#brocursion

[deathweaver]

shallow u should know that when i showed photos of u to my family, they said 'she's beautiful' with the kind of emphasis that suggests they were super surprised that anyone of such caliber would agree to talk to me

[deathweaver]

shallow replied to your post: shallow said:GLUTTONY FOR ADRA AN...

AURE U RAV ENOUS BASTARD

:F + :9

dandelionofthanatos replied to your post “GLUTTONY FOR ADRA AND AURE (LIVING VER I GUESS. AND FOR HIM AN OBSESSION OTHER THAN ADRA. LOOK BASICALLY WHAT IM ASKING HERE IS WHAT IS AURES FAVORITE FOOD)”

dani THROWS DARNASSIAN BLEU AT AURE AND RUNS

you don't have to run sweetheart ... u can stay right here ;>

[deathweaver]

GLUTTONY FOR ADRA AND AURE (LIVING VER I GUESS. AND FOR HIM AN OBSESSION OTHER THAN ADRA. LOOK BASICALLY WHAT IM ASKING HERE IS WHAT IS AURES FAVORITE FOOD)

I WANNA TALK ABT FOOD ANYWAY BC I’M HUNGRY

ADRASTEIUS IS A VEGETARIAN!!  he does not eat meat, both because he dislikes the slaughter of animals and because meat makes his delicate tummy sick.  typically he eats a lot of spinach leaves and pears; he also likes eating pastries a lot.  basically he is a little sugar faerie 

Aurelius applies the same philosophy to food as he does to sex HE WILL EAT EVERYTHING AND ANYTHING.  but his favorite foods are things with v intense flavors — hot peppers, 92% dark chocolate, old red wine.

[deathweaver]

shallow replied to your post: shallow replied to your post: dandelio...

no hes camping out right here

you only fulfill the requirements some of the time, cat

SOME OF THE TIME

[nexusfern]

Dead Character Stuff

Alrighty I've been told that I'm an idiot who doesn't know how to post on Tumblr so I'm posting this to tell you that the deadline information along the profiles of the characters I'll be using are on my page, lol.

I'll try to remember to tag people next time.

[deathweaver]

notes

for brocursion

-----

Bariyan lived a long time, for a human.  He was perhaps in his mid sixties or early seventies; Koltira did not track such things well.  His own body was in stasis, and for him the days were a continuous, unbroken ribbon, marked only by the subtle changes in Bariyan’s walk.  The slow weakening of his muscles.  His hair and beard turning the color of ashes, then salt.  

Bariyan was vivacious and joyful, even into his last days.  The Light kept his eyes clear and his blood pure, but age was a slow sickness that few humans could resist.  They were simply not designed to live forever.

Koltira was well aware of this, but he tried not to think about it.  He pretended otherwise for as long as he could, and whenever Bariyan started a sentence with, “After I’m gone …”, Koltira left the room.  He didn’t want to hear it.  Eventually, Bariyan resorted to leaving notes, which he taped up in places that Koltira could not avoid.  The front door; a watering can; the big window that looked out onto their garden.  The most recent one was written in a shaky hand and folded on top of the stove.

“Take care of the dogs.”

As with the rest of them, Koltira burned it.

Three weeks later, Bariyan didn’t wake up.

He liked to sleep as much on top of Koltira as possible, to sprawl across Koltira’s broad chest and bury his face in Koltira’s long, pale hair.  Most mornings, Koltira had to fight him off; Bariyan clung and begged and tried, in vain, to tickle some reaction out of Koltira’s dead nerves.

That was how Koltira knew.  He touched the back of Bariyan’s neck, and instead of swatting him away, Bariyan was still.  Koltira realized then that he could not feel the soft press of Bariyan’s stomach, expanding and contracting, against his own.  No warm breath on Koltira’s collarbone. No heartbeat.

Koltira took hold of Bariyan’s shoulders and shouted.  Fury possessed him, but it was brief; this was coming.  He could tell it was coming.  He just didn’t want to admit it.

Koltira never acknowledged any of Bariyan’s notes.  If he happened to read one while Bariyan stood right next to him, he shredded it in his hands, tossed it into the hearth, and then asked about the pumpkin crop.

He did read them, though.

He took care of the dogs.  There were so many, of every breed and size, though the majority were small and stocky and honestly more intelligent than they had any right to be.  Normally shy with Koltira, they crowded around him after Bariyan’s death.  They howled with him at the funeral, as the burning casket was set adrift on a lake.  They nudged his hands as he placed a waterlily, glowing with a votive candle, to float alongside Bariyan on his journey.  Countless more followed; Bariyan had innumerable friends, and many adopted children, now grown and home to mourn.  A blood son, too, who did not stay long and did not speak much with Koltira, which suited him fine.

The dogs required a great deal of attention.  Some of their makeshift family stayed a while to help him, and to teach him things: what to feed them, how to tell when they were sick, how to play.  Koltira had observed Bariyan doing all of this, for decades, but grief blunted his memory. Grief blunted everything.

Eventually, the children left.  They had their own families; their own lives.  Few of them were ever as close to Koltira as they were to Bariyan, though he did care for them as best he could.  As much as he was able.

Koltira purchased meat in the market, for the dogs.  He did not look at the merchants anymore, and he did not smile.  He asked for what he wanted, he said thank you, and he went home.  He locked the door, and if someone knocked, he was not likely to answer.  Koltira had nothing to say, not to anyone.  He was never a talkative man, and he no longer had the strength to try.

At night, the dogs climbed on the bed.  They curled against him, their plump warm bodies shuddering.  Koltira wrapped himself in blankets so that the dogs would not be cold, and they licked his face.

A few more years passed in this way, but a dog’s life was fleeting, too.  To Koltira’s understanding of time, the lot of them died almost immediately.  Just like with Bariyan, what was slow and subtle felt sudden and abrupt.  He stepped out of bed one morning, looked around the empty house, and understood that he was alone.  The last dog had died two days ago.

The garden was neat, but the tilled soil had no seeds in it.  The house was in order, too, and similarly lifeless.  Koltira put on his armor, took up Byfrost, and packed a few possessions.  Some books, some bandages.  A small cross, pried from Bariyan’s armor.

He abandoned the house and the warm, friendly village, saying goodbye to no one.  He disappeared into the mist of that morning, let it swallow him up whole, and he did not look back.

As to what happened to him after that, no one he left behind could say.

[deathweaver]

he is very wary of dogs of any size bc when they jump on him they will literally knock him down. a flower petal in the wake of dog

lmfao WELL i think that could b kind of canon ... adrasteius loves all animals and will happily be crushed to death by a german shepherd, but dog weight is more hazardous to him than to the average person :v brittle bones, u know ...

[deathweaver]

if adra were in chicago the wind would blow him away. a flower petal in the breeze

yes very much canon