𝕭𝖑𝖔𝖔𝖉 𝖘𝖔 𝖇𝖔𝖑𝖉

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                                 independent, semi-selective, dragon age multimuse!                                                    loved by maleficar (26 & GMT -5)

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🫵 NEW ICON BEL'S TIME

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two (2) gay birds 🫵🖤

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gays im having some thoughts going hmmm about kore and dirth.amen hmmmm

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va.rr.ic going "stop fussing over me-" bestie im not here for you im here to change my hair

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hands u kore hands u kore hands u kore hands u kore

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hehehehe >:-))))

edit to slide u guys the mod that lets u change the hair colors

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got an update on the wip hehehehe rubbing my gay hands together

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The once-prince was silent as he watched the other elf, gold eyes narrowed as he listened to the elder man speak. How strange it was, speaking to another who'd been alive so long ago; like re-living entire memories of Falon'din's right hand delivering messages and threats, swapping barbs and information with other servants of the Evanuris. He glanced over his shoulder, only to realize he'd been brought alone. Even with the strange elf's reassurances, a hand lingered near his staff, hidden under his old, tattered cloak.

"I— I'm sorry, I don't recall much of you at all," he admitted, head ducking as a curtain of dark hair fell over half his face. He'd been so young the last time Bellanaris had visited his mother's palace. He didn't even remember what for, other than that they both spoke on behalf of their respective master. "You seemed... serious. Really serious. Scary, to someone as young as I was then." He swallowed the knot in his throat. "B-but I suppose we're more alike, these days. I know what Elgar'nan and Ghilan'nain want.. kind of. I suppose it wouldn't hurt to talk."

But his eyes snapped up, finally meeting Bellanaris'. "I don't want to throw everything away! I want things to be different! I don't have a choice." His hands moved from his weapons to his arms, a self-soothing motion he should've long grown out of. "So, what do you want to know?"

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Serious and scary, a soft exhale from his nose as he offers another nod, an amused look on his face as he keeps his eyes on the ground for a moment. Yes, he was certainly both of those things when it came to his role and his god, probably more so than necessary given his feelings towards the other.

❝I would be glad if you did.❞

Gesturing towards the other to follow, only going a small distance away to a hopefully more comfortable spot. Sitting down to speak across from one another always seemed to soften meetings, ease the nervousness, perhaps because it often had some object between them- this time a table. Joining his hands together to rest upon the table in a display to ease what may linger, no weapons, no sudden movements, only him leaning back a bit in his seat.

❝I've since thrown that position away, hard to serve a god that's locked away, hard to serve a dead one as well.❞

The word "dead" netting a soft sigh from him before he continues on.

❝That's not my life anymore is all I mean. I no longer act in blind devotion, it's been drilled into my mind to question, even the leader I follow should be questioned when needed.❞

'Course it would serve to irritate Viago if he was questioned, but the fact that he was willing to now was a big change in his mind.

❝This said, I'm using my past to serve the future, I want to ask about Elgar'nan. I'm sure I'm not the first to ask, but having lived during that same time, and served an evanuris myself, I believe I am best to understand.❞

Sure, the people of today were smart, but it was different. He had lived it, references that might be vague or questioned further he would understand immediately- probably. He knew the other evanuris, not as closely, but small things that might be lost in conversation he could pull on if they were important. And of course, relate. A conversation is best when understood, right? Bringing up a hand to push hair back out of his face just to rest on the table once more.

❝I know some things about him, things I was told by another god, things I was told by slaves, and things I picked up while out in duty. If I could reference them alongside your recollection, I believe it would be a great help. No matter how few things you recall, anything in this time is worth more than you might think.❞

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might've put in for a certain gay commission maybe maybe whos to say 👉👈

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SOBBING GOT A WIP AND OHHHHHHHH 😭😭😭😭 WHEN THIS IS DONE IM SHOWING EVERYONE PLASTER IT ALL OVER THIS BLOG USE IT FOR A NEW PROMO UHHHHHHHHH NEW HEADER NEW ICON LMAO

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might've put in for a certain gay commission maybe maybe whos to say 👉👈

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girl help me 😭😭😭😭

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ignore that he and les.tat are becoming friends but i did it painfully but i did it

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girl help me 😭😭😭😭

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o............

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hello gays >:-) ignore that its 4 am how are u all?? thinkin' bout the gays again and having ofc many bellanaris thoughts

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two repressed men kissing thousands dead

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It's dark and cold, much colder than usual, like an unnatural chill was clinging to the corridor leading unto the cellar. One that only grew more frigid as the door was opened, light hoisted off the wall to aid in navigating that abyss. Light that wasn't noticed by the sole inhabitant in his gloom despite the reflection gleaming off the dagger in hand. Sound of footsteps, much like the light, do not reach him, it isn't until the sharp voice of another rings out does he move slightly from his frozen despondency upon the floor. Mismatched eyes lifting from the point of the dagger to the reflection within the blade, a tinge of confusion barely felt for a moment before it's washed aside by the endless depression.

