CALL ME DEV 🥁
❝Currently on quests to hunt the beasts that escaped the dark.❞
Every battle is another attempt to prove something to himself. Every beast slain is one more step toward the name he intends to reclaim. Yet beneath the stubborn drive lives something softer, something most warriors bury deep. Dev protects the weak with the loyalty of a dog guarding its home, even when no one is watching.
Some wounds sharpen a man. Others haunt him. Dev carries both.
themes of:
firelit inheritance · river-wrought destiny · honor hunted back · hidden gold · the beast within · warrior tenderness · sun-baked loyalty · sacred duty · haunted hometowns · weight of protection · dancing with danger · dog-hearted devotion · madness in the blood · resilience as ritual · embers that refuse to die · masculine softness · ghosts that know your name · inherited violence · grief beneath bravado · monsters of memory · earthbound heroism · fire as weapon and prayer
🔥 Selective | Indie RP blog
🔥 Writing & roleplaying since 2010
🔥 Mun & muses 21+ | Multiship | Multiverse friendly
🔥 Plot in IMs | No Discord
🔥 Please read rules before interacting
🔥 Side blog: @ofdemonessence
🔥 Tracking tag: #pyrokineticwarrior .
Born to a family with deep roots along the Indus River, Devendra Yug grew up in the spirit-soaked town of Chanderi, raised mostly by his mother, a wandering performer whose laughter and songs once filled the dusty streets. From her he inherited warmth, charm, and a fierce devotion to the people he called his own.
From a young age, Dev showed the makings of a warrior. Strong, stubborn, and quick to throw himself into danger if it meant protecting someone else. The town came to know him as its most reliable defender, a young man who carried fire in both spirit and skill.
But Dev’s pride was once broken in a way that still follows him.
In his early years as a fighter, he faced a mysterious wandering swordsman in a duel meant to prove his rising reputation. Instead, the encounter ended in public defeat. Word spread quickly, and with it came whispers that Devendra Yug had been nothing more than another arrogant young warrior who reached too high too soon.
He left soon after.
Some say he left to restore his honor. Others believe he left because the shame of that moment burned too deeply to stay.
Before his departure, Dev had discovered a gold vein in the hills outside Chanderi, enough to secure his mother’s care as her mind slowly slipped into fragile madness. He made sure she would never struggle, even if he could not remain beside her.
Yet the darkness that haunted Chanderi never truly left his thoughts. Spirits and beasts had always stalked the edges of that town, and they seemed drawn to Dev in ways he could never fully explain.
So he began to hunt them.
Now Dev wanders far from the riverlands that raised him, chasing monsters across unfamiliar lands. Some battles are fought for coin, others for those who cannot defend themselves. But beneath every victory is the same quiet purpose.
To grow stronger.
To face the darkness without faltering.
And perhaps one day return home as the warrior he once believed himself to be.
When he left, his mother had only smiled softly and pressed her hand against his cheek.
His fingers knew just what spot to pull to release the tension from the hair tie. Her lips fluttered in relief eyes closing for a brief moment as if that would change the day- be a full nights sleep. She swore that she had every intention of opening them again but dammit he started running circles against her temples! Her face slackened and body relaxed all the way down to her toes uncurling. She tried to push her non slip shoes off, cloppling to the ground one by one.
A smile pulled at her lips as he recounted the trails of the day. "That seems like a really really busy day!" She assured him, turning her face into his hand and kissing it lightly. "And what an arguement to loose. Hopefully the cookies were worth it."
Her eyes finally opened, looking up at him when his voice changed. "I think you've taken on the harder job here darling- I mean I know you love it. But still. You went from a fire demon warrior to a stay at home dad." Her voice softened because damn she knew it was harder. "Thank you."
She leaned back with him and sighed. "Just breaking someone new in on the line." She admitted. "You know how men can be when a woman tells them what to do. He'll learn...." She cuddled against him. "Not everyone likes it as much as you do."
