a selective roleplay account for 𝐄𝐋𝐑𝐈𝐂 𝐎𝐅 𝐌𝐄𝐋𝐍𝐈𝐁𝐎𝐍𝐄́ from michael moorcock's seminal work. to summarize him in brief, he is a non-human, dragon-riding, interdimensional 𝐒𝐎𝐑𝐂𝐄𝐑𝐎𝐑 𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆 from a sword &&. sorcery version of earth. he comes from an extremely 𝑫𝑨𝑹𝑲 𝑪𝑼𝑳𝑻𝑼𝑹𝑬, &&. it is not unusual for people to be afraid when they realize he's melnibonéan. please 𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐚𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 in our threads!
his story is a deconstruction of the evil emperor trope, and contains motifs of cruel fate, divine wrath, confronting the sins of our ancestors, fighting in vain against destiny, wanting answers and getting none, destruction as transformation, magical addiction, existential absurdity that's conquered by love, &&. 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒉𝒖𝒎𝒂𝒏 𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒕 𝒊𝒏 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒇𝒍𝒊𝒄𝒕 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒊𝒕𝒔𝒆𝒍𝒇 among others.
𝐄𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐝 𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐜𝐡 '𝟐𝟓. for ease of access, rules are under the read more for mobile, but in brief this blog is: indie ✔ selective ✔ multipara lite ✔ oc friendly ✔ side blog friendly ✔ crossover friendly ✔ multi friendly ✔ format indifferent ✔
my name is 𝐅𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐓, my pronouns are they/them, and i'm 28. all graphics are mine, &&. i take requests if you see anything you like. i look forward to writing with you!
additionally, please 𝘢𝘭𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭 𝘧𝘳𝘦𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘩 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘱𝘭𝘰𝘵 𝘪𝘯 𝘮𝘺 𝘋𝘔𝘴 if you're struggling with an ask or a starter for me. i love plotting &&. worldbuilding!
Hello to all the friends I haven't met yet! This is a selective roleplay account for Elric of Melniboné, the classic pulp fantasy character who inspired franchises like A Song of Ice and Fire, The Witcher, Dungeons & Dragons, Warhammer, appears in Marvel Comics, Titain Comics, &&. much more. I fell deeply in love with these stories back in 2023, and they are incredibly close to my heart. Thank you for helping me to indulge in these narratives each day!
𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐀𝐒: flint
𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐍𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐒: they / them
𝐀𝐆𝐄: 28
𝐅𝐑𝐄𝐄 𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄: work is tough, maybe three hours a day max
𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐕𝐈𝐓𝐘: low activity with bursts of hyper activity
𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐀𝐂𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓 𝐈𝐒 . . . semi-selective, format indifferent, oc friendly, side blog friendly, &&. multi-para lite.
maintenance log: july softblock spree
What you can expect from me:
𝟎𝟏. I write lit roleplay that verges on purple prose. I also mostly match length; I do not expect you to, it is just a bad habit of mine from the old 2016 rpc scene.
𝟎𝟐. Just a heads up, 𝐈 𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐳𝐞 𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬. That means if you’ve never sent me anything before, I’m going to try and move your meme, your starter, your reply, etc, to the top of my to-do list. This is just something I actively do to try and spread the love and make new friends feel welcome!
* admittedly, this has been harder for me to adhere to lately. It's still a goal of mine, but I have been informed that I must be in draft jail for the time being.
𝟎𝟑. I usually enjoy 𝐟𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐬𝐲, 𝐠𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐜, &&. 𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐫, and that genre preference is reflected in my writing. I enjoy doing darker, tragic plots. I'm used to writing a variety of things, but just know this blog will likely have some violent and/or triggering content on it. If it happens, it will be tagged with a basic “tw: word/term here” so you can block it. if there is anything specific you wish for me to block for you to help you curate your dash, please comment on this post and tell me what tag you would like me to use.
