oh glory, oh pain- death claims all.

Indie RP blog for Geoff Ramsey. Side art by Mallius. Please read the about page and rules (under navigation). OC Selective & Various Verses {Main Verse: King}.

[primusgalli]

𝓡𝓞𝓢𝓔𝓢 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝕋ℍ𝕆ℝℕ𝕊

[primusgalli]

>♕ The First | The Rose King ♛<<

bloodshotkid:

The Third. The First his title given to him by the Gods, the Second one who all feared even before he took his throne. He was the Third. The small. The unassuming.

                                     The boy.

Of course he felt he had to go to extreme measures to cement his position. Ray was born into this world homeless and without a family to call his own. He traveled the vast expanses of the kingdom with nothing but a rucksack, living in whatever dirt caves he could find. It wasn’t until he met Geoff and was brought under his wing that he even learned to socialize with people. Even then, he wasn’t Geoff’s favourite. That honour when to Gavin, the creeper boy with quick wit and quicker fingers.

He was always the one cast aside. The second, nay, third choice. He was always quiet and subservient. No one expected him to be the one to cut his way through the Mad King’s heart.

      A huff of amusement, gaze flicking over to look at Geoff, eyes sparkling under the morning sun. Geoff was always so fucking righteous. Of course he was. What need was there for those to fear you when they alreadyrespected you so?

"It wasn’t one of the royal guard, it was merely the common folk.“ The Red King responded simply, turning his body to face Geoff, an eyebrow raised as blood swayed in his crown. "And did they slay The Mad King? No. I did.”

“You should consider their deaths their gratitude.” A smile grew. “The families of the deceased should feelprivileged for the deaths of their departed to result in such life.” He gestured to the garden. As he looked out, sick pride filled his heart.

                          "I killed Ryan. Me.“

Geoff was righteous indeed. He had been blessed by the gods, worshiped them with every ounce of reverence expected of a man appointed. Especially in matter like this- Geoff knew he understood what was best for the kingdom-

                                                                 yet-

He had thought he had known this boy- the boy he had raised like a son alongside Gavin and Michael. The boy he had given his love and care to. He had tried to raise them all right, to see the value of life and to care for the things around them.

                                                     He had failed again. 

He had let Ryan influence them too much, let the madman close to his adopted family and now-

                         Ray stood in front of him, proud of the blood he had spilled.

                    Ray, amused by being compared to the King who had brought                                           destruction and fear to their home.  

Only Geoff could fix his own failure. There was no room left to spend days slowly debating. Geoff had tried that with Ryan, and now his chest bore a thick scar as a reminder of his failure to help Ryan- a mistake he would not make with Ray.

“You kill one man, and suddenly the whole kingdom owes their lives so you can have petty, childish things like flowers? ”

Geoff steps into Ray’s personal space, challenging the smaller man with the sharp tone of his voice and the lines creasing around his eyes as he narrows them. His left hand shifts toward his belt to rest on the hilt of his sword, a silent warning of his willingness to take drastic action if it came to it.

“You know I won’t let you drive my home into the ground for the sake of your ego, Navarez.”

He uses Ray’s given last name, a reminder of where he had come from, of the fact that he had no royal blood in him, of the fact that the Ramsey line was the true owners of the throne. Geoff’s next words are a command that he clearly expects to be followed and not to be argued with.  

“Be better.” 

[primusgalli]

sortamaliicious:  

 “Call me a little optimistic.” He shrugs lightly. “Even I don’t have a reason to kill you… Yet.” Now he was just messing with the other. Sure, there were times where Ryan wanted nothing more than to climb over a table just to throttle the man but all things considered, they were on very good terms. At least, he hoped so. “How was the ride over?”  

“Then I’ll do my best not to give you one.” Geoff chuckles, knowing full well Ryan was kidding. They had been on good terms for a long time, and he couldn’t imagine any reason for them or their kingdoms to go to war- even if he and Ryan did hold the occasional different world view. “It was good. Home is nice, but I need these vacations or I’d go insane. One man can only handle so much Gavin after a while.”

