin to legitimately expound on such. At the subtle sting of grief, she shudders. "I am, ah... sorry fer yer loss." She's seen enough of what lost loves can do to people, and with death running so fervently at her heels, she always thought it better to never have taken a lover. As much as she'd want otherwise.

"... The socks on bit wasn't a joke, though. I have problems regulatin' m'body temperature, so if it gets particularly cold out I gotta..." She gestures to her feet. "Socks on."

[blademused]

"well." yaa'rai cringes, flushed with embarrassment. "it wasn't a very good joke. you should work on that." his gaze sharpens, the usual prickly hostility returning. "and you're not sorry she died; you never knew her. you never stood before her, awed by her might and majesty."

his lost love is an iron weight about his neck; chains that bind his arterial wings until they ache. (oh, how could she have abandoned me so?) how could she have continued as she did, knowing her blade was rusting away at the core of s'kthyssia? surely his absence must have wounded her as hers does him. he shoves the saucer away carelessly, the blood slopping over the side.

"all your power, and you can't even keep yourself warm? how pitiful," he sneers at hikari. "you wouldn't be the first wielder of mine to freeze to death, should the cold claim you."

[fvneralpyred]

@blademused asked:

"possession is rude. i prefer consent and eye contact."

"An' I like missionary with the lights off an' socks on," she joked idly, "if we're listin' our preferences. Good choices on yer end, I might add." Though she may stretch possession as long as it was consensual, and not a certain someone piloting her body to make threats on her friends' lives.

Hikari could forgive and forget. She had become very, very forgiving--but if there was one thing she would never forgive Fandaniel for, it was that. Perhaps that's why she so readily accepted Yaa'rai's offer to wield him, knowing that he'd reacted to the prospect of taking control with disgust.

It made her feel just a fraction more comfortable.

"I take it yer int'bloodplay as well, or... actually, would that count as foodplay t'you?"

[blademused]

"what?" yaa'rai glances up from the saucer of blood he'd been lapping at, incredulous. "that's not what i—there are some things i do not need to know about my wielders!"

he grumbles and pokes at the pool of crimson with sluggish tendrils, his appetite suddenly diminished. intimacy is a—difficult subject to bear, still; a stinging lash across wounds not yet healed. hikari might feel the shade of something bitter across their bond as the blade's ghostly light dims.

"it doesn't matter," he snaps, deflecting her question. "i have not bedded anyone since alejia. she was all i ever wanted; i remain loyal to her, though many millennia have passed since her death." he looks at her again. "sorry, did you say socks on?"

[blademused]

what lovely teeth you have

[sceptixfakemon]

taste my steel you stupid citrus

[blademused]

Looks up at with a little blep of her tongue, stub tail that is scarred up slowly swishing. She is focused on the shiny.

said shiny stares back, squinting with a look of heavy suspicion. maybe it's just his bird aspect, but he doesn't quite trust anything of a feline nature—even very cute khajiit with big, sparkling eyes. "ssssss," he hisses, and waves his ribbon at her with a shooing motion. "what do you want, hm? put that back in your mouth. you're going to catch a fly."

[blademused]

"if this santy claws was indeed real and possessed such outlandish powers, he'd bring back my wife."

[blademused]

"Wasn't really sure what t'get you." On account of not having a body, and all. She passes over a box with mineral oil, a microfiber cloth, and a soft, six-fulm length pillow to rest upon. Seems she knows a fair bit about blade maintenance at that. There was also another, heftier jar full of a thick, sanguine liquid.

"Behemoth blood. Prolly one've the tougher beasts around here, pulsin' with magic an' all. It's, ah... quite fresh. Wanted it t'be a surprise."

the blade makes a sound like many teeth clicking together, his gaze roving over the gifts as they're presented. a surprise it certainly is; such thoughtfulness is unexpected, especially from a wielder. is hikari trying to sweeten him up? this can only be a ploy, though to what end he cannot fathom.

