first of all, i'd like to apologize for the sudden disappearance. i've left a few people hanging and i'm sorry, but i'll be dropping all of my threads here. however! please don't hesitate to send me a prompt (i reblogged a prompts post) on my new blog! nothing’s changed and 've already followed everyone i want to (continue) RPing with on my new blog so please check your followers!
i wanted to change blogs practically ever since i started this one, really. i didn’t expect erebus to take of at all and i rushed to establish this blog (look at the URL and you’ll understand what i mean), so a restart of sorts on a fresh new blog seemed like the perfect opportunity.
once again, i’m terribly sorry for the disappearance and i hope to RP with everyone soon!!
Pride is not something that Hermaphroditus clings to. Well at least not in the sense of other gods. He is proud of who is he as a person on the inside, but not because of his godly status. He is not dangerously proud, willing to attack anyone for the sake of such a silly emotion. He also is full of love, being a god of the emotion, though Hermaphroditus understands that it’s simply not in Erebus’ nature. He would never choose to try to push the feeling upon him. Gods are creatures who are created based on their domains, to try to change someone of such a nature is futile. “I think that anyone could learn not to destroy, but the real question is would they want to learn?” Hermaphroditus pauses, tilting his head as he looks away from the sky and back toward the god beside him. “Just as us gods are drunk with the idea of control and power, so are the humans. Their greed and stubborn inability to look past it dictates a lot of destructive actions.”
Their conversation was beginning to find its way onto a path Erebus initially didn't picture it to go, and they were surely now starting to delve into deeper territory. How long had it last been since Erebus had a truly meaningful and intellectual conversation with another? Perhaps it was wrong of him to have such a low impression of humans, however he always thought them to be beneath him in more ways than one. Of course, one could also argue that there were certain aspects where the mortals reigned supreme and the god of darkness was more than willing to admit to that. But he deemed it practically impossible for them, whose lifespans on average rarely went past a century, to be of entirely equal footing as immortals like them, who've existed for at least as long as a millennia. ❝ I have to admit, I wasn't expecting to have a conversation like this with you, ❞ Erebus spoke softly, a small chuckle lacing the ends of his words. ❝ Though I agree with you. Us gods, in theory, are supposed to be superior, yet I know a great number of us who would prefer to stick to their old habits and refuse to learn. ❞
Despite his outward appearance and often a time regal demeanor, Erebus had a great love for adventures. An explorer of the unknown, he calls himself, and also of the known -- whether it be a mystery or not, he found great joy in venturing deep into the mountainous regions of a deserted town or far into the woods long abandoned for its infamous tales of swallowing travelers that never returned. He'd do anything to help sooth an itch caused by boredom and Mika knew that of him. Yet she chose not to drag him along to a destination he'd never been to before but longed to visit -- granted, she also knew of how often Erebus traveled and perhaps she'd lost track of the many places he'd already planted his feet on -- and so, he sulked.
How could Erebus have forgotten just how much of a delight Mika was? And was it humanely -- and even godly -- possible to count the number of instances they've each rolled their eyes at one another? His arms found their way across his chest and he let out a small sigh. He had missed their banters, although he wouldn't admit it aloud. ❝ Silence, brat. I came rushing the moment I heard of your arrival because I've missed you terribly so, my dearest Mika, ❞ the smile on the deity's face and the tone of his voice were as sweet as caramel, but their genuinity was worth taking a look into.
Wordlessly, he removed his hat from atop his head and shoved-- placed it down ever so gently onto her now mess of hair. ❝ It seems you still haven't learnt the art of humility in front of those more superior to you. And don't flatter yourself, sweetheart. I was merely out for a casual stroll and happened to hear you were in the vicinity. Although, now that I think about it, your appearance is rather timely. It's lunch time and I've worked up quite the appetite. Thank you for the treat. ❞ He gives her a small dip of his head and his lips curl up wider, no longer the pleasant smile from earlier and leaning more towards a cheeky grin.
The Explorer is drawn to the unknown, whether that’s a Himalayan peak or the road not taken, and have a thirst for adventure. They take journeys, not vacations.
17% Athlete
The Athlete's focus and drive are unparalleled. Staying healthy and being fit are paramount to them (as for winning, that doesn't hurt, either).
17% Rebel
The Rebel is comfortable throwing caution to the wind—and bucking the system—if that means getting their point across.
it was something of a festering wound, the memories that japan forced up with every step he laid on its busy pavements. it tapped on the ground, looking for the grave where he’d laid his love to rest long ago. it was getting closer. he was getting ready to run. where to? colombia, france, taiwan, korea, the states, anywhere that wasn’t saturated in what he wanted locked away.
he stepped out into the night and found it a rude, unwelcoming host, doing its damnedest to send him away with frigid winds. the cold bit at his skin but he continued on down the street, eager to find a reprieve from his thoughts. it’s been a long time since he’s been in such a bad shape, really, he’s long since grown accustomed to holding himself together in the presence of their memories. what else was there? he wanted nothing to do with oblivion, fiercely guarding that which once was, even as it dragged him down into some deep unknown.