[primusgalli]

𝓡𝓞𝓢𝓔𝓢 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝕋ℍ𝕆ℝℕ𝕊

[primusgalli]

>♕ The First | The Rose King ♛<<

bloodshotkid: 

The Red King watched the man before him with calculating eyes, yet upon the gentle teasing of Geoff, upon the arrival of the fatherly tone that brought him back to the bittersweet past, wherein he lived in merely a hobbit hole, wherein Geoff was nothing less than a father to him, a leader that Ray had looked up to beyond anyone else… Yet upon the arrival of all this, the cold calculating gaze of the King briefly returned to that of past — of a small, scared child seeking approval.

Swallowing down the urge to hurl himself against the First, to refuse to let go, to demand they sit by the fire like they once did whilst Geoff told stories of his great adventures… Ray, wide eyed and mouth ajar, listening, enraptured, for hours and hours on end — swallowing this down, he sharply turned, red cloak billowing behind him as he headed towards the gardens.

The corners of Ray’s mouth twitched up and down as Geoff spoke more of Tina — the mere mention of Tina’s name brought pure bashfulness to warm cheeks, head lowering. She was beautiful, of course, but Ray did not care so much of that as he did her strength — the way she spiked fear into the hearts of men and women alike, the way she led her armies with the outmost leadership… Nothing was more intoxicating than that.

“No, this was all my doing.” He responds, steps long and calculated, refusing to take quick, excited steps as if he were some eager boy running next to his father. “My design. One of the first things I ordered be completed upon my placement as king.”

Ray pushed open the large glass doors that led to the balcony above the garden, a grande stone staircase leading to the ground below. The garden was spectacular — acres of perfectly manicured rose bushes, cobblestone paths twisting and turning, a large fountain in the middle of an open area where marble benches sat. And while the roses may have been the focal point, hundreds of different flower species filled the area below.

A quick glance over at Geoff, a flicker of a desire for approval, before his gaze returned to look out at the landscape. “My pride and joy. It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” A content smile, breathing out softly. “I had my men kill an entire army of skeletons for their bonemeal. I wanted this to be completed before the first week’s end.” Another breath out, a low chuckle. “We lost more than 50 men that day.”

                          Small price to pay, in Ray’s opinion. 

The boy is growing into a man- this is clear with the way Ray walks and hold himself as he passes through the castle that now honors him and his rise to power. Even the flushing of his cheeks shows how he has grown- a younger Ray would have brushed aside someone like Tina to play silly games and fill his house with animals. But now, here he is. Holding himself tall and taking careful strides, taking pride in the things he has done- the bloody, violent things.

Strange, sick pride, in Geoff’s opinion. The repulsion lingers yet the more he watches the blood shift in Ray’s crown with every step, the more he understands why Ray had done it. The Mad King had earned his title with his actions, changing all of them for worse, while Geoff had his title handed to him by the Gods themselves. No wonder Ray strove to cement his title with such drastic ways.

”I see.” He says it evenly, the lines on his face easing as he nods slightly in sudden understanding. Geoff has always been quick to judge, and speaks his mind.

The garden is beautiful. Geoff has to rest his hands on the railing of the balcony, leaning over it to gawk at the masses of color, of fully grown plants, and the sheer complexity of it all. Ryan had let the garden decay from the greenery Geoff had maintained, only caring to grow poisonous plants to fuel his potion making and letting the animals that Geoff had cared for go with out food. Ray had taken that nightmare landscape and breathed life into it, making it more splendid than Geoff could have ever imagined it would look like. The awe is clear on his face, his grin wide and appreciative as he breathes in deeply of the fresh air.

”It is-”

For a moment, Geoff thinks that perhaps Ray had even more of a green thumb than he had let on, that Ray too possessed some otherworldly magic.