❝Bellanaris.❞

The name feeling sharper than before, even when called out by the talon. As if it was now a weapon meant to inflict pain upon him with each ring. An exasperated sigh given when he doesn't move, truly mimicking a corpse it seemed like.

❝Is this what I trained you to be? A self-pitying fool, dejected and dragging others down by his inaction? You have a contract to fulfill.❞

Words that should've dragged him further down into that void, yet seemed to stoke a fire in that darkness. A contract to fulfill, right, 'cause that's all that ever mattered. Misplaced anger was what it was, yet it was exactly what he needed. Hand slamming down loudly as he pushed himself up off the floor, dagger tossed aside as if it meant nothing.

❝That's all I'm good for isn't it?! Huh?❞

Words harsher than he would've ever given to the other man, but it wasn't about the talon, it was about him. Him and his self-hatred.

❝Hurting people. Killing them. Creating an endless fucking sea of blood spilt from innocent people all for someone else! That's all it's ever been.❞

All he's ever done.

Even now as he yells that's all he's doing. The frigid air turning dense, suffocating, heavy. But there's no recognition of it, no note that he was doing such a thing, nothing in his eyes except anger.

❝"If it makes him happy and follow orders, so be it."❞

The words recounted, dripping with malice and hatred, how quickly did his heart become someone who deserved nothing less than pain and suffering with only a few words. It's truly a blessing for once that the cellar was almost entirely empty, almost entirely devoid of things to be thrown around and destroyed in a fit of rage.

❝A crow does not allow themselves to be disrespected so.❞

An unexpected line, one that didn't sound like it fit the talon in a way. Yet it's something he doesn't have an answer to, no bite back, no excuse. It was something he couldn't fight on, in a way it both soothed the anger and stoked it. A mix of thoughts and emptiness. Something that could only be answered with his absence, time spent alone. Shoulders easing slightly as a frown paints his face, silence as he brushes past the other man, weight lifting from the air with his departure.

Blinding as the light was, he needed to leave that room, that abyss before it swallowed him whole. Blinking away the sting in his eyes as he moves through the lighthouse, unsure of where he'd be going, but he had to go somewhere. Maybe get lost in the crossroads, take his anger and frustration out on those trespassing.

It's a long time sitting with it, feeling like an eternity passing waiting for that anger to subside. No amount of killing antaam or venatori seemed to help, and that's the feeling that was need to make him wake up. Another heavy sigh after another bloody battle, not one from physical exhaustion but mental. That self-hatred was only growing more and more with each passing minute, hatred that he let himself be used, and hatred that he couldn't get past that betrayal.

It's a surprise to nearly no one when he disappears again only to resurface back in Treviso. Silent and looming as usual to the fledglings, but noticeably off to those that knew him well. There was no greeting to them, not a wave to anyone, only his head hung low as he made his way back home. Some part of him feels ashamed, he was a crow, a de Riva, he shouldn't be acting this way. The past should be the past. A thought held that guides him through, guides him to the fifth talon.

An apology should be expected, but it's not given. Instead only a request. Eyebrows knitting together as a pleading expression makes it's way onto his face, vulnerability that had never been shown before, never expressed before- not even to the "god" he served. With a slightly shaky breath, he begins to speak once more.

❝Retrain me. ...Please.❞

It was the only way in his mind that he would be able to make it through. It wasn't a desire for pain, or punishment, only for help.

It's not uncomfortable being back in that room, in a way it was the complete opposite. A balm to the state he was in, bringing up memories from the not as distant past, memories that led to him being a better man than he was before. A man he wanted to be once more. Still, part of him was surprised that his house leader would be training him this time. It shouldn't be a shock, he asked the man for it, but he had expected it to be delegated to someone else like it was when he had joined.

It wasn't hard to lay upon that rack once more, physical pain was always a temporary feeling anyway, he had endured far worse before. But the pause that came after did spark a hint of worry. Mismatched eyes moving from the ceiling to find their place on the talon, eyebrows furrowing as he waited, watching as he stood there arms crossed. For a second his mouth opens, ready to question just to have questions thrown at him before he could get the words out.

❝Why are we doing this?❞

The question was warranted, but oddly casual..? Asked as if they were two friends about to do something stupid, and, or dangerous. Suppose in a way they were, but friends... that was a jump. They were on two distinctly different levels, a talon and a crow, a leader and a follower. It gives him pause for a moment, words struck from his mind before he can get the gears turning once more.

❝The past needs to be the past.❞

Spoken with a frown, eyes wandering off to the side. That feeling of self-hatred creeping back up again accompanied by a feeling of sorrow.

