darksteelreign @darksteelreign - Tumblr Blog

King of Waloed, Chosen of Odin, Warden of Darkness. A devout follower of the teachings of Malius, damned to suffer. A servant, a tool of the Gods, nothing but a weapon to wield as they please...

rules • muse • mun • verses • rp-memes

follows back from @soulsalight

faegfx

𝐬𝐚𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐝 , 𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐡 𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 . ݁˖ ❀ ⋆｡˚ a series of romantic gesture prompts inspired by historical fiction, period dramas, classic fairytales, poetry, and more. will likely be updated in the future, so please do not add onto this.

[ HAND ] , sender kisses receiver's hand.

[ COURTESY ] , receiver kisses sender's hand.

[ KNUCKLES ] , sender kisses receiver's knuckles.

[ AFFECTION ] , receiver kisses sender's knuckles.

[ TENDER ] , sender kisses receiver's forehead/temple.

[ CARE ] , receiver kisses sender's forehead/temple.

[ LIPS ] , sender kisses receiver on the mouth.

[ SEALED ] , receiver kisses sender on the mouth.

[ HUG ] , sender hugs receiver close.

[ EMBRACE ] , receiver hugs sender close.

[ KNEEL ] , sender gets down on one knee.

[ REVERENCE ] , receiver gets down on one knee.

[ OFFER ] , sender offers their arm for receiver to join them somewhere.

[ JOIN ] , receiver offers their arm for sender to join them somewhere.

[ ENVELOPE ] , sender writes receiver a love letter.

[ LETTER ] , receiver writes sender a love letter.

[ FLOWERS ] , sender gifts receiver flowers.

[ BOUQUET ] , receiver gifts sender flowers.

[ DANCE ] , sender asks receiver to dance.

[ WALTZ ] , receiver asks sender to dance

[ SILENCE ] , sender and receiver enjoy a quiet moment together without conversation.

[ READ ] , sender reads to receiver.

[ STORY ] , receiver reads to sender.

[ CARRY ] , sender carries receiver in their arms.

[ LIFT ] , receiver carries sender in their arms.

[ HUG ] , sender hugs receiver close.

[ INTERLOCKED ] , sender holds receiver's hand.

[ INTERWOVEN ] , receiver holds sender's hand.

[ GENTLE ] , sender holds receiver's face in their hands.

[ CRADLE ] , receiver holds sender's face in their hands.

[ CONVERSE ] , sender has an intimate conversation with receiver.

[ SHARE ] , receiver has an intimate conversation with sender.

[ COOK ] , sender cooks a meal for receiver.

[ CHEF ] , receiver cooks a meal for sender.

[ POEM ] , sender writes a poem for receiver.

[ ODE ] , receiver writes a poem for sender.

[ GIFT ] , sender gives receiver a gift ( specify ).

[ PRESENT ] , receiver gives receiver a gift ( specify ).

[ HOLD ] , sender and receiver cuddle together.

[ BACK ] , sender gives receiver a back rub.

[ MASSAGE ] , receiver gives sender a back rub.

[ ASSIST ] , sender helps receiver put on a piece of clothing or jewellery.

[ HELP ] , receiver helps sender put on a piece of clothing or jewellery.

[ RAINFALL ] , sender kisses and/or dances with receiver in the rain.

[ DOWNPOUR ] , receiver kisses and/or dances with sender in the rain.

[ BASKET ] , sender and receiver share a private picnic.

[ WORSHIP ] , sender kisses and/or touches receiver's body with reverence.

[ DEVOTION ] , receiver kisses and/or touches sender's body with reverence.

[ ALTAR ] , sender watches receiver walk down the aisle towards them.

[ AISLE ] , receiver watches sender as they walk down the aisle towards them.

#rpmemes

visionaryanarchist

· 𝐂𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐄𝐃 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐑 for @darksteelreign

· 𝐒𝐚𝐥𝐭𝐰𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐧𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐥𝐬, 𝐚 𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐬𝐰𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐚𝐬 𝐠𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐝 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐛𝐛𝐞𝐝 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐩𝐮𝐫𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐨𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐨𝐚𝐭.

