𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐘 ☩ ;

𝙻𝙴𝚂𝚃 𝚈𝙾𝚄 𝙵𝙰𝙻𝙻 𝙸𝙽𝚃𝙾 𝙳𝙰𝚁𝙺𝙽𝙴𝚂𝚂

[renxamamiya]

FE: Three Houses [11/??]

[dracepis]

Despite not having played the DLC yet, I have seen / read some spoilers. Gotta say I am both happy and not so happy.

[bladebreakcr-deactivated2020081]

[ @dracepis continued from 🍂]

He remembered his child echoing the same line that spills from old lips now. War, pure war in the context that most knew it–that was what meant something. It was pure passion hidden on a blade’s sharp edge, on a haze of embers blocked by a shield’s grace. Being there, in the emotions, the orchestra of humanity settling themselves in the basis of their beliefs. That meant something. This…

This was hallow. 

And they both knew it. This lofty thread of shallow decorum, how hallow it was. It was a ghost thread that made no suitable tapestry to those who can see through it. Fortunately, for them, most just see a tapestry.

There was indeed a reason he brought up war, spinning that thin thread in his fingers that tangled in hers. War was the fear of saints, wasn’t it? War was meant to be prevented. War was a monstrosity and nothing else to those who found humanity, as a whole, a child that needed to be coddled, needed to be controlled. 

And he could feel her heart under platinum scales. How dare he, a blasphemous aspect, let his child be touched by the sinful art of war.

RHEA. What did you do to MY child that you believed I could not touch? That you believed made it necessary for my beloved to fall for YOU.

That smile, such a loving smile, warm and gentle like a healing embrace. What a smile, one he admired as gracious, one he believed so clear and representer to the good he saw in humanity. My dear friend, she speaks to him. So what does that make you?

He raises his tea to his lips, and silvery eyes flicker in color watching her, and his voice leaves stalwart.

“Nothing, archbishop. It’s been some time, hasn’t it?”

[dracepis]

⁅ ☩ ⁆ What was that sentiment burning deep within, entangled with the deepest sense of loss and grief — Crawling, spinning, biting its way through a human form’s feeble flesh and bones, desiring nothing but to tear HIS apart? Here he stood, epitome of a WALKING DEAD, ghost wrapped in memories, memories of when he created his own hellfire. Ever since that unfaithful day, WHAT HAD HER VESSEL GONE THROUGH, what had this ghost whispered into child’s ear, after he tore it away from already cut out path, this child RIGHTFULLY HERS STOLEN?! WHAT HAD HE DONE TOWARDS WHAT HE WAS SUPPOSED TO NOT TOUCH?! 

Again, they were two old souls twined together into this wicked dance, ensnared by the result of divine intervention, hardly changed despite years passing by, standing in the same halls, playing the same games. 

TELL ME, JERALT, what do you see when you gaze upon monastery’s walls, the prospering gardens, the same trails and passages you once strolled with HER locked in your embrace ( this sacrificial lamb still slumbering in her own altar ) ? Does old eyes see the followers of own eternal command, THESE FOLLOWERS UTMOST PRISTINE ( her flower garden was true, not false ) plucking those corrupted / faulty from the very roots, and storing them away — SO JERALT, OLD FRIEND, do you like what you see, DO YOU ENJOY BEING SURROUNDED by perfection, divinity’s personal swords and shields, ready to crush those opposing mighty archbishop without blinking even once? 

( Pull the same stunt again, I dare you... ) 

“It... Truly has,” came own response, coarse fingertips remaining wrapped around her teacup waiting for its steaming content to cool down — Oh how one detested warm beverages. Teeth ground together behind the facade of a BENEVOLENT SMILE ( still her best disguise ), single fingertip rubbing against the rim of steaming porcelain, grip growing more and more firm with the growing desire to SHATTER ( RELAX, my darling, for your smile cannot falter HE STOLE IT relax, for your sweet revenge shall one day become his. ) And thus, exhale released, teacup was let go, hands instead folding neatly over her lap. 

