Krysto Sarkien @krystosarkien - Tumblr Blog

#quotes #original poems #poem #writing #my life #beautiful quote #my quotes #my queue

I will leave a mark on everything I touch in this life because I want to make an impact with every breath I breathe.

Whether my mark on you is a loving tattoo by my artistic hand, or a scar from my claws digging into your flesh, is completely up to how you treat me.

sunsetquotes

“This is not goodbye, my darling, this is a thank you. Thank you for coming into my life and giving me joy, thank you for loving me and receiving my love in return. Thank you for the memories I will cherish forever. but most of all, thank you for showing me that there will come a time when I can eventually let you go.”

— Nicholas Sparks

The Reckoning.

||⛧|| Cont’d.

“I do. There will be scarring, but nothing permanent. I would rather you two stay together, but Cùchulainn’s suffered too deep a wound here to go on. Can I trust you to go seek out Noire and your Uncle until I’m finished patching him up? No matter what, dear, I need you to keep a clear head about you. War is very trying but you must be strong. Tell your Uncle to command his men to fall back, we’ll need to make a temporary retreat. We’ve slaughtered a fair number of Highwatch’s forces, but things are going to be far more trifling from here on out and we’ll need time to regain our energy and to go over the next part of our plans.”

She nodded and breathed in heavily. She dashed away from her father and brother so as they didn’t see her. Fumbling around on the ground she found a stick and She She Sho Sho it in her mouth. She hadn’t wanted father to worry but she wouldn’t make it across the battlefield like this. She was bleeding too fast. And plus she didn’t think he yet knew she had been practicing magick. She unbound the wounds her papa had carefully wrapped and took a shaky breath. She snapped her fingers producing a boiling flame and pressed her firey hand to her wounds. Her sharp teeth dug deep into the stick as she whimpered, tears stinging her eyes. Standing unsteadily she spat out the half shattered peice of wood, grabbed her spear and charged into the brawl.

Dashing and dancing between people and blades, moving too fast for anyone to catch her. Seeing her uncle and Noire she stopped behind them, sticking her spear into the blood stained earth and leaning on it, panting heavily. “UNCLE!” She cried, making herself heard over the chaos. “Cùchulainn and others are gravely injured! Papa has made the orders to retreat and begin planing for the next step in fight!”

The scent of his niece’s seared flesh, her strange magick, along with her voice all capture the Imperator’s attention immediately, and he rushes over to the young Valkyrie’s side with Noire in tow. Both males’ lips were dripping fresh with the blood of the victims they had previously engorged themselves in, along with that spilled by the fallen. Around their feet were fresh, mangled and dismembered corpses, along with scorch marks here and there from where the Imperator had tormented the last surviving citizens to death with his Blood Magick in order to appease his sadistic nature. Wars always provide him the freedom to do so without judgement from his family, so of course he would take advantage of such gruesome opportunities as this to commit such sinful acts in so public an area.

“Is that so? Very well.” Readying his war horn to signal the retreat, he looks Meeka over carefully for all visible wounds and heals them as best he can. Sharing a nod and knowing glance with Noire, Dakuryon summons his dragon, helping Noire and Meeka up onto the great beast and he seats himself behind them. Taking the reigns with one hand, he raises the horn on high with the other and blows — the sound reaches the ears of all of his men, and they fall back without question. “Hold on tightly, both of you.”

Taking to the skies upon his Dragon with his niece and nephew safely secured, the Imperator is the first to bear witness to the sky turning blood red. He looks down and sees, atop the mountain range he was about to fly over, that something, no, someone is there, an old horror returning to haunt Arborea again: The Wraith …! Dakuryon telepathically issues the command to his Dragon, who understood. The great winged beast dives and opens his maw to unleash Black Fire upon the Wraith to repel it so they would have safe passage. A temporary dispel, but it would be enough. He would have to inform his brother of the grim news, but for now he had to focus on getting everyone back to camp –

Noire’s arms wrapped around Dakuryon’s waist draw tighter when they all dive downward to deal with the Wraith of Malice. Face hidden in the center of the Imperator’s shoulderblades, the Castanic utters silent prayers for them all to come out of the ordeal unscathed. He makes the mistake of looking down after the waves of heat rise above from the dark flame that his Master’s dragon had spewed out at the undying fiend, becoming dizzied and light-headed from vertigo. He slowly goes in and out of consciousness, but the pleasant chill of the breeze whistling all around serve to stir him awake. And that’s when he deigns to look behind over his shoulder to see, to his horror, that the Wraith has re-manifested itself and this time it wasn’t alone. It was riding on the back of a Dragon of its own, a zombiefied terror giving chase not too far behind them in heated pursuit.

