⌜Myth.⌟

Is it a Sin to be Weak-Hearted? Not Everyone is Strong. / mithos yggdrasill / the hero of yore, the fallen 'angel', leader of cruxis & the desians, of the four seraphim / tales of symphonia / . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . penned by ryn EST. 08 / 2012 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . ✧✧ - law - headcanon - ✧ rp meme ✧ musings ✧ gallery ✧✧ oc & crossover - friendly ! mun is 21+ . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . header graphic by @astrumballade Not Everyone can stand being Despised.

[iniquitousideals]

Mithos Yggdrasill.

- - - > blog established 08/2012

- - - > WRITTEN BY RYN.

- - - > Graphic by @astrumballade​​

[seine-draws]

No special exceptions

[sadbabe2009]

concept: something that lasts, someone who stays

[thunderprompts]

Reblog this to have people go into your inbox & ask your character questions!

[iniquitousideals]

"what was this, some kind of game?" (//from presea, if still accepting!)

Though short and simple, the words shook Mithos to his core. They were heavily weighted, and who they had come from certainly contributed to said weight. This had come from Presea, she who had endured a similar pain, she who had lost her sister, unable to do a thing to help her. While their experiences were quite different aside from this, she could understand that feeling of loss, as well as that feeling of wanting revenge. 

“A game?”  Mithos repeats, the words are nearly spat out, for while he had betrayed the group, there was much he had let slip about his past – there was some genuinity in the Mithos they had come to know, even if he was much colder than they had previously known of him. Still, he did have a role to play, right? – the villain, for if he truly wanted his sister back, there were sacrifices that had to be made. 

“It sure is… did you really fall for it?” 

The half-elf smirks, though soon his features darken, his gaze falling to his feet. The smirk became a deep frown. “Really… As if you could ever relate to the pain I feel… you will never understand the pain of losing your only glimpse of light in the world. There is nothing here for us half-elves.”

It was different.

In the end, the half-elves only had each other. No one else could ever come to understand. No pain, no loneliness could ever come close to that which they felt, he was sure of that. What he didn’t know was how black and white his thinking had become. He had thought of this hatred he held for the idea of “good and evil”, but was that not what he was doing with humans? – Yes, what he was doing was wrong, he had come to know that, but there was no other path to tread that ended with his sister at his side once more. 

“And what is it you think those words will do for you? Am I supposed to feel sorry for you? Beg for your forgiveness?”

[seine-draws]

My sister who always protected me

[iniquitousideals]

❛ You can’t save everyone, no matter how hard you try. ❜

"Shut. Up."

It was rough for Mithos, hearing these words; It was reassurance after reassurance, again and again, those same few sickeningly sweet words and phrases that were somehow supposed to sooth his raging heart... but see, the storm refuses to calm, and his heart quakes, he gasps for air time and time again when he rests for too long, memories of his sister and that moment haunting him. He may not need to sleep, he may not dream, but every time he thought of her, every time he stopped for a moment, he struggled. His heart ached and ached, his body trembled-- he questioned how he was just supposed to go on without her, like this.

"Are those words supposed to help me somehow?

You... know it's pointless, don't you? Because nothing... nothing about those words will ever bring her back. Why do you even bother?

And Why, Yuan... Why are you acting like you don't even miss her?! Am I the only one who truly remembers what happened to her? How she was ripped away from us so suddenly, and cruelly?-- We... we didn't even..."

They could never say goodbye properly. They could never prepare for this. And he never could. He could never have prepared; she was far too important to him. She was everything.

"I don't care about saving anyone, I don't... I don't care anymore.

I wanted to save Martel! I just ... I wanted to keep her safe, I wanted to..."