“Did Byleth tell you the good news? I have an open position at the academy, as a professor. There is something... Special about them, and I expect nothing but grandeur.” 

Smile widened — OLD FRIEND, OLD FRIEND, did you not know? The time’s come to play, and archbishop always kept her creations the closest, so Jeralt, dear knight, IT MUST BE THIS WAY you will hurt less if you do not resist me. 

[dracepis]

A small THREAD TRACKER ; I have not forgotten about my drafts / asks, work is simply consuming a lot of time right now, hence my absence. 

DRAFTS:  @bladebreakcr x2  @rigelheir x1 @fellstrs x1 @progenitorgod x2  @prncpum x1 ( I plan on replying to your askrespond )  ASKS:  @hresveld x9 ( no I will not notice you )  @aethele x1  @fellstrs x3  @edgecfdawn x2  @freiheitxdrang x1 @progenitorgod x1 

[dracepis]

hc + guilt

  𝚂𝙴𝙽𝙳 𝙼𝙴 𝙷𝙲 + 𝙰 𝚆𝙾𝚁𝙳 𝙰𝙽𝙳 𝙸 𝚆𝙸𝙻𝙻 𝚆𝚁𝙸𝚃𝙴 𝙰 𝙷𝙴𝙰𝙳𝙲𝙰𝙽𝙾𝙽 𝙰𝙱𝙾𝚄𝚃 𝙸𝚃                                    ALWAYS ACCEPTING ; @hresveld

GUILT as such is a rare emotion for Rhea to feel. Grief, betrayal, sadness, and deep, deep rage, are more in her range, but guilt? Not quite. She is a firm believer of ‘ the end justifies the means ‘ and a character driven by her emotions. Her goal is to reincarnate Sothis, by any means necessary, and she is more than willing to take extreme risks and do sacrifices to reach those goals. And Rhea herself is the judge for if those risks / sacrifices are necessary to take or not. She can thus not feel guilt or remorse for e.g. the experiments she conducted on created bodies, for they were a necessary steppingstone. She can take great risks and even kill, if she has a reason behind it, without remorseful consequences.

She would also not feel guilt over her deeds, whether it is prior, during, or after her time as archbishop; Executing ‘ non believers ‘ or people who somehow went against the church’s values was also something which was necessary, in this case, to maintain PEACE ( out of RHEA’S perspective. ) One could call her desperate, or that she was acting out of fear, pulling great lengths to maintain the ‘ utopia ‘ she built for her mother, a manufactured paradise, if you will. She keeps the continent in a choke-grip, monitoring everyone’s single move, because it is simply what she has to do. Her reasons are rather selfish, and one could say she is blinded by these reasons, and does thus not comprehend that what she’s doing is questionable. 

The ONE AND ONLY TIME Rhea will feel genuine guilt ( in the way I write her, I know she has guilt in some canon routes, but that did not make sense, because to me it felt very rushed ) is in an AU of Verdant Wind I discussed / plotted with @progenitorgod. In this AU, Sothis’ mind does become reincarnated in a child’s body, and thus she questions Rhea, asking why she thought Sothis would have wanted all of this. Rhea is faced with the result of her consequences, and is struggling with the fact that everything she did for over a century has basically been for naught. ( E.g. constructing a church, becoming its immortal leader, conducting human experiments, and so on. ) This because the one person she did it for, did not want any of that to be done. 

[blacksmith-gentilhomme]

Visit Original Link

[dracepis]

That feel when your gf and another nerd tries to convince you to make a THALES. 