❝I can't sit around sit around waiting again. For someone to need me, want me... love me.❞

The words heavy and barely above a whisper as if he were ashamed to even admit it. To admit that's who he was. Someone so easily manipulated by kind words thrown his way, someone who would commit atrocities in the name of someone who pretended to love him just so he would obey.

❝I've always lived at the will of another, never for myself. Everything I've done in all my time alive has always been for someone else. And he still has a hold over my mind. Over my thoughts, my emotions, even knowing I was nothing but a puppet I can't escape it. I'm going to lead myself to my own grave if I don't put it aside, but I can't. I've returned to the man I was forever ago. I don't want to be the general, I want to be the man I became here.❞

Yes, he still killed, still spilled blood, but it was his choice to take contracts. It was never forced, it was never ordered in a way like it was before, he wasn't leading other people into forced worship. The man he was now, as a crow, was gentler. Thought for himself. Did as he wanted, enjoyed simple things, had true connections to people. All things he never experienced in the past. It was a truly new life, one he was missing desperately.

If that version of himself could return, if his mind could be his own again, he would gladly endure the torture and training over and over again.

Torture to such a degree shouldn't leave someone feeling better, yet for him it was like he had been renewed. Pain was fleeting, something he wouldn't even think about now that it had passed, his mind was only now on how to further become himself. And the clear first step was removing that mark upon him.

It was a gruesome method no doubt to everyone else, but to him it was the clear answer. He could remove it with magic, he knew how, but that wouldn't help. He'd still bear that mark internally. No, he had to do it himself, had to remove it physically. He wouldn't be a fool about it at least to the vague comfort of those that might watch.

Situating himself in the small room used as an infirmary, laying out what he needed. A dagger glinting in the candlelight as it's placed on the table, hands adjusting a mirror to the right angle as he leans forwards. A soft exhale as he leans back, placing the wooden bit between his teeth before picking up the dagger and leaning forwards towards the mirror once more.

The initial pain of being stabbed isn't something he was unaccustomed to, something he could tolerate quite well truthfully despite the thin and sensitive location of the vallaslin, only a slight wince from the sensation before he starts to move. The flaying is a bit more difficult, jaw clenching as he bites down on the bit, it's only alleviated slightly when the first half inch is past. Free hand quickly moving into position to soothe and heal the damage underneath where the skin used to be, slowly sliding along with each movement of the dagger. A harsh inhale through the nose as he continues along his forehead, cutting the mark out carefully even as the blood flow begins to blind one of his eyes.

For the most part the pain is manageable with the healing magic applied to the parts that had been cut out already, doing his best to work around his temporary vision impairment. A pause when he reaches the section that goes down the bridge of his nose, he knew this was going to be the hardest part. Heavy breathing lightening as the wound is soothed by the magic, giving himself a moment to gather himself before pressing on. With most of the ache dulled, and a bit of blood wiped from his eyes, he begins once more carefully cutting into his skin. Though it only takes a moment it feels like forever, a shaky sigh of relief when the skin is fully removed. Dagger placed on a clean rag on the table as his now free hand freezes the rather gross strip of flesh into a mound of ice.

The mark on his chin was the easiest part, pain that went as fast as it came, for a moment he wonders why he didn't start there with the smallest section as the flesh is frozen just like the other. Pushing aside the chunks of ice for a moment as he works to ease the pain and heal the wounds, only when he's no longer aching does he pull his hands away. Leaning back in the chair catching his breath before he pulls the bit out of his mouth, hand running through his hair before turning his attention back to the mirror.

It felt... odd to see himself without the god's markings. He had them for so long, to see himself free again was different. Like the man looking back at him wasn't him. Yet at the same time it made him happy. He wasn't anyone's anymore. He was his own person. An awkward and fumbling laugh bubbling up within him, he was truly free. Shaking his head in disbelief before turning his attention back to the ice, a fist harshly slamming down upon the chunks until they shattered. Tossed offhandedly to the wind, to forever be lost. To never be used against him again.

Convincing the others isn't really as hard as he thought it'd be when he returns to the lighthouse. Maybe it's from the clear change he had gone through, maybe it's an understanding that he would have the easiest time going about it, or maybe they just understand he needs to do so in order to be who he wants to be. The weight it carried for him understood. Yet it still is a small surprise when they agree, a slight urging from Grief even with the idea.

Surprise that disappears when the time comes. Walking through that ruined temple without so much as a hint of fear or need. No glances given to those waiting and watching from afar, no pausing, no hesitation only anticipation. An eagerness to reach that main hall and put an end to his old self.

❝Vhenan.❞

The word sharp, no love in his voice only that same hatred. A hatred that wells up inside as the god turns to greet him, that warm smile given his way- the same one that used to thrown him back into the throes of desire, now only serving to disgust.