                                                                     “-you what?”

Geoff’s voice raises, cracks a little and he turns his head sharply to stare at Ray with narrowed eyes. His face has clouded with resurfaced disgust and deep worry.

                                                                          “Fifty.“

He repeats the word slowly, letting it hang damningly in the air for a moment as he takes another deep breath of air to keep himself from yelling.  “Ray, you understand these people are your subjects? Are you really no better than that bastard?”

[primusgalli]

𝓡𝓞𝓢𝓔𝓢 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝕋ℍ𝕆ℝℕ𝕊

[primusgalli]

>>♕ The First | The Rose King ♛<<

bloodshotkid: 

                        A hollow king beneath a blood red rose. 

A deceivingly simple crown sat on his head, muted gold from afar yet inlaid with the finest rubies, filled with a certain mad monarch’s blood, intricately designed to form various roses. A crimson cloak was clasped around his neck with an equally intricate broach, soft fabric laying casually over a simple black belted tunic. 

 At the sound of the large doors opening, the Red King looked away from the servant he was currently talking in shushed tones to, waving him away with the flick of his hand. He stood, taking a few steps away from his throne, yet remaining on the grand platform. He wanted to be appear above the First — his height would betray him the moment they stood on equal grounds, of course. 

 His figure bristled as the man before him refused to kneel —— after y e a r s  of falling to his knees before the First, of biting his tongue, of remaining subservient —— does he not deserve the same respect as the tattooed monarch? 

 Perhaps he’d have to discuss coercive measures with the royal guards at a later date. 

 Yet as the First, the Creator, his friend and confidante speaks his first words since the six of them had stabbed their ways through each other’s hearts — a smile pulls its way across taut lips. 

 "Geoff.“ A tilt of his head, remaining diplomatic despite the gentle rage that cursed through his veins at the blatant disrespect for his title. Had he not won his crown fair and square? Yet in a blink of an eye, his stance evolved, smile growing as he stepped down from the platform. The illusion was broken, his height betraying him, as the man, nay, boy, stood before the First. 

 A low laugh, lowering his head at the comment, then his gaze returning upwards to look at the tattooed monarch. ”Tina visited.“ He offered as simple explanation — Tina was the crowned heir of a kingdom not unlike their own, a vicious leader in her own right and a harbinger of macabre aesthetics. Ray found her enthralling. 

 Another low chuckle, straightening out his back as he took the bold move to grasp Geoff’s shoulder. ”Come. Let us continue our conversation out in the gardens.“ 

Geoff keeps his eyes his eyes locked to Ray’s as he speaks, measuring carefully every twitch and tensing of the figure standing in front of the throne in his head. The Rose King was a friend, practically a son to Geoff, but Geoff was learning that those most loyal to him would rather hold the crown.

It is a matter of pride that he does not kneel- this hall was built by him, and he was the first to lay claim to it. He is the First. Yet seeing Ray bristle like an irritated cat reminds him that Ray is young still, and the egos of boys are easily wounded and he makes note to speak to Ray on it in private.

The tender thoughts linger as Ray descends. On the same level now, he is shorter than Geoff and his hair is so easily within reach to be ruffled- and he way he lowers his head as he speaks of Tina is so painfully affectionate and boyish that Geoff feels a pang of longing for the gentler days of old, fatherly affection seeping into his words even as he teases Ray.

”Oh, so it was a real woman’s touch, then, and a strong woman at that.”

Ray lays a hand upon him, and Geoff is brought out of his thoughts to see the Rose Red King and not the boy he had grown so fond of. So close now, he can see Ray’s crown is roses intertwined with the  B L O O D  of the man he had slain. Repulsion fills the back of Geoff’s throat. To keep the sword by the throne was one thing, a thing Geoff himself might do, but to wear Ryan’s blood in the symbol of his rule was something much more calculated and vicious. 

