[forgedwill]

Revised: 16, May, 2021 Castlevania Curse of Darkness (game) role playing blog for Hector.

Non-private, Independent RP blog for COD (CastleVania: Curse of Darkness video game) Hector. Game and manga centered, see rules and about for link to which manga I prefer.

This blog follows back from @notte-la-lagna

NetflixVania blogs DNI

[violentwavesofemotion-deactivat]

You and I / invented a ritual for leaving.

Chana Bloch, from Swimming in the Rain: Poems; “Goodbye,” (via violentwavesofemotion)

[hapless-hollow]

I have a memory of the sun - though it is made up from fabric not far from a dream.

Helaena C Moon @  http://hapless-hollow.tumblr.com/ (via hapless-hollow)

[undefeatablesin]

Polished up yesterday's sketch ❤️

[forgedwill]

cursefelled​:

“You have my forgiveness. Perhaps by now that should be a given.” As Trevor has forgiven and forgiven again for one too many sins Hector declares himself possessor of; whether rightfully or otherwise. A smile curls lightly to the corners of the Belmont’s lips as he rubs the silvery line of his scar, chasing sleep–what little remains–away from his person. “Living as a Belmont, you become wont to stir at the littlest of noises that are above the ordinary. For all my acceptance of you and your gifts, this is, by most rights, above the ordinary for me. But no matter. I am awake now. Why don’t you show me what you are working at?”

“Blessed so, Trevor...” nevertheless does his heart soar for the confirmation. Lightheartedly-swept into chuckling with that all too tall tell bashful nature in tilting his head, staring off. Focusing on cleaning a larger sum of dirt off his own hands.

“Oh... just being the case, I will make certain the entire house is well awake before continuing then.” It’s hopeful, even if a little uncertain, “I suppose it will require greater time to overcome these things, but,” Hede distracts him, landing astride his shoulder with a clean, fresh cloth held between her teeth. Its taken gratefully, turning towards and walking to Trevor to properly bid him greeting. All smiles and creases to his blue eyes, “I spoke with your parents. They had mentioned curating this area for a number of reasons, but tasks already at hand ensured that the season, and possibly next, would be missed. So... I, ah, offered what I could do.” And daubs the sleep from beneath his eyes, admiring the view for all precious moments Hector holds his chin up, “Oh... and, good morning, Trevor.”

[forgedwill]

cursefelled​:

“I thought you understood we were beyond the need for secrecy by now where matters as this were concerned. I have said it before; I repeat it for you now. It is the wielder, not the weapon, where power is rightly judged.” Where Hector flushes pink with embarrassment, Trevor’s face is sun-warm with stern sincerity. “You should know my judgement of you by now, too.”

    “That I do, and it is a judgement of kindness that I have already placed my feeble heart’s woes within. Alas, that woesome heart itself is wont to a many anxieties and traitorous habits that do not align entirely anymore with me. Absentminded or not. You have my apologies...” though the work has been running smoothly, Hector supposes it is none too quietly. Where a frown now joins his embarrassed expression, no matter the warmth in solace found in that stern sincerity. “Be it my confession that I was hoping not to wake you. I thought we were being tame enough.”

[forgedwill]

cursefelled​:

I should like at the very least that you try…

      Well, truly, how may one go about explaining the summoning of demons to make the work of many hands? For the logging, for the repairing and aerating of the soil? Oh, Hector is made a rose-colored portrait from any and all explanation besides...

[forgedwill]

cursefelled​:

Wondering what all the commotion is about…

     Nothing the man could actually explain...

[forgedwill]

          & .˚      the  expanse  prompts.

           @devilsworn asked:

   “   as long as we’re living and breathing, there’s more we can do.  we just have to be strong enough.   ”

          “Is that what Witchers are taught, or belief hopeful spurned on by being one?” Though the tip is no longer sharp or even, the sword makes for an excellent fire poker. Hector moves some logs two and fro, inspecting them in his unblinking way. The fresh-caught fish sizzles, doused in seasonings which, to this day, tickle the necromancer’s nose. It is good to use excess. More importantly, it is good to at last have reason for it.

          “Believe not that I disagree; though I have never once the privilege of speaking with one of yours, one on one. I have heard a many tale, but, ever only earshot; eaves-dopped conversations brooding between hens and leisure-men who speak much too loudly for their own good. First hand accounts... is a rare delicacy, like seasoned fish.” And bread to boot, Hector remembers, turning where he sits atop his sleeping rug to rifle through his bags.

          “But my moon-governed fellow, are you willing to share with me these reasons, personal though they may be? I find longevity in shared experiences... perhaps we are none too different in our valor.”

