#klethera

[captainkurosolaire]

~ True Hide Arc ~

You're stronger than your monster, Father! I will fight for your light!

[captainkurosolaire]

[Insight]:陽 Klethera "Sunkiller" Solaire🎼

You've my blade as Klethera Solaire. I'll reclaim your Hope.

[captainkurosolaire]

Solaire's + Familiars

[captainkurosolaire]

Overcome yer boundaries t' defeat me, o' daughter ov' mine.

[captainkurosolaire]

A Day Before Woe

 Pair of wheels bound to a chair for a maimed, battered gruff pirate, who paraded as a Champion was left critically conditioned. Opposition he conquered over was his idol, once a remarkable sea Goldbrand Captain who once herald many stories that peers would’ve recalled over folktales to docks a type worth inciting gossip. Now that legacy was only a ghostly remnant of what could’ve been, more potential never given proper realization.

Deep-down that victory was a let-down, notwithstanding him being in appendages, neck-brace, or temporarily bound ridden handicap. Like most-idolized, often our minds make them larger than life. Only for future disappointments to discover in truth. Often projecting our desired selves, in another and betrayed by the role-model's failure with it being one mutually felt shared from vicariously living.

Sinbad gained an unbridled, self-ignorance, his ego validated flourished, there was no one left who could oppose him in belief; now or ever. Everything revolted against this rookie. Though he defiled odds standing atop the current pirate food chain, he attained pure success uncontested, even if just a lick, a superiority complex manifested. It made this, youthful-lion, No... A viscous shark; who crunched and ate the elder lion's glory and relished donning the trophy mantle, irrationally dangerous. Consequently, the crosshairs of the misfortune of losing the battle. Kuro's beloved Pride of three-most valued Crewmates of the Goldbrand were contract to a shaken deal for a whole Summer. Former First Crewmate Judas departed after an emotional falling out. Directionless and had given up on any sense of his own freedom and quest, they were now seen as obscured impossibilities. This was visibly atonement for betraying and acting cowardice in his past, a pill to swallow lastly. 

With an unenthusiastic disgruntled pitch the Midlander spoke against his new employing Highlander in mock, “O’ Cap’n well… what will you have of us.” Clearly not wanting to even entertain this, but more keenly he had always had an ill-feeling about this brash pirate and their entire Crew a bunch of immature heathens that took life so carelessly. Regarded being a snake himself, familiarity could be sniffed, traitorous blood floating in neighboring water. This stead was driven by glory, a majority gained chalked into fortunate events, luck. Sinbad, his new Summer Cap’n, held seemingly boundless strength but one-day inevitably would clash with something that’d not bend nor break. Mayhaps betrayal, or something due to inexperience, the wrong pirate won that pit, he was certain. Upon this young upstart Crew was merely limbs, nameless hands and legs. Submissively broken souls that gave their freedom away for momentary lapses of glint. Boisterous laughter left the highlander until his sternum ached and pain struck him to quell-down, “Could you care to least pretend you wanna be here? Three-months, might be an eternity otherwise… I can assure you that. Look where you are now. Taking failure for your pathetic Captain wagered everything into. You told my lass to silence herself in a disrespectful way at our parley long-ago, and now I’ve got the power to silence you as my dog, fitting. What and when I command; you’ll roll over and bark, boy!” Raising his voice in declaration at the end, ensuring who dominantly stood, even… well considering he physically currently, could not. Judas scowled, fellow brow’s frowned but sassed, “Last I checked my Cap’n, had more metal bones than you’ve got. Least he was wobbling on one-leg, and not like you whose is truly left rolling around.” Mocking the condition of the arrogant muscular moron. Unafraid to rebelliously sass, he also made a promise to watch over the other two, Klethera and Casta was also stuck in this arrangement. If angering this tyrant and getting stuck with their share of overloaded work and nonsense, then he’d take it deemed in Repentance. Ensure swiftly and safely, possibly could devise. Strategic webbing planning worked as the wheel-chaired oaf gave out an offended huff, “Bullshite, you’re bluffing no-way little Solaire isn’t still feeling the effects of our battle. I’d wager he threw everything at me, after-which wallowed in his substances and poor-vices in typical fashion, and you know what… I respect and condemn that alcoholic junky for showing up to our hellish bout, coming close, but I won by an inch, so I’ll take my fucking mile victory. It won’t be long, before I’m healed, then I’ll get back to bashing in trunks and skulls. Until then, you’ll have to lap up the taint-end of my business.” Crudely pointed fact.  The Midlander bit his lip to retort further, tension between them. Two volatile elements that weren’t friendly to combine.