“Of course.“ He concedes, keeping stride with Ray out to the gardens as he choses his next words carefully. He knew where they were, so he had no need to follow behind Ray, nor would he allow himself to be seen taking the place of a trailing servant. 

“So.“

Geoff waits until they had passed out of earshot of any of the servants, knowing well that anything he said would become the gossip of maids. He keeps the disgust out of his voice, but the fatherly tone is long gone. Any glance from Ray at Geoff’s face, and Ray would easily be able to read the familiar signs of Geoff’s irritation- the lines around his eyes tighter, the furrows in his brow deepening and the press of his lips tightly together as he finishes his question.

“Did Tina design your crown too?”

[primusgalli]

sortamaliicious:

Ryan is always hard at work. There’s probably little time he gives to himself because there’s always new advancements to be made. His kingdom was thriving. “Yeah well, you seem to handle animals a lot better than I do. “ His dealings with Edgar & Pickles were proof of that. “Maybe if you retire from being a king you can be a farmer instead.”

The fact that Ryan’s kingdom is thriving is obvious in the up keep of his castle, and the way the servants- despite their king’s title- seem content and eager in their work. “Hah, and never have to sit through a council meeting again? Yes please.” Geoff nudges Ryan’s shoulder playfully as they get farther away from prying eyes. “Glad to know you think I’ll get the chance to retire before I’m killed.”

[primusgalli]

updated my “rules” with a few clarifications and rewording on the way verses function on my blog, my tagging system, and some updated info about the mun. please check it out <3

[primusgalli]

sortamaliicious: 

“& you look like you haven’t aged a bit.” Ryan doesn’t hesitate. He threw any need to be formal out the window to hug Geoff, patting his back before he let go. His hands rested on his shoulders as he gave him a better look over. “Good to see you’re still alive at least. Why don’t we head down to my lab, I can show you all the new potions I’ve been making.” 

“Cause I look like a grandpa already.” Geoff jokes, his tone eager as Ryan suggests they head in. “Hard at work with the magic cocktails as always, huh? Better you than me, I’ll stick to my chickens and fucking around with dirt.” He follows Ryan’s lead as they enter the castle, eyes glancing around for any changes that might have been made in his absence.

[primusgalli]

britishgold replied to your post:

me, noticing a typo i made bc i tried to...

this is such a mood

its even worse bc i havent done this since this hellsite changed the way reblogs/formatting works (see, 3 yrs ago) and dear god its hard on an actual computer but on a phone its i m p o s s i b l e

[primusgalli]

r e v i v a l

[primusgalli]

britishgold:

gavin can see the confusion and sadness — though, he’s not aware that’s what the particular emotions on display are called. yet, being one with nature, he’s come to have a strong sense of empathy even if he does come across as cut off from the world ( which in many ways, he is ).  the creeper boy’s wary over every single movement that comes from the other encase it results in something less than friendly. his own hands lower and he keeps a small distance between them. nothing dramatic like the entire other side of the cave but a couple of paces so that they’re not right up in each other’s faces.

humans and their reactions were a mystery to gavin and so he had no idea how he should be dealing with the situation he’d now found himself in. did he approach the man ?  did he leave and give him some space and privacy?  gavin didn’t know so he just stood on the other side of the campfire that flickered gently in the middle of the cave.   ❝  safe,  ❞   he repeated, as if that would be some help and put the stranger at ease.   ❝  night, dangerous. found you on floor,  ❞  he added, pointing towards the exit of the cave as if that explained why he was in a random cave.

gavin falls silent again and just watches intently, studying the man before him as if it would give him some magical insight as to what to do or try to say.

                ❝  how ?  ❞   he asks, a frown forming on his face as he surveys the man in front of him. he even takes a cautious step backwards due to the sound of his name. the only people ever to know his name were the witches that raised him and himself. he’d never told others his name and if he did find himself interacting with humans, he just allowed them to call him creeper boy and pretended not to have a name to avoid having to reveal it.