[forgedwill]

 devilsworn​:

“Uh-huh…” One with a mouth full of riddles, it appears–the company of such fellows is far from unfamiliar in this quaint and curious business, at least, and nothing that Nero pays too much mind. There are more pressing things than words to worried about, after all–the still-shivering hum of his medallion upon his chest, the strangeness of the still night air, the face of a man that looks more mirage than matter; Nero’s lupine eyes narrow with quiet suspicion as he dusts down the front of his garb as his footsteps tread silent and practised over the night-damp earth. “Witchers are sure tough, but that doesn’t mean we’re made of steel, y’know. Maybe you’ve just been buying into a few too many fairytales in your time. Hard to really set the record straight when people flee the streets we walk far and wide. Nobody wants to listen to what we have to say, ‘less it concerns the head of something we’re dragging in for coin…”

A certain caution is returned returned to all eyes suddenly upon him from the dark as the blood clinging black in the moonlight to his cheek begins to dry under the wind and their scrutiny alike. And for true, his wounds however trifling seem of great and baffling concern to this stranger enough that Nero sneers for it under his breath–with a second sure, dismissive wave of his gloved hand as the other pats down the flank of his mare.

“Just a couple scratches. You’re getting yourself all in a twist over nothing. Nothing unusual–happens sometimes. Battle invites that kind of thing, unless you’re invincible. Witcher’s aint. Hope you didn’t buy that story from all the commonfolk especially.” A pause catches in Nero’s voice, fingers combing the black of the creature’s mane loose from dust and tangle alike.

“Why the interest, anyway?”

      “What an unfortunate youth...” this sentiment - at war with the rest of him - stills Hector’s movement to little more than shallow breathing. A Witcher with an honest-born tongue is new, albeit unknown. Though, though, of course, it could merely be a ruse. It could not. Or it could. Hede presents herself as none responsive to him for the most part; lifting her pallor-head to the wind and tastes the breeze, but the serpent does little else. Casualty - a casualty not present amongst most Witchers.          The Necromancer takes a few steps forward, revealing himself as more man than shadow, garbed with night’s cloak to match layers of layers of scrap-stitched things. “This you say, Sir, though I’ve known no Witcher willing to loiter long enough to tell a tale other than ferocity in character. Littler still willing to make friendly with my sort.” Poor, however the mare which steps softly to follow suit of her handler is garbed in a myriad of strange things to suggest otherwise: A lantern illuminates gently, suddenly - attached to a rapier on the mare’s flank. Armor which is out of use to any kingdom or state, rusted at the hinges which cling. Her spine dipping with the weight of some chest of drawers or other, each of which bolted shut. She, herself, like backdrop painting against the very much living, lively twinkle of Hector’s own eyes in the moon’s glow.

          And almost hesitant to say further, yet - “Witchers are, however, partially human? Or is the mythos of your making that born of humanity, of mortality sown in the womb of a tender woman?” A shake of his head, “Suppose then that you must be susceptible to infection, no? Pains, aches? A sexton is neither favorable nor pleasant for company, however my due diligence would begin erosion should I deny even a powerful Witcher balms. The sleeping dead would turn their nose to me, and communication would suffer beneath that weight. When the communication suffers, proper care of these suffer. I would prefer to walk with knowledge of the lent hand than to not.” That is interest enough, is it not? Should, ought, must. Alas, he neither motions nor moves further.

[forgedwill]

                        & .˚      the  expanse  prompts.  

                                nightslain asked:

“   we did not choose this, but this is our fight now.  ” 

       “That isn’t true,” gentle, albeit insistent from where he stands some steps parted from his Master. Any number of things could be stirring therein that troubled, strong mind. A number too many that Hector dares consider, choosing in lieu a lit of truth to stand besides the tides of whatever has brought itself to clash in Leon’s mind. Hector does not move from his current position, nor place down the large tome he were inscribing his magic unto, wanting to convey that air of casualty, assurance which burns softly, steadily inside his heart. He only hopes the intensity, diluted, is understood as being for Leon’s sake.

          “That isn’t true; I chose this,” so that voice carries on, “I chose this the moment I found your tomb, your living corpse sitting beside it. The moment I shuddered to taste the gravity which bound you yet to this corporeal plane. Trevor, my closest and loved companion, too, understood the righteous indignation I felt when I confided in him the terrible, undeniable pull of service to this greater cause. A calling of fate... I were once told by a man who claimed to be a time traveler that I ought to walk the destiny which is right for me...” the tome is placed down upon its shelf, left to dry its newfound inks into permanent sigils. This place ever warmer for the presence.

