one minute there, the next gone. belinda had barely stepped foot outside of the tardis, only enough to take in the buildings towering over her, before she heard the wheezing and whirling. the sound of being left behind. his name had fallen from her lips in a scared and frustrated cry - doctor! - but it proved pointless. she's alone. okay, don't panic. but belinda can feel her heart rate increase. can feel her breathing quickening. ❝ excuse me - ❞ she stops the nearest person to her, trying to remain calm but probably failing. ❝ sorry. this is going to seem like a weird question but where am i? - and, uh, when am i? ❞ @erebius
・ ˖ ✦ ⋄ . @erebius sent : “It’s hard to breathe sometimes.”
❝ i know, ❞ eve says softly — and STARS does he know. pulling vic closer he rests his chin on his shoulder, arms wrapping around his middle and legs tangling up together so that every part of him is embraced. it's not often eve stays in bed whilst dark out, but for his melancholy lover he'd wait out the tides, help him lift the burden of heavy emotions until the weight of them became a bit more bearable. vic's back is pressed warmly to his chest, and he can feel the uneasy beat of his heart against him as clearly as he can hear it. ❝ why don't you tell me about her, ❞ he whispers, brushing his hair aside and planting a soft kiss to the side of his neck. ❝ tell me about your mother, and i'll tell you about mine – both of them. ❞
red lyrium. they saw it at the site of the conclave, and it covered the ground. he could feel the corruption radiating from it, and despite his part in this, he despised the red lyrium. “ varric will want to know about this. ” he practically wraps himself around his staff, turning to look between hypatia and victor. “ it was in such a high concentration at the conclave, to know it has extended this far should frighten us. ” solas kneels beside it, half-tempted to touch it. he knows better. he's seen the state of corypheus. “ we should be cautious here. as should all the refugees. ” he stands and looks at hypatia, one of his hands resting against his hip. “ it's your call, inquisitor. ”
THE AFTERMATH OF A BATTLEFIELD, : SHE HAS LOST COUNT TO HOW MANY TIMES ETHEREAL GOLDEN EYES HAVE WITNESSED SUCH A SCENE. ( how much destruction you, warrior, have brought upon the enemies. ) no foe left alive, all felled by you ; golden &. black boots guide her through ground, crimson &. black decorating part of it, along with ash. ... she returns to her tent, a heavy exhale can finally escape. VICTORY GAINED, BUT NOT ALL COULD BE SAVED. this was the cost of war, &. this she knew, yet never did golden heart not feel the weight of loss ; seeing comrades, friends, lovers say goodbye to each other. ( but there is a need to carry on. for those that no longer can. ) ... hands lift to remove the headpiece off her head, &. just as she sets it down, she hears a woosh of a fabric moved, someone entered.
@erebius : sender comes to receiver after being injured .
SHE GLANCES OVER HER SHOULDER, : LONG GOLDEN LOCKS SWAYING EVER SO SLIGHTLY WITH THE MOTION. &. there she witnesses the familiar figure ; holding his side. ... gaze travels there, &. she sees the crimson liquid leak through, covering his hand. he, the in - between, &. she, the one whose aim is to bring balance. ... once did he lean more towards the darkness, BUT NOW ; a shift has been made. yet even caution still remained, being the very thing that halted her from taking another step as she had taken one, fingers lifted ever so slightly to reach towards him. ... but you are a being of action, not made for standing still. so for a moment, she pushes all else aside. he needs help. ... ❝ sit down, ❞ she speaks finally, AS IN THOSE BRIEF MOMENTS THAT FELT LIKE AN ETERNITY, wordless sentences exchanged through looks alone. following him, she kneels down before him to examine the slash that has cut through his clothes, the mark of a battle ever so visible.
❝ ... how did this happen? ❞ she asks, if only to fill the silence, &. yet, there is that genuine concern emphatic heart feels.
from @erebius: best case scenario, you might get some superpowers. worst case, some tumors. / for shawky LMAO
"you are such a positive and uplifting person, victor. i'm so glad you're here." the sarcasm is paired with a grimace/smile combination, one that matches the desperation of their scenario. they're perched up high enough to avoid the flooding below, but the only way forward is through this old water. "this obviously wasn't filled with water when they built this tunnel," shawky goes on, immediately switching subjects and avoiding victor's dry humor as much as he can. "but time has..." he tentatively sticks a boot into the water to test it, "... clearly been poor to this structure. if we want to get out of here, we have to wade through. i'll see how deep it is. you stay there." a little laugh. "superpowers or tumors... your mind just comes up with the strangest combinations."
shawky expects the water to be ankle-deep, but it's clear from the way he splashes down into it that it's much deeper than he thought. suddenly the archaeologist is up to his chest in water, hands above his head, his flashlight clutched in his left hand to keep it from getting wet. "the water smells," he winces, peeking up at victor (who still stands safe and dry above him). "i wouldn't be surprised if some of the burial chambers in here were flooded, too. might be some floating mummies around here. watch yourself when you climb in."
The Alienage depressed him. It was a reminder of what could have been, were his father not a beloved king. Though, perhaps, were he born in the same circumstance that many half elves were, maybe he wouldn’t have suffered so much at the hands of the Chantry and Arl Eamon’s wife. All he knew was that he was happy they got here when they did — they saved a lot of souls.
There was one of them, a teenager, by the looks of him, that kept catching his attention. Not on purpose, even, but Alistair felt a certain draw. Maybe it’s because they reminded him of how he was at that age. So awkward, uncomfortable in his skin. His fellow warden allowed him the time to talk to @erebius, probably after seeing how something was eating at Alistair.