𝟎𝟒. My activity is low with bursts of hyperactivity. I use light formatting; I do not care if you do. Sometimes I use icons; I do not care if you do. I'm very flexible when it comes to what kind of threads and interactions I have, and will typically "auto-adjust" Elric to fit in your character's world. One thing to note is that 𝐈 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐬, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐈 𝐚𝐦 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐲 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐠𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨. I know that's the roleplay standard, especially on this site, I've just found that it stresses me out &&. makes the hobby unfun for me, so I simply don't anymore. I prefer building interactions that way because it gives me the freedom to tailor my character to yours fully. I do have some verses outlined on my carrd ( including a well developed southern gothic one that most of my modern interactions use ) but they're more like starting points.
Additionally, if you followed me I'm going to assume that you're interested in my character, their setting, their lore, &&. their themes in the same way that I'm interested in yours. Yes, I will auto-adjust Elric to make sense with your character, but also do not be surprised if I throw your character into his world for an adventure too. 𝐑𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐜𝐢𝐭𝐲 𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐦𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐞 𝐚𝐬 𝐚 𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐞𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐞𝐫.
𝟎𝟓. I enjoy plotting as much as writing, and my DMs are always open for ideas. If we're mutuals, feel free to add me on discord @𝐟𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐭𝟎𝟑𝟖𝟔. Please just make sure to tell me who you are!
𝟎𝟔. This blog is smut friendly, though I will only write smut blogs who 1) have muns I know well, or have plotted with extensively, and 2) are 21+. NSFW material will always be below the read more line or on a sideblog. If you know you know.
𝟎𝟕. Additionally, I am incredibly ship friendly. While romance is not the central goal of this account, I myself enjoy it &&. am pretty open to it. Most of my best and strongest ships were forged really early on with me &&. my writing partners just thinking it sounded conceptually cool, so I encourage you to not be shy if you can see our characters interacting in that way, even if we haven't talked much or done anything. I don't feel any kind of way about people wanting to ship, and the worst I'll ever do is just politely decline or say not right now. I promise it isn't going to make me think less of you or stop interacting.
𝟎𝟖. When I get overwhelmed by my drafts, I will purge my threads and @you to let you know. Sorry in advance!
What I expect from you:
𝟎𝟏. Kindness and patience in all things. Roleplay is meant to be fun, not stressful!
𝟎𝟐. If you followed me first, I probably won't follow you back until you make an effort to interact with me, whether that's sending an ask or hitting up my DMs. I make this a standard because I want to avoid people who follow just to have followers; if you do not want to write with me or be active on dash with out of character friendliness ( liking posts, commenting, etc. ) do 𝐍𝐎𝐓 follow me.
𝟎𝟑. In the same vein, if we've been mutuals for awhile and we've never interacted, I'll probably unfollow. It's nothing personal! I just prefer to keep my feed active, so if neither of us are using it after a few months, that's that. That said, if this does happen I always follow back after you like a single post of mine; it really is as simple as that with me. Either way, no hard feelings! If you ever break mutuals too, you're always welcomed back ❤︎
𝟎𝟒. It is unfortunately still easy to treat people poorly over the internet in ways you wouldn't dream of in person, and with that in mind I have gotten to a point where I do not condone or participate in blocking culture ( click for post ) in the way that it's often presented in the rpc. If I ever feel the need to hardblock you or unfollow after we've already established a rapport, I promise that I will message you to try and resolve the issue first, or at least tell you why. Ultimately you can do whatever you want if you find yourself in the same situation, but just know that I would appreciate and be receptive to open communication.
𝟎𝟓. If you want to interact but don't know what to say, you can go to the Michael Moorcock page on Goodreads and send me a quote that you like. I promise I'll take it from there!
𝟎𝟔. Like my graphics or theme? I take requests! Feel free to DM me if there's ever anything you want, even if we've never talked. I accept tips, but I don't charge. I genuinely love making things for people so please don't be shy if there's anything you'd like!
. . . . . . . . . . That's all! Thank you for reading.
the sun is shinning, the tank is clean. desperate things is still one of my top playlist songs for elric, and you should totally engage in a plot where he brutalizes and murders a problematic man in your muse's life. you know, platonic revenge.
