CAN I USE THIS?

A role-playing blog for Darc, from the PS2 game "Arc the Lad: Twilight of the Spirits". You can check out his "about" page here and current AU verses here. WIP. Tracking "twilight of the spirits" and "reignofdarcness".

[st-a-y]

who we are and who we need to be to survive are very different things.

[reignofdarcness]

Do you do hcs?

Headcanons? Uhhhh this is a personal role-playing blog, not a fandom blog. Do you mean sharing general HC ideas, or one of those blogs that makes headcanon graphics? I’m okay with the former, but I’m not the latter.

[reignofdarcness]

OMG I almost forgot about this game, but also, is this blog still active?

It is! Activity is very low, but it’s happening.

[reignofdarcness]

//Hi there! I’m going to try and put some effort into this blog again because Darc is still one of my favourite characters, and this is still good writing exercise. Sooo you might see some really old threads and such finally getting a response. No rush or pressure or anything - hell if you don’t want to continue it that’s fine too. Just letting you all know that it’s coming.

I hope everybody is taking care and staying safe as best as they can. 

[reignofdarcness]

Seidr Struggles

//Starter for @icyxmischief

This is the most stressed Darc has been in a very long time.

The clearing just outside of Rueloon that the Deimos King chose was quiet enough for undisturbed reading. Not so much for interruptions, but to keep people from seeing him struggling. He sits against a rock, hunched over a thick arcane tome, tracing his way through each word with a fingertip. His large left arm supports the book underneath. The book is meant to cover the basics for those first studying the mystic arts. His brows are furrowed in equal parts concentration and frustration.

“The – pur-oper-tees – of – magic…” he mumbles as he goes. “c-…com-poh-nents – for the – spell…”

Darc received the book from Loki a week ago, yet he’d only made it through the first few pages. Shame wells up within him; tears follow suit. With a snarl, Darc puts the book down with a thump. He buries his head in his hands, digging his fingers into his hair. He plans to make another attempt when the fit subsides, but it won’t feel much less like torture.

[icyxmischief]

   “ … . is it alright, that I’ve just eavesdropped a bit, unintentionally?”

A bit? Loki’s been standing there for the past half hour, shrouded by an invisibility glamour.

But Loki is familiar with the pitfalls of what humans refer to as “learning disabilities.”

Loki is familiar with a mercurial, prideful older brother who used to stumble over his words when they sat for agonizing hours at the mercy of their tutor, and Loki would scoot his desk to Thor’s, and softly feed him the correct pronunciations of words, so that Thor would feel less humiliated reciting the Eddas to their parents. 

Loki knows how to crabwalk closer to a person who’s struggling, and quietly, almost maternally, offer his expert, silver tongue in their aid.  

    “What if I cast a spell that makes each syllable light up gold when it’s time to speak it? I find it uncommonly helpful when one has difficulty focusing.” 

[reignofdarcness]

Darc’s gaze snaps up to Loki, eyes wide. The colour drains from his face. He’s been seen like this - weak, struggling, pitiful. When he regains his composure, he furiously wipes away his tears. 

“I’m fine,” Darc croaks, not thinking that he’s lying to the god of lies. He looks so young as he fights against crying. In that moment, he’s just a boy carrying too much weight on his shoulders. Through all the trials he faced that he claims made him stronger, he missed out on so much growing.

Before looking back to Loki, he touches his birthmark, a habitual attempt at comforting himself. The tears come right back; he talks as if they didn’t. 

“I don’t care, but you can do it if you think it works.” There’s a pause. “Does it...does it have to be books?”

[reignofdarcness]

Seidr Struggles

//Starter for @icyxmischief

This is the most stressed Darc has been in a very long time.

The clearing just outside of Rueloon that the Deimos King chose was quiet enough for undisturbed reading. Not so much for interruptions, but to keep people from seeing him struggling. He sits against a rock, hunched over a thick arcane tome, tracing his way through each word with a fingertip. His large left arm supports the book underneath. The book is meant to cover the basics for those first studying the mystic arts. His brows are furrowed in equal parts concentration and frustration.

“The – pur-oper-tees – of – magic…” he mumbles as he goes. “c-…com-poh-nents – for the – spell…”

Darc received the book from Loki a week ago, yet he’d only made it through the first few pages. Shame wells up within him; tears follow suit. With a snarl, Darc puts the book down with a thump. He buries his head in his hands, digging his fingers into his hair. He plans to make another attempt when the fit subsides, but it won’t feel much less like torture.

[littleprinceoftheforest-blog]

Reblog if your muse has lost one or both of their parents.

[yalaki]

we’ll be right back

[yaladraws]

let delma curse 2k19

[yalaki]

delma taught darc how to curse like a sailor and that’s a fact

[boondoggl]

i will become KING of this obscure fandom!! >:0

[janzoo]

Darc!

(Original meme)

Yaaaay I get to talk about my rare fandom! Thanks! :DFor the new and uninitiated, said fandom is a PS2 game called “Arc the Lad: Twilight of the Spirits.” Here have a picture of Darc.