❝Bellanaris,❞

The sickeningly sweet greeting interrupted as blades are drawn. An eyebrow raised slightly at the gesture, just to scoff as one is thrown at his feet. A response he expected, one he had partly hoped for, arrogance was something that could be manipulated.

❝Ma harel lasa.❞

Speaking calmly as he readies his sword, eyes never leaving the "god".

❝Dirth ma banal.❞

Mentally sighing in relief as the other elf stands from his new throne to pickup the sword thrown at his feet. Goading still worked on him.

❝Na abelas.❞

A threat that didn't mean much. In the past he would've taken matters into his own hands if he had ever made the god say anything in a tone even remotely as irritated as he was now. In this moment, the words only made him want to laugh. Pride, arrogance, vanity, that's all he ever was. To think he served him willingly...

❝Dirthara-ma.❞

Biting back. He was getting too engrossed in taunting, acting like children who got in a fight over a toy, shaking his head lightly. He had to focus, no getting cocky, no letting his eagerness to see the other fall take over his mind. While Falon'din was no swordsman truly, magic was another thing. He'd be a fool to expect a fair fight, he had to be more aware of everything going on than usual. It wasn't often you fought a god, even if they were made mortal years ago.

Oh how much joy there was in watching the other lay bloody on the ground, it was impossible not to laugh as he stood over the other. Sword tip held just above the heart as a smug expression paints his face, he had done it. He had bested a god by himself and was reclaiming his life at the same time, what wasn't there to be smug about?

A sigh before he speaks once more.

❝Ir tel'him, ma serannas ma vhenan.❞

A softer smile replacing the smug look for a moment as he kneels down. To think someone so weak had such a hold on him for so long, it was baffling. Better to get it done now, even if he wanted to gloat more, a contract must be finished.

❝Na melana sahlin.❞

Unwilling to let the god have a last word, any attempt to sway him, manipulate him once more, the moment he's done speaking the blade in hand is driven into his heart. It's what he deserved, denying so many others the chance to lead their own lives, ending anyone who dared to not fall in line. He didn't get the right to do as he pleased one last time, he needed to feel what they felt. That he was at the mercy of another.

One god dealt with should be a moment of celebration, and for once it's one he takes part in. It felt like such a long time since the last time he took part in an actual party, making the night all the more memorable. It was nice having friends, people you cared about and cared for you in turn, people that would help guide him on his new life.

Letting himself loose wasn't something he did, making it a bit awkward and questionable when he tried, but alcohol always helps in the end with inhibitions. Though he might as well have drained a bar with the amount it takes to get him drunk, that's what parties were about, right? Letting go, drinking, talking, playing stupid games. Telling things they shouldn't. Dredging up old memories and stories.

He should be hesitant to answer anything regarding his past, but he was eager to talk about it. Maybe it was in part the alcohol, but most of it felt genuinely him. A secret kept for so long that needed to be aired out. All but jumping out of his seat when the question of how he ended up a fake lover comes about.

❝I's very stupid.❞ A finger raised as if to warn before he continues on. ❝I should've been just another slave, horrible life, worshipping someone who would kill me if I didn't.❞

A pause on the words as a reflective look passes over him.

❝Maybe not so different... But I'm good with swords,❞ Very good if he was to boost his own ego. ❝always the survivor, always the winner. Magic was best back then, but I wasn't really a great mage... Maybe by today's standards, but not then. I don't know how to control my dreams still to this day.❞

A frown at the admission. Not that it really mattered anyway, he didn't need to be shaping the fade, seemed like too much responsibility.

❝But I'm good at fighting! Unmatched back then. I guess he saw that, saw the fight I put up, knew that he'd need someone to handle the martial matters. And that was my role to take. I don't know what plan he had prior to meeting, but embarrassingly I was quick to bend the knee.❞

Far too quick. Near immediately to be honest...

❝I thought he was beautiful, and he was! Just only on the outside. I think my face betrayed me then, showed that I was immediately stunned. When you think the way he did, you take everything you get. If someone seems infatuated with you, well, then you pretend to feel the same.❞

Taking another swig of his drink, setting it down with a shake of the head. It was nice to speak about things actually, even if they were frankly horrible things.

❝Manipulation was always the game, and I was a very easy target to manipulate. So long as someone said sweet and kind things to me I would do whatever they wanted.❞

Words that should be sad, and probably were to hear, spoken with a laugh. It felt very silly now. He wasn't that person anymore, it was fine to make light of, so long as he remembered all the horrific things he did and never made light of them.

❝Not anymore. I have my own life now, no controlling hand pushing me to do what they want.❞ And he liked that. The freedom to do as he pleased. Even if it'd be a semi-hard adjustment for a while, he'd come around. A quick cant of the head before he's picking his drink back up. ❝Well, aside from Viago, but his is a welcome hand.❞