#arydbhar

[cureher]

' you don’t have to go through this by yourself. '

         angst    /    accepting    /   @arydbhar

        it’s a trap. the whole scenario. the offer of comfort, and the ease of it  -----   nothing was easy. not anymore.

her room is dark, the window is closed, and, the flowers that lay on the sill, they’ve begun to wilt. just like her. upon the door opening, a sliver of sun trickles in with it, enough to light her ratted hair, her sunken eyes, her freshly - dampened cheeks. there is no option. there never was an option. that made itself clear at first glance.

“ i do. “    mercedes swallows, voice almost a whisper. she doesn’t look at him. she can’t stand the persistent lurch of her heart, not atop the old pain.   “   i have to do it myself. when you look at me like that   ----    “   hands twist themselves in her hair, nails scraping at her scalp. the hurt. the pity. the heart - wrenching worry. they all had it on their faces. they wore it in their voices, too. a straining that was unnatural and deafening    ----    she’d felt their pain, all of it.  she’d felt it tenfold. 

“   everyone was much happier when they didn’t know   ----   and now they do.    “    mercedes’ words are fragile, voice bordering on breaking the longer she speaks. her eyelids squeeze together, teeth gnawing at her bottom lip. she would look a mess in front of him, but she wouldn’t cry. she couldn’t handle his gaze worsening.  half of her heart’s been ripped out. she’d left it with emile’s corpse. and now, he was threatening to pull out the other. 

“   look at me.   “   she laughs pitifully, eye peeking out between her fingers.  “   i’m useless. i can’t bring myself to do anything    -----   isn’t that funny   ?   “

[fralduke]

❛  tell me the truth -----   ❜  a pause, thoughts assembling with some form of coherency. war has long since dissipated across their lands, but bloodshed still lingers. ( oh, how it must trouble the king  :  his passion for justice would never allow for it to continue. ) an era of peace soon to be upon them, yet there can be no real peace when the king looks as though he’s ill. felix sighs, lastly.  ❛  you haven’t slept in days, have you?  ❜   /  @arydbhar liked for a starter .

[edelgrd]

arydbhar replied to your post:  bylethos replied to your post: crestrot replied...

I Heard This Image And I Don’t Like It

[defensator1]

we both know that we'd be here for like, YEARS if i had to explain everything. so i'm gonna say this, despite being so detached from the rpc now, you still remain to be my absolute favorite jayce. your portrayal is so well thought out and written that it's unique to you and you alone, i love reading the content you put out and i love it when you speak to me about any random thought that comes to mind about your boy. ilu bb, keep kicking ass

how’s my portrayal? // @arydbhar​accepting!

oh, love. you know it! i’d follow you to whatever community you went with this brat, and proof is that we are here, AHA, so knowing you enjoy my jayce after ALL THE SENSELESS SPAM i’ve put you through makes me super happy. 

just you wait before i hop onto my hector solely to pester your dimitri SOMEHOW—

even if you aren’t around as much anymore (jayce misses your jhin and you know it, but imma leashing this jerk down abt it because he’s gotta STOP being like this---), you are definitely one of the very best people i had the honor of meeting in this rpc and beyond it—you are truly one of my bestest friends and i’m so very happy to say that!

this blog wouldn’t have been half as fun without the experiences we had together so in some ways, if i’m still around, i gotta thank you for it. <3   

[enlighth]

@arydbhar / continued from here.

     their gaze does not leave him as he steps out into the rain.  watching their friend become more drenched by the second.  only recently had dimitri come to his senses ... and for that, byleth was more than relieved.  they never wanted to give up him, they never would have ---- though now, there was still so much more that they both had to face.  the war was taking its toll on everyone.  now was no time to given in to frustrations and guilt. now was no time to run head first into things, but carefully plot every move.  they will take back the kingdom. there is no room for failure.  but doubts still weigh heavy on the heart.

     byleth looks forward out into the night, gaze set on nothing in particular.  “ if we do not fight for it, then who will? ”  they start,  “ we pay the price for taking part in this war, but if we were to sit and do nothing ... then would the end be anywhere in sight?  people, innocents, would still be dying ... and we would have to live with the weight of not doing anything about it. ”   sometimes they feel that even they don’t have all the answers,  but all byleth can do is say what feels right to them.

[cureher]

☂ gives mercie ... his big fluffy cloak ... warm ..

reactions    /    no longer accepting !

☂ = giving them their jumper to keep warm .

                  perhaps the bite of the chill had affected her somehow. the bitter cold awakening gooseflesh + numbed digits. it wasn't as if mercedes had made it very apparent to dimitri, though, perhaps her sneeze ---- not unlike a kitten's, gave some tell to her well - being.

she remembered her first winter at the academy. she remembered ashe and annette playing in the snow, she remembered making hot cocoa for her entire class to enjoy. and most of all --- she'd remembered the bright smile on dimitri's face.

memories of the past played constantly through her mind like the present. time mixed in with itself, moments swirling into existence, and she's unable to forget. she sees the innocent children in all their frivolity before her in reality. she saw ---- she saw emile, proudly presenting his first ( successful ) snowman.

it haunted her, and with the king standing beside her, she couldn't help but wonder --- was it haunting him, too ?

a heavy weight on her frame snapped her from her nostalgic trance. was it the numbness ? or the void of life around them?? though, it was ---- warm. his cloak shrouded her entirely, fur wholly encasing her figure.

ocean eyes widened in suprise, finally directing her attention to him after the many minutes they had spent together. she notices the light dusting of snow beginning to pile on his armor, the small smile on tight lips, and --- the ever so slight flush on stoic cheeks. a side - effect of the cold, though, despite his overcoat only enveloping her body, she'd felt her face heat up, as well.

