Feb 1, 2020
“I came out to have a good time and I’m honestly feeling so attacked right now.”
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“I came out to have a good time and I’m honestly feeling so attacked right now.”
bladebreakcr replied to your post “☀️ — support my terrible brand ”
WHOMST GAVE YOU THE RIGHT TO ATTACK ME THIS WAY?
❛ AND ? sounds to me like it wasn’t worth all that effort . i mean , did you even really gain anything from it ? ❜
@bladebreakcr / sc .
@bladebreakcr / cont’d from here
“ i’m jeritza. i teach weapon instruction. ” parading ... ? speaking of murder ... ? ----- jeritza doesn’t even bother to understand the slight. his throat clicks, a rough rhythm, into the echo of his mouth in what feels obvious: “ weapons are used for little more than murder ... there is nothing else to speak of. ”
besides. this one is just a mask. simple, white, save the crimson lining the eyes. the death knight’s is far heavier, darker, fangs and horns always runny with reds of so many different, delightful shades … the dead the only parade that follows. it is not like this one, which can so easily be taken off.
but the death knight is not allowed here. not yet. only jeritza.
a lengthy, hungry-eyed pause.
“ … do you want to spar ? ”
☀️ — “I don’t see how AGE makes a difference?”
He doesn’t know how old his father is. He didn’t - even know how old he was. It’s a fact he has to hold back pointing out every time his father mentions something of the sort. Any time he has brought it up, it only leads to a circular conversation far too EXHAUSTING to repeat again. Instead he just watches as the bandages secure around his wound, taking his arm back and picking at the frayed edges.
“...He was just trying to prove something.” Even as he brushes off the encounter, he still can’t easily hide the slouch in his shoulders, the TENSION in his fingers. “I don’t think he cared much if I was young.”
@bladebreakcr // continued from [ x ]
𝙲𝙾𝙽𝚃𝙸𝙽𝚄𝙴𝙳 ;; @bladebreakcr
⁅ ☩ ⁆ LOSS — A sentiment far too well known, resonating within archbishop’s very core, plucking on her heartstrings akin to a puppeteer, painting her fingertips in black and crimson from the attempts at bringing HER back. In the name of the Goddess, another gravestone had been raised ( carrying the name of HER failed CREATION ) ; Still, there was no sorrow nor anguish permeating through divine one, but merely a deep sense relief — LOSS exchanged for SACRIFICE, but gullible man would not understand, his loved one was not supposed to raise their child ( forgive me, Jeralt, she just had to die. )
Her sacrifice resulted in a vessel without a heartbeat, aimed for something far greater than being raised by a MORTAL, born hollow carrying a heart now entwined with blood painted purest white — ARCHBISHOP FACED WITH LOSS AFTER LOSS during nearly a century, each attempt at resurrection tragically failed ; The torch of hope again ignited and flared strongly, now that bright green eyes rested on child’s cradle, warmth spreading through own hollow core as the child’s chest rose and fell with each precious breath.
( MOTHER, I AM TIRED, SO TIRED... )
“I am so sorry, Jeralt,” she spoke slowly, attention tentatively shifting from the cradle and onto the male before her, brows knitting together in sincere sympathy, yet not a single thread of regret was to be found within ( Jeralt, dearest friend, I know your pain of losing a loved one ; Please try to comprehend that she was not destined to live. )
“She was a... Fine woman.”
LITTLE CHARACTER THINGS
just a fun little character game. fill in the below categories with 3-5 things that your character can be identified by. repost & tag away!
TAGGED BY: @bladebreakcr and @milotheas TAGGING: @dagdanwolf / @ofwildroyalty ; @soarae and @ariamour + anyone who hasn’t done this yet.
EMOTIONS / FEELINGS:
l. Grief. Needeless to say, the sentiment of grief ( especially after the loss of her mother, and the peaceful life they all lived in Zanado ) is something which haunts Rhea every day, and even shapes her motives.
ll. Betrayed. Whenever someone, whoever they might be, goes against the church / the church’s values, Rhea is hit by betrayal, and betraying her trust is something which is literally punishable by death. The most dire betrayal ( out of Rhea’s perspective ) is when Byleth sides with Edelgard in the CF route.
lll. Arrogant. This is not something she would openly admit of course, but Rhea built a church, applied her own values onto them, and manipulated history and people to worship her family. She also sees humans as a lesser species to her own sky dragon, which also resonates with arrogance.
lV. Tiredness. Not in the physical sense, but more the mental kind. Rhea has spent countless or years mourning her family and gone to extreme measures to bring her mother back, and her family closer ( aka the crest system for example. ) She also never really saw herself as the classical ‘ leader type ‘ and at first struggled a lot after crowning herself archbishop. She does not want to be the leader, and would much rather her mother does it.