[osovereign]

❝   what   we   have   done   onto   the   world   is   despicable   and   many   would   say   it   has   no   light   at   the   end,   that   there   is   no   redemption   for   the   kharlan   heros   outside   of   spiteful   death.    ❞

kratos   is   pleading,   pleading   and   his   soul   is   screaming   (   something   about   duty   /   something   about   old   aselian   gods   ):   it   is   deplorable   how   their   wicked   acts   are   meant   to   be   washed   away   under   the   guise   of   doing   good   but   they   where   doing   good,   at   one   point.   goodness   and   love   and   heroism   and…   all   of   the   metaphors   for   grandness   and   purity   where   behind   their   actions   that   it   was   hard   to   find   when   the   path   began   to   disconnect:   when   it   became   the   vile   and   twisted   world   they   governed   today.

❝   yes,   you’ll   always   be   mithos,   the   hero   to   me. ❞   inside   yggdrasill   was   just   a   young   beaten,   scarred,   and   hurt   child   who   never   stopped   loving   his   sister—who   never   stopped   grieving   the   loss   of   martel.   is   is   tragic,   how   the   laws   and   ideologies   of   aselia   could   craft   a   young   boy   they   hated   into   a   weapon   for   their   own   salvation   and   then   tell   him   with   gritted   teeth   and   looks   of   disgust   to   find   peace.   kratos   knew   what   it   was   to   lose   oneself   in   your   grief,   to   become   a   mere   shadow   of   the   glory   you   once   stood   in:   it   was   by   this   understanding   that   there   was   no   better   than   kratos   to   extend   his   hand   one   more   time   in   aiding   mithos   in   putting   a   stop   to   everything   they’ve   done.

「 even   if   it   ends   with   only   one   of   them   surviving,   even   if   it   ends   with   only   one   of   them   walking   towards   that   new   tomorrow.   」

❝   that   is… ❞   an   answer   he   did   not   have.   kratos   eyes   have   gone   sullen   and   his   legs   just   a   bit   slack.   the   pair   spoke   in   circles   to   come   to   the   same   conclusion   that   had   been   found   hundreds   of   years   prior—the   most   devastating   type   of   tale:   in   which   a   hero   needed   a   hero   but   it   had   become   too   late   when   that   hero   appeared.   ❝   all   that   you   can   do,   my   friend   is   be   proud   of   the   path   you   have   chosen   until   the   very   end.   ❞

[iniquitousideals]

You'll always be Mithos, the hero to me.

There's a soft tug at his heart, and Mithos looks away from Kratos. There always existed bitterness within him -- the hero as well as the fallen -- that which sat just at the tip of his tongue, just waiting to be spoken. It was something of a shield, guarding his heart from further disappointment. And was that all that was in store for him ? -- time and time again, he watched any and all hope fall to pieces before him, and he struggled to gather them, to place them back together. He wanted his life to return to what it was, that was all! -- But that was just impossible, and never in the cards for him. Lips press together anxiously as he processes this, along with the words of his old companion.

"Proud?" Mithos nearly laughs, albeit bitterly. "I've made it clear enough, haven't I? I'm not proud, nor am I as confident as I may seem -- it's as you said, our actions were ... despicable."

And sometimes, he couldn't help but think about it. Doubts crept into his mind. He felt the weight of his sins crushing him.

"So Kratos, I'm asking you how I move on from that." His tone is soft, barely above a whisper; the boy is exhausted, body and soul. It was all just too much. Sometimes he wanted to give up.

"How does one atone for such crimes? How does one even go about moving on?" he recalls his words to Presea, that such acts could hardly just be forgiven, for how could a person simply let go of pain so great? There must be people out there he made feel what he had felt, what he continues to feel, the hole in his heart that the death of his sister had left. One he could never fill, ever again.

The first step, the right path... He hardly knew these things anymore. He would need guidance along this path, as there was no way for him to tread it alone -- his heart was still too hurt, beaten and battered by this cruel world.

And then, there came words he hoped he wouldn't regret:

"I ... I need your help."