Erebus had been nothing but a mess for the past few months, and rightfully so. After the recent events that left him scarred and broken, although he may not have been exactly left alone to mend the fallen pieces together as best he could, he wasn't surrounded by the company he thought he'd have either and perhaps it was that company that would have made this turmoil more bearable. Perhaps, if he hadn't been shoved to the side and forgotten the way that he was, he wouldn't be where he stood now.
Birthed from the very existence known as Chaos, it wasn't the least bit unexpected that chaos itself would run in his veins as strong as an infuriated ox. He felt its beckoning time and time again, its insistent whispers and promises of well-deserved fun, eventually to be shut down by the one person that could plant his feet back onto the Earth's surface and knock him back into his senses. Now his anchor was gone, lost to him by the cruelty of this dreaded life -- if you could even call it that -- and he was finally let loose. ‘ A good night's rest ’ was a saying long lost to Erebus for many a reason. Firstly, and without need for further elaboration if you knew of his identity, he took home in the night. Felt his most strongest and most empowered with the moon shining above-head and the sky as black as shadow. Insert here a mountain of other excuses (that he calls reasons), and finally we reach the explanation why the concept of rest had disappeared from his vocabulary entirely: because it was far more exciting to rile up unsuspecting strangers, feel the immense energy in the air and the adrenaline pumping into his system. It diverted his attention from the chapter in his life he'd prefer never happened; it helped him forget -- even for a fraction of a second -- that he was alone.
The cries of unsuspecting victims -- those who dared to judge his appearance and labelled him as one who was unable to fight -- was music to his ears; like Chopin was master of the piano, he deemed himself the master of extracting shrieks and wails from his prey. Ultimate bliss what was it was for him. The same routine night in and night out, sure; of spreading fear and all that came with his domain into every nook and cranny of the unlucky establishment he chose to patron that night, of brawls and petty altercations that had already ensured victory for the god of darkness before they even began, of wiping away streaks of blood and the healing of opened wounds, maybe a broken bone or rib here and there. Yet Erebus would do it every night and day if he could, if each time it brought for the life in his ichor blood that disappeared the moment she did.
Tonight's catch was a single lone man -- a pity, really, because every fiber of his body ached for more courageous challengers to assault, however he supposes that would have to do for the night. It went without saying that Erebus was well on his way to victory, the stranger already on his knees with the deity gazing down at him with a malicious smirk and eyes that twinkled with evident mania. Oh, how he loved the taste of victory so close within his grasp. He once had a friend -- those who abandoned him during his time of need were no longer a friend in the eyes of Erebus -- who found delight in more carnal pleasures, yet to the male deity nothing was more of an exhilarating indulgence than a good, old fashioned fight.
The man's frightened eyes dared to drift away from his assailant and, insulted by the show of disrespect, the deity's own eyes turn towards the direction of the new presence amidst them. Frozen in his feet was what became of Erebus, utterly shell-shocked for a multitude of reasons. Perhaps it was all in his head, or it must've been if he now stood before him. An unspoken rule was what it was, to keep away from each other's paths as best they could lest they fall back into the infinite abyss known commonly to most as heartbreak and never return.
Every now and then, a passing daydream would float across his mind. Of a dramatic reunion between two destined lovers, brought together again by fate and bound till the end of eternity. Was this the world's way of showing mercy? Or perhaps, for him to come back into his life, she had to depart from it. Which then begged the question of if it was worth it, his other half's departure for the arrival of his heart?
A melodious sound, that's what it was, the call of his name that pulled him out of the safety of his mind and back into the dark alleyway that now weighed heavily over his head. How long had he been standing there? Motionless, if not for the occasional blink of his eyes. This was not at all how Erebus pictured their reunion to be. The softness of daylight, floral scents like the embrace of their forest; everything delicate and warm. Not blood and violence. Not this.
His touch was as familiar as his voice, and in an instant Erebus melted into it. Blood forgot its way to his legs and to his head -- his lower half grew weaker with each passing second and his head felt light, like air. His eyelids were as heavy as lead and soon fell shut, as though the restless months and the overexertion was finally catching up to him. ❝ Shin, ❞ his lips murmured ever so softly -- if not evident enough, he now ran on instinct and no longer through the power his mind. Whatever emotions he thought to be dead now roared back into life and it was all too much. He had always been too much, in the best and sweetest way possible.
Erebus sunk onto his knees with his head hung low, the only thing supporting his weight now being his hands rested as firmly as they could onto the cold, hard ground. His mind was now a frenzy, his heart a convoluted mess of emotions and sentiments.
His love now finally stood before him, and yet here he was all dirtied and impure.