Time bellowed forth as the three in Sinbad’s command was left nearly with every responsibility, Casta using her medical knowledge to help get him standing on crutches in physical therapy, roaming around. Klethera was sent often on messenger and hired goon to retrieve debts. While Judas was left with the most life-threatening missions, with no rest in-between. Nothing he wasn't accustomed too, conditioning himself tirelessly towards once before for a noble ambition. Up till their final day appeared, and contract was fulfilled. The Boss highlander sat now in a befitting chair treating it like some grotesque throne luxuriously diamond-encrusted prime shades looking below twiddling his ringed-fingers, dazzled with assortments of bling; high living, “You managed to survive this Summer, somehow providing usefulness despite who you once followed. What remains in task, is a simple gathering between fellow low-life's. I owed them monthly shares of gil alongside my plunder…" Pursing lip's soaring highly with a daring-thought. Lowering his shades, doubling down like some hot-shot movie star. His pirate queen lass behind him caressed his muscular stature only furthering his tyrannical beginning. "...Now I don’t see why I’d ever have to continue paying off them anymore. My infamy is about to shoot-up, I’ll be getting the royal bounty treatments. So YOU my darling rag-tag bunch will convince them, find another sugar daddy. They can find their purse elsewhere, or become creative to eliminate that noise if they dare fuss, give them no quarter.” Judas’s haggard visage wrinkled, sharp-blue orbs were left murky, his eyelids were bagged tirelessly overworked, weight loss, parched lips and complexion didn’t fare well, absolutely deprived of energy and sapped to even refuse, but had peculiar sixth-sense this wasn’t wise, nervous bumps swarmed up his arms, intuition to fuss, but was drowned due to all his other ailments. This deplorable chapter and nightmare; Summer of Sinbad, held closure by mid-day. Underneath relief as his other two-companions weren’t like him in shape, thankfully sighing. While Klethera and Casta shared disbelief of their First Crewmate’s convicted resolve to remain a guardian even outside of their former mutual flag.

Danger within Sinbad’s new attitude intrinsically wasn’t his own danger that held frightening concern. …But what fed on rash thinkers. Above all other forms. In darkness dwelling almost certainly, lurked a set of blood-thirsty behemoth predators, dragons; monsters which consumed the lowly deemed ‘'predators”’ effortlessly.

One-night remaining to rest. Judas couldn’t shake the shivers of the cold brigs forced to lay near a barred window almost like a cell. He was superstitiously forewarned when the tide grew so silent like this dusk. He was kept personally wide-awake. Sharpening his hidden dirks, anxious, most likely there would be blood spilled in ten bells. No way this whole assembly involving cutthroats, pirates, could go smoothly… Didn’t help Sinbad didn’t elaborate which ("band") they were about to cross.

Casta couldn’t escape her routine nightly tears; she confined herself typically to writing but currently held no way to unleash or express her downtrodden emotions. Harm was felt in her healing with guilt, surgically stitching the very person who demolished her revered hero in a Seeker Captain. Casta wasn’t far from Sinbad; they both shared their stories why they looked up to the scoundrel black-cat, but perspective couldn’t be further how they handled it. She saw the contrast of just how vastly different her Seeker was in leadership, treating subordinates like actual-beings and equal, giving freedom catching people from slipping off the teetering sea-vessel wanting to chart the character, and depths of souls, judging actions not faceless covers. Versus Sinbad’s commandment, whose self-serving acting; all means to ends. It brought back familiar trauma that festered in tremors, abundant cold sweats. She couldn’t identify her own anger building, but negativeness, being generally overwhelmed was consuming her most-humane gentleness. Comparable to a flower being watered-down with ever punishing downpour, merely hoping it could-brave and survive another night.

Lastly aboard was Klethera who volunteered working off sentence. Her fault in belief, feeling Sinbad in twisted-way, was grieving despite mouthing otherwise, taking life-careless and acting so righteous in a way. She brought down Sinbad’s brother’s life to end… despite that man having a putrid soul, was unquestionably not hers to take. That’s the issue with deemed heroes; they're often shouted praise for them destroying evil but they enact themselves evil's color, murdering to achieve resolutions of peace. She felt guilt, knowing better, should have captured and let chains, or cells hold nonredeemable. Yet... Hanging around the pirate crowd construed her thinking, she witnessed how many couldn’t be contained by that method. So when then?! If at any, extent should evil be annihilated? Who can reside as judge? Her perceived bloodline was tainted; a pirate father definitely had his share of kills, alongside a grandfather who assassinated countless men for shreds of peace, she didn’t want to partake in that savagery of ending any more lives or one another, the rebellious attitude flowed so beautifully identical to her predecessors. ...However, could she really escape fate standing above a mountain of bodies? Maybe her father was right and couldn’t keep up with this atmosphere. Making her sizzle with heat, an acceptance stubborn to admit… She began dreaming of a new-way to battle, it’d be her own-style to materialize. The three in unison before dawn-break, connected a thought, wondering what became with their Crew having to depart right before this harrowing, learning shortly a traitor was creating chaos among their own flagship. For a brief-moment, they began to feel close; like an actual family forming, now a distant memory from unending chaos.

[Prev:Chapter]: Prelude to Destiny ~ ♪"Warm Shadow"♪

[captainkurosolaire]

Who Dunn It?