[spiritusfrumenti]

Visit Original Link

The Fields of Ard Skellig

[dracepis]

corverea‌ :

     ♛ . WHAT WOULD SHE GIVE TO SIMPLY ACT RASHLY; dagger plunged into monster’s heart, twisting the blade ever so surely / to let it sink deep & deeper still. Pristine steel of a gift memory could no longer trace. – aye, something of a token, perhaps father’s last present ere greedy hands had torn at flesh & bones, dragging her down, down! Into the void; recollection a blur, naught remaining but screams / cries / pleading, ever pleading / for food, for mercy, for a mother, a father, for brothers & sisters [make it stop!!]. && her chest would tighten, throat constrict, sudden sentiments doomed to be but overbearing [WHAT is it that you feel? – I don’t know – it hurts]; pooling, POOLING ere spreading akin to a parasite, this overbearing AGONY paralyzing her every move, her thoughts! Tears would run & limbs shake: to collapse; watch the world spin, recollections spinning, intermingling: lo, white noise. – SCREAM: am I going mad? 

      Blink, drag yourself back into the PRESENT: resting, standing in some bar’s shadow, shoulders squared with a single, gloved hand set onto the slender hilt of Seiros’ blade. – liar’s words akin to a ghostly echo, resounding / an everlasting, reoccurring noise meant to carve itself into the back of her skull, lending a voice to siblings’ toneless clamor. && whilst words spoke of atonement / a plea for forgiveness, eyes could not hope to deceive she who had spent years studying those wallowing in grimmest depravity. Those so vile, so harrowing / presenting themselves as naught but holy, as utterly pristine whilst digging their claws into victims’ necks / tightening around these tormented hearts / squeezing, & crushing ere cobbling together what they then considered good & EXPEDIENT. Leaving stitches & ever so clean-cut scars / mangled husks / a brother hunched over, mumbling, ever mumbling. – how it sickened her! This very sight, other’s lips curled into a faux smile / hushed whispers cutting akin to razor blades. – such a repugnant act, pray, why do you hesitate? Strike her down, take the witch’s head! Let her drown, let her pay. – for what?

       Alas, alas what was the ARCHBISHOP if not a mere human [a creature, aye, but of a different kind, hm?]. Seemingly ever so innocent, prone to err, a mere scapegoat for those own ax could not yet touch. – nay, a disgusting monstrosity dwelling here, eager to gamble for her wicked life.

      “Do you take me for a fool?” lies, lies, lies [carried out on your family’s back – where you not allies once? TRAITOR]. Voice firm, VIGOROUS & KEEN / akin to a honed blade, a sword’s cutting edge set against nemesis’ throat. LOOK AT HER: oh so condescending, seemingly ‘apologizing’ for something one had not even brought up. – a trick. Naught more, naught less. Do not play this game / do not move your crown piece too soon, Rhea, or you will lose ever so fatally! – how oft had she participated in the same macabre procedure? Pretending to carter to someone so despicable. TWICE! && whilst hatred / grief / anguish / remorse ate her up from within, one had sharpened dagger, axe & blade; dreaming of a revolution there to smite night’s every terror. – oh, Rhea, do not play this game. She knows, oh she knows; had danced to the same tune / convincing THALES that one had overcome petty morality [lives exchanged for power. – SICKENING]!  Loathing herself, the very mask she was forced to don! – HOW DARE YOU! To speak of forgiveness, of absolution, of GOOD WILL? 

    “You chose to continuously turn a blind eye to a system which made this suffering possible! Enforcing the same laws, the same tyranny wrought from behind monastery’s walls!”  Voice swells, own chair swiped aside / to tower / knuckles turning white beneath crimson leather; pressure, pressure [smiling / smirking: at your every ache. The pain that cripples heart & soul / the agony found in cell’s every shadow – they are watching, all TEN of them]. “I witnessed more and more misery unfold with each passing day and you have the gall to say you sought to protect my kind? How? By murdering them?”

      Would slitting nemesis’ throat cure the void within her heart? This wretched thing, this gaping wound? Would it remedy what death had stolen, what brutal hands had fractured & pieced together? Would it turn own glance into a mirror into something bearable / would it quench terrors haunting the mind in the deepest night? Would it cure this construct of anger & misery that own life had long become? A war set loose, crimson etched into every fiber of her being / deaths of dearest classmates / [FAMILY, THEY WERE YOUR FAMILY] oh so bitterly felt! Each loss seething in her chest; yet another arrow, yet another sword slice! – to lay waste to monster’s every ally & conquer & avenge. Would it be enough? no. Oh, what had this become / this once noble endeavor, most righteous of crusades! – cue a tremble, lips twitching in disgust [be better than her]. She is POISED / ire contained in a set jaw, barely felt pain of nails digging crescent holes into own gloved palms. Lo, a MASTER OF SELF-CONTROL [ah, how much longer?].