Devlin’s mouth pulled into a small smile at the kiss to his hand. This sort of smile seemed to sneak up on him whenever she showed him affection in the quiet moments. It still amazed him sometimes how easily she could turn something ordinary into something that felt like a reminder. A hand kiss. Her head in his lap. The way she trusted him enough to completely let go. After everything they had both been through, he never took those moments for granted.
“First of all,” he murmured, glancing down at the shoes she had abandoned on the floor, “I’d like to point out that I survived the cookie argument with my dignity mostly intact.” He hesitated for a second, thinking it over. “Mostly.” His fingers kept moving through her hair, working out the tension she carried there like he had done it a thousand times. “And second, the cookies were absolutely worth it. There was chocolate involved. I’m not a monster.”
The teasing faded a little when she thanked him, his expression softening as he looked down at her. “Piper.” Her name came out with the same patience he used whenever she tried to convince him she owed him something. “You don’t have to thank me for taking care of our kid. I'm just being a parent.” His thumb brushed along her cheek, gentle and familiar. “I know it’s different. I know it’s not the same thing I was doing before. But I don’t feel like I lost anything.”
He leaned back into the couch, letting her settle closer against him. “I spent a lot of my life fighting things that wanted to destroy people. Monsters, demons, things that didn’t care if someone got hurt.” His eyes dropped briefly, a quiet smile forming. “Getting to spend my day with someone who thinks my biggest crime is giving her too many snacks? I’ll take that trade.”
At her comment about the new person on the line, Devlin let out a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “Oh, I know exactly what you mean.” His hand moved down her back, slow and soothing. “Poor guy probably thought he was walking into a kitchen and didn’t realize he was walking into Piper Beau’s kitchen.”
He looked amused, but there was something warmer underneath it. Something proud. “Besides, he’ll figure it out. You’re not hard to follow once people understand that every order, every correction, every little thing you yell about is because you care.” He tilted his head slightly, looking down at her. “Although I will admit, it is very entertaining watching someone realize you’re not the kind of woman who can be ignored.”
@sharpenurdamnknife (for whichever muse of yours is strongest c: )
Devlin did not look at her when he spoke, instead he kept walking, boots steady against the dirt like the loyal knight that he was. “If you’re going to ask me where we’re going,” he kept his tone low and even, “save it. You won’t like the answer.” There’s a pause, something quieter underneath it, before he finally glances her way“Just keep up. I’d rather you get there breathing.”
Devlin, son of Hades, has been sent to bring your muse to a god who has taken interest in them. Whether your muse is a monster in hiding or just someone who caught a god’s attention, it does not matter. Orders are orders, and Devlin does not get to refuse.
The journey is long, quiet, and tense. Your muse keeps asking why, keeps trying to understand what they did to deserve this, and Devlin gives them as little as possible. He is not cruel, but he is not soft either. Still, the longer they travel together, the harder it becomes to ignore them, and the harder it becomes to remember this is just a job.
By the time they reach the place where the god is waiting, Devlin has a choice to make. Deliver your muse like he was told, or turn his back on the will of the gods and deal with whatever comes after.
/brain is mush because i have been watching world cup final for 2 hours straight, trying to do some writing but man
i am happy that spain beat argentina though
She listened as he spoke in the cold, watched the way the heat rose from his mouth and how is seemed to shimmer all around him. It was like he stood in-between two places, held the space there, holding it open. In the cold, he appeared as a sort of shimmer. Deven's hands on her were warm even through her many layers of clothes.
His words spoke of revelations: of knowing and learning and getting things right. That last part stuck in her mind like a splinter; it was very Deven. He needed the binary of *right* and *wrong*. It was just his way.
"... You are so ... full of words." She didn't know how to respond to him with out the feeling of embarrassment. He was open like a wound; words and feelings bubbled up from him like a fountain, like a wave. She didn't always know how to eloquently respond to him. She was much better at games. His gaze was deep; the warmth in eyes fascinated, disarmed, and frightened her. She dare not look away.