“Your Grace, it’s back! DIVE! That damnable Wraith is after us again!“ he shouts loud enough for Dakuryon to hear, bracing himself for come what may. Throughout all of this, a sickness takes over the Castanic, and his bloodstream burns. Vision blurries, and it’s all Noire can do to keep himself from passing out.

He doesn’t need to look back to know that the Wraith had brought along some company, and without a word, the Imperator commands his Dragon to dive almost vertically. Dakuryon’s organs nearly leave him through his mouth; to his disdain, the Wraith’s Dragon anticipates the maneuver and follows, a gout of fire bursting from its maw. Damn it. Dakuryon calls out to Noire, voice nearly drowned out by the winds. “Noire, have you have energy left? I’m to have you commence a highly risque rite with me here and now, for it will save us all. The Rite of Soul Binding.” It would be painful for them both, but more than worth the cost involved.

There isn’t any time for Noire to take such a thing into consideration, their lives were at stake here. He pushes away any fears of the possible outcome from such a dark rite far away into the back of his mind, and sits up straight with determination anew. He knows his Master would never ask him to do such a thing unless it was absolutely necessary. So the Castanic has nothing but faith in the Imperator. Carefully, Noire arises from his place behind Dakuryon and comes to sit in his Master’s lap, facing the older male. The Castanic’s emerald hues look up into his Master’s own ruby gaze, and with the interlocking of their hands, Noire answers in a voice resolute,

“Yes, my Lord. I am ready to undertake this task.”

No turning back now. But whatever happens to him in the end, he has come to terms with. He will not falter. He will not fail.

“There’s a good man.”

The Shards slow their dance in an eerie manner, dark aura radiating from within and seeping out in blackened magick threads steeped in the Imperator’s own blood; they snake their way over to Noire, wrapping themselves around his arms, his neck, his shoulders … their serpentine path continues downward with an inky trail left behind, and ending at the young man’s heart. From there, the tips of the blood threads form into razor sharp ends and embed themselves deeply into the skin to pierce into Noire’s vessels, filling him with Dakuryon’s blood and Magick.

At the same moment, the Imperator’s lips interlock with Noire’s, to suck out what remains of the purity of the Castanic’s very life force. Dakuryon’s own black heart pulses painfully against his chest, demanding to be ripped out as he does this, for one of the Shards has embedded itself into his own flesh to mirror the pain Noire endures from the act therein. But the Imperator holds strong, and before long the darkness of Dakuryon’s soul takes over Noire’s, the pair now bound for eternity. As the Imperator slowly pulls away from Noire, wisps of the last of the young man’s purity lazily depart from the older Archdeva’s lips like smoke; the physical transformation starts to run its course for the younger male, and with it, a plethora of the Blood’s gifts granted.

Noire was no longer what he once was. Castanic born, and reborn as Archdeva.

… It hurt so much, having his soul cleansed only for it to be replaced with the cruellest, blackest heart of men, and his bloodstream tainted with his Master’s blood, his Magicks. So much pain, in fact, that Noire’s eyes stung with tears and he truly struggled to remain conscious through the entire ritual. And then, came the change of his physical form. The fire in his veins burn at the peak, but it is gone as soon as it had come, replaced with a welcoming cold, and power indescribable. His eyes, now can see All. He can see … Them.

Senses heighten drastically, and pressure in his shoulderblades as his wings grow and unfurl to full span, their colors now a regal gradient of night and blood, and his horns, once Castanic, now mark him as Archdeva: Larger in length, and sharing the same hues as his mighty wings. Finally, his body’s height and muscular structure overall, grow to nearly match that of Dakuryon’s. Noire’s slenderly toned, yet muscular form was now only a mere three inches shorter than the Imperator. Embracing his newfound transformation immediately, Noire ignores the lingering pain, knowing it will fade in time.

With a great beat of his wings, Noire launches off the back of the Imperator’s Dragon and heads straight for the Wraith; one arm reaches out to the fell fiend, the other clenched into a clawed fist, and both glow with orbs of deathly Magick soon manifesting into gigantic, twin voidal katanas …

Pulsating waves of magickal energy blast from the Imperator’s palm. He moves the duel closer so he can back up Noire, who is performing brilliantly against their opponent. The dragon roars and flinches from the assault, and Dakuryon examines the dragon’s features closely. Something was off. He readies his halberd, lifting it high above his head. “Noire, take caution. This beast isn’t like any other dragon I’ve ever come across. We shall strike him down, regardless. Anybody who attacks my friends and loved ones are given no mercy!”