[mcflymemes]

PROMPTS FOR THE BIG MISUNDERSTANDING *  assorted dialogue for that trope i really hate but you know what, sometimes it's good to explore this stuff even if it makes me mad, adjust as necessary

i overheard you talking earlier.

do you actually love me, or was that a lie, too?

you made me fall in love with you.

you were lying to me this whole time.

i never meant for you to hear that.

oh, i know what you said. you don't need to explain it.

when were you going to tell me the truth?

i just said those things! i don't know what came over me!

so now i know the truth.

this is what i get for trusting you.

i never lied about how i felt.

you're making a big mistake.

i opened myself up to you, and this is how you treat me?

go. i don't want to look at you anymore.

you lied to my face.

you don't need to explain anything. i heard the truth.

i get it. i'll just slow you down.

this was never supposed to happen this way.

look, i'm sorry. can we please talk about this?

you could have been honest with me from the start.

what was this, some kind of game?

i didn't lie about that!

that was your plan all along, wasn't it?

you think you can just walk in, play with my heart, and leave?

you manipulated me this whole time.

now i see you for what you really are.

none of that is true, and you know it.

why won't you give me a chance to explain?

that's all i needed to know.

i was so stupid trusting you.

i never should have listened to you.

that's not what i said!

i was just saying those things to get [name] to leave!

you made it very clear where you stand.

might be better if i just leave now.

you never wanted me around anyway.

so this was all a game to you?

how did you hear that? who told you?

yes, i lied to you, but i didn't mean for it to get this far!

i didn't mean any of it!

and all this time, i thought you actually loved me.

what a fool i was to trust you.

the longer you stand there, the angrier i get.

i'm walking out of here, and i'm never coming back.

nothing you could say right now would make me change my mind.

oh, i heard you. i heard everything.

[name] told me you were lying.

i know what really happened. you can stop pretending.

were you ever going to tell me the truth, or were you planning on stringing me along forever?

so that's it? you're just leaving?

did you really mean what you said, or was that a lie too?

everything is called into question.

i didn't lie about my feelings for you.

as much as i'd love to believe you, i can't. not anymore.

they were right about you all along.

when they warned me about you, i didn't believe them.

i never want to see you again.

please pack your things.

[osovereign]

❝ perhaps we are but it was by such naivety that i found redemption, whose to say you cannot do the same. it does not wash away the sins, mithos. ❞ his language was still but his words lacked any vice. at least he was wise, perhaps in another life, mithos wouldn't of had to become a child warrior, a would-be solider whom was dragged into the terrible affairs of another, of the world. perhaps and just perhaps could have been sparred from the burdens taken onto seeing the rotten world for what it truly was. ripped from a simple life--still, the true lionhearted always found adventure, even if they had to throw themselves into that misguided fire. 

this false divine boy had no idea, no clue indeed ( of just how sincere kratos was trying to be ): facts would always outweigh fiction ( just as life would always be more than death ): it was a simple, to play inside the mind’s with realism’s and color-coded speech. all children learned of the supernatural ( of the devil’s and blood-lusting soul suckers. ): in-turn, these legends are passed on down to the next generation, left to get twisted and distorted from the original source material. these where based in creative freedoms, based upon getting youth’s to do as parents wished - to give relief and salvation from childish worries and ramblings.

thus, these where rarely folktales of golden hero’s clad in red ( with a unrelenting idealism on their own moral code: when born, everyone has a right to life. ): but begotten hell bound wolf-skinned and diamond sharpened toothed monsters - unholy creatures whom only thrive on the terror and eternal suffrage inside the heart’s of humanity ( killable life /  ashes and dust flesh ) these beings lowest than any in the fictitious supernatural ranks. but yes, believe words from which come whispered between the lips of sinners and those whom have salvation in their damnation. ❝ but it is never too late to acknowledge one’s mistakes and to try to be better again. ❞ leaving would be best. kratos had already started moving, but he stopped in the doorframe. derris-kharlan, welgiga--everything that surrounded them was a living and breathing reminder of why he was attempting this conversation again in the first place. 