Headcanon A (realistic): Despite any improvements in his relationship with Kharg (his brother), Darc will always be envious of the privileged life Kharg had. 

Darc’s life: lived on the road with his ailing father; watched his father die then buried him; enslaved by a witch who abused him for several years; lived a life of ridicule for his visibly half-breed body and for any semblance of softness shown; had his wings torn off; hardened his heart to embarked on a quest to unite and lead the Deimos tribes; buried his estranged mother after she took a bullet for him; saved the world from Darkness and Despair Incarnate, which was a trial both physical and mental; is now the first king ever of the entire Deimos race, who at endgame, have lost their magical abilities that was part of their identity

Kharg’s life: looks 99.5% human (his pointed ears are his only “non-human” trait), so didn’t experience any of the ridicule Darc did; despite his family foregoing their royal power to work directly with the people, grows up with near-royal levels of respect from the townspeople; lives an overall good life; embarks on a quest to prove himself as more than a figurehead leader of the town’s defence corps. and gets caught up in something bigger along the way; returns to town to find out his mother died; emotional turmoil makes him sprout Deimos wings, which he promptly tears off; saved the world from Darkness and Despair Incarnate, which was a trial both physical and mental; is now helping humans rebuild, and possibly also finding a new power source for human technology

They are both 17.

Yeah, some bad stuff happened to Kharg, but overall he still smacks of Small Town Hero Privilege, while Darc dragged himself to where he stands through blood, sweat, and tears. There’s just no balance between their life experiences. If Kharg ever complained about living a hard life, Darc would call him out for such brazen audacity.

Probably with a solid back-hand.

Headcanon B (while it may not be realistic it is hilarious): Having lived his whole life wearing sashes/sarongs, he would not find pants comfortable. He’s a sarong man for life. (Not sure what to call his waist wrap but sarong seems more accurate than kilt?) Also he’s going commando under there.

Headcanon C (heart-crushing and awful, but fun to inflict on friends): Between the lack of love/affection in his life, serious body image issues, and his abuse at the hands of Geedo (the witch who enslaved him), Darc doesn’t like physical contact. He may open up to it in time, but the process will be slow; it’s not like Deimos are huggy-feely people. He’ll probably only open up to particular individuals, and not as a whole.

Headcanon D (unrealistic, but I will disregard canon about it because I reject canon reality and substitute my own): Shipping headcanon! Despite everything, Darc does pretty well as a significant other. He’s not likely conventional by human standards, and there would be awkward learning-how-to-be-an-SO moments. But he’s loyal, caring, and determined. His biggest setback would be PTSD/fear of loss. He may be prone to overreactions along these lines, at least in the beginning. Still, I think he’d do well by his beloved in the end. :D

I don’t think this is unrealistic per se, this is more about never getting to see it in actual-canon. I can dream, damn it. And write fanfiction.

Thanks again! <3

I’m ending this with a screencap of Darc calling Kharg a pampered poodle (credit)

[bugcore-moved-deactivated201902]

Another trope I forgot to mention that I love are traumatized characters experiencing love for the first time and not knowing how to cope with it. I just eat that shit up

[bugcore-moved-deactivated201902]

especially when they’re like edgy, scary and mean. that moment where they get a tender hug, or a gentle rub or just someone complimenting them and their entire world view is changed. thats so good. i need more of it

[reignofdarcness]

[Continuation from here] @mal-likes-biscuits

Darc can’t hide the shock in his expression at being called “your highness.” Malthael’s question doesn’t help any. 

This guy seems weirder and weirder.

He manages to turn his shock into a dry, if confused smile. “’Your highness’ - is that what humans call their kings?” Darc repeats the phrase slowly, then laughs under his breath. “It’s a little prissy for my liking, but it’s not the worst thing I’ve been called, either.”

The young king wonders if Kharg was ever called that. His imagination conjures an image of his pampered brother, nose in the air, surrounded by doting humans chanting “Your highness! Your highness!” He has to stifle another laugh.

“As for a place to find wisdom...” Darc takes a breath. “I don’t know what you’ve been told, but Deimos are warriors first and foremost. Wisdom...is in short supply around here.”

It’s the hard but honest truth about his kind. 

“I’m not putting my people down. You won’t find better fighters than us! But our strength was the only thing we needed to survive. Or so we thought...” Darc shrugs. “If anything, I’m the wisest Deimos you’ll find. I’ve had to pick up when we’ve slacked.”

[reignofdarcness]

The sky is subtlety different here, on the other side of the rift. Malthael watches the sun descend with mild trepidation, knowing the first night in a new realm is always the most dangerous. Still, even the most resilient of wanderers requires sleep. He draws his blades close to him, settles his head on his pack, and watches the stars begin to cascade slowly across the firmament. Hopefully, if anything does find him, it will wait until morning, and the re-emergence of the the light.

Darc walks the barrens south ofOrcoth, torch in hand, and wonders where the reported human trespasser comesfrom. The region is far enough from human settlements for it to be an unusualoccurrence.