He summons more magick around them, and with a mental command to his dragon to keep close to their adversary, Dakuryon leaps off of the mount and levitates towards the enemy. He harries the beast with all sorts of destructive spells, and he even summons some magicked daggers and they stab into the dragon’s flesh. They hit it painfully, but it doesn’t stop the beast from pursuing them.

Noire rushes towards the dragon swiftly, and thrusts his twin katanas upward, connecting with the animal’s jaw. He lands onto the dragon’s back, keeping a firm grip on him to keep from falling off. He strikes at his hard, scaly flesh, which resists the blow. However, Noire doesn’t give up, and he continues his onslaught until the dragon’s hide weakens.

The Archdeva Lord sends a telepathic message to his son.

“Noire, don’t be mad! Go to the ground, Cúchulainn and I just arrived. Let my brother finish the dragon off. You have to trust me! We’ll shield you from the fall!” he urges; indeed, he and a newly healed Cúchulainn were on horseback in hot pursuit, below.

“Yes, sir!”

He heeds his father’s message, but instead of leaping to the ground, he looks around him to see if he can find a ledge to land on. He spots a jagged cliff that comes into view, times it . . and faithfully jumps, using his katanas to thrust into the rocky terrain as they near closer to it. He pulls himself up and onto the ledge, and takes the blades out of the earth. Soon he is at his father and brother’s side, whistling for his faithful snowdrift leopard.

The dragon, not noticing that Noire had left him and had dived for the ground, again now focuses on Dakuryon alone. The Imperator summons a portal, and they both fly through it. On the other side, the beast bashes head first into the rocks opposite the main gate of Trellum Consurgo. The landing actually disintegrates the wall. The dragon slumps to the ground, all groggy. Strength rushes through Dakuryon as he injects himself with his serum and pursues it. The dragon scrambles to its feet and in doing so, its tail hits him. Dakuryon stumbles. “You scaled worm!” he yells angrily.

The portal had closed by now, and the dragon turns towards him. “I will devour you, Archdeva! A dragon will now devour the soul of Lakan’s son!”

“Hi los ni bahlaan do tol kopraan, hi sosnaak.” Dakuryon replies simply. He then readies his halberd. “Hi los ni bahlaan do nahlrii krinaan naal naan Archdeva! But I will oblige … ”

Meeka watched from her uncles dragon, adrenaline rushing through her veins. She whispered to the beast and they caught up to her uncle, battling the other dragon, trying to lend a hand in battle. The wraith was still on the dragon, and as her uncle was fighting its beast, it began to creep closer to the Archdeva. “UNCLE LOOK OUT!” she cried out, as his dragon shot fire in the wraith’s path, it shrieked in anger and turned its attention to the young Valkyrie. She growled threatingly at the wraith, standing on the back of the scaled creature, getting ready for a fight.“ I got your back uncle Dio!”

Dakuryon sidesteps out of the way in time to his niece’s warning, just barely dodging the strike. “Meeka, take caution! The Wraith is not to be underestimated. It’s taken the lives of many, and — !” he warns, but he is cut short when the Wraith’s dragon opens its maw to snap at him. The Imperator blockades the potentially fatal blow by raising his halberd in front of him and jabbing it horizontally across the beast’s mouth. With a fierce kick to the dragon’s abdomen, he manages to break free —- and just in time, too, for tiny cracks had begun to form along his weapon’s shaft. The dragon furiously roars at him, and charges.

“Oh shut it, will you?! Filthy wretch!” Dakuryon snarls. He vaults high into the air and land on the beast’s back in a backwards somersault. From there, he stabs his halberd into both of its eyes, gouging them, and he holds on for dear life as the dragon thrashes violently underneath him.

Meeka growled at the screeching wraith in warning eyes ablaze and fists coiled with fire magick. It was dangerous for her to be using her magick especially since her magick wasn’t from this realm, but this situation proved justified. “I did not wish to use this much power. But you deem a formidable foe.” the fire up her arms flared a bright orangey yellow, engulfing her entire body in flames. Scales began to form on her arms and cheeks, her kanines sharpened, and her horns became larger, and a long lashing tail and wings grew on her back. The wraith howled, charging at her, she barely dodged it, it’s claws grazing her cheek. She lashed out at the wraith with her claws, growling furiously, slashing against its chest. It shrieked in anger and grabbed hold of meeka’s shoulders, knocking her off the dragon sending her down onto the soil below. She cried out in pain as it’s talons gripped her flesh. Roaring with rage she clawed at the wraith sending them both into a tumbling frenzied ball of madness. She took a deep breath and shot Firey breath in the creatures face, sending it back screaming. Breathing heavily, covered in wounds she turned to her uncle. “Are you doing ok uncle Dio?!” she cried.