The future was supposed to be, well, futuristic ― at least he had almost believed that to be the case. Turned out the entire opposite was the case. Whatever had caused him to be transported here had also thrown civilization back into the middle ages. Not proverbial, but very literally.

As such, there was nothing close to a motorized vehicle to be had, providing shelter from the tides when he decided he’d had spent enough time with those who preferred to hide from the rest of the world, disconnected and secluded. He’d never learn the truth nor a way back home if he remained.

And so he had taken a chance to set over to the shores of Sanbreque, usually a safe passage due to the lay of the surrounding land forming a secluded section of the sea between them, rarely causing troubles on the way over for the tinkerers and merchants of Mysidia.

Or so they said.

Of course the lucky streak broke the one time Seifer tried to make it over, and of course it would not only almost drown him, but strand him somewhere completely different than he had planned.

There was never any need nor chance to learn steering a boat other than the small vessels he and his friends would use to row out into Balamb Bay to go fishing, and with what little knowledge he had accumulated during his time in Mysidia, earning his stay by helping out he fishermen, among other things, he had not been taught how to handle a full-blown storm like this.

Thankfully his boat had miraculously not been torn apart entirely by the crashing waves, and when the dark clouds subsided enough to make breathing easier after what he could only assume had been days, he could see a shoreline in the distance, crowned by ragged mountains. Only to find that the damage to his vessel had been grave enough to likely not take him there in time.

With little to be done about it, except trying to makeshift fix whatever he could, while using a piece of wood he’d torn loose as a tool to row as best he could, he tried to make it to shore. Any shore.

It proved tiring, and straining, and when evening turned the skies above dark again, he had almost given up hope, wondering if that was the end of his story at last. No heroics, no big bang. Just him either drowning from exhaustion of keeping himself afloat, or starving eventually. Nothing like he had ever imagined. Enough to make him wish he hadn’t survived the onslaught of the strange creature which had appeared when he last stood before Squall.

Yet stubborn and prideful, he refused to simply lay down and wait for it to end, rallying up his remaining strength to continue his attempts of reaching the shore, when in the distance, he could make out faint lights. At first he assumed a city nearby ― but cities didn’t move.

Sure enough, after a while, the silhouette of a large ship peeled from the darkness of the oncoming night, massive and black like onyx, an imposing appearance even on a sunny day he had no doubt.

Pondering whether it would be wise to make himself known, yet before he could act on his conclusion that it was either this or die, he paused as it almost appeared like the galleon was headed for him. There was absolutely no way for it to be true, and yet…

darksteelreign

The Einherjar cut her way through the waves with an ease akin to that of a blade through flesh. The king stood unmoving near the bow for the entirety of the journey, looking out across the water, gaze fixed on the horizon, his mind occupied by a mystery. He didn't question the order of his master to collect whoever the individual was they were currently sailing towards. It wasn't his place to question his lord. No, the mystery that was slowly unfolding before him was entirely born within himself.

An anticipation brimmed beneath his skin, a thrill he only ever felt the eve before a grand battle. This particular feeling of anticipation, however, wasn't his own. His fingers twitched as he once again fought down the urge to summon Zantetsuken into his open palm. He wondered why Odin was so on edge, why the Eikon, normally entirely silent unless conjured forth by his command, stirred within him now.

If he didn't know better, fully in tune with his Eikon's might as he was, he'd think Odin was... feeling angry, vengeful. It puzzled the king. He'd seen Garuda's influence on her Dominant, witnessed Titan put cracks into Kupka's facade, even the young prince of Sanbreque would sometimes struggle to contain Bahamut's easily provoked anger, no matter how noble and composed the front he put forth, but his own Eikon would never leave Barnabas to struggle for control. Those days lay far behind them. Odin and him walked alongside eachother for too long to be anything but fully in tune in all aspects of their being, and yet...

By the time they drew closer to the destination only the king seemed certain on, the darkness of night draped itself like a veil over the flagship of the Waloedan army. Barnabas felt his presence before he saw the man on the small boat on the open sea. A flicker of recognition, of fury went through him. The king's eyes flared with gold. Darkness pooled in his hand, Zantetsuken appeared and with one quick movement of his arm he sent forth a sudden sharp-edged crescent of aether towards the small ship before he had to force himself to lower his arm, grappling with Odin for control.