"i'm—" undeserving, undeserving, undeserving. the heat that usually ripples off yaa'rai's form is reduced to a pitiful shiver, and some indecipherable emotion oozes across their fledgling link. "this is ridiculous. what use is oil to a blade that never dulls? do you really want to bathe me? that would only be incredibly uncomfortable for the both of us. remove this nonsense from my sight."

...

"i'll keep the pillow, though," he says grudgingly; and immediately flops down onto it to sulk.

[fvneralpyred]

Oh. It floats now.

Of course, one's mind is like to wander with questions when such an immaculate blade ( that which looked almost eldritch in its general shape ) were to grace one's hands, but to such an extent as this? A god within a blade? Her previously neutral gaze shifts to something more wary, names she'd never once heard breaching her ears and sitting upon her memory to be newly sorted later.

Yaa'un. Decidedly not Hydaelyn, who was a mother-goddess herself. Either this being was of a different shard, there were gods yet unknown to her, or the stranger option of him coming from a different reality altogether. There was also a matter of a society that had dubbed him a god of war that she was now curious about. There was a subtle relief and quirk of her brow as she relaxed her shoulders. Suddenly, she didn't feel as bad about her myriad titles.

"Oh, thank the kami," she breathed, regarding Yaa'rai. "Eikon-slayer, finder've false gods, liberator of Doma an' Ala Mhigo, servant've death, an' countless, countless others. Though, most commonly, folks call me the Warrior of Light. Fer better, or fer worse. Indomitable Edge does have a neat ring to it, though, so y'definitely got a good one there."

[blademused]

most people certainly don't thank whatever gods they pray to upon being acquainted with yaa'rai; that alone is enough to surprise him, disregarding everything else hikari says. (they definitely never compliment his epithets, either.) he leans back with a resounding hm, taking in his new wielder in her entirety. she might do, indeed.

"the warrior of light." one of his void-tendrils lingers across the flat of his blade beneath his eye, as one might stroke their chin. "what sort of light, specifically, are we talking about here? starlight? moonlight? or something more—irritatingly esoteric, like the light of one's soul?" he waves his ribbon dismissively, already plowing ahead without waiting for an answer. "semantics! allow me to get to the point. is your will strong enough to command a god-blade, hikari?"

he hovers close, his gaze locked onto hers as his aura roils with a searing heat. "i'm very high maintenance," he says, unabashed. "if you can't keep me bloodied and satisfied, don't even bother considering it—just toss me back in whatever ditch you found me in. someone else will come along. they always do."

[fvneralpyred]

"No offense, but when a sword starts talkin' to you, its kinda natural t'assume some dark forces are at play." Though the jab may have stung anyone else, Hikari was relieved. Half the time I wouldn't wanna be me neither. Plus, she'd had her fill of general fuckery with this job messing with her head. She squints down at him with a discerning eye, from hilt to blade. Studying.

Hikari scoffs, "Don't I know it." Even when it had burnt her hand and nearly killed her. The dark arts would never truly leave her, and frankly, did she even care? She did good, it got the job done. "Hikari's fine. I could go by the 'I'm known by many names' spiel, but we'd be here all day an' I'm... almost certain neither've us wanna sit through that farce." She still hadn't forgotten about 'stealer of pants.'

[blademused]

the sword is alive under her gaze in ways no object born of the forge should ever be. its fuller ripples with the illusion of breathing, its jagged edge shifting and splitting in a kaleidoscope of teeth. the great, cosmic eye that splits the blade in two distinct parts stares at hikari unblinking, its star-shaped pupil contracting.

"dark forces?" yaa'rai scoffs; insulted, but not by much. "i assure you, the only dark force at play here is that which binds me to this accursed form. have you any idea how miserable it is to be a sword?"

the blade tugs itself free of her hands, whirling dramatically on its point to hover mid-air and face her. "i am yaa'rai vorje, the divine spawn of allmother yaa'un," he introduces himself with overwhelming grandeur. "the s'kthyssian god of war and bloodlust—formerly, if you want to be technical about it. i am the hell-blade, the hunger which never dulls; world-eater, star-killer. i am the indomitable edge."

[fvneralpyred]

@blademused asked:

"how quickly the blade becomes you."