The King watches sadly as the familiar face backs away from him, and nods slightly in silent realization and drops his hands to his sides in a show of non-aggression. “Sorry.” He apologizes to the space between them, an empty word meant more to ease his own hurt.It is Gavin, but also not Gavin- another being with the face of Gavin, the same tone, but not a Gavin who knows his face. It’s a concept he’d always pondered- one of parallel worlds or other dimensions, but it’s another thing entirely to find himself suddenly in this type of situation. He would have more joy and interest in discovering this if his heart wasn’t so utterly broken knowing that his home was gone.

“Er-” He starts, trying to put together the words to convey his situation. The other man- Gavin- he reminds himself internally, seems to only speak in fragments but the message is clear enough. The hiss that comes through when this Gavin, no- Gavin- speaks reminds him of the green monsters in his home that the 6 had called Creepers for the way they would sneak up on you.

Like the King had found the Jester on a forest floor, this Gavin had found him alone, unconscious and defenseless and shown him kindness and mercy. Perhaps the Gallí were not mocking him, but protecting him the best they could in this new world.The King stands slowly, the flow of emotions finally subsiding to a manageable dull throb in his chest with Gavin’s gaze upon him and the consistent gentle flickering of the fire. 

“I know.. knew- another, uh, different you.” He smiles as reassuring and fatherly as he can be and points to himself. “Geoff.”He gives Gavin his name, edging closer to the warmth of the fire as his body starts to reminds him that he is cold and hungry. “I’m not from here. Where... is here?”

[primusgalli]

me, noticing a typo i made bc i tried to reply to a post on my phone: I Guess I’ll Just Throw Myself Off A Bridge Now

[primusgalli]

𝓡𝓞𝓢𝓔𝓢 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝕋ℍ𝕆ℝℕ𝕊

>>♕ The First | The Rose King ♛<<

The First waits outside the throne room, patiently slouched in a chair with book in hand and an empty drink glass sitting by his feet, the last drops of whiskey clinging to the bottom of the glass stubbornly. He idly reads, taking in the words on the page- a familiar well-loved book, something to simply pass the time while he waits for permission to enter. 

Finds his thoughts drifting, almost bitterly, to how his court had not been like this. How the thick doors had always been left open for anyone to enter and approach the King- and how the process had been corrupted by the thirst for blood and power. He is lost deep in a spiral of memories when the creak of the hinges announces the arrival of someone to escort him in and he closes the book, easily hiding any trace of the emotions that might have flitted across his face with a grin at the guard. 

“So, the great Rose King will see me now?”

His voice conveys only the slightest hint of sarcasm as he closes the book and pushes himself up from the comfort of the plush chair, abandoning his glass for some other person to clean up. He is well-kept, beard scruffy but neat, and his hair in a similar state. His clothing is still the utilitarian dark green that he had worn from his first days, but any wear and tear is absent- small reminders of his otherworldly abilities.

He enters with an air of confidence, eyes roaming around to take in all the changes since the Rose King had taken up residence. The clear windows had been changed to stained glasses, elaborate and an homage to each and every violent battle between the 6 of them, with vibrant rose gardens encroaching on the borders of the depictions. The entrance area and the holding room outside had been littered with roses in all colors, in vases, floating in bowls, in pots with their branches climbing the walls towards the natural light filtering in through the intricate windows. 

Each step he takes down the rich red carpet under his feet brings him closer to the throne, and farther from the natural light. The change is subtle to those not looking for it, but the First takes it all in, knowing that every detail was an insight to the Rose King’s personality, his fears, his desires. It shifts, the color palette dwindling down to reds, blacks and greys. Here, closest to the throne are the most recent battles, the roses and their thorns fully covering the ground as the Rose King lifts his bloody sword in victory and claims his turn to rule their unstable kingdom. And at last- the Rose King himself- a blood red rose above his head, the bloody sword preserved and kept next to his throne as a trophy or perhaps a reminder.