      “ no.” lo, features ever rigid / every muscle intolerably TENSE; agony, oh agony: just let go off me. “a future in which you still breathe is one that is inevitably doomed, Rhea.“

_________________________________________________________ 

⁅ ☩ ⁆ Behold the doubt towards all which is righteous woven into CHILD’S every fiber, this DISTRUST to utmost holy unfolding in lilac eyes akin to bloodied petals on a flower — LOOK AT HER, mere girl deeming herself WORTHY A LEADER, stolen blood pumping its way through putrid veins ; ONE OUGHT TO SNAP HER BONES, scrape out brethren’s remains lodged within cartilage and sinews, suck her dry and leave her to rot ( this BLACKEST WINE in front of me. ) It was a childsplay, this dance of theirs, holy one entwined with a fate of someone much darker, this false shepherd spreading misconduct and thus begging for damnation! ( Golden crown will not aid you when the hounds of hell feast on your remains. ) HOLY DUTY ; save mother, retake their heaven, TEAR DOWN WITCH’S TOWER OF FEAR ( FEEL HER INSECURITIES BOILING BENEATH CRUMBLING SKIN, this will be easy ) ; So FALL TO YOUR KNEES, GIRL, kneel, and beg for the mercy which you do not deserve, for the blood of you and your followers shall stain burning towns with deepest of red and flow with vengeance. 

‘ DO YOU TAKE ME FOR A FOOL ‘ No, sweet child, no, not a fool, but something far more wicked, an abomination wrapped in human clothing, a sickness to be purged before planting the seed of ill will into those infused with light — A SICKNESS SPREADING THROUGH SACRED GROUNDS, girl gone mad raising her blade at former classmates and goddess herself. Not a fool, girl, no, but rather a FOOL’S JESTER hiding behind smoke and mirrors, a SINNER blinded by a delusion of grandeur, plunging a dagger into continent’s heart again and again, drinking up holy blood preserved for own lamb’s consumption — SO TELL ME EDELGARD, would you not rather join fallen sisters and brothers, instead of living a life oh so THANKLESS? Child, girl, SINNER, lost lamb, allow your own cries to blend in with theirs of madness and misery ( a violent start deserves nothing but a violent end, I WILL MAKE YOU SCREAM! ) allow yourself to succumb to the tragedy interlaced with stolen remains pumping through culpable bones IT IS EASY, NO? FOR IN THIS BLOOD YOU ARE DAMNED! ; AND TELL ME, NEMESIS ( FAUX KING OF LIBERATION! ), WHICH ONE OF MY BRETHREN IN PARADISE LOST WAS SLAYED TO CREATE THIS ONE? 

LOOK AT TRUE SHEPHERD, EDELGARD ( and at this violence which bonds us ) CARRYING OUT THE WILL OF THE GODDESS, scorching land to offer a fresh start to those righteous, clawing nails into bleeding continent for the sake of upholding an ancient peace torn apart by those with blackened will and putrid hearts ( YOU WILL BE A BEAUTIFUL ADDITION TO THAT COLLECTION, INSOLENT CHILD! ) — LOOK AT HER, hallowed one who offered hearts to the heartless, constructing a reality based on keeping scattered family in place, RESURRECTING WHAT WAS LOST ( OH, MOTHER I TRIED, AM I LOST IN YOUR EYES? ) SO LOOK, RECREANT, LOOK you who sinned wants monster but a saint is what sinner get, not a tyrant, no, nor a fool, but merely a woman, yes, a woman, now standing instead of sitting down, ashen fingers wrapping tightly around confined space meant to IMPRISON.Tucked behind porcelain surface, this oh so pristine skin, seething furor of IMMACULATE ONE scraped against her flesh akin to nails sinking deeper and deeper into soft skin ( hush, dear, hush! ) — OH TO BE ABLE TO to break out of HUMAN PRISON, shatter her facade and engulf SINNER WHOLE, snap this girl’s neck with one swift movement, crush her skull between sharp teeth... ( EDELGARD, OH EDELGARD, YOU CHILD TURNED SINNER, MY FIRE WILL LIGHT UP YOUR SKIN — I WILL SCATTER YOUR ASHES! )