It was common enough sentiment that blades were an extension of their wielders. After at least a year of her having put her Dark Knight soul crystal aside ( both because of the overwhelming Light, and eventually, the Final Days ) she had decided to take up the art of the blade once more.

She didn't expect the sword she is now carrying to be fucking haunted. Though, given her track record, this was bound to be the case eventually. Trouble tends to congregate around Death's shepherd wherever her footfalls seemed to sound.

"Y'can't become me. There's only one me." She mutters. A new voice among the fair handful that now chattered amid her head, collected after years of strife. This one was certainly stronger, though, and if she had to choose, she'd be wont to bear a blade that didn't give her unwanted commentary. "Regardless've what y'meant, of course I'm good at wielding you. Perhaps a little rusty given the circumstances, but..." If the kami were merciful, perhaps the Scions wouldn't see her conversing with an actual, literal sword.

[blademused]

"that's not what i—" yaa'rai hmphs, his tattered ribbon folding over itself in an impression of crossed arms. "whyever would i want to be you? well, aside from—you having a body, and opposable thumbs, i suppose—but that's besides the point. anyway."

he'd been having a delightful dream, before this new wielder had come along and yanked him back to reality by the hilt. he reins in his fire and acquiesces, for the time being; it wouldn't do to scare her off through the crime of being himself. perhaps she may even be of some use; of potential beyond another pair of hands that'll carry him from point a to point b.

"the art of the blade never really leaves you, once you've felt its edge," yaa'rai muses, turning his pale gaze towards hikari's face. "and, well, i might be helping you along there. one of the many boons of being my wielder. care to tell me your name?"

[blademused]

old old art of yaa'rai's true form (specifically his reduced true form, post-bladeification, which is significantly different from his true true form. it's complicated.)

just had to emphasize how ridiculously spiky this guy is.

[blademused]

@furysblade / continued

yaa'rai's eye twitches at the dismissal. (oh, the audacity of it all!) he crawls onto the bed as aymeric falls back into slumber, mandible-edge catching on the blanket. not to disturb, but to wait; the moment aymeric's awareness is pulled into that dreaming plane, the felled god is waiting for him like a persistent virus.

"you know," the manifestation begins, tapping his claws idly. he's laid out on his side in casual repose; one hand propping up his great horned head, the other resting on the flare of his hip. "you'd get a lot more rest if you didn't stay up well past the witching hour—every night—politicking and yearning. besides! you wouldn't let naegling starve, would you?"

[arc-77]

"No!" Fordo jams the sword into a mound of alien biomass and gives it a scolding point. "No villages. Told myself I was done razing hapless hamlets on someone else's orders when the Empire collapsed. If I do it, I do it because I want to." He hooks a thumb towards his chest. "And no moon elf has ever done me wrong. Yet. Jury's still out on the moon elves."

[blademused]

yaa'rai coils his void-tendrils in and simpers, though his eye still blazes with tangible anger. "fine," he snaps. "have it your way. i won't mourn you when some—when—" he gnashes at empty space. "when a worthier partner wrenches me from your cold, dead hands! you'll have earned a humiliating end."

his rage eclipses as quickly as it burst, his ribbon twitching like a loth-cat's tail. "you can pick me up now," he says coolly, refusing to look at the trooper. "need to turn in the bounty, and all that. not that i get any part of the reward."

[arc-77]

"But I'm not a good and dutiful wielder, I'm an interstellar mercenary using you to hack apart alien zombies until we find you someone more thematically appropriate."

"If I started obliging your preferences, you'd get more demanding, and soon enough I'd be slaughtering whole villages of," he gestures vaguely, "moon elves or some osik just to keep you happy. Not a chance. Learned my lesson when I gave that mouse a cookie."

[blademused]

"ablablabla," yaa'rai interrupts, snipping his blade-maw in a mockery of flapping jaws. "the alien zombies have no substance, fordo. they taste like muck and rot and there's no challenge in hacking them apart."

a sniff, loud and pointed. it's still unclear how he manages that without a nose. "there's no harm in indulging my fantasies, really, now," he whines. "just one village would suffice. a small one. i'll even say thank you."