“I’m alright, my dear, but I could use some help here!” the Imperator answers between gritted teeth, struggling to maintain his hold on the Wraith’s dragon. The beast finally manages to throw him off.

“Gahh!! Son of a – ”

Before he could fall to the ground, Dakuryon levitates and regains his balance, as a plan formulates in his head. Crimson gaze scans the parameter, and a notion clicks. Keeping the dragon at bay with a swiftly casted barrier, while ordering his own to pursuit the Wraith and drive it away from Meeka, the Archdevan male beckons his niece to his side. “Meeka, listen carefully. See that cliff not too far from here?” He points towards the jagged, craggy summit past the bridge, near one of the demokron portals.

“We’re going to steer both of them to its edge, and with any luck they should plummet to the spires below and to their doom. If not, at the very least they will be fatally wounded and they will retreat. Well, the dragon wound be wounded … the Wraith is an entirely different matter altogether. We will need to combine our magicks to bind and banish it. Are you prepared to undergo this grueling task with me?” he urges, as he tends to the young female’s wounds.

" I will do everything in my power. We must act quickly though. I cannot stay in control in this form for much longer. Whenever you're ready uncle give the signal" she tapped him lightly in thanks for the healing, and she climbed onto a nearby rock to get the attention of the wraith once more. Growling and slashing, seeing the signal from her uncle she dashes towards the cliff, wraith in hot presute.

The Reckoning.

||⛧|| Cont’d.

“Yes, my Lord. I am ready to undertake this task.”

No turning back now. But whatever happens to him in the end, he has come to terms with. He will not falter. He will not fail.

“There’s a good man.”

Noire was no longer what he once was. Castanic born, and reborn as Archdeva.

The Archdeva Lord sends a telepathic message to his son.

“Yes, sir!”

The portal had closed by now, and the dragon turns towards him. “I will devour you, Archdeva! A dragon will now devour the soul of Lakan’s son!”

“Hi los ni bahlaan do tol kopraan, hi sosnaak.” Dakuryon replies simply. He then readies his halberd. “Hi los ni bahlaan do nahlrii krinaan naal naan Archdeva! But I will oblige … ”

Meeka growled at the screeching wraith in warning eyes ablaze and fists coiled with fire magick. It was dangerous for her to be using her magick especially since her magick wasn't from this realm, but this situation proved justified. "I did not wish to use this much power. But you deem a formidable foe." the fire up her arms flared a bright orangey yellow, engulfing her entire body in flames. Scales began to form on her arms and cheeks, her kanines sharpened, and her horns became larger, and a long lashing tail and wings grew on her back. The wraith howled, charging at her, she barely dodged it, it's claws grazing her cheek. She lashed out at the wraith with her claws, growling furiously, slashing against its chest. It shrieked in anger and grabbed hold of meeka's shoulders, knocking her off the dragon sending her down onto the soil below. She cried out in pain as it's talons gripped her flesh. Roaring with rage she clawed at the wraith sending them both into a tumbling frenzied ball of madness. She took a deep breath and shot Firey breath in the creatures face, sending it back screaming. Breathing heavily, covered in wounds she turned to her uncle. "Are you doing ok uncle Dio?!" she cried.

The Reckoning.

||⛧|| Cont’d.

“Yes, my Lord. I am ready to undertake this task.”

No turning back now. But whatever happens to him in the end, he has come to terms with. He will not falter. He will not fail.

“There’s a good man.”

Noire was no longer what he once was. Castanic born, and reborn as Archdeva.

The Archdeva Lord sends a telepathic message to his son.

“Yes, sir!”

The portal had closed by now, and the dragon turns towards him. “I will devour you, Archdeva! A dragon will now devour the soul of Lakan’s son!”

“Hi los ni bahlaan do tol kopraan, hi sosnaak.” Dakuryon replies simply. He then readies his halberd. “Hi los ni bahlaan do nahlrii krinaan naal naan Archdeva! But I will oblige … ”

Meow. How are you today?

