Do you like Darkness...?

I have a bit of a rebellious streak, I'm afraid. A...dark side. d/k/e::0/0/0 SHSL Dark Mage apartment #109

[inexperiencedmagus]

stories in the dark | tharja

[inexperiencedmagus]

Her silence was to be expected, but it was chilling and terrifying to be on the receiving end of such treatment. Standing in eternal darkness was no where close to how horrifyingly powerful Tharja was… when she had magic. And thankfully he would live to see another day. The Mage stiffened when something brushed by his leg, but the soft mew brought some sense of relief . 

"It could be worse," Ricken offered in response as he sat down and scooped the cat onto his lap. "The whole thing could have fallen down with us in it."

One gloved hand stroked the tabby repeatedly while he spoke. The action was slow, thoughtful… soothing. It was terribly painful to sit in silence, and while they were both here, they might as well make the most of their situation. "And now we can talk! Maybe you can teach me some hexes? I mean, we can’t do magic of course, but hearing about it might help with my studies! Or we can share stories about our homes, or what we like— if there’s anything you do like— maybe even think of some strategies for Chrom and Robin!" 

[slathermybody]

     Tharja refuses to sit down. Ricken sat down, therefor if she sat down too it would be an acknowledgement that they might be in here for a while. Together. Stuck. She would not yield to fate that easily, knees locking as she leans against the interior wall with arms crossed before her.

     Ricken attempts to make conversation, somehow possessing the courage of a Spartan Warrior after the stunt he just pulled, and Tharja begins to wonder is there no end to this oompa loompa's optimism.

     "Not interested." She comments, expressing her great interest in socializing once again. She crosses her arms and continues to wait. 

     Sorry, Ricken, it'll take more than a few boyish chirps to get Tharja talking. 

[jokesthatkill]

[If Henry didn’t knew better, he’d think Tharja was in a bad mood but since he was aware of how she usually was, he simply continued to smile until she finally asked about the stuff he had brought.]

Oh, there were all sorts of tasty looking stuff! Like this weirdly shaped sandwich that they called “Baguette”! And there’s this other circle one that’s called “pizza”! And that other one is a “Hot-dog”! Tee hee~

[Aside from those, there was also another bag carrying sealed pastries and chips as well as a couple of cup noodles. All which had caught Henry’s eyes since he had never seen before on their world, let alone in a barren land like Plegia where they could barely eat very few kind of vegetables and a little bit of meat on every food.]

[slathermybody]

     Morbid curiosity draws Tharja's fingers forth again, ghosting the edges of the cup of noodles before snatching it up for further examination.

     "A hot dog..." She mutters, and of course her thoughts instantly start formulating how she could scare Ricken with that kind of thing. "Is it made of real dog?"

     Peeling off the top from the cup she peers inside and scrunches her nose. There was barely anything but a silver packet of... whatever and some dried worm-like noodles. "What kind of person would eat something like this..."

[poke-girl-world]

source

[slathermybody]

tpuppetings:

A grunt. If anything, this was really, really irritating. Not only does the mage ditch, but she blows off, too? What a clown! The demon wasn’t laughing, though. He wouldn’t even entertain the thought of a grin. Sliding right in front of his target to obstruct all means of escape, Noin put his hands on his hips.

He looked like he was imitating a pregnant woman. It was despair-inducing. Cringeworthy.

"Hey! I’m Tharja! I think it’s okay to ignore people and ditch them because I have big tits! I like to tell people not to make me wait and then never show up! Isn’t that spiffy? Ow, the edge. I’m sooooo dark and mysterious! So mysterious, I never show up to promised meetings!”

     This. Was. Not. Happening.

     She stands in utter disbelief at the heinous display before her, watching this little gremlin waltz around in the most disgusting of manners like -- like. 

     Ah.

     But of course. It was coming back now -- that annoying voice, those gaudy ears and the most awful personality one could ever encounter in their life. There was only one nugget in the world as rottenly grotesque as the one she saw now. Tharja steps forward quickly, clearly displeased.

     "Gods help me. I'll. kill. you." She hisses and attempts to swipe and grab at his little head with murderous intent. "Noin!"

[inexperiencedmagus]

stories in the dark | tharja

[inexperiencedmagus]

His actions, though directed, were performed… carelessly. The thought of accidentally brushing Tharja in a place that wasn’t acceptable had escaped him. At least until she had suddenly shoved him into the wall of the elevator. Grabbing? What was she talking about? Of course he was trying to grab the cat like she had ordered— 

Oh.