Well, far enough from activehuman settlements, anyway. Perhaps they’re a survivor from Cathena?

He’ll just have to find out. Heapproaches slowly, just as ready to present himself as a non-threat as he is todefend himself. The embers of the trespasser’s fire glow in the late eveningdarkness. It seems there’s only one.

One human, all alone? In Deimosterritory? With wild monsters roaming? Whoever this human is, they’re eitherbrave or stupid. Once Darc figures out which, he has to figure out what to dowith them after. Hopefully he won’t have to kill them – or take them back toOrcoth. The Orcon won’t act against Darc’s orders, but still, getting them totolerate a human in their midst will be a pain in the ass.

The young king comes to a stop afew steps from the dying fire, with the trespasser on the other side. His righthand stays near the hilt of his sword, just in case; his left, draconic handholds out the torch to better light the encounter.

“Psst, hey! Human!” Darc hisses. “Get up! I won’thurt you, but it’s not safe here!”

[mal-likes-biscuits]

The voice cuts through even the deepest sleep, shaking Malthael from dreamless darkness. He jolts upright, searching for his weapons while the being’s words fully register in his mind: I won’t hurt you.

His fingers brush the cold metal handles of the shotels. In the wavering light of a torch, he finds a scaled hand and a horned face gazing down at him. Its other hand brushes its sword, but it does not draw it.

One of the locals, perhaps. More concerned about a stranger’s well-being than its own. Internally shaking himself fully awake, Malthael gathers his pack and weapons, stands, and considers the stranger with unblinking, ice-pale eyes.

“I appreciate your concern,” he says, “but it is unwarranted. I am accustomed to danger, even in the darkness.” He adjusts his sheaths, then tips his head in delayed greeting. “Who are you?”

[reignofdarcness]

Well, this meeting could be going much worse. The human doesn’t seem to mind that he’s been startled awake by a Deimos. Darc is almost pleasantly surprised as he lowers his right hand from his sword. 

“My name is Darc. I’m the King of the Deimos.” It’s still a new title for him, but he says it with confidence. In the aftermath of saving the world, most humans know his name. They might recognize his brother Kharg’s name more readily, but he’s not about to define himself through his twin.

“And you’re in Deimos territory. Just because we’re not in open war anymore, it doesn’t mean other Deimos like having humans on our turf. Plus there’s monsters. If you die out here, you’ll make my job of keeping the peace a lot harder.”

“Now, who are you?” Darc takes a step closer. 

Lilia once told him that giving your name first is “the human way.” While Darc doesn’t particularly care why this human didn’t, he can’t help but remember what she said. 

[sebastianstanrps-moved]

“In the end, what matters is this: I survived.”

— Gail Honeyman (via thelovejournals)

[reignofdarcness]

The sky is subtlety different here, on the other side of the rift. Malthael watches the sun descend with mild trepidation, knowing the first night in a new realm is always the most dangerous. Still, even the most resilient of wanderers requires sleep. He draws his blades close to him, settles his head on his pack, and watches the stars begin to cascade slowly across the firmament. Hopefully, if anything does find him, it will wait until morning, and the re-emergence of the the light.

Darc walks the barrens south ofOrcoth, torch in hand, and wonders where the reported human trespasser comesfrom. The region is far enough from human settlements for it to be an unusualoccurrence.

Well, far enough from activehuman settlements, anyway. Perhaps they’re a survivor from Cathena?

He’ll just have to find out. Heapproaches slowly, just as ready to present himself as a non-threat as he is todefend himself. The embers of the trespasser’s fire glow in the late eveningdarkness. It seems there’s only one.

One human, all alone? In Deimosterritory? With wild monsters roaming? Whoever this human is, they’re eitherbrave or stupid. Once Darc figures out which, he has to figure out what to dowith them after. Hopefully he won’t have to kill them – or take them back toOrcoth. The Orcon won’t act against Darc’s orders, but still, getting them totolerate a human in their midst will be a pain in the ass.

The young king comes to a stop afew steps from the dying fire, with the trespasser on the other side. His righthand stays near the hilt of his sword, just in case; his left, draconic handholds out the torch to better light the encounter.

“Psst, hey! Human!” Darc hisses. “Get up! I won’thurt you, but it’s not safe here!”

[reignofdarcness]

Hi Darc, what do you think of Lilia?

(Original meme)

After a good, long moment of steely glaring, Darc sighs.

“I know what you’re getting at. Are you hoping for me to confess undying love for Lilia or something? Well, you can forget it! Go look for sentiment somewhere else!”

“But I’m not going to bad-mouth Lilia either,” he adds. “She’s my friend, and she helped Kharg and I save the world.”

Darc takes a moment to collect and compose some complicated thoughts. Before speaking, he touches the birthmark on his right arm out of habit. “I don’t always understand her. And not just because she’s human - I’ve never met anyone so optimistic. She’s seen her share of hardships, but none of them have stopped her from believing in better days. I used to think she was stupid and naive, but she makes it seem like strength. Somehow.”

“Anyway, I’ve entertained your bleeding heart enough. I have more important things to do.”