#darkness character

[kuro-verse]

Darkness (Konosuba!) Drawn By "Melowh" (Pixiv)

[doro-writes]

Carefully Théo stepped into the bathtub and sank into the warm water. He didn't remember the last time he had a bath - it must have been weeks ago, before this whole nightmare started.

He still didn't know whether Madame Starkov said the truth or whether she was insane. Under normal circumstances he wouldn’t believe a word she said, but the circumstances weren’t normal. It would be so much easier to declare everything she said as nonsense. Raising people from the dead just wasn’t possible. Only God had that power, not some random woman who claimed to be a witch. It just couldn’t be true.

But Théo remembered exactly what it had felt like to die. He remembered the coarse rope around his throat and the hood they had put over his head. The fabric had smelled of fear.

Thomas’ face still showed up whenever Théo closed his eyes. He had come, even though Théo forbade him to. He shouldn’t have watched this.

Théo remembered everything down to the last detail. He remembered the voices of the policemen around him. How the lever had creaked when they opened the trapdoor beneath him. How he fell and how the rope stopped the fall. It hurt, but his neck didn't break and death and panic crept up his throat slowly. 

Darkness had lowered over him. And then there had been light. A bright and shining light and his mothers outstretched arms. Did he imagine things in his fight with death? Or had it been heaven?

Théodore Cain. Part-Werewolf. Son. Brother. Murderer. Resurrected.

Contrary to popular believe, i’m actually not dead, just really stressed and busy because of my upcoming graduation from my job training and the existential crisis that comes with it. I’ll try posting more, but no promises.

tag list: adding the darkness tag list, tell me if you want to be removed since this is a prequel // @wilde-writing @wortfinder @aschenink @lady-redshield-writes​  @crystallizedchronicles​ @cirianne​  @writerofscribbles​ // tell me to be added

[doro-writes]

“With all due respect, baba, I am old enough to make my on choices. I did what I had to do and I would do it again.” Morrigan got up.

“You didn’t have to do it”, Ade reminded her. “You wanted to.”

She turned around to him. “Do you think I wanted to go to exile for fifty years? Do you think I didn’t miss you? Do you think I stole the book just because I felt like it? That thing is evil. But imagine what would have happened, if the book had been around during the witch war.”

“That’s not what I meant. Anya could have taken the book and left with it, just like she did all those times before.” Most likely she’d been happy to do so. She didn’t like people anyway. “But you did it, just to be with Garrett.”

“Yes.” Morrigan nodded. “Because, believe it or not, I love him. And I don’t owe you an apology or an explanation for it.”

Morrigan. witch. thief. doesn’t take shit.

Tagging:  @wilde-writing @wortfinder @aschenink @lady-redshield-writes @crystallizedchronicles @cirianne

[doro-writes]

The longer Ade looked at him, the more he could see the exhaustion in his face. It had been days at least, since Connor got a bit of sleep and it started to show.

Look, it’s Connor. I tried to do some art. Not really sure, whether I like it more with or without the lining. 

Is it time to get some watercolor paper? Well, maybe.

Do I know why one of his eyes looks so weird? No.

Should I practice more? Definitely.

Is it a good painting for trying out watercolor for the first time? I think so.

Tagging:  @wilde-writing @wortfinder @aschenink @lady-redshield-writes@crystallizedchronicles | tell me if you want to be added/removed from this list.

[doro-writes]

“So you saved me?”, Connor asked.

Anya shook her head. “No, i couldn’t. You were too hurt, you died right under my hands.”

“I don’t understand ...”

“You died, Connor. You died and I brought you back.”

“But how?”

“I’m a necromancer. That’s what I do. Now get up! We have to find out who survived the attack.”

Anastasia Romanov. Necromancer. Witch. More important than originally planned.

[doro-writes]

Your OC’s backstory - Week 3: Education

For @yourocsbackstory‘s character backstory weeks. I’m surprisingly early this week.

Introduction | Family

This week on “Your OC’s Backstory” ... how on earth is this guy still alive?

spoiler(!) he isn’t.

Garrett actually never went to school. He’s old, you know? And he’s from a pretty rural part of Russia. He picked up all of his skills and knowledge from mentors, friends and people he met during the years. That he managed not to die during his teenager years is a miracle, honestly.

He was born a warlock and I actually don’t know anything about his parents, but they were not supportive at all. I think he eventually left home and went to pick up skills while trying to survive. Until his death, he was one of the most powerful warlocks in existence and he knew. he’s arrogant, you know? 

When he was a few hundred years old - maybe 300 or 400? I don’t know - he found Anastasia, who was a little child rejected by her parents because of her witchcraft.  Ana became his semi-sister and learned a lot from him, so Garrett is more like a teacher than a learner.

But of course, even Garrett fucking Romanov sometimes needs to learn new things. He usually learns quick, if he’s interested. If he has to and is bored by something, it takes him hours to learn something.

[doro-writes]

Your OC’s Backstory Week One: Introduction

For @yourocsbackstory’s OC’s Backstory weeks. I’m a little late for the party, but who cares?

Introducing ... Garrett Romanov

name ▪️ Garrett Romanov

story ▪️ Darkness

status ▪️ officially dead but important | first victim of the first crisis 

description ▪️ male | russian | warlock | tall | blond | bright eyes

other facts ▪️  officially died in 1956 | best friend of Connor and Alasdair | semi brother of Anastasia | important

following: the beginning of a short story including Garrett but be warned - includes major spoilers!

An Ordinary Man

Garrett liked saying, he was a baker from Kansas who wanted to become a musician. He didn’t mind the odd glances the neighbors gave him, when he took down the trash at 4 am. He didn’t mind the children on the streets pointing at him, when they saw his scars.

Morrigan offered to make them vanish. A snap of her fingers and they’d be gone. As if the two long cuts over his eyes never happened. No one would look at him like he was a freak anymore. No one would cross the streets as soon as they saw him. 

But the scars where a part of him. They reminded him of the sacrifices he made to survive. They reminded him who he was and where he came from.

Garrett and Morrigan disappeared. Garrett was dead. Morrigan was a thief. They erased themselves from the narrative. It was better that way.

Seattle, 1996

Garrett trotted into the kitchen and jawned. He rubbed his bad eye with the sleeve of his pajama and wiped the tear fluid away. That still happened - even thirty years after the incident. At least the pain vanished.

"Hey, Jeff.” Garrett picked up his little black cat and gently stroke her fur. “I know it’s late. You hungry, girl?”

"Of course she’s hungry.” Morrigan appeared behind him and muffled a jawn with her hand. “She’s a spoiled beast.”

“You’re only saying that because she doesn’t like you.”

Jefferson meowed. Sometimes Garrett wasn’t sure whether she understood him or not. 

Morrigan opened the refrigerator. She wore one of his shirts, which was way to big for her. “You wanna keep standing there petting the cat?”

Garrett let Jeff down again. “Can you feed her? I’ll go get the mail”

"In your pajamas?”, Morrigan asked, while he got the keys and was already half out of the door.

"I’m just going to the mailbox.”