❝ but you are not a mistake. improper decisions and horribly misguided actions, indeed but not a mistake, mithos. nothing about you or martel or yuan ever has or ever will be. to me, you will always be cherished. ❞ fuck his head was screaming. the ancient hero of yore could read mithos better than himself. he knew he was hurting, he knew mithos was in pain. his mind probably having a battle with his heart on if it should listen to his words or not. ❝ by my hands has much life been taken but also by my hands has life been given. ❞

first with tabatha, then the type of rebirth that could only be found from the love that bloomed with anna, and then their living bond in lloyd. all living beings—human, elf, half-elf, dwarf, or otherwise have the ability to create and to destroy. but, kratos believed no matter how flawed a path, one could always choose to go down another. he knew from personal experience he had done so, time and time again. even angels are not so sanctified that they didn’t carry a bit of ruin within—it would be foolish to think otherwise. still, he looks to mithos and his eyes hollow just a tad before extending in an attempt to ruffle his hair ( but his hand pauses before making contact with the blond tresses ): as he’d done so many times in the past ( as he wanted to do so many times in the future ): in this life, salvation existed that was not just in death. the compassion and words of another could bestow a waterless baptism and grant rebirth.

❝ what has always mattered to me is you and not the state of you. yggdrasill form, mithos the hero, mithos the half-elf child, or some other fourth thing. you will always be you and i just want you to realize that.  ❞ in-front of one of his heart's most scared treasures. his hand finally fills the gap of space to rub into his head, an action that hadn't been done for thousands of years. it felt so familiar, so right that kratos briefly wondered why he ever stopped. ❝ i know i can still speak for yuan when i say that we never once stopped loving nor caring for you, ❞ tears begun to swell in his eyes, in the slight curl of his lips into a smile. ❝ allowing this to continue, would be a disservice. we can still try again, altogether. ❞

to be on the same side of right again. that is all kratos wanted--needed.

[iniquitousideals]

The determination was certainly commendable, his persistence evident in each word spoken. Aching - both of their hearts were, so burdened with the feelings of loss, of their terrible sin. All of these feelings would birth a hopelessness, weighing heavily on their hearts and minds; Kratos could carry this weight, he was proving so, but his horridness hardly compared to his own. He was the one lost in the dark. He was the one struggling to find the light, and so he accepted that darkness, he gave up and let it consume the soul of their precious hero - his actions reflected this, did they not? And only the moon knew his secrets, the intensity of the nightmares and insecurities that would dance about his mind, tormenting him day and night. But Kratos, it did seem that maybe he, too, knew a small fraction of this pain (and the blackness of his tainted heart, cracked and broken!)

Should he have been born in a world free of hatred, perhaps he wouldn't have been the hero with so much responsibility and power thrust upon him, perhaps Martel would have never been killed, perhaps none of this would have happened at all. Mithos was a victim of the world just as much as he had become a monster to many. He had become what he so despised, what he had fought so hard again - but that, it didn't matter now.

"Improper actions..." Mithos mumbled softly, "it isn't as simple as that, and you know it."

Yes, Kratos would know more, he would know so much better than anyone else just how far gone Mithos had become, how the world had destroyed him and molded him into something new. This was no minor mistake, it was not at all small scale, something that could so easily be forgiven. It was too horrible to be swept under the rug. Even he had begun to realize how wrong he was, even he had realized his hands were stained, that they would never be washed clean of blood.

"So how is it that you can just..."

Forgive him. Love him.

The words are lost in his throat. It was too hard to utter even a word. He held this hatred for so many years, did he deserve love and care, being together with others once more? Could he honestly walk with them? Could he accept their hands? All of them, they were much purer. His heart couldn't help latching onto hate. They were different.

"I will always be me? - "

"Kratos. I'm not sure you're understanding me; I don't know if I can go on with everyone. You're all... different. You continue to have hope, despite all you face, I can't say the same. I'm different.

So what do I do with that?"

[iniquitousideals]

❛ i wish i had another choice. ❜

The words were oddly familiar and so it should be no surprise that they had brought about a deep aching in his chest, tugging at his heart. And boy, did it ache. Mithos quickly realized why that was; they were words he often thought to himself, a genuine wish of his, or at least of the hero, who he once was - he searched and searched for such a possibility, though the chance for some "other choice" never showed itself. Sometimes it never would, that was the cruel truth. It was upsetting, but one had to face it at some point. A half-elf was often the scapegoat, and eventually ... they either would become a villain, or continue to be a victim.