“You are afraid.” Own respond far too silent than one originally intended, whisper escaping parted lips, a mere breath rolling of the tip of her tongue. Little girl before her spoke volumes, bewitched her people with putrid lies and false promises, started a holy war, but could not catch up with own desire to prevail. PRETENDING TO BE A GOD OF THE GODLESS, YET SHE WAS WEAK, unable to act, unable to mask the tremble in armored limbs brought forth by previous words uttered by sainted self. 

“It was not I who murdered your kind,” hallowed one added, more louder this time, gaze piercing into lilac counterpart. Statement true, BLOOD OF HER BLOOD NOT MEANT TO BE FORCED UPON OTHERS THROUGH HANDS NOT HER OWN, the thought alone was sickening. AND SO SHE SITS ONCE MORE, new throne was dirt ground, girl wished to dance with the devil, but AN ANGEL REFUSES TO PARTAKE, hands folding over her stomach, gaze remaining locked with the other’s. 

“You will remember my words when the flesh of your followers goes putrid and rot, and all you are surrounded with will be heaps of bones and no one who listens.” 

[dracepis]

“I came out to have a good time and I’m honestly feeling so attacked right now.” 

[dracepis]

                                    𝙲𝙾𝙽𝚃𝙸𝙽𝚄𝙴𝙳 ; @dagdanwolf​​

⁅ ☩ ⁆ OH KNIGHT, did you not know, pointing a blade at the Church of Seiros was akin to pointing a blade at GODDESS HERSELF — Such deeds spoke tales of a wicked sickness in dire need to be purged, the evildoers cut down, erased, suppressed, before their sickness could spread and struck fear in the hearts of righteous ones! Becoming corrupt a crime punishable by clean-cut death, for archbishop could tell when one of her lambs strayed too far off predestined path to grant them absolution, and when a soul turned dark death was their only chance at salvation. 

Own presence ar the battlefield nowadays a rare sight indeed, JUDGE AND VERDICT usually taking place within the heart of the monastery ( hardly a secret, one wanted her people to know what happened to those unfaithful, it was matters necessary to maintain PEACE — for the hearts of those devoted should not be blended with abominations. ) However, when the enemy seemingly played ‘ HARD TO GET ‘, archbishop was not opposed to join her soldier’s side and cut down wayward ones herself, more oft than not much to her adviser's dismay. 

Hardly noticing the certain look archer gave her after brashly giving new orders ( IMMACULATE ONE gnawing on ancient bones in a silent plea to be let out, avid fire burning deeply within to fuel her rage ) one simply kept gaze focused forward, lips pursing together. 

“Their insolence cannot continue any further,” came own respond through tensed jaw, shield held in a sturdy grip. “I neither can nor will allow it.” 

[buttonpoetry]

Call me Survivor. It is the ugliest triumph I own, but it is mine. It is mine.

Brenna Twohy, from Swallowtail (via buttonpoetry)

[dracepis]

“What’s our songs?”

Send me “What’s our songs?” and I’ll answer with one song that reminds me of our muses past, present, and future — ACCEPTING @bladebreakcr​ 

PAST: Nancy Sinatra — Bang Bang 

PRESENT: Dark Souls — True Colours (Cover) 

FUTURE: Kira Skov — Now I Know 

[dracepis]

“What’s our songs?”