Oh.

"I— Er— wow…?"

That was probably the worst thing he could have stuttered out, but the comment was more to himself than to Tharja. It was so surprising that he could be so careless over something as that, and his cheeks burned at the thought. Hisses and mutterings of curses brought him back to attention, and his brown eyes looked. Sound alone pointed him in the general direction of the Dark Mage who would most likely cast some vile curse on him in the future. 

And for some reason beyond him, he could feel death staring him in the face.

Boy, was he in trouble.

"I’m sorry, Tharja…?"

The unsure apology, which sounded far more like he was attempting to guess at what the right response would be, left him feeling like she would slaughter him on the spot.

[slathermybody]

     Sorry.

     He's sorry. No, not even that. He's... 'Sorry...?'

     With such an indescribably Ricken-like answer, Tharja feels herself biting her tongue lest a blood vessel decides to pop in her brain. Her breath is held for a number of seconds, each one icier than the last and deepening her wish to spontaneously cause the little boy to combust with her thoughts alone, but...

     When she exhales a long sigh and opens her eyes, she was still in this dark elevator. Still with that damned cat somewhere, and still with the little boy who stepped into her life and brought Hell today.

     Again... Sigh.

     She's not even going to dwell on it. It's useless, she has no powers with which to curse him, nor eyesight with which to choke him. 

     "Well, looks like we're stuck." Is her only hissing comment before falling into silence. How long until the power comes back on...?

[slathermybody]

     "A newborn's urine is rich in ammonia and is said to work long-lasting miracles on your skin... Why don't you try?"

[dishonoire-deactivated20160214]

A Mother's Comfort | Tharja

➸ Tharja had always been something of a mystery to Noire. Untouchable — she remembered when she would watch the dark woman from a distance, mimicking her fluid gestures just as all children did with their mothers, the grand sweep of her hands as she cast a hex followed by her own clumsy motions.

Tharja had always been an enigma — a problem she could never solve, a puzzle she could never put together. A ticking bomb she could never seem to dismantle in time, Noire’s fingers much too nervous, much too shaky around her.

But alone in this sinister city, Noire yearned for her mother. She yearned for something familiar to cling on to, sought out for scraps of comfort she might find. And when she learned that her mother was here, boy did she search. She searched in dark alleys, she searched at night, she searched in any place she could possibly think of, until she found her answer:

Apartment #109.

The information had been relayed to her by word of mouth, from the face of a tall stranger she had long forgotten after she set off running for her mother. Running for safety.

She stood at the front steps of her mother’s supposed apartment now, her fists clenching and unclenching as she wondered what she’d do if she didn’t answer the door. Or what she’d do if she did. But before she could psych herself out anymore, she forced her hand to knock once, twice, then a third time because she figured the first two would have had her mother in a fit about how weak and pathetic they were.

Silence followed. She waited.

[slathermybody]

     Holing herself up in the solidarity was one of Tharja's preferred methods of wasting time here. When she wasn't tricking fools into handing over hex ingredients during her "fortune telling" job, that is.

     On this particular day when she hears a knock at the door, her first instinct is to, of course, ignore it. Silence proceeds to pass through the apartment, not a step or breath to be heard. Thus concluding she was the only one here, Tharja would have hoped for the visitor to depart so she wouldn't have to deal with someone else today.

     A few minutes later Tharja rises to procure a glass of water, stopping just short of the door to peer through the eye hole in order to confirm whatever pest had decided to visit has now gone.

     What she saw, however, sets off her kitchen-bound trajectory and stiffens her shoulders. An all-too familiar face lies on the other side, a face full of despicable worry and pitiful fear.

     Ah, yes...

     Any good mother would throw open to door to their daughter's fretting visage, welcoming them back in an embrace and thanking the stars their kin was alright.

     But Tharja is not your typical mother. Her first instinct is mistrust, as always, and she leans her body against the door with an eye glued through the glass.

     "...If this is some kind of trick, just give up now."

     "Go on. Shoo."

[slathermybody]

more accurate and interesting than your run in 2.0. look forward to seeing you really diving into her character

Thank you!! I'm very glad... Always trying to learn new things and improve my Tharja portrayal, so I'm happy it has been visibly fruitful

[redgravemercenary-deactivated20]

How's my portrayal? Leave an opinion in my inbox.

[inexperiencedmagus]

stories in the dark | tharja

[inexperiencedmagus]

Yikes.