           “I chose this. I chose to walk the path calling unto me... as I choose each and every day to rise and commit to it ever more. Our pasts, our upbringings, our choices - and for certain, our destines were something of an interlocked thing. A paved way, by our own hands. And no matter your hardships in this life you have chosen, for you chose to trust me, guide me, take me as your servant - then there is nothing before us that cannot be overcome. Nor is there fear besides, my Lord. I ask you bestir yourself from these thoughts... for we chose to fight as one.”

[onlyans]

"This", I thought, "is Power! Not to be strong of limb, hard of heart, ferocious and daring, but kind, compassionate and soft."

— Mary Shelley, The last Man

[lavendermemes]

& .˚      the  expanse  prompts.     (  this is an assortment from all seasons, including season six trailers, from many characters and is mostly focused on the themes of war, politics, morality, humanity & all that jazz. feel free to change pronouns if needed.   )

“   a kid needs at least one person who never gives up on them, no matter what   ”

“   everyone leaves unfinished business. that’s what dying is.   ”

“   the sides change sometimes. what we think we’re fighting for. who we tell ourselves are the good people. but it just seems we can’t ever stop fighting war after war after war. it’s part of being human. an ugly part, but i don’t think it will ever change.   ”

“   no weapon ever brings peace.  ”

“   i’m never going to like what you did, but i can’t hate you for doing what you thought was right.  ”

“   i think, ‘[her] father was a terrible person,’ but a lot of people have terrible parents. and then i think, ‘[she]’s clearly damaged person,’ but then, who isn’t? so i’m down to, ‘maybe [she] has a brain tumor.’  do you have a brain tumor?  ”

“   hate is a burden. you don’t have to carry it with you   ”

“    us and them.  how many of us… how many of them ?   ”

“   you’re either some kind of genius or you’re the luckiest dipshit in the solar system.   ”

“   the war does not end when people put down their guns; it ends when they reconcile. until then, the war has only paused.   ”

“   you just have to believe that what you’re doing really matters, and then the fear can’t control you.   ”

“   don’t worry about what i want,  worry about what i am due.    ”

“   walking away is the only choice anyone ever has.    ”

“   and he’s building it on a river of blood, with your help !     ”

“   the thing about civilization is, it keeps you civil. get rid of one; you can’t count on the other.   ”

“   if we decided to include everyone in our tribe without demanding that they prove we need them, maybe people wouldn’t have thrown rocks at us in the first place.   ”

“   as long as we’re living and breathing, there’s more we can do.  we just have to be strong enough.   ”

“   maybe this war was inevitable, maybe there was no way to avoid it. the best you can hope for is that it’s justified.   ”

“   good and bad, don’t get distracted by that.  it will just confuse you. good men do bad things and bad men do things believing it’s for the good of all mankind.    ”

“   i didn’t kill [him] because he was crazy.  i killed [him] because he was making sense.   ”

“   you give a monkey a stick, inevitably he’ll beat another monkey to death with it.   ”

“   the way i see it, there’s only three kinds of people in this world. bad ones, ones you follow, and ones you need to protect.   ”

“   truth is truth. how you deal with it is up to you.  ”

“   the hardest part of this game is figuring out who the enemy really is.   ”

“   every shitty thing we do makes the next one that much easier, doesn’t it?   ”

“   individuals can be divided and conquered, but symbols… symbols endure.   ”

“   there are ways that you can live a good life, without being a good person.   ”

“   stars are better off without us.   ”

“   guilt is like salt. you put a little on, and it hides all the bitterness.   ”

“   don’t decide for them. tell them the truth and let them decide for themselves.   ”

“   i never loved you because you were fighters,  i loved you because you were builders.  ”

“   a child who won’t grow up turns into a fool.  ” 

“   you must always have a knife in the darkness.   ”

“   violence is indiscriminate. if you use it as a tool, it will do more than just kill your enemies. sometimes it will kill the ones you love most.   ”

“   no matter how traumatic the loss is, you only have so much emotional stamina. even grief can get used up.   ”

“   everything you do is corrupt, and i can’t stand to be part of it.   ”

“   if you want to die, i can’t stop you. but there is a path from where you are to where i am. all we did was buy you a little time. you decide what you want to do with it.    ”

“   i need you to know, whatever happens, wherever you go, you’re not gonna do it alone.    ”

“   we did not choose this, but this is our fight now.  ”

“   see, here’s the thing.  i was terrified for you, i didn’t know why.  and now i do, you will do anything to win. i won’t play with you, ever again.   ”