「 ♡ 」 … *┊ THIS WAS NOT THE answer Kibum wanted to hear. No matter if Erebus could die or not, the fact that the other was in pain was enough to make Kibum feel uncomfortable. He didn’t want the other to be in pain and that was reflecting in his facial expression already. His eyes were glistering with upcoming tears. Why was there blood? On Erebus’ clothes, on Kibum’s hands, everywhere. It was his fault again, wasn’t it? The young man wanted to sort out his thoughts, but he couldn’t since the voices around were so loud again. Why couldn’t they leave him alone just for once? Kibum stumbled back just a few steps and pressed his hands on his ears. He didn’t want to listen to these demands and insults regarding Erebus. This man was his friend, his brother, his family. They couldn’t hurt him or make Kibum hurt him. “Kill me,” Kibum demanded rather breathless without looking up. His gaze was glued to the ground with his hands pressed onto his ears. They needed to get home, Kibum had to treat Erebus’ wound as quick as possible and yet he was still here battling with these demons in his mind. “Erebus kill me!! I can’t stand this, they are so loud. Kill me, please!”
Another (imaginary) blow to his torso was aimed directly at Erebus, his lungs constricting as though Kibum's voice alone had the physical capabilities of wrapping itself around them with a grip so tight that it would leave a mark. This would be the perfect moment to question the many risks of placing high importance on the young male before him, to be weighed down by the fear of giving someone so much control and power over him as Erebus has long ago -- willingly, at that -- resigned to handing over to Kibum. Fatigue was slowly creeping up on Erebus, and at such a wonderful time at that. He couldn't tell if the bleeding had shown mercy and finally came to a stop, or more accurately he couldn't find the mental strength to zero into the wound and check for himself. His mind at present was a jumbled up mess -- of emotions, of possibilities, of anything under the sun and stars that could form into a thought. The god of darkness was relying on instinct now, no more of his usual calculative measures or logical reasoning. With some of the remaining energy in his physical body, he takes a few steps forward and reaches out to place a firm grip on Kibum's wrists, quivering ever so slightly. ❝ Kibum, I love you and I will never let anyone or anything harm you. Do you believe in me? Do you trust me? ❞
❝ Kori, ❞ Eiri starts off with an affectionate call of her name. Or her nickname, to be exact, but emphasis shouldn't be placed on the contents of his speech but more so on the tone of his voice. Ever since the events that shook his world upside down, the renowned young novelist had been an empty shell of a man, as cold as ice and as heartless as they came. However, the female before him was special -- they had met in the midway between Eiri of the past and the Eiri everyone knew present day, and it made his relationship with her a little complicated. At times, seeing her or even just talking to her would bring back vivid flashbacks of his time spent in the hospital -- and sometimes blurry images of the time before during the traumatic incident. They were memories he'd prefer to forget if he could, yet the positive memories over-weighed the negative. Of a newfound friendship, and a pillar of support. ❝ We haven't seen each other in over a year and your eyes are glued to your phone screen instead? You hurt me. ❞ A little teasing was all it was, nothing of great severity. Of course it went without saying that during his time back in Japan, they kept in touch rather frequently, however face to face conversations were different from when they had to rely on a man-made medium.
like this for a starter, possibly pre-established! little note: if we have a thread in his main verse, your muse can also exist in this au verse!
info on writer verse (backstory can be found in my blog)
uesugi eiri, more commonly known under his penname ‘yuki eiri’, is a romance novelist known for his signature dark plots and unique characters. given the heavy weight and depth of his works despite his seemingly young age, it’s no surprise that he hides a secret – a secret that still haunts him till this day.
heavily based off of basically uesugi/yuki eiri from gravitation.
From past experiences and those he's heard of from others in the public eye much like himself, your average surgical mask that a lot of people put on was surprisingly effective in warding off curious eyes and in turn, keeping his identity hidden from the public as he went about his day as per normal. The only problem was that although it was highly successful in not attracting attention to oneself in a crowd of bustling people, slow paced one on one conversations? Not so much. It was all the more worse that the one thing he couldn't hide was the biggest indicator of who he was -- his eyes. You'd think that covering more of your face would be more effective in that front -- of disguising oneself -- but alas, both a surgical mask and sunglasses screamed the word 'suspicious' louder than one would expect.
Eiri was well known for his eyes, orbs as black as night that seemed to transcend television screens and photographs alike and bare into the person's soul. "Those weren't the eyes of a writer," people would murmur to themselves in gossip, as though they'd forgotten that his works were never for the faint-hearted. Much like in his personal life -- it took a great amount of guts to approach Eiri, and he carried himself in a way that ensured that.
Why was he here in the first place? Through the advancements of technology he could have easily purchased whichever book he desired online, however whenever possible Eiri preferred to go back to basics and asides from buying a physical copy, another 'basic' way was by going to the library. Donned in a simple black sweater over a white shirt and some jeans, he made his way over to the front desk and asked in a soft voice. "I'm sorry, but I wanted to ask if you carried the original English versions of books here."
Even though it had been less than four months since he last held a camera in his hand, it felt far much longer than that and he assumes the sensation of holding a camera once again just like he did before would feel almost foreign. It was a sadness he was reminded of by the promise of meeting up with a past colleague of sorts, made more pronounced by the actual appointment itself. "It's been a while, hasn't it?" Kuranosuke started off with a polite smile, all formalities and minimal in warmth. The last time they had conversed was the photoshoot he'd been the photographer of -- he couldn't exactly recall an instance after that where they'd exchanged words, asides from when they agreed to the present meet up. "How have you been, Nozaki-san?"