The First does not kneel- he has never kneeled, not to the Mad King, and certainly not to this boy. 

“Hello, Ray.” He says, his gaze finally meeting the Rose King’s for the first time inside the hallowed throne room since the Rose King had taken the crown. “Never took you for an interior designer.”

[primusgalli]

r e v i v a l

[primusgalli]

britishgold:

gavin had felt a disturbance ; a foreboding feeling. the air felt different than it usually did ; more tension. he noticed it first when the creepers attacks in the area had gotten more frequent. with his connections to the wild and usually he was able to calm them but their sudden panic seemed to be foreshadowing something. he kept the creepers away from any local civilisation, constantly ushering them back towards the forests in order to keep them from exploding villages and causing a hunt. 

it was while on an outing to try calm the mobs of the upper world that surrounded the main city that he’d come across a man lying on the ground in the woods. the creeper boy had approached cautiously but soon realised the man was unconscious. the gunpowder monsters had started to hiss uncontrollably causing the wilding to frown and assume something wasn’t right here but nonetheless, he could not leave this stranger alone. the weather would be turning and when night came more mobs would be out and he would be in danger.

he had carried him to his cave, laying him on his makeshift bed. it wasn’t anything comfortable but it was enough for gavin and it would have to do for now. he waited and waited and waited and eventually, after gods knew how long, the man awoke.

unable to speak a great deal of the human tongue, gavin lifted his hands in the air to show he wasn’t a threat.  ❝  safe here,  ❞  gavin said softly, his voice having a natural creeper-like hiss to it. 

The King's head spins as his heart breaks in two, his eyes squeezed tight shut as tears stain his cheeks. He wants to give up, wants the universe and the cruel Gallí who put them here to strike him down instead. He feels everything and nothing at once, the nothingness of being so utterly alone in the universe and the fullness of raw sorrow.

But a voice cuts through the sickening feeling and he opens his eyes slowly, praying desperately that the form in front of him was his Jester despite knowing- those in grief always cling to hope.

The facial features are so familiar even through the tears, the hair different but still that same perfect texture to ruffle playfully, the bushy brows, and nose they had often teased him about. But everything else is off- the voice has a hiss to it, and the clothes are not the ones he'd last seen the Jester in. He feels the lump rise in his throat again, the urge to sob with sudden rising joy overwhelming. Yet he wipes away the wetness from his eyes and summons the courage to speak.

"Gavin?" The word comes out in one breath as he is desperate to withhold the tears still threatening to burst forth, the King locking eyes with the man in front of him and seeking out any glimmer of recognition. A strange sight the King is awake, his dark green top mussed and wet where he used the sleeves to wipe at his eyes, and his scruffy features twisted into a look of mixed hope and terror as he clasps his hands together in front of his face that might be an act of prayer or the gesture of a man restraining himself from reaching out to touch the other.

[primusgalli]

sortamaliicious:

He motions idly for one of his servants to take the pile. Last thing they needed was Geoff tripping over his feet & sending everything flying because he can’t see where he’s walking. He’d personally like to keep everything in good conditions, lest they end up with missing scripture as a page gets torn from the tomes. “I think that title fits Gavin much better than I,” Ryan says with a chuckle. “We don’t need him whining because I stole his ‘shtick’.”

"Ha, that little shit does deserve that title." Geoff gives a grateful nod to the servant who frees him from his load and saunters closer to Ryan, opening his arms up for an affectionate and rib-crushing hug. Geoff whad always been the opposite of formal, "C'mere, you. It's been too long, catch me up- you're looking good."

[sortamaliicious]

“If you keep meeting me for these ‘negotiations’ people might think we actually like each other.” Though his tone is low with dry humor, it doesn’t hide the smirk on his face. He slowly makes his way down the front steps to the castle to stand in front of Geoff. “God forbid I’m seen as anything but the Mad King.”

