#>blackthorn

[shreekofjoy]

Dalinar collects copies of "The Way of Kings" the way we collect copies of The Way of Kings.

I wonder if he looks at the Azish version and goes "damn, those guys have waay cooler covers" and immediately orders his scribes to get better cover artists

[theinkedfoxsl]

[theinkedfoxsl]

Soultember #2 - Reincarnation

They existed through the dawn of time, as lifeforms grew and died before their very eyes. They’d seen the start, they were the end. The centuries that once stretched on became minutes, the years felt like seconds. Such was the life of Death. An undertaking they accepted, for they knew no other life. There was no other reality for them, there was only the expected path for them to follow, the one set before them.

The mortals changed through the years, grew, matured, but meaningless to them. They built temples to the Gods, worshipped and praised them, left offerings, sometimes even sacrifices. They never understood the revelry. What was the use of sacrifice? A coward’s cry for attention from the deities. But Gods were Gods because of their assumed superiority over other life forms. 

So they were surprised when they heard the call of worship. 

It never occurred to them that the mortals would worship something perceived as being so bleak. Curiosity could only fill them as they blended in with the mortals of the city, a temple dedicated to them within the heart of it. It was smaller than some of the temples they’d seen, but built just as nicely. The tympanum decorated with rather hopeful signifiers of Death rather than the usual dark ones.

“Ah, sorry!” 

They blinked at the man who’d run into them, soft features twisted into worry as he held his hand out to them. “It is fine.” They took his hand, allowing the man to pull them to their feet. His hand was warm in theirs, his touch gentle. They inspected his face, amber eyes sweeping over his features. 

“I’ve never seen you here before, are you new to the city? Or just the temple?”

His question was genuine as he dropped their hand, a soft smile on his face. A wreath of laurel decorated his ornately styled hair, his clothing consisted of blacks and light blues. He was certainly interesting. They wondered.. “Both. New to both.” They answered simply after a few seconds. 

“Welcome to my temple then, I’m Cirino.”

They paused.

“Heath..”

Cirino held out his arm and Heath hesitated before they interlocked their elbows. The priest didn’t know, the very deity he worshipped stood by his side, unassuming. “Allow me to show you around. Oh, and if you need a place to stay until you can get on your feet.” Cirino tilted his head towards a small door at the very back behind the altar. “We are always open to the populace.”

Heath couldn’t have been prouder. 

It wasn’t like they needed a place to stay, they had duties to attend to, after all. But Cirino was an interesting figure, his personality drew in the deity. They didn’t fully know what to expect from him, their curiosity only growing. Then Heath found their free time often occupied by the priest in question. 

It was frowned upon.

The Gods often took what they wanted, sure, but actual romantic entanglements with lesser beings was frowned upon. 

Still, when did Death discriminate?

“Cirino, can I show you something?”

The priest looked up, long brown bangs falling in his eyes from the sudden action. Cirino huffed some, blowing the bangs from his eyes. “Of course, Heath!” And his smile graced his face once more. Heath stepped closer to him, the black candles flickering as they passed by them. Cirino tilted his head when they stepped in front of him.

Heath reached up, hand sliding over the priest’s cheek, thumb brushing against his soft skin. “Does the faithful believe in fate?” They questioned, tone hushed. Cirino leaned into their touch, green eyes trained solely on them as he gave them a short affirmative nod. Heath looked away momentarily, thinking over their decision. 

Cirino was surprised to find bright orange eyes meeting his once more, tan skin shifting to a more sickly purple hue. Dark black spiralled from their biceps downwards, the hand holding his face soon becoming black. “I must admit I have not been truthful in my identity.” Heath admitted in a quiet voice, tilting their head to the side, silver strands of hair falling into their face.

They were surprised when he reached out to them, carefully tucking the strands of silver behind their ear and out of their eyes. “I am blessed that the Gods have granted my prayers.” His tone was one of amazement, admiration lacing every word. “Ah.. I’ve sung your praises, that’s so embarrassing.” Cirino seemed to realise, looking away quickly as red covered his cheeks.

“You’re a priest dedicated to the worship of Death, it is not embarrassing to worship as the other  hierei may.” 

He chuckled at that, twirling some of the looser strands of silver hair around his fingers. “I have never known another to be confronted with their deity, however. At least, not truthfully so.” Heath would give him that, shrugging their shoulders some. “Can I ask why you decided to tell me?” His voice dropped to a whispered tone, quiet, it was just them and yet.. 

It felt appropriate.

Heath leaned in closer, his head tilted down at them, they pushed themself up some. Just enough that their lips could hover over his. “I have seen you turn away many who vie for your affections.” They could feel his shaky exhale, much less composed than he seemed on the surface it would seem.

“I simply didn’t want to risk the same rejections. May I?”