“   [she] trusted you, [she] put [her]self in your hands ‘cause [she] couldn’t see the blood on ‘em.   ”

“   if we get out of this, we have to find a way to understand each other, to explain why we made the choices that we did. it is the only way that we can let go of the hate.   ”

“   but there’s only one thing that i need to tell you and it’s the simplest thing. but it’s the hardest thing to remember. listen to your heart. no matter what. it’ll always be the right call.   ”

“   war is an inherently unstable interaction of three things: intense emotion, politics and luck.   ”

“   in the end, the only thing that matters is fighting for who’s covering your back.   ”

“   many fought for us to get here. many died. we have lost people we loved, and have suffered. we would be justified to seek vengeance. but instead, we will choose peace. we must choose peace.   ”

“   when people don’t tell the truth, it always ends badly.   ”

“   how much shit do i have to eat before you treat me with some respect ?    ”

“   what i want to know now is, are we - i mean humanity - are we part of that plan?  ”

“   we’re on the brink right now because we keep reacting to things we don’t understand. we’re scared, we’re hurt, and we’re reaching for violence cause we can’t figure out what to do.  just this once, can’t we try something else?  ” 

“   i know he wouldn’t die for you, but he would let you die for him.   ”

“   a parent you never hear from exists in a quantum state, both dead and alive, until you check up on them and the act of observing makes one of the two states true.   ”

“   we were already at war. you just couldn’t see it because they were killing us slow.   ”

“   i have killed but I’m not a killer, because a killer is a monster and monsters aren’t afraid.   ”

“   killing people doesn’t mean you’re strong.   ”

“   now the only dream i have for you is that someday, you will regret all the things you’ve already done.    ”

“   we’re wounded, broken, trying desperately to keep ourselves going by pretending we’re not.      ”

“   people come into our lives and they go out. families change. it can be hard and sad, but we bear it, as long as we don’t shut ourselves off from the new, wonderful things that come—and i know there will be more wonderful things for you.    ”

[forgedwill]

cursefelled​:

“I suppose that he were once but a man. That his heart might burn just as a man’s would does not much suprise me. Even the most monstrous, even the most animal among us still grieve.” A certain finality hangs on the edges of Trevor’s words, agreeing perhaps that the topic is well and good to end here. Hector does not elbaorate, nor does Trevor ask him to; watching instead for the tell-tale echoes of struggle and despair chasing themselves over the other man’s firelit face. At war with himself, or perhaps at war with memory. Again, Trevor does not ask (knows Hector will tell if his heart grows too heavy to hide.) Though there is…change to his sorrow that betrays just as much when Hector is taken into grasp, smoothed over, comforted. The absence of expression faltered only by his widening eyes and shortness of breath, the change in him that Trevor feels like a shift in the earth. As though something of the forger’s soul sparks underhand, tangible and sudden. It feels almost a sin to have let him go at all, to have left him alone on the shores of whatever great epiphany has washed through him like the tide. A sin. A pity. But all the same, something speaks to Trevor of the man’s need for quiet, for thought. A moment perhaps is plenty. He steps aside from the forgemaster still sat looking so peculiarly small in the throw of the fireplace, taking refuge in the valley of his own palm–Trevor watches from over one shoulder, hesitating, sympathetic.

Smiling too, when the other man’s laughter sears away just enough of his doubts to drive him on, the sound of his name sweet on the other man’s lips enough that Trevor’s heart may grow once again warm.

“I pray that this stays true. I do what I may. And I will say it always that you are welcome, Hector.” A brush to the elder’s shoulder makes for as good a farewell as any as he treads out of the living room and upon the halls to elsewhere (though not without having glanced back.) The home is full of peace at this hour, silent with night between every wall and over every floor–the short journey down to the kitchen plenty quiet, for better or for worse. Trevor’s thoughts after all are entirely too loud, even if busying his hands between boiling water in the kitchen fire and musing over this ingredient or the other keeps him just occupied enough. The night outside is still chill with late spring, well suited for hot tea soon steeped, stirred and strained into two cups that Trevor takes carefully into hand to carry out and away.

There is a strange relief finding Hector just as he left him when his steps carry him back toward the hearth, bending to his knees at the forger’s side as one cup is gently nudged into the other man’s palm.

“Here…” A soft chuckle rises, his own drink warmed between both broad hands as it is lifted, tasted, savoured. A noise of content loosens from the Belmont’s chest as he settles once more before the purr of the fireplace. A smile brightens his face, half hidden behind the lip of his cup as a glance is passed over the other man’s features. Running from hairline to throat hollow, settling soon after with the winter of his companion’s eyes as Trevor drawls quietly on. “Barley, honey and chamomile. It should be of some comfort to you, if nothing else.”