THE DREAMS OF LOVERS WERE CURIOUS THINGS, often stealing happiness from time and making men of monsters with their perilous inquiries. elric, poor victim of his own learning, was no exception. having always been prone to asking why, he transitioned very easily into the reckless interrogation of all he'd ever known in aurora's company, asking why not? and who says so? and what have i to lose?
she was lovely in ways that poetry had yet to invent, and he imagined better men then him trying to capture a fraction of her grace, her beauty, her enduring kindness with their words; the best he ever managed was to borrow them. sweetly he had pressed a pallid hand to her rosy cheek, sweetly he had brushed flaxen hair behind her ear, and sweetly whispered thoughts of love, till dawn sunder night from day with fire, dividing delight and desire ── all yours.
but the sun did return, and tomorrow was never as gentle as the namesake it found in her. his initial soft-hearted shock to find @bornofthedawn there with him at this ill-hour gave way to a restraint in the wake of her words. there was a coldness to him she rarely saw, and it marked the difference between them; that men would clamor over themselves to sing songs of her bright nature, while ballads had already been written for his cruelty.
" ... ODD, THAT YOU SHOULD DO SO LITTLE WITH YOUR LIFE AND KNOW SO MUCH, " elric stared down at her quizzically, and for the moment seemed every bit the heir to an old and malignant line, one who's power in name alone far exceeded the safety of their bliss. when he lifted his hands it was impossible to mistake the guilty mess of crimson that that stained his skin, and like before he raised them gently to her face with a smile that was an awful parody of the warm one she had come to know. " is that all you care for then aurora? are you content, so long as i do not hurt you? "
Conan the Cimmerian, faced with certain death: "All over, huh? Man, my life was awesome. My death is going to be even better!"
Elric of Melnibone, getting his foot stuck in the mud: "What a cruel cosmic joke that I should come to such an end. Yet it is fitting that such an ignoble end as this should come to the universe's greatest fool. It was hubris to think that I could strive against the fate of this world. The gods laugh at my feeble idealism. It is right that I should die here and vanish into the dust of history."
i should honestly just make a plot wish list that includes all the adventures elric canonically has off screen, according to the books. like what about that one time he traveled east in search of a book that contained all knowledge of the past, present, and future, but was supposedly waylaid by mountain hoards, forced to take part in a war he had no stakes in, and tortured for a few days before he was able to escape? what about THAT TIME, huh?
the melnibonéan's dark blade seems to make a sound akin to a metallic hiss and siegfried isn't sure whether he imagines this or whether the weapon truly does react to his proximity, his challenging of it. he wonders just how far its sentience goes, if there is malice in its actions . . . or if they are simply those of a hungry predator, consuming the souls of its victims as a wolf consumes sheep to survive.
even though he's got watchful and worried eyes trained on the sword by the other's side, siegfried does not back away. he sways slightly, perhaps because of the sound, or perhaps because of elric's stare. but his feet do not move a single inch.
do you find the idea of me losing control to be a comfort ? the sorcerer challenges, pulling the blond's focus off the blade and back to the man's face. he has half a mind to answer, shaking his head hurriedly and parting his lips to speak, as he used to whenever caught dreaming by one of his tutors in the middle of a lesson. but then siegfried realizes that it was more of a sarcastic question.
when he's closed his mouth again it is a more poised face that stares back at the albino. his gaze is steady with a challenge of his own, brows lowered into a look of tired judgement. it's a look he's given the other on multiple occasions, whenever he feels that elric is unnecessarily cruel in a conversation.
when the pale prince tells his story, however, there is once again something softer that leaks out of the cracks in his harsh demeanor. siegfried catches it, and his own attitude softens. he listens intently, brow creased now only in reaction to what he is hearing. it paints a tragic picture : saxif d'aan learns love only when it is too late. and it ends without a happy ending, but with a lesson. perhaps, siegfried thinks, elric's way of asking him to understand why he did what he did.
but something in him still refuses to believe that.
his gaze falls to the ground. he wonders how strong the blade's grip is on his new companion, and whether true love could have stood against that bond. though in order for that to work, elric would have had to know true love before it was too late.
finally he meets the crimson eyes again. and in them is that bitterness again. in his own blue ones is that tired judgement from earlier again, and defiance.