" taking tips from sylvain ?" a large smile took up the majority of her face, reddened hands pulling the battle - torn furs closer against her. it felt as if an embrace to her loneliness, a shield to memories threatening to spoil over time.

he needed this too, she was sure she wasn't the only one watching the past unfurl before her, this academy was an unknown home for ghosts. some of them still lived. one arm caught underneath his cloak, having to stand on her toes in order to place it around his shoulder farthest from her. quite close now, mercedes could only look at her feet.

" thank you, dimitri. " her aforementioned playful voice was replaced by a softer and much more genuine one. " you're always looking after us, even now, aren't you ? "

[cureher]

“ i refused to be the next victim that laid at their altar to sacrifice ”

poetry    prompts    /    accepting !

         the cathedral. it's an ironic place to find him. though in shambles, this holy ground remained sacred ---- dare she say moreso. she had to pray. pray for the wicked. pray for the innocent. pray for the dead. pray for the living. she's always been alone, and although the existence of the goddess was up to the time, the day, the feeling, mercedes found solace in repeating what she knew. even if their saints were crooked idols, the wishes trapped in divine gossamer persisted. these prayers were true. they'd always be.

his words, drenched in impetus, they lay stagnant in the air between them. above her, as if an ornate chandelier hanging dangerously proud overhead. he's a beast among men. a predator lurking in darkness.

she knew dimitri. she knew a boy with a mess of golden locks. she knew a boy blessed with kindness; a boy who wore such a trait as a badge on his chest. perhaps she had been spared with the mediocrity. mercedes hadn't changed the way he did ---- though, she supposed anyone would with his experiences. his regret.

the goddess was here. she could absolve his sins, renew his life with purpose, grant him a heaven on earth ---- if only she was more than a corpse beneath the rubble.

she turns toward him, bathed in light. he looks tired, distraught, lost. he is the haunted, the weary + burdened. the goddess is absent, a dormant presence felt throughout this sacrilegious tomb. the goddess is absent, but she is her surrogate.

delicate steps echo unto the tile beneath them, cracked + desecrated. ocean eyes bore into the dull blue of his own, now dark and hazy. she approached slowly, gracefully. not unlike the careful advance unto the den of a lion. her face is caring, her lips took shape of a kind smile --- one that she's sure he'd never seen enough of.

mercedes stands toe - to - toe, gentle pupils looking him down for a brief second. ❝ dimitri. ❞ her voice is a whisper --- turned shout conpared to the silence inside the cathedral.

she raises her hand, as if to call upon the divine, cracked mosaic beating light upon her frame. her stature remains short in contrast to his own, though she nestles her hand onto the top of his head, resting it there before continuing in a slow pat. ❝ you can forgive yourself. ❞

[cureher]

[ defend ]

“    mercie, we need to go, now.   “   annette’s sweet voice drowned her senses, though, for some reason  —- she could hardly tell it was her. there was a sickening ringing in her ears, her mind’s feeble attempt to deafen her, she wished to cover her eyes, blind herself from the world around her.  this isn’t happening. it didn’t happen. nothing happened. though, what did happen —- it would haunt her over + over again.

a monstrous figure veiled in ink towers before her, seated pious upon its steed. she knows whats behind this skeleton, she knows who resides beyond its metal flesh. it’s surrounded, her classmates high off the scent of victory —- all mercedes can do is stare, reason, calculate.  emile is trapped in a beast - shaped coffin, a black demon that’s tainted their head and heart  — one sprung from her own creation. 

and when it’s charging at her, she says all her prayers, though most were saved in utterances prior. wishes for safe passing, for forgiveness, for repentance. from the lance that emile would thrust into her, light would seep through her bones, and such would be her divine punishment. her eyes are half - lidded, adjusted to the scene after how ever many times she’d imagined it. she can’t blink, she’d savor their last meeting because she didn’t savor the first. 

an earth - shattering   ‘    clang   !   ‘   breaks her from their spell. the weapon that was meant to be oh - so damning clattered onto the stone before her. it was up to her imagination, really. up to her vile mind to how brutally they died. from the small of dimitri’s heroic back, from his gallant frame  — valorous still in guarding her from such a sight  —-  she didn’t feel saved. 

and when she hears their mortal scream  — emile’s dying vows, it’s angry, it’s caustic, it’s imminent. it’s a promise of remembrance, an unfinished covenant of penance. the blood on her cheek, it’s a part of them, as is the pale, pained face already becoming of the earth, finally parted from haunted armor. 

so when victor of such a battle turns to her, his lips pulled into a relieved smile. she is inconsolable. ocean eyes now mocking the hue of the sky blanketing them. his hand reaches her shoulder, the same tainted claw he’d slaughtered her kin with. crimson tears stream down her face, and the volume of her wails cannot be measured.         dominance   /   no longer accepting  /  @arydbhar