"What—?"

His free hand forced his sword arm down, muscles trembling under the force it took. The king turned his head to watch as his attack found its target, completely destroying the already battered vessel. But whoever was on board managed to jump into the water before he could find his limbs severed from his body and the king blinked at the rush of frustration that he felt radiate so clearly from his Eikon.

His eyes narrowed as they drew ever closer to the man now struggling to keep himself afloat in the deep water. Who was he? And why would his mere presence force Odin's hand like this? It was unheard of. The warden of Ash didn't lose control like this and certainly not because of a single unknown man.

"My liege?"

Sleipnir. He appeared at his side but a moment after Barnabas lost control of Odin, likely sensing the surge of emotion, too. The Lord Commander's concern almost sounded genuiney too. "It's nothing." The king said, voice low, but annoyance clearer in it now, clearer than any other emotion he'd displayed in weeks. "Get that man out of the water." He commanded, turning to make his way to his cabin below deck. "And give the order to return to Waloed."

He paused as he felt a pull at the edge of his consciousness. Normally, this sensation was tied to the suggestions of his master trickling into his mind from far away, but rather than feeling a sense of clarity about what he should do, Barnabas was met with Odin's unyielding need to confront this stranger his men were currently fishing out of the water.

"What are we to do with him once he's on board?" Sleipnir asked and the king was forced to halt his steps halfway across deck. He turned his head to adress Sleipnir again. "Bring him to me." Barnabas said. A shiver ran down his spine, an ominous feeling settled between his ribs. The king was almost certain his master didn't approve of this decision, but whatever led Odin to behave the way he did, Barnabas wouldn't find out what it meant unless he took a look at the man himself.

He eventually made his way below deck and to his cabin, but the sense of anger didn't dissipate, nor did he manage to make Zantetsuken disappear again until once again forcing himself, or rather Odin to calm down. Barnabas caught a glimpse of himself in a nearby looking glass and furrowed his brow at the low glow of gold within his eyes.

It disappeared a moment later, and with it his sword fractured into bits of shadows and dissolved. Odin faded back into the depth of his consciousness, but Barnabas could still pick up on his irritation. How curious, he thought as he sat down at his desk, waiting for his men to bring the stranger to him.

#visionaryanarchist #//hope this works!#.ic.barnabas

darksteelreign

There is something to be said about the audacity his lord commander displays on any given day, freely and loudly entering his space, taking what's his without inquiry on whether or not he is allowed to and making sure he occupies not only Barnabas' space, but also his thoughts, making it impossible to ignore him.

It's a far cry from the young man who had once looked at him with such suspicion and even something akin to fear. But ever since Cidolfus understood the king has no intention of using his blade or his powers against him unless openly provoked, he became more bold, challenging, teasing.

It's been a long time since anyone dared to push and prod at Barnabas' boundaries, and if it was anyone else he'd likely have been able to put an end to it with one look.

But Cidolfus... He is different. He has always been different and the king sensed it from the moment they met. Setting aside his tremendous powers and strategic prowess, there is the fact Cidolfus is, without a doubt, the single most distracting person in all of Waloed, maybe even all if Valisthea. Just like the lightning he commands, there is an air of power around him in any given moment, drawing attention wherever he goes, turning heads as soon as he enters a room.

Cidolfus, much like the king himself, commands respect, but unlike Barnabas, there seems to always be deep fascination —an infatuation for some— accompanying it. People want to follow Cidolfus, garnering his favor not for power, or out of fear, but simply because they want to, because they want him, even when he is being cruel, even when they've seen him unleash his wrath, volatile and reckless, a thunderstorm made flesh, lightning given human form, it only deepens their desire to have him.

And Barnabas is not exempt from any of these desires either. Far from it. And after having felt next to nothing but grating apathy for decades, it vexes and intrigues him in equal measure.

Cidolfus' words pull the king from his quiet musings. Deep blue eyes never having left his lord commander's' form where he now lounges on the couch. Barnabas doesn't bother with pretense, simply sets his quill aside and stands, rounding his desk with slow, near silent steps.