@primusgalli | Kings Starter

[primusgalli]

Geoff's crown is askew as usual, and he carries a stack of tomes mixed with papers that reaches to his chin that is meant for the two of them to pour over and for Ryan to borrow. "Is that a joke from the Mad King I hear?"  His own voice is light with teasing, and his grin stretches the corners of his mouth to show the smile lines that are as equally prominent under his eyes. "Careful, you keep it up and I'll be forced to start calling you the Humor King."

[mogars-archive]

[12:29:14 AM] ♔ ━ ＭＯＧＡＲ: i can’t wait for you to rp more on your king geoff

[12:29:27 AM] ♔ ━ ＭＯＧＡＲ: i am honest to god going to be reading every single one of your threads and headcanons and what have you

[12:29:44 AM] the best fuckin king: aww thanks haha i have him in the “cynical and bitter old man stage”

[12:30:51 AM] the best fuckin king: it’s fun playing a mostly apathetic god-king who’s used to attempts on his life by his former friends and really only encourages it

[12:31:34 AM] ♔ ━ ＭＯＧＡＲ: aw shit well WHEN YOU PUT IT THAT WAY IT’S VERY PAINFUL

[12:31:48 AM] ♔ ━ ＭＯＧＡＲ: ‘oh yeah everyone tries to kill me even the people close to me it’s no biggie’

[12:31:50 AM] ♔ ━ ＭＯＧＡＲ: goddamn dude

[12:32:02 AM] ♔ ━ ＭＯＧＡＲ: 'lol died again 2day txt it’

[12:32:27 AM] the best fuckin king: 'yeah ryan tried yesterday do you wanna try today michael? lemme give you a hint aim for the heart’

[12:32:50 AM] ♔ ━ ＭＯＧＡＲ: i’m laughing and i’m whispering ouch at the same time fucking

[badwolfcriedarchive-deactivated]

                                                   Guilt  was α¢ι∂                                                     in    our    νєιηѕ.                                                    It       corroded                                                   {   ᴇ̡͎͉̰̤͈͙̺̫̪͕͉̲͓̘̯̹̯̤ᴠ̸̨̨̫͉͖̳̗͟ᴇ̨̖͎̝̻̹̯͚̗͎́͘͜͠ʀ̫̣̮̜͝͞ͅy̸̢̠̺̻͓ᴛ̩̰̳̖̘̞͓͎̖̦̬͕̠͡͝͡ʜ̴̼̼͈͇͔̬͉͍̘͍͕͙̪̫͕̩͉̺ͅɪ̪̞̗̬̼̗̝̝͎̳̖͙̻̖̻̭͖͟͝͞ɴ̷̸̵̦̰̩̯̪̞̙͉̲̱̻̜̖͍̙̥́͞ɢ̧̰̱̘̩͚̣̼̬͕͎̖̀͜.  }                                                                                                Ｏ  Ｕ  Ｒ                                                                                                   • ʜᴇᴀʀᴛs                                                                                                • ʟᴜɴɢs                                                                                                • ᴛʜʀᴏᴀᴛ.

[primusgalli]

r e v i v a l

The King comes to with a pounding headache, his mouth dry and his chest aching in a strange way. His last memories, the Vagabond rising to the throne for the second time- the other 5 of them bending knee to another cycle of chaos, familiar and as it was meant to be. Then, a upheaval from outside the edge of their homes- animals crying out in fear, a blackness consuming all in it’s path-

He can remember no more. The ache is unfamiliar, not like the pang of respawn after a violent death, not like the ache of happiness.

It is grief. The room is dark, cold, unfamiliar, belonging to someone else entirely. Loss. The King tries to stand from the cot only to crumple to his knees on the floor with an anguished cry as he feels the death of his world. He can no longer feel the bonds between him and his Warrior, his Fool, his Vagabond, his Builder, his Rose and the ache in his chest twists and twists into a tight knot of sorrow and anger and helplessness.

He remembers.