It was good to kiss him, to be kissed by him. He felt like drowning, that is, if drowning could be a pleasant thing. She could feel his urgency, the need in him growing. She could feel herself raising to match it ... then she remembered she was here doing something.
"Whoa," Breathlessly Greta broke the kiss, and carefully untangled herself from him. "Not here. It isn't safe, someone could be watching..."
He let out a quiet breath, his forehead resting briefly against hers, like he was steadying himself there. “Yeah… yeah, you’re right,” he said, softer this time, though his hands didn’t quite leave her yet. His thumb brushed absently against her sleeve, like he needed that small point of contact to ground himself. He glanced around, more aware now of the open space, the light, the possibility of eyes where there shouldn’t be any. He didn’t like it. Not with her here.
As if on cue, the first faint drops of rain began to fall, cold and light against his face. For a second, he didn’t move, like he was debating whether to steal one more moment anyway. It had felt too easy to fall into her, too natural. Like he’d done it a hundred times before, even if he hadn’t. Familiar in a way that didn’t make sense, and new enough that it kept catching him off guard. He didn’t want to stop. He didn't want to keep keeping his feelings for her buried and that was the problem. That was always the problem.
“C’mon Greta,” he said finally, quieter now, but certain, reaching for her hand instead of her waist this time. His fingers laced with hers without hesitation, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “I parked not too far from here.” He gave her a small, crooked smile, already starting to guide her away from the light and down the street. They could drive all the way home, either his place or hers. “Teleporting solo I’ve got. Bringing someone with me… still working on not losing a limb in the process. Car’s safer.”
The fact that they were still alive meant they could come back and take revenge on Devlin. It was a possibility, but one they had to be prepared for. And if Devlin had managed to hurt them so badly that they were barely clinging to life, their revenge could be brutal.
“I’m sorry that made you feel that way,” Lian said honestly, reaching for Devlin’s hand again, trying to convey his sympathy.
When the conversation turned to Devlin’s past, he looked up with curiosity in his gaze. “You didn't… Will you tell me about it?”
Devlin visibly exhaled, large shoulders dropping in a way like he was attempting to feel small. He himself brought up the subject of his past, but he didn't think it was wise to continue to keep things buried inside. He wasn't sure if Lian noticed, but he was trying to open up more and more, an effort that he believed would be good for their relationship.
"Many, many years ago, I used to help run this camp of all these demigod children, and suddenly there was this war that broke out with the Titans and the children of the gods. The titans wanted to vanquish us all, and this battle occurred in the shadows, in different planar realms where many of us didn't make it. I nearly passed on- I mean- I did die. My soul drifted to the afterlife, where my father Hades preserved me, and it took a decade to get me whole again, to be fully alive. I think I was, in a way, resurrected, and I was training the whole time. But while I was there, I was not able to save a lot of my pupils, my disciples, my friends. So. I have... a lot of guilt."
"..isn't that the definition of nature?" Trying to kill you and figuring it out as you go. Sounded pretty accurate. From bears ripping you to pieces to berries you really, really shouldn't eat. Nature had its ways. And honestly, Ilyas could only respect it.
"Oh, right! That show. I watch it all the time, on the television I carry around on my back."
"More recommendations on what to watch on my imaginary TV?"
Deven felt like he knew the answer to his next question, but he decided to ask it anyway.
"Want to come over to my place and see the old reruns of Survivor? We can judge and compare their survival tactics together. That way we have something to do while our dogs play."
modern inconvenience: mild problem, easily solved
Devendra’s brain: what if this becomes a survival situation
power flickers once
Dev: we should prepare for extended outage
goes on a casual camping trip
Dev: mapping exits, checking wind direction, noting water sources like this is a long term settlement
someone says “we’ll figure it out later”
Dev internally: later is where mistakes happen
He is trying to be normal. He really is. But somewhere in his mind there is always a version of events where things go wrong and he is the one expected to handle it. He does not panic, he prepares even when absolutely no one asked him to.