When he found him, the young half elf was sitting on the ground, pointed ears poking through his dark hair. Just like Alistair’s. “ Hey, that was a lot back there. ” He crouches down so they’re eye level, an easy smile on his face. “ Are you going to be okay? ”
Anyone vaguely aware of Warhammer may know that pretty much everything is horrible for almost everyone involved. Erebus is responsible for a surprisingly large amount of it.
His horrible crimes started when he was boy, back then he wasn't even called Erebus. When she was a kid he already was known to be such a horrendous kid that his parents told him to be more like their neighbour's boy: Erebus. His response was to kill the original Erebus and steal his identity.
After this he joined the space marines under command of another man named Lorgar Aurelian. Erebus, in this time, followed the chaos gods, a set of four gods who pretty much rule over hell/afterlife. The chaos gods are very malevolent and Erebus was very much okay with that as long as he got what he wanted from that. Erebus used his position to slowly corrupt his lord Lorgar to follow chaos as well, and after that he corrupted Horus (another lord of another group of space marines) with a poisoned knife and magic gained from the chaos gods. This kickstarted the Horus Heresy: a galactic civil war in the imperium which culminated in the death of the emperor of mankind and a large group of the imperium falling to chaos and causing irreparable damage to the imperium at large. Meanwhile Erebus never stopped scheming to gain more power. Backstabbing and turning on friend and foe alike if it would gain him more power, sadly never getting what he deserves.
All for one:
Tbh, there's so much to tell about him, I'm kinda at a loss where to start and what to tell here. This is gonna be very rambly, so, sorry lol.
So. All For One. He's the Evil Bitch Supreme. He does awful, evil, terrible things for his own profit (and also for fun), he's completely unapologetic, he's fully self-aware, he knows that the things he's doing are evil. In fact, he's doing all that heinous shit on purpose. He's being evil quite literally on purpose. Because he's playing a character. His favourite comic book villain, to be exact, and essentially is trying to write a 'fix-it' fanfic where his blorbo wins into reality. I'm not gonna go into how exactly he operates, his parasitic nature, his extremely weird and complicated relationship and obsession with his younger brother (that's a whole other can of worms), just gonna talk a little bit about his overall personality.
Unlike other villains in the story, he avoids being humanised. He doesn't want to be humanised. His face is hidden from the readers for 3/4 of the story. His real name is unknown. He glorifies and takes power in the idea of being dehumanised, being just a villain, just a monster. But knowing MHA's themes - no one is inherently a villain. There is no 'inhuman' monsters. They are all very much human. His villain persona isn't just him playing a character, it's more than just him playing a character - it's a form of escapism. So what is he escaping away from? What would force someone to go that far into their own escapism? What would make someone feel that being seen as a monster is better than being seen as a human?
He believes that a person's destiny is defined by their quirk, and that everyone are characters with roles and paths they cannot stray away from. And in his mind, he's also the one who defines those roles and writes the narrative for them. Shigaraki Tomura (Real name: Shimura Tenko), his pupil and 'successor' (whom he kidnapped at the age of 5 and groomed into this 'Shigaraki Tomura' persona for 15 years, btw), is essentially his OC that he based on an evil and obedient version of his late younger brother and that he later tries to quite literally self-insert himself into. And he applies that to himself, too. His villain name is the name of his quirk. He even implies a few times that he is a bit of a kleptomaniac when it comes to quirks, and that he cannot help it because it's HIS (quirk's) nature. In fact, any time someone does not follow his narrative, and acts outside of the little box AFO put them into in his own mind, he goes absolutely livid, shaking, crying, shitting himself, because they're breaking his Immersion the story that he's writing. By trying to be not just the writer, but also the main character and the main villain, he inserted himself into the story, and became bound to it's rules. And if there's a rule in this story, it's that all villains are just people. The further we go, more and more glimpses of his humanity are being shown, despite him desperately trying to hide away that he's just a weak, pitiful person who chose to perpetuate the cycle of abuse done to him and other meta-humans during the Emergence of Quirks era.
usually, everything blurs into a puddle of red. murky, sticky, everywhere all at once. all she should be seeing is red, but in reality, all she feels is this burning. there is no blood anywhere and there is no visible sign of a victim's body. her heartbeat is steady, no matter how much it should pulse at the base of her throat. every single nerve of her body, however, was running on adrenaline and nothing else. cutting her way through the greenery of the area, she was practically huffing, sword by hair side and painted such a dark shade that she doubts she’ll ever be able to wipe it clean. it was only harsh slashes, pure instinct and wildfire inside her veins. despite not sensing any bodies, she can almost feel it— the dread and the way it will soon follow the entire matriarchy of the qatarons. that just wasn't the entire truth, though, was it? she could sense a body, it just wasn't dead.
that's when she sees him, clear in her vision, but it only makes her head tilt. it wasn't unusual to see people around places where they should not be, but this was something else. this was a lifeforce that no one wished to beckon with. shams takes note of his wavy hair and the scar beneath his left collarbone, before she gives a quick hum. `` you don't seem like you quite fit here, @erebius. `` came her voice, soft and velvety as usual. had she been anyone else, he might be a suspect in anyone's eyes, but she knows better. she has gotten enough insights to know that there is another truth to his presence. the next words that leave her are quite sarcastic in nature, but there is still a gentleness to them. `` are you lost, then? ``