He doesn't grace Cidolfus' first comment with an answer. He hasn't slept in days, hasn't eaten either. He barely needs to these days. If his body displays any signs of sleep deprivation or hunger he doesn't feel it. Most of the time he feels nothing.

Until now, that is.

"Growing tired of your assigned duties?" The king drawls as he walks closer, an unusual upward curl to his lips. "If so, I could revoke them..." He leans over the backrest of the couch, closing a hand over the apple in Cidolfus' hand, lips close to Cidolfus' l ear as he adds: "Alongside your privileges, that is."

He takes the apple from Cidolfus' hand, now stepping around the couch and watching with delight as his lord commander's expression shifts to slight surprise. He watches his lips part.

The king's teeth pierce the skin of the apple a moment later, the sweetness of the fruit made that much more stark after days of nothing flavorful. A thumb traces his bottom lip to catch a drop of juice, his tongue darts out to taste it. Barnabas' hums, eyes never leaving Cidolfus'.

levinstrike

He would've shivered at the feeling of his king's warm breath tickling his ear if not for the cold jut of panic that lances through him first, his hackles raising as he briefly considers the threat. Yet the trepidation is only an ephemeral shadow, flickering to nothing as soon as it appears and leaving him with a feeling of warmth in his face as he watches Barnabas bite through the apple with calculated slowness.

Whatever surprise he felt, he's quick to sweep it away with a dismissive wave of his hand and his usual insolence. "And leave you with only long shadows and dusty fruit for company? I certainly don't see any of the castle staff scrambling to take my place." He shoots a meaningful glance at the fruit again, making out the silvered layer of powder settling on their skin. He's seen how the servants only dare to venture in these chambers when Barnabas is out conducting other duties, how dust makes a home of his dulling fineries and thin curtains when he spends longer here. He's seen how messengers deliver their news to him with bunched shoulders and apprehension in their faces, walking through their halls in a grim, hurried procession.

Simply put, his poor king would be collecting grime along with all the rest of his furniture if not for Cid's charitable pestering. Or, if not with the pretense of kindness, then merely to quell his boredom and use his fingers to draw shapes through the powdery layer of neglect.

"Bu-u-ut, if you insist, I suppose I can behave." The plush cushions underneath him spring back up from the loss of his weight as he stands up and strides to where the king stands, his eyes never leaving Barnabas'. He plucks the apple from his hand, and to his delight, the king seems to allow it-- no move is made to grip it tighter or bring it further away from his reach.

Despite his intensity, he's in on the game too.

"After all, I'd hate to lose the company of the only man in the kingdom that can keep up with- and even outpace me." His eyes flick back down to the fruit as he inspects the bite marks-- how the skin caves with the intrusion into the flesh instead of holding its own form, indicating some age, yet still ripe with juices all the while-- before he flicks his gaze back up and bites, raking his teeth through the same area that Barnabas had bit through.

Then, with a deliberate lick of his lips, he deposits the apple back into the king's hand. "I promise I work hard, but I get too antsy if I'm made to sit there for too long. Surely letting me run a bit wild won't do you any harm." A light, friendly nudge with his elbow. "What say you?"

darksteelreign

"You're right." He says. "Rarely have I had opportunity to enjoy my solitude since appointing you as Lord Commander." He pauses, turning the apple in his hand, tracing the outline of his bite with his gaze. "I begin to wonder if I shouldn't return to my old ways." He gives Cidolfus a look, but then one of his brows quirks upward at Cidolfus assuring him he'd behave, soon after it is joined by the other brow in a rare display of mild surprise when his Lord Commander steps into his space, steals the apple back from him and claims it as his own once more.

Barnabas watches his teeth dig deep into the apple's flesh, eyes briefly darkening as their eyes meet. For once his expression doesn't turn back to his usual mask of apathy immediately after. There is a slight quirk to one corner of his lips now. Despite his words, there is a deepseated appreciation for the other man the king cannot deny. Within the kingdom of Waloed Cidolfus' strength is second only to Barnabas' own, and where pure confidence is concerned even the king might be coerced into admitting that he has found his equal.