There was no way Tharja would ever forget about this misgiving. For both his and the cat’s sake, Ricken was very grateful that the bear had stripped someone as dangerous as Tharja of her magic. A silent prayer was being offered up to Naga until he felt something clawing into his shoulder. Assuming that the cat was still latched onto— oh, she groaned, the cat was still there— then that left the Dark Mage digging into his skin. Through cloth. 

Did she really need magic when she had claws like that?

"Ow, ow, ow, that hurts!!” he yelped as he tried to pry those razor like claws from himself. The struggle was futile, and it was clear that if Ricken wanted to escape this unusual sort of pain, then obeying the Dark Mage was his only option. 

"Okay, okay! Just hang on one second… don’t move too much or you’ll make Merric scared again." 

Thanks to the ghastly darkness of the powerless elevator, he blindly ran his hands up her arm, teeth grit together as he ignored the increasing pain in his arm. As clever as he was, the Mage was also naive at times. It hadn’t occurred to him to ask where the cat was and he failed to realize that his hands were wandering aimlessly in the dark.  

[slathermybody]

   Merric? He's named the thing, now?

    She rolls her eyes, a futile gesture seeing as they're in a pitch black setting. The cat keeps shifting and Tharja grits her teeth. "Hurry up!" She spits, and if she had more to say it would be caught in her throat. A peculiar touch in a peculiar area sends alarm bells in her skull and heat on her cheeks - what was this, Fire Emblem: American Pie? If she flicked on the lights right now who would she see, a mortified Ricken or a mortified Michael Cera?

    "Just where do you think you're grabbing?!" She snarls, blindly pushing him away with force fueled with humiliation and anger. Tharja could spend a life time counting the ways in which this was wrong, but the more pressing matter right now was the feline stuck to her leg. No doubt it had messed up her tights by now.

    "I'll get it myself." She snaps, clearly not holding back on the salt. Kneeling down the Dark Mage seals her lips and holds her breath to keep from making any unnecessary noises. Fingers fumble in the dark until they reach quivering warm fur. Of course the cat, like Tharja, does not enjoy being randomly touched in the dark and begins to wriggle defensively. A hiss and some struggling shoots through the dark, it's impossible to tell which is Tharja and which is the cat by this point, when eventually several small rips emit and a thud, followed by scraping.

    Tharja stands, seemingly silent.

    Though it's easy to tell even through blinding darkness just how deep a glare she's giving whatever direction she believes Ricken to be in. The elevator losing power might not have been his fault, but boy was she blaming everything about it on him.

[jokesthatkill]

[For someone who had told him before that he wasn’t dark enough to be her partner, she was really distrustful of him and for some reason it amused Henry yet he couldn’t laugh at the suggestion.]

You think I would poison your food? Why would I want to kill you of all people?

[He did as told and stepped away from the door and into the small living room of the apartment where he set the bags and took out the contents of the bags into the table which contained mostly products that were still completely sealed in their plastic bags.]

Gee, I like killing but why do you think I’d kill someone I liked! I even told you I’d help you kill if needed and I wouldn’t lie to you unless you explicitly asked me to!

[slathermybody]

     Tharja follows eventually, feet slipping quietly across the floor and to the table. She scrutinizes the food choices with eyes squinted and shaded behind a curtain of hair. A wrinkle of her nose indicates they weren't anything to get excited about.

     "Shut up." She could explain again and again their differences in trust but she didn't feel like going around in circles with him.

     Slender fingers reach for a wrapped pastry that Tharja examines with a face like she's examining feces.

     "What is this stuff?"

[perfectxs-deactivated20170107]

      A sigh left the lips of the platinum haired prosecutor when she had noticed another person ridiculed. Oh those fools were grinding on her gears then—a whistling sound. It was clear that she was being cat called on for her choice of outfit and…  

— — ＣＲＡＣＫ！

      Her whip almost too swiftly, whipped each other those fools in the face too harshly. It was clear that she had shown no remorse in doing so. Franziska would then look at them with her piercingly steely grey hues, scrutinizing them in a condescending fashion. 

      “You foolish fools of this foolishly foolish fool’s excuse of a foolish city!” Almost too quickly did the guys run off into the distant and by then she had withdrawn her whip back to her side. Another sigh was let out of the lips of Franziska von Karma. Those fools, not knowing their rightful place in the city — she could have easily made them beg at her heels if she pleases to do so. 

[slathermybody]

     The crack of a whip locks Tharja's shoulders tight, head turning just in time to see those three hoodlums getting their just desserts. Painful, thorn-tongued, leather desserts.