“ maybe what you want to ask me is if that will make me distance myself from you. if it makes you somehow worth of less. ” he shakes his head. some years ago siegfried had killed something that haunts him to this day, fills him with paralyzing guilt. so perhaps it is a wish of hope for both of them that makes him answer “ but i refuse to treat you like that. instead i expect you to go against that coldness that you say is inherent in your kind, or made up by god knows who ! if saxif d'aan learned to understand all of those human feelings, then so can you. ”
ELRIC WATCHED SIEGFRIED'S FACE MOVE THROUGH PERTINACITY BEFORE BREAKING LIKE WAVES UPON THE SHORE. when that same dry defiance receded, there were pieces of him scattered on the sand ── recognition and hope, more than anything. the line between pity and empathy flashed before him too, and in a moment of weakness, elric found himself being uncharacteristically charitable with the opinions of others.
it was enough to spark a moment of self-awareness, wherein he wondered for what reason he had allowed to conversation to stray this far. the most base theory would start-and-end with an acknowledgement of his affliction ── ever the weak and feeble scholar-king, whose ancestral power was matched only by the deficient blood granted to him by those same forces. fate was wily and fate was cruel, and she always had taste for irony where elric silverskin was concerned.
but then, there was the clearer answer which weakness itself allowed him to see; that beyond creed and temperament, siegfried and him were the same. he saw a mirror held up to the xantenian by his own words, and it hurt. he ached so much that his fevered mind conjured images of lonely castles and one dark cavern on a fateful night. he ached so much much he smiled, strangled by pain and memory and wonton defiance of all of it, but still earnest. still freely given.
" SAXIF D'AAN IS JUST A FAERIE STORY, " he said. they sang his songs at festivals, and scared children toward constancy with tragedy. not that it had worked on him, he supposed; elric was far too skeptical for common sense. " or do you suppose i abandoned my home in some misbegotten wish to be human? "
there was a playful turn to his voice, ever laced with sorrow. yyrkoon's voice still rang in his ears with much the same sentiment, and even the more even tempered judgement he'd received as a boy seemed to beg the same question of him. he had never understood why. " i feel what i feel ── often inconstantly, as is common amongst my kind. often immodestly, as is not. i will say that in my travels, i have seen more of this strange young world than i thought possible as a boy, and for all it's varied incumbents nearly all of them have shared a penchant for judgement. you stack yourself against your neighbors and grow indignant in the knowledge that you are not the same, such that i am incongruous wherever i find myself. others may resent my duality on these matters; i do not. i am only as i am and know only that whatever else that means, it has been enough to bring me here. "
here at the feet of a man who once contemplated killing him, albeit for a short while. here, listening to siegfried declare with upmost sincerity that he would not look to elric like some kind of ill-portent. it was enough to make ruby-eyes glisten beneath fresh tears; they poured from him with a pained laugh as his vision blurred. " oh ... let the world make stories of us, as stories have always been formed. i will be half-remembered as i have half-lived, and you will be mourned for things you never were. but you are right ── and i am tired. thank you for all that you are, siegfried. "
Nicholas looks out the window where eggs of rain slap the glass, his brain sewing infrared hallucinations of nymphs hatching out. Behind him, Elric is reading. He’s a pale, long boa draped in a chair. He reads Petrarch while the barometric pressure dives, birthing a wave of migraines.
“Is there.” Nicholas turns back around. His shoes are muffled by a rug, and the candles glint, his Plato shadow slanted along a wall. “What is wonderful, Elric. Tell me everything. I have all night,” he says to him, “and I have all day” —his eye twinkles— “and every day after. And all of yours.”