      He needn’t pray, though belief with that strikes Hector, too. Parting words which for all their warmth therein reassurance cannot themselves quiet the echos of retreating steps. An overwhelming sensation of insatiability turns Hector’s head, overlooking his shoulder and past, unto shadows and dark corners and places where Trevor is not. It is not the first time desire ushered him to follow, but it is the first time Hector wills himself quiet with the intention. Hope is strange to relish, yet here with it does the Forgemaster bid himself to sit, gradual to turn himself back towards the hearth though no less dispirited for the loss of a greater warmth. No. Enriched, if anything. A tender, pacifying tranquility that nullifies (or perhaps turns him blind towards) a great many and terrible aches. Even on his sick bed, gravely wounded, Trevor were always someone whose lightheartedness brought an air of indulgent hope, of intoxicating peace which commanded a sense of finality to worrisome terrors. Even when those terrors sought to spite his very face, when panic rose to the surface which refuted logic, which required tonics to grow silent - not once had he seem an unreliable source.

      Perhaps he could fathom the depth in some portion now, of a love ever lasting. While his heart feels foolish - celebratory in itself over mere notion - the indulgence feels healing. There are memories of Rosaly having much the same insistence, as a matter of fact. A kind of determination that his heart possesses these things, as assured and believed as the sun’s rise and fall each and every day. Along the other side of despair, Hector brushes a hand over his flushed cheek, mimicking the act of just a few moments prior.

       Though there is an effort to feign otherwise, pretending to have been rubbing at his own shoulder when realizing the approaching steps were Trevor’s. Hector’s face betraying that all too telling shade of weighted rouge. Responding, itself, a comical tell too when the man flutters his gaze in that unconscious way. Unwilling, for those few seconds, to cast them away and parted from Trevor’s own. But of course Hector needn’t insistence for this - his callous hands are comfortably numbed around the large, hot mug.         It is genuinely difficult to take in the taste. Not for lacking in recipe, but lacking in comparison to what memory serves as a far greater spice to indulge. A spice that can be enjoyed even now, if Hector allows himself. Amid the steam and rim of his mug, where his eyes wander from shoulder to shadow, to the lightened shimmer in deeply-colored hair to the becoming mark along his cheek - that spice belonging to Trevor. That same scent which often lead him right to him in the Castle, that same scent has become a comfort.

        Embarrassing that notice should come to him only when finally touched by that hot, hot drink. Having been pressing his lips to the rim without much thought, Hector now chooses to close his eyes and savor the taste of the second most calming thing this night has offered. Be it his tender heart or the hastened sway of it now, the intense, almost immediate relief is appreciated by his languid exhaling. Drinking in, tasting. Imagining -        “I feel myself like a stray cur which has bitten the snake from the nobleman’s ankle...” Or perhaps his heart is merely too fluttered, smiling despite the sudden bashfulness taking him in to care anymore whether or not his heart lay too bare. Allowing laughter in some small way to color his smile further, looking up from beneath his own lashes, “If you continue to treat me like this, I may never want to leave your door step, Trevor...”

[forgedwill]

            Misc Quote Meme, part four!

 @lovesake asked:

“ i couldn’t stop missing you if i tried. ”

         Strange to hear it.          Though portions of his heart grows numbed for it, relieving an ache which lurked without notice. Hector laughs. Partially from disbelief, partially for it feeling familiar in delinquent ways. Oh, nostalgic. Nostalgia for the run away nights - for late mornings eating fruit on lone pavilions whilst fishers busy themselves elsewhere, or late evenings in the marketplaces, playing at something of normalcy that were as precious as they were secret. But the man saying this before him now is not the boy of his memories. His features are sharper, matured. His eyes as beautiful as they are feminine in the moon’s cycle. It almost seems a pity, to graze his cheek with cool, calloused touches of his thumb and fingertips. A sentiment which has never truly made leave of Hector’s thoughts.

         “War has not tarnished that glow in you. The same I had looked forward to seeing, if honesty may be a shared voice right now.” He must smile nonetheless. No, all the more; clothing himself in that very relief to broaden the laughter to something truer, something abandoning his disbelief as long, long curls of hair is tucked behind the endearing pointed curve of his ear. “To think my life spent there meant something to someone...”

         “To think that I meant something to you...”

[rummegriim-deactivated20130330]

[chapelofresonance]

From an ad for Curse of Darkness.

[undefeatablesin]

Day 4 of the twitter inktobervania challenge ft. Hector!