Cirino took the initiative, soft warm lips pressing against theirs. Heath rested their free hand on his chest to give them some balance as they kissed the priest back. The other Gods could draw their judgements as they wished. Heath felt only relief at the feeling of Cirino’s lips on theirs, at the feeling of his hands on their skin pulling them in closer. 

Death came with great burden, but also great fealty. 

An understanding was Cirino’s mortality. They would not tempt the ire of the Gods by expanding his lifespan. A rather tragic agreement between the two. But not once did Heath leave his side through the years. Through good and bad, life and death, they always stayed. And he, in turn, never stopped worshipping the Deity of Death.

There was nothing but love between them.

A love that sparked a predicament. 

It wasn’t often Life meddled, the two rarely got along. Such was their existences, since the beginning. But as the supposed creator of all, Life was the only one who could. “What are you doing here, Alee?” The wind blew their hair, the smell of balsam and blackthorn carried with it. The figure beside them remained silent at first, merely stepping forward and bending down.

A crude bouquet made up of twigs of mulberry, honeysuckle, witch hazel, and edelweiss was placed atop the carved gravestone. The man then stood, every shred of dead grass beneath him flourishing. “It is the best I can do.” Alee commented, dark hair stirring in the wind. He looked up to the sky, pale face observing the growing clouds. “A storm is coming.”

“You’ve angered them again, I see.”

Alee waved his hand, unbothered by the darkening clouds. “I am not here for them, Heath.” Red eyes met theirs, the man tilting his head. “You will have to pay a price.” They knew. Heath looked at the grave, head lowering. Death did not discriminate, but Life was all creating. “He will pass away. And in every life, you will have to find him. But he will remember.” Alee turned to look down at the grave as well. 

It was the kindest thing he could offer.

They knew that.

“Make a deal with Death then, old friend?”

Alee held out his hand and Heath lifted their head to shake his hand. 

“A deal bound.” 

They shook hands. 

And their grip grew empty as the man disappeared once more, leaving them alone with their thoughts. Heath bent down, watching the grass Alee previously brought to life die as they grew nearer to it. “In another life, my love.” They whispered, their voice lost to the increasing winds. They reached out, darkened fingertips brushing over the carvings. “I will find you, always. That is my binding.”

[theinkedfoxsl]

cirino, when heath speaks italian:

[theinkedfoxsl]

Cirino's mom loves Heath. She pinches their cheeks and coos at them every time Cirino brings them home to Italy.

[theinkedfoxsl]

cirino being down BAD for heath is my favourite personality trait of his tbh

[theinkedfoxsl]

31-45 for blackthorn !!

Ask Game

Do they fall in love easily?

I don't think either of them fall in love easily. They both definitely did not intend to fall in love with one another + it did happen pretty slowly!

Your character is in love, do they confess? If not, how long do they wait?

Cirino waited until he was sure Heath liked him back. He tested them to see how they'd react and only made a move on them when he was positive it'd end up well. (he was afraid of rejection.)

Who was the first to say ‘I love you’?

Probably Cirino.

Who is more stubborn?

Heath. I don't know that they intend to be more stubborn, but Cirino is absolutely more carefree so by default lol.

What moment did they realise that they were in love?

I don't know when Heath realised they were in love with Cirino but; for Cirino it hit him out of nowhere one day. Just walking down the street, talking about the movie they just saw together, hands swinging a little bit. Something so.. normal. Just a very normal moment and he looked at them and he realised; this is somebody I want to spend a long time with.

How long have they been friends? Would they consider each other best friends?

Best friends? Probably not lol- But they've been friends for a yearish??

How did they become friends?

Cirino decided to go ruin Heath's day and be annoying as hell

Who’s more ticklish?

Cirino lol- you touch him the wrong way and he giggle

If your OCs has/had a child, who would be the stricter parent?

Neither want children but uhh probably Heath?? I don't see Cirino as strict AT ALL. he feeds his niblings candy at 2100 for funsies.

What do they do when they miss one another? Is one more needy than the other/s?

Cirino buries himself in his occult work, he'll search high and low for old artifacts they might like. Preparing a gift for when he sees them again helps with how much he misses them and how lonely he is. I do think Cirino is also the needier one.

What green flags do they have for one another?

Cirino is a good communicator and Heath is a good listener. It works out for both of them.

Have they ever been jealous?

Yeah again ofc, its natural. Though Cirino tends to be more jealous than Heath. He just thinks they're very pretty and desirable okay

Is one more introverted/extroverted than the other?

Heath is more introverted iirc? That's fine though, Cirino is loud enough for both of them and everybody else at this party.

Who’s the better cook?

Heath lmao

Are they good at comforting one another? Does someone hide their feelings usually?

I think it takes Heath a while to get how to comfort Cirino, but once they understand they're pretty good at it. Whereas Cirino just asks what they need. Cirino is really open about his feelings, so he's pretty good at dragging theirs out into the open too.

[theinkedfoxsl]