Maybe Elric could write a book of praise as long as the dictionary and twice his lifespan. Maybe a page. If Nicholas was sad, it did not show. There’s no start and no end. It’s a snake swallowing its own tail, blipping into infinity.
FOR A LONG AND WONDERFUL MOMENT, ELRIC HELD NICHOLAS IN HIS GAZE WITH TENDER CURIOSITY. the question, he supposed, brought to mind other thoughts of who we are and why, and whether there's more truth to be had in becoming or in having once been. as things stood, nicholas was a dear friend to him, and he imagined how all the gently alluded to details of his life had congealed into the kind of person who contemplated the rain.
had he danced beneath it in his younger days? did he dream of communing with it now? these were the important details he considered when trying to size up the old man, for contrary to what some accounts would claim, it took great anger to rouse elric's impatient. for the things he loved best, he made a habit of chewing slowly.
" OH, I DON'T KNOW ... YOU'VE A WAY OF INTERPOLATING EVERYTHING, " he said at last. then he pulled his eyes away with that same painfully soft look and gave his smile to the fireplace. " i cannot say why, for i've only ever known you as you are. perhaps it is merely a consequence of your trade then, but i've met few with your ability to see the beauty in things, even and especially in the absence of goodness. i like your quiet, and i like how you're almost always laughing even when you're quiet ── it's very adventurous of you. "
there was more he could not articulate. things like nicholas' oddly endearing greed, or the way he readily situated himself into the corners of whatever room he was in. elric recognized a sense of eternal melancholy, and it did not deter his friendship. the warmth in his voice laid crumbs for such unspoken wonders, and though it had sat limply in his hands as they spoke, elric finally closed his book properly. " ... most of all, you're someone whom i'm quite glad to have trapped by the machinations of the weather. if we're lucky, things can still get worse. "
There was another movement below him, as he slid down a few feet and came to rest on an old cistern, and he saw a soft felt hat rise above a pile of rags and an avian face stare up at him in astonished amusement. “ Good heavens, sir. This cannot be coincidence! But what purpose has Fate for pairing we two, do you think? ” It was Wheldrake, stumbling up from the wheatfield. “ What lies behind you, sir, that’s duller than this? More corn? Why, sir, this seems a world of corn! ”
“ Of corn and garbage and a somewhat idiosyncratic pathway of baffling purpose which slices through all, from east to west. It has a sinister air to it. ”
“ So you go the other way, sir? ”
“ To avoid whichever unpleasant creation of Chaos has chosen to slither this route and take its choice of these offerings. My horses, I suppose, were not carried through the dimensions with you? ”
“ Not to my knowledge, sir. I’d guessed you eaten, by now. But the reptile was one of those with a sentimental weakness for heroes, I take it? ”
“ Something of the sort. ” Elric smiled, grateful in an odd way for the red-headed poet’s ironies. They were preferable to his most recent conversation with his father.
As he slid down some powdery and decomposing substance alive with maggots, he embraced the little man who almost chirped with pleasure at their reunion. “ My dear sir! ”
elric stares with empty eyes, but siegfried knows that behind them brews a myriad of thoughts, perhaps memories. perhaps they are faint rememberings of his youth, of those fabled castle walls in ruins, of the woman that he speaks about. then, he receives a name alongside the story — cymoril.
“ a—ah. ” he gives an unsteady nod, pretending to take in elric's description of her without questioning it. in truth, those aren't the words he would have expected from someone who speaks about a lost love. not kind, nor clever, nor curious. of course . . . none of those traits are necessary to be worthy of love.
he listens as worry forms upon his brow. he imagines the pair growing up in melniboné, that macabre and mysterious place that most of his own people have only heard about in gruesome stories. but he imagines love there, between them. a light of hope that wasn't perfect, but that provided happiness within a dark and ruthless culture, an escape from royal expectations and perhaps, for elric, a distraction from his deficits. siegfried had oftentimes wished for a companion when growing up sheltered behind castle walls.