V. Apprehensive. Rhea has done plenty of perhaps unethical precautions out of fear something bad will otherwise happen. She is not the cautious type, and does not fear about her own actions leading to something bad, but rather that the decision of others will lead to something bad.
GREETINGS:
l. Head dipping into a small nod, lips forming a warm smile.
ll. Saying something along the lines of "Greetings professor.”
lll. Rhea is not someone for excessive body language, and you will almost never see her wave.
COLORS:
l. White, either purest white or a shade closer to chiffon white.
ll. Mint green.
lll. Royal blue.
lV. Gold.
V. Red.
SCENTS:
l. Floral, especially the smell of wild flowers.
ll. Ash.
lll. Old books.
lV. Something similar to incense.
V. Dust.
CLOTHING:
l. Long, close fitted white dress with golden straps hanging around her shoulders.
ll.Extravagant vestment in a gold colour, with a royal blue “cape” around her shoulders, with golden details in a circular pattern and a steep collar following the same colour pattern.
lll. Golden crown shaped like a half circle, with royal blue tassels hanging from each side, and gold pearls hanging across her forehead. Each side of the head is donned by a soft pink, almost white, artificial lily.
lV. Hair usually woven into her clothing, otherwise hangs freely down her back. When she was younger she would braid it.
V. In battle, Rhea wears something close to what a Valkyrie would wear, a white, long dress with golden details around arms, hips and chest, with a squared long cape. A set of wings on her head.
OBJECTS:
l. A round shield.
ll. The Sword of Seiros ( later not wielded by her. )
lll. Her crowns.
lV. Two artificial lilies.
VICES / BAD HABITS:
l. Manipulation.
ll. Loss of control.
lll. Hyper-fixation.
lV. Inability to let go of the past.
BODY LANGUAGE:
l. Stands tall, with her hands clasped over her stomach.
ll. Elegant in her movements.
lll. Short and concise.
lV. Hands occasionally clasped over her chest.
AESTHETICS:
l. Scorched lands, smoke seeping from the ground.
ll. Lit up, large rooms, large stained glass windows donning the walls.
lll. The sound of a choir from afar.
SONGS:
l. The Da Vinci Code Orchestra Suite: Part 2
ll. The Da Vinci Code - Chevaliers de Sangreal
lll. Händel - Sarabande
lV. Kholat OST - Arkadiusz Reikowski - Farewell ft. Mary Elizabeth McGlynn
V. Memories of Mother - Bear McCreary
@bladebreakcr said: "...And then I set everything on fire and ran away with you." Blank, near comical in its delivery as he tilts his head back to set on the tree's trunk. It was a still day, nearly manipulating in it's peace during wartime. He drums his fingers on his arm, looking back to him, "...It was just a bunch of priceless ancient scripture I burned--nothing of much value."
☀️ — THE SKY BURNS IN THE DISTANCE, BUT HERE IT IS PEACEFUL. A foolish man would believe nothing was wrong at all, in fact. But the curse of otherworldly perception keeps Byleth from feeling completely at ease, even for a moment. The trials of war rattle in his bones, boil in his blood. A STIFFNESS holds his muscles firm, but still is is nigh imperceptible to the average person. His father, resurrected, always saw it, however. Still looking upon him threw him in a daze. Still, believing his is truly ALIVE is nearly too strange to comprehend.
But after a brief but tearful reunion, all that remained slipped back into view. Joy must be rationed in times like these, and while his father’s presence was a relieving freedom from burden, they had much to discuss. Stagnant as they are, they found it best to find a place in nature untouched by war - lamenting, explaining, learning.
He lay upon one of the swooping branches of the elder willow tree, cradled in it’s arm, as if nature itself wished to see him at ease. One arm hangs from the height, the other resting on his chest as he watches the thin leaves sway gently in the breeze. SHE DID SOMETHING TO YOU, I KNOW SHE DID. Bitterness clings to his father’s lungs, bleed out when he breathed. He knew it. He felt it too.
His head lifts, looking down to him, speaking for the first time since the story began, “it wasn’t you fault, you know.” His head rests once more, but his eyes remain FIXATED. “My mother. You couldn’t have possibly predicted it.”