Send me “What’s our songs?” and I’ll answer with one song that reminds me of our muses past, present, and future — ACCEPTING @corverea

PAST: Full Metal Alchemist — Kei

PRESENT: Bleach — Cometh the hour

FUTURE: Shireen — Bright as Daylight 

[owainigo]

live by the sword and you die by the sword 

cause ill get whats mine baby youll get whats yours

[dracepis]

bladebreakcr‌ :

With that look and subsequent divine gaze the man, admittedly worn and sleep scarce from grief, lost precious momentum. He hadn’t the eternal energy to move a near endless army of chess pieces with this woman. Not today, anyhow, not tonight when a feeling of grief he’s felt so often from the outside was now burrowing into his chest. He never set his gaze on the personal, on the near intoxicating semblance of humanity until he met her. Now, now she was in the stars and he remained in her stead.

‘Jeralt, my love, promise you’ll tell our child the stories you have.’

‘Promise you’ll protect them’

‘Promise you’ll give them the love you’ve given me.’

And then came the sharp C R A C K of a heeled palm splitting that polished dagger’s blade. It snapped the leather sheath and, in transition the metal. It left a branching of ravines in the corner of the desk. Then, he expelled the breath he had held for too long.

“…She was.” He turns, a silver hum leaving his eyes slowly, as if wanting to linger in the presence of the Divine before he moves to the crib. As, seemingly expected, the noise did not upset his child. They did stir, however, their eyes raising to look with passiveness at their father.

Contrasting, ever so contrasting to his now broken blade he lifts the bundle of blankets, lips resounding a soft shush to the child’s ears. His gaze moves back to Rhea, arms near curling more to keep his child close.

“…She was. And yet I wasn’t allowed to be there to see her last breath.”

__________________________________________________________

⁅ ☩ ⁆ Last breath drawn in the presence of the same woman there to witness the first, GRACIOUSLY GIFTING LIFE / selfishly ending it, greedy nails clawing into flesh and bone, brittle neck, A QUICK SNAP, blood pooling onto dirt ground — THE CHILD MUST BE SAVED FROM SINNERS! ( you’re here, mother! ) Nearly a gift from goddess herself that created woman fell ill shortly before giving birth to what would become her own vessel ; ‘ SHE DIED IN CHILDBIRTH ‘ words believable, uttered with care, wrapped in layer upon layer with constructed grief, like silk rolling off her tongue ; OH SORROW, you were her light, skin seething from fire boiling underneath while holding created mother’s hand, stroking it gently while her / its body steadied itself to bring NEW LIFE into this world. 

‘ PROMISE ME YOU’LL SAVE THIS CHILD ‘ — WHY, SHE WANTED THE CORRUPTION TO END, wanted own miserable existence to come to an end, her plea was the last confession, wished to SPARE SORE EYES from the sight of a broken man taking out his anger on polished blade and table, causing archbishop to jolt ever slightly. Blood boiled in excitement ( similar to when last breath was drawn / first breath taken ; WRATH OF IMMACULATE ONE licking her bones ) GOOD, Jeralt, GOOD, may this grief fuel your fire ( break apart ) SNAP, RUN, AND LEAVE THIS CHILD BEHIND, SHOW ME YOUR BEAUTIFUL ANGER! Thus, charade must continue, this wicked dance both of their fates were oh so deeply entwined in, causing eyebrows to furrow in worry, rising up from wooden chair, ready to offer aid with the VESSEL / child should it be needed. 

“Jeralt... She begged me to save your child. Surely you don’t...” A sigh, hands clasping together over her chest, observing his every movement, how ARMS TIGHTENED around human husk — Was it fear or resentment ( one could never truly decide ) hidden within his core?

“Trust me when I say I did everything I possibly could. Sadly, I could not perform miracles, you must understand, that sometimes the goddess needs another follower by her side.” 

[dracepis]

@bladebreakcr replied to your post:  Jeralt vc: pls stop you're overselling it.

“ HERE WE AREEEE NOOOOW, ENTERTAINEEEEEEEEEEEEEERS! “