ultimately it is compassion that softens his gaze. and seized all of a sudden with the urge to do more to help the exhausted melnibonéan, he reaches out again, this time to brush the damp wisps of hair out of the other's face.
for a moment he remains lost in thought, lost in the portrait of the pale man before him, in the colors of whites and the red of his eyes. only then do his senses register the confession. he is crouched before that very sword now. the blond tears himself away finally. he stands up, as if embarrassed.
siegfried knows that feeling of regret all too well. he stares long and hard at the ground. “ surely, if she knew that you loved her . . . she knew that it wasn't you, that you simply couldn't control the blade. ”
LIGHTNING FLASHED OVERHEAD, AND AT HIS SIDE THE BLACK STEEL GLINTED OMINOUSLY IN THE FADING SUN SO THAT WHEN SIEGFRIED'S EYES SET ON IT, THE RUBY AT IT'S HILT SEEMED STARE BACK WITH MALICE. elric had admitted before that he did not care to take advantage of the sword's power, and true to his word he had yet to take her in hand in the time they had traveled together following the old sorcerer's trick. now, it was a fact that seemed hauntingly prescient in light of elric's current diminishment ── the metal crooned, and it sounded like hunger.
" DO YOU FIND THE IDEA OF ME LOSING CONTROL TO BE A COMFORT? " he forced his eyes open again and stared pointedly at the xantenian prince. sometimes elric managed a certain wry humor where his own macabre nature was concerned, yet at the moment it was entirely absent. he looked for a long time, and seemed to search for something or other before abandoning his fevered thoughts. quietly, the pale man worked to right himself against the sinewed bark of the ash tree with shaky breath. " we've a story in melniboné of a sorcerer, who believed his human love had run away with another. in his anguish he saw both of them to their graves, yet as she lay tortured and dying by her lover's hand, can you imagine what she tells him? "
suddenly the wind picked up, and elric paused, allowing silence to grow inside the margins of the conversation. " in their time together, gratyesha had been too frightened of her own affection to admit it openly, or at least that's what the poets remember. then all at once with her dying breath, she did ── she told saxif d'aan that she loved him, and he knew then that he did as well. knew, that his wrath and pride had destroyed the only person he'd ever cared for, and for the first time he knew remorse, regret, sorrow ... you have to understand, to a melnibonéan none of these are common feelings. my people simply do not posses such things that have been fabricated by human conscience. "
once before, elric had heard in passing another version which painted her faerie husband as a monster, but then again it always was the same story. ones where men lost their way in dark forests, and inhuman beauties forced to toil in mortal homes. the only difference was nature; for better and for worse, elric was cursed to understand his own in all it's incongruous desires.
could it be that some part of him did resent her for not coming when they parted? and in their years apart, perhaps cymoril too learned to hate him for leaving. elric did not know, and the only thing certian was that love had indeed been the death of duty, for he could scarcely have destroyed both more completely if he'd tried.
" THAT'S WHAT UNHUMAN LOVE IS SIEGFRIED. even amongst our own it never ends well, and i did kill her. please do not take the blame from me, " elric spoke softly and smiled bitterly. his red eyes were still on siegfried when he asked, " ... are you afraid of me now? "
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀a dead woman did. siegfried sighs, a soft breath released silently through his nostrils when he lowers his head, trying hard not to let his disappointment show. there is a book to be written about the cryptic answers received from all manner of fae and strangers on his journeys. one day, as an old man, he'll write about that ever recurring peculiarity. if he is to live for that long.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀or perhaps elric simply isn't ready to talk about her yet.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀siegfried lowers the waterskin down upon his thigh again and exhales a breathy chuckle. “ i try to be as unfit for consumption as possible. ” there's a boyish twinkle in his eye as he angles the pouch so that he can pour some of the cold water into his palm. maybe one day he'll tell elric about the time he got swallowed up by the large green beast, yet somehow survived it.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀he is about to raise his hand but freezes momentarily at the other's words, wide eyes reflexively searching the presence before him for any sort of imminent danger. “ . . . a death sentence ? ” he blinks, and when his gaze settles it is filled with hardly contained horror. elric's favour too. at least, with that realization the horror gives way to a softer sort of surprise. the admission comes unexpected.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀siegfried swallows and shakes his head, as if to convince himself of something, to take the gravity out of elric's reply. perhaps he is being a naive fool. but rather that than return to the anxious boy he was before. he is stronger than that now, siegfried tells himself, no matter which dragon he faces.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀he wants to understand this peculiar wanderer.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀focusing only on the water again he pours some more of it onto his palm, then finally lifts his hand to elric's forehead to spread the cold relief on the man's skin. blue eyes remain distant and fully on the task, perhaps to push the weight of the somber prophecy out of the conversation and out of his own mind.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀“ i think you are not only that. i think everyone has good in them. or a will to be it. love in them . . . ” he clears his throat. does it sound too sappy ? “ that woman you speak of. surely you must have had some sort of affection for her, for helping with your condition. ” he tries gently to coax more information out of the melnibonéan.