He's stronger now than when they first met as well. Barnabas can feel it in his aether, his presence, he can see it in a purely physical sense, too, but most intriguing is still his mind. The way it works, the way it sees things for what they are and all the little intricacies hidden behind, hidden within. Once something catches Cidolfus' attention he will not stop until he has dissected and understood each part of it. The king wonders if he, too, is purely a subject of Cidolfus' curiosity and once sated he'd turn it to something else, someone else. How long would it take Cidolfus to understand him fully? What would it take?

In turn, it's getting harder to ignore that he's taken more of an interest in Cidolfus' than is advisable. He's becoming lenient, some might say soft. He allows the other man to invade his space, his thoughts. This hasn't happened in decades.

He receives the apple, or what's left of it. The white of it still glistens with juice. His tongue and lips tingle with residue sensation from the last bite. His body recognizes the need to eat, but one flicker of Odin's darkness usurps base urges and drowns them out in favor of fixing his attention entirely on Cidolfus. The prospect of running wild, as he puts it ever enough to draw out the side of himself Barnabas thought long dead. The prickle of anticipation muted, but still undeniably there. It's a strange feeling, to see it stirred so easily by another.

The nudge to his side causes the king to move, but only to discard the half eaten apple before turning his eyes back to Cidolfus. "Running wild..." He muses quietly, trailing off as his gaze strays out the window, catching on the training grounds below. "...It's been some time since I last took your measure," he says, before turning back around, his fingers twitch, eager to conjure up Zantetsuken now that his mind has settled on something exciting. "Let's see who outpaces who."

#levinstrike #.ic.barnabas

OOC: me: staring at a blank document which is supposed to become Barnabas' bio. brain: what if we wrote down an entirely useless and inconsequential headcanon instead?

#.ooc #//i swear one day i will write his bio.#//but today is not that day.

Headcanon

Barnabas is, and has always been, drawn to strength, or more aptly put, unrelenting will and the strength to follow any principles one may have chosen. The form of the person who possesses such a will doesn't matter, nor does it really whether or not he is physically stronger than them. After all, he has lived around 70 years (in his default FFXVI verse) going undefeated, and is feared by enemies and allies alike. It should be mentioned, of course, that anyone who is also able to give him a proper challenge on the battlefield will have him intrigued.

But even without the physical strength taken into account, anyone not immediately groveling in his presence may have the king spare a second glance. Granted, most will just as quickly lose his interest if they falter with his attention placed solely on them.

However, the further his true self slips away and his mind gets overtaken by Ultima's influence, the harder it becomes to wade through the fog of apathy that befalls him until very few things and people have him do as much as lift his gaze to direct his attention at them.

But once his interest is piqued by someone, there is little that will keep him from seeking that person out. Drawn to them like a moth to a flame. He is overbearing, and downright possessive of something he desires. May that be for battle or the pleasures of the flesh. He does not distinguish much between the ecstasy of battle and the pleasure of sex. Although it has been a long time since either brought him more than a fleeting moment of bliss.

#.headcanon #//this one's for y'all's muses who go 'yeah i could take him.'#//in a fight right?'#//it wouldn't even matter to him.#//also your muse could wreck him in both ways and he'd probably thank them.#//he's a weirdo like that

darksteelreign-archive

Here I stand—a god amongst men. Yet here I remain—a mere man amongst gods.

#.gallery

levinstrike

"You look about ready to fall asleep at your desk." Were it any other person, they would likely approach the King with the grim solemnity of a man at the executioner's block, but not Cidolfus, bold, audacious Cidolfus. He struts in as though entering his own room, plucking one of the apples from Barnabas' fruit bowl as he walks past, and heavily takes a seat on one of the couches, the cushions sinking under his weight.

He side-eyes his King just in case he's causing a disturbance, but the man hasn't so much as glanced up at him, no sign of anger rippling on the placid surface of his mien, so he goes back to polishing the fruit lightly with the leather covering the ball of his hand, turning it appraisingly to see if he missed any dust. "Reckon I'd keep you company, since I got bored of my paperwork myself. I'll get the work done of course, but I'm likely to implode if I stay at my desk any longer."

@darksteelreign