He wonders to himself how to answer, and avoids looking the other in the eyes as he does so. ( Did he even deserve to shed some light, provide advice when he didn't even know where to start himself? )

Whatever.

"Well, there's no point dwelling on what could or couldn't be," he would soon respond,

"it's just a waste of time to keep wishing; you either do or you don't, that's all... so what do you choose?"

[mistfallenmemes]

Send me hc + a word of your choosing and I’ll write a headcanon relating to that word!

Or send hc + two words and I’ll try and come up with one that links those two things together!

[osovereign]

☆ — iniquitousideals

“So, you’ve finally decided to come crawling back to me,” Mithos advances toward Kratos slowly and -- given some time -- begins to circle him as a predator would its prey. Well, that wasn’t far off from the truth, was it? He despised humans, and the more Kratos was to hurt him, the closer he was to being thrown in with the lot of them. To never being trusted. To being despised. Once that was done, there was no going back. It’s odd, as much as it had been claimed that he hated Kratos all this time, it still wasn’t the truth. He still held on to the tiniest shred of hope. One day, Kratos would believe in him. One day, he would stay. He would be his teacher again. He would be his father. He would believe in him. “what happened this time? Did you not find what you were looking for? I’m beginning to think you enjoy toying with me, Kratos.”

❝ mithos i  ,   ❜ he needs to micromanage his words, kratos knew the consequences of having a tongue with to much bark and bite. the mannerisms of his first greatest delight, of his first greatest pride  and failure! circled him as a hunter did prey, as the strong did the weak. if tasked kratos could never stop writing aselia’s greatest epic about how its greatest savior became its villain, of how the supposed most holy city was filled with wild wicked creatures who resembled more daemon than human  he most of all. those whom lied as if it was a second skin upon their lips, a natural occurrence as telling the truth was to others.

even this age old man was akin to selling falsehoods as absolutes. talk about yourself, mask it as another. grasp death inside the grave you dug on-top your living corpse and watch as you fall deeper into your own darkness.  mentally, physically, emotionally, and perhaps some other fourth thing the half-elf kratos met, befriended, and cherished from four thousand years ago still lived buried underneath an aeons worth of distaste and hatred. lying had gotten him nowhere though. he needed to try a new approach, he wanted to do things differently this time. maybe... just maybe the wrongs of yesterday could be corrected and his makeshift found family could coexist with his blood. he needed it, desired it. craved it.  

his strides ever confident, ever intimidating, ever fluid. he drops to his knees not far off from the blond man and absentmindedly fiddles with the sheath of his sword. physically, kratos made himself smaller but his spirit was that of a warrior, of a hero of yore. was it crawling back if he just wanted a piece of his heart back? it was not enough to follow another’s idealism and belief’s without question. he had learned this lesson the hard way ( full forced / full fledged genocide ): was it better to deceive or be deceived? he knew the answer, it didn’t even need to leave his lips.

❛     what i seek has long been found. i am simply trying to pick up the pieces as best a mere man can..   ❜ truth. honestly. even if it killed him, even if it led to the same conclusion. kratos would not know unless he tried and fuck, did this self loathing angel want to fucking try. ❛ stars could explode, aselia could cease to exist, and i may never correct all of my mistakes--  ❜ he pauses. licking his lips, palms digging crescent indents into his fists. ❛ but you, mithos: will never be a mistake to me. my most precious student, my friend. my first son. ❜

the last words spoken on his tongue as a silent broken prayer. they’d had this talk a thousand times before. some ending in battle, all ending in seemingly betrayal. sometimes with yuan, but usually alone. if a higher being did exist and not one crafted of his own two hands then kratos had but one desire of it, one wish, one prayer: give him their happiness back.