THERE WAS A PUZZLE LOCKED IN ELRIC'S MIND THAT HELD ALL HIS THOUGHTS OF HOME. his father's inherent disdain had been the first mystery of his life, and though the answer was always simple, it resurfaced in the wake of his death, ever unsure. in comparison, his cousin's bitter hatred felt new ── his stomach curled when he imagined when it must've taken root between roaming the dragon caves as children, and regicide. for some reason, he wanted whatever had split between them to be more complicated than the memory of cymoril's soft hands against his cheek, nervous and giddy at fourteen.
now, elric stared forward at nothing and felt siegfried's arms around him. it gave him the peculiar sense of being stuck and cornered and held all at once.
❝ WHAT USE IS WILL WITHOUT DISCIPLINE TO SHAPE IT? ❞ a secret sorrow laced his voice, the kind that dragged dead weight behind it. then a cool hand pressed into his forehead and elric's strange inhuman eyes gently closed until, like an enchanter, he summoned her inside his mind. " ... cymoril and i grew up together, and she knew things about me that no one ever will. she was not kind, or clever, or curious ... but she was never lost, either. she'd a clarity of mind that i still lack, and while i know she understood me little, she loved me against all reason. we never lacked for it. "
long wet wisps of hair clung to him, giving his face the bizarre impression of cracked porcelain when it caught the light. his skin burned. he felt consciousness as a distant tether, and elric could not say why he spoke again at all, save to poke at answers that would not satisfy. " before i'd moved too slowly, and when he took her again anger seethed in me for months. i have heard some poets frame her death as an excess of love, but that's far too saccharine. i killed her, or my sword did ── i do not know. it masters me more than i master it these days. i even hear her sometimes. "
RAIN CLATTERED AGAINST THE WROUGHT IRON WINDOWS, AND ELRIC DID NOT SEEM TO LOOK UP FROM HIS READING TO HUMOR NICK'S ILL TEMPER. nurture, in a strange way, had rung him into a muted man who still bore all the usual restrictions of high society despite his ever growing disdain of it. therefore, amusement was a feeling that hid somewhere in the crook of his long-lily neck, just as anger rested in his stillness until the moment it didn't ── fondness too was a trick he played. it rested neatly beside a dry wit, as he now did with @sluaghter.
❝ WELL ... WE WOULDN'T WANT THAT, ❞ he spoke quietly, and his gaze atop canzoniere had an inhuman warmth. che quanto piace al mondo è breve sogno still rang fresh in his mind like the grasses outside the villa. hypocritically perhaps, elric had very little tolerance for his own melancholy, but he dutifully chewed on the priest's. " i'd like to learn more of who you are. all the same, is it naïve of me to think there's something wonderful to you, nicholas? "
NICHOLAS SAYS ╭┈➤. ❝ i think i would like to stop promising myself away, or else there will be nothing left to give.
you may think the marquis de sade is strange inspo to pull for elric, but if you don't think he's a noble class traitor writing his manifesto from prison during the french revolution then you're dead wrong.