     Another shift of her gaze reveals the culprit behind their merciless punishment, a woman clad in professional wear and with a neatly-poised head of hair. She had a clear fierceness to her, emanating from her rigid, disciplined posture. To say the least, she didn't immediately disgust the Dark Mage.

     Tharja shifts, brushing herself off as if to wipe away their disgusting teenage antics.

     "...You didn't have to do that." ...She was thankful, really, but Tharja isn't one to just openly admit that as a woman who prides on being able to handle herself.

[inexperiencedmagus]

stories in the dark | tharja

[inexperiencedmagus]

A blink and a few seconds later, Tharja registered in his mind. As did her words. Sinister and twisted as always, it should have been of no surprise to hear her make such a dark comment. Spice? What did that even mean? An uneasy feeling settled in his stomach as he glanced down at the mewling cat in his arms. 

"Uh… You can’t eat him," Ricken said, albeit a bit meekly. "I don’t think you even eat cats. That would be really weird…"

As far as he could remember, no stray cat had been harmed at their old camp. Even the kittens that he and Stahl adored were either given scraps of food, or shooed along when their presence was not desired. Although, he could be wrong… When it came to the Dark Mage’s tent, no one was allowed to enter, save for Robin. And even then, he couldn’t recall Robin ever mentioning Tharja having a taste for kittens. 

"If you want to pet him, that’s alright, just don’t— huh!?"

It was hard to tell which happened first. The elevator lurched to a sudden halt, and the lights flickered off. With the elevator coming to a stop so suddenly, Ricken had no time to grab hold of the side rail to balance himself, and the cat was having none of this nonsense. Without warning, Ricken yelped when the cat scratched him and jumped away from him and into the dark. 

"Oh— shoot— Tharja, where’s the cat!?" 

[slathermybody]

     Of course Tharja doesn't eat cats. Tharja hardly eats much of anything. But the wavering in Ricken's voice and confused expression was worth it. That is until karma or some other devious trickster of a deity decides to kick in and all Hell breaks loose.

     The lights go out, the cat yowls, the boy hollers and Tharja stops just short of toppling over with a concussion. Except... what's that feeling, like sharp pins sinking in her skin. Did she fall into something after all? There was nothing in this elevator but her and the boy and the --

"Oh-- shoot-- Tharja, where's the cat!?"

      ...The cat.

     Of course, Tharja doesn't eat cats. But she's thinking pretty seriously about whether it would be better to steam-roast or grill this one. 

     "Rick--ungh--" She feels the feline readjust in panic, and a million curses flood her mind. "Ricken. Get. This. Thing. Off. Me. Now." She growls, one hand reaching out in hopes she could blindly grab the boy's shoulder or something, maybe give him a taste of how it feels to have nails digging into your skin for a bit.

[puppetings]

slathermybody

There was nothing that angered Noin September more than people who ditch him in times of dire need. Usually, he would deal with them, but this one got away before he could do anything. He’d be damned if she got away this time.

"Tharja! You bitch! Turn around!” Oh, how cute! He remembers! "I’ll fuck you up, leaving me in that gross classroom all alone!"

[slathermybody]

     Tharja turns to leer at whomever dared to call her by such a vile name. The face rings no bells, neither do the clothes, just yet, and so she's stuck wondering why Winnie the Pooh is suddenly coming to cuss her out.

     "...How do you -- never mind. I don't care. Leave me alone or kiss your teeth goodbye, boy."

     Flicking her hair idly like Regina George risen from the dead, the mage turns to attempt again in enjoying her walk.

[slathermybody]

❂ koutarou

[libraiis-deactivated20151227]

          Well. Alright.

          His muscles flinch on reflex as her nails threaten to grate the skin beneath them. This was inescapable, as much as he so intently wanted to deny that that be the state of affairs. There was no reason to take her … unsettling threat for petty words, I mean look at her —

          ❝ … What exactly do you want me to do about it? ❞

[slathermybody]

     What exactly does she want him to do about it?! 

     ...

     "...Fix it." Admittedly, Tharja has no idea how this fancy porcelain seat works nor why it was currently flooding the floor. But she sure knew how to try and make others do the dirty work for her. "Come on, you can't do it from here, can you?... -- Can you?" She squints at him, wondering for a moment about his potential telepathic prowess.

[manaketechar]

完璧に普通だよ♪ by ゆつな

[gamerphobe]