[iniquitousideals]

Mithos had hardly expected Kratos to agree to his plea - such pleas were made out of an unshakeable fear, a grand obstacle, a fierce ocean threatening to swallow him up. He hadn't expected Kratos to agree, and so he feels something of a heavy disappointment, wishing for his old companion to continue fighting for his trust. But this is no game - he would not contradict his own pleas, he wouldn't break down further or show more vulnerability, or so he tells himself. He feels the fear drowning him. But here he was, a fallen hero; a true villain. Maybe he deserved to drown.

You are not a mistake.

Those words shake the half-elf at his very core, and he cradles himself, one hand holding the opposite arm.

You will always be cherished.

He didn't deserve such raw kindness, but judgement. Besides, he didn't want any pity - but should he? Should he crave forgiveness, should he accept that hand that was extended, waiting for him?

"Well, you and your son are certainly the same in your naïveté.

I can't simply wash myself of what I've done, you know that, don't you?"

He doesn't look at Kratos, so plagued by his doubts, his fears. They were meant only for himself, doubts of what he was capable of - he knew that if he had the chance, he would make the same choice.

"You would truly extend a hand to someone who has already hurt you?"

And he had hurt Kratos. Terribly. He was no hero; no, that Mithos was dead and gone, fallen with Martel 4000 years ago. Little was left. He was practically only a shell. He only wore his face.

"You may believe you are able to right your own mistakes, but I, however..."

"Kratos -

I can't make that same claim with any honesty."

And besides, when was the last time he was truly honest with anyone?

[thousandmusings]

𝐈𝐭'𝐬 𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐭'𝐬 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐨𝐨 𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐞𝐭

𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐈 𝐜𝐚𝐧'𝐭 𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐧𝐨𝐰

[iniquitousideals]

❛ ♚ YOUR CHARACTER IN FIVE QUOTES

"To tell you the truth, Noishe, I'm tired, I'm tired of living. (...) That's not something people should say? But you know, I think what I'm doing may be wrong. And now that I've started to think that, I can't help but feel there's no meaning to life."

"I can understand what Presea's feeling a little. Some things... never come back... Even if he apologizes, even if you want to forgive, you can't control those feelings."

"People fear and hate what is not normal. They are scared of those that are different. Then the solution is for everyone to become the same."

"Is it a sin to be weak-hearted? Not everyone is strong, not everyone can stand being despised."

"Farewell my shadow, you who stand at the end of the path I chose not to follow (...)"

tagged by: stolen from @osovereigntagging: whoever wants to

[loubatas-art]

I've been replaying to Tales of Symphonia since the remaster came out (and even before, I took my gamecube out of its slumber for it), and I think Noishe isn't being appreciated enough

[iniquitousideals]

( prev. )

Honestly, the man crumples and begs at his feet far too easily. Did he truly think it would faze him, that he didn't expect to see him in such a sorry, pathetic state? Despite it all, Mithos is still overcome with such pure hate, hate he needed more than anything to save himself -- lest he feel a far worse pain -- because the truth was, Kratos had hurt him terribly, more than anyone had since the murderer of his dear, beloved sister, it was a strike deep to his heart... no, perhaps even worse than that -- if Kratos no longer believed in him, who did? Surely not Yuan.

Then the words came, and oh, those words, they broke right on through this hate, leaving nothing more than the one once forsaken by the world, the half-elven child who bore far too much power there before Kratos. Here, he wasn't Yggdrasill of Cruxis, and he would not don that hatred he held so close, he was a very hurt, very scared child.

"Not a mistake? -- You're LYING.

You don't MEAN any of that, Kratos... you can't, because if any of that was true..."

Words trail off, and Mithos shakes his head, refusing to even look in the direction of his once very loved, very treasured teacher (but perhaps he was still, deep within.) The words Kratos spoke, words he would love to have heard long ago now only brought about pain, it was nothing but salt in the wound.

But why, why did it have to hurt him so much? What was this aching in his chest?

"I don't... want to hear anymore..."

"So just go, leave me alone.

Please."