“I’m well how are you miss??” The young phoenix inquired.

hisbriarheart

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#Keep away from this person #They copying my mama oc #Just like uncle mag said #>:0 ish not nice

// So, I had recently received word from a great number of mutuals and followers informing me of there being a thief in the midst. After reviewing all the evidence I had been given by several of my mutuals, and after doing some research of my own, I can confirm that such is the case. Listen here you little whelp, I don’t know who you think you are or why you think you can just crawl out of whatever Hellhole you came from to start ripping off of other people and their OCs, nor do I care to, but nobody is impressed at all and we can all see right through you. I’m friends with the person you keep ripping off of, from VK, Facebook, Steam, Discord, roleplaying forums … and she and her character are very well known on those sites as well as on here on Tumblr. So of course people are going to be highly suspicious of you when you pop up out of fucking nowhere and make attempts at ripping off of other people’s characters. And not only the physical and racial traits, but also parts of the character’s backstory and their relationships with other characters and yes this includes canon relations.

First off, you stole my friend’s exclusive title / rank. She’s it had for years, back since 2012. She is the original, she is the first and only. Next thing you do is show some pics of your OC, who for no valid explanation whatsoever went from brown hair to blonde hair, out of fucking nowhere. Literally no valid explanation given. It just fucking happened. And don’t you even get me fucking started on the horns! You do fucking realize that once a Castanic’s horns are gone, they can’t ever grow back? They’re not regenerative like the teeth of a shark or similar. Not only that, but you’re also trying to copy my friend’s fashions for her OC. AND her race. AND her skintone. AND her class. AND the fact that she is an Archdeva, among other things as well. You are literally trying to make a washed out, watered down, carbon copy of her. Which is pitiful and sad. Yet you wonder why people are blocking you, reporting you, warning their friends about you and avidly avoiding you like the god damned plague? Gee, I wonder why THAT is. Are you doing it as an attempt to make your OC come off as alluring or charming? Or are you doing it for attention? No, seriously. Because you are the exact opposite of charming and the only attention you’re receiving, and rightfully so might I add, is negative. And if you don’t either stop your bullshit or leave altogether, don’t be surprised if the negative turns into hostility. It’s one thing to be lightly inspired by someone (which is fine but even then you should fucking ask the person first), but it’s a whole other thing altogether when you blatantly rip off of them and make it so fucking obvious. You are a thief, and theft of any shape, form, and fashion is never tolerated here. This is your only warning. \

Make a starter I'll respond

#Really wannanrp with my fam ;^;#I miss u guys

Closed RP with family members only ~

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Alone on her stone bench Meeka looks up at the bleak ceiling, eyes void of feeling, empty and blank. She had been like that for hours. She finally sat up and stared through her window.

It was difficult for her to see, thick metal bars blocking most of her view.

As she continued to look out she began to feel a bit angry. Why was this world kept from her? From them? Her fists clenched in anger as she stood there, staring out the window.

Those gorgeous flowers of soft white, kind yellow, sympathetic blue. “All things they deserved” she thought angrily, “ and yet they’re gone. “ her rage boiled to her face, her eyes clouded with angry tears as her body began to heat up, wings shifting agitatedly.

Panic rose to her throat and she ducked from the window, clutching her stomach as she breathed heavily, tears still dripping from her cheeks. “calm down, calm down, calm down!“ she was losing control of her power.

her mind clouded with the outdoors. All the colours she could possibly imaging flashed before her eyes. And green, Tetsu’s green, her magic, her eyes, her colour.

And then… Red.

Red is all she saw, rage rose to her throat she cried out in anger, in pain, the room was boiling, stone melting and all she could think amongst the chaos was of the world outside her window and how she promised to make them free.

She cried out in pain as her heart felt like it was splitting, reliving the pain of watching them all die. Their eyes glassing over and their skin going pale. She sobbed and as this pain heated the room the bars of the window melted.

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The sound of shifting of dirt echoed in the night as it crumbled under her knees as she climbed up and out of the window. Catching her wing on one of the melted bars, she growled and winced as she tore her wing from it, leaving a gash. She had no time for this. She got up, looking for the nearby village. But it wasn’t there.

Little did she know she was no longer in the world she knew before. The land was different.

She was lost.

There was a road near where she had climbed out, and she saw the tracks of a horse, fresh it seemed, going eastward.

She took a deep breath and began to walk away from the prison she thought was her old lab, where her family lay in body bags, and began to follow the freshly trodden trail.

═════════•°• :🔥 🔥 : •°•═════════

Just as the sun is rising she comes across a small town, and lays behind one of the houses as to not disturb anyone residing there, and falls asleep, exhausted from a full night’s travel.