Losses and failure are often touted as big you make them. Many carry with them lessons of necessities. Others don't seem to have an end until the universe is done putting you on trial.

The aftermath of a brutal battle left emotions running rampant. A Pirate Captain missed out on several Sun's of the Living. Even the oldest magick of Era's thought loss, couldn't suddenly bring the Captain to a conscious state or functioning. Each night a new Crewmate of what was a promising band of gold, once visited their Seeker. Many emotions ran against him in bed-side as he was fully drowned under a coma.

Doubt crept, reality hit.

Things weren't going to get better, this fairy tale story had come to an end. Gloom rampantly grew, and with dreams on the line... That fact was just too much for many to handle. One dusk, Captain's estranged daughter walked into his cabin. Struggling to swallow as she saw her Father in a state that was ultimately, she felt a sense of responsibility. All that transpired in that dark-pit wouldn't have ever occurred if she didn't still own the bullet on the brother of the man, who her father fought to the brink. That silver-tongued pirate in her father, managed to turn a situation from a potential War of butchery, bloodshed, into a sacrificial battle, laying everything on the line. Her eye's heavy seeing continuous flow of aether flowing through machinery of magitek, pumping nutrients, breathing apparatuses bound to him. She hadn't gained the misfortune of witnessing this side, sure she met him with bandaged arms, unusable ones, but this was something far more critical and concerning. Walking to him with guilt in her quivering voice, "If I didn't act impulsively." She felt the unbridled guilt, falling to his bedside and wept trying to brave restraint. Yet showing an actual Father and Daughter closeness, that continuously was blooming in the most unlikely ways. Always showing glimmers of surpassing not just the Captain but her Grand Father compared to their own youth, their temperaments getting the better of them not recognizing it until things were too far gone, what they love, treasured most in the world drifted from their grasp... She still had a chance to grow beyond to take advantage of history. After settling her conscience she withdrew to her own quarters. While another matey aboard, their emotion was about to hit of dangerous conspiracy. When you witness the closest person you revere, fall in battle. It's personal, if you can't do anything about it that weaknesses seep into you sometimes, to rid it you feel a liability to have it eliminated. Or worse, yet that loss feels as your own. This felt eerily familiar before with the last time Captain was brought to a mutiny. Masked and gloved, a sneaky assailant joined forces with shadow, about to cause a full on betrayal. Taking ethanol fuel and leading a pathway to bed's rest. Before matching a lighter and setting ablaze. A fire broke out, heading and directly sent to extinguish the life of a Captain.

It seemed he was on the verge of really finding himself. Showing that nobody could halt him, he brought happiness to many aboard, got them closer to finding who they were on his own path. Guided the balance between shore and sea. Although there were promise's of ferrying them to their destination of greed they never questioned that he couldn't have gotten them there. Never once showing discrimination under his sail, there was trust and feeling of an actual home despite how diverse the wild personalities were, they were felt universally kindred under his leadership, he even began confronting forces larger than him.

None saw his overall results of change more than his mental-counselor and advisor aboard, Slafhota who continuously checked on him and was out for his well-being. The fact he chose her, over drinking out of the bottom of vices to numb out existence, or channel his self-dismay into lust and fuck it out of him, everything that resulted into temporal remedies that he did formerly, was proof he wasn't hopeless. Her eye's opened in explosiveness as she screamed and charged and shouted aboard, the cabin had a wall of fire. She saw in the corner of her sprint the ember slowly burning through the layers of blankets bundling him. shouted with a tear that fell between the lid's crest, "FIRE! CAPTAIN O' OUR CAPTAIN!" Only on the scene. She doused herself with her own aspect of water magic and without any footwear ran into the engulfing flames her large sea roe frame leapt forth and yanked him off his machinery and pulled him rampantly out of the seething fire and dragged him out against his slumping nature. Everyone accounted for got to the top of the decks and with real unity and a touching mankind's most amenable attribute despite many of them were atrocities, noted monsters hiding their teeth, or they didn't trust each-other none of that mattered in this test as they brought bucket to bucket, took places giving compressions and air to the Captain in this moment they were a fully-empowering Crew. ...But those fumes sizzled out and were doused. Their orbs needed to wander behind their skulls. If someone was willing to do this. How far would they go stuck in the midst of the sea? This was an organized attack of one of their own. Who could've done this? Perhaps taking out the Captain was botched, and ended unsuccessfully. But in this singular motion, whoever was the mastermind, had not only further envenomed doubt but broken everyone's trust. They brought chaos, the purest discord to the ship. An already uneasy atmosphere had taken over. They fought amongst one another after they put Captain back to rest. Questioning even the one who sprung to save him... As often the first on scene. That was curious. Then they even quizzed, his own fleshing-blood in Klethera the last who visited him in their many witness, and had threaten his life formerly, but truthfully this Crew had all partaken in some sort of dangerous accolades, they all could have a motive if one really thought it out. Their combined sense, and reasoning, was all being pin-pointed on one individual in-particular and singled out. Who has done this before? The important check-box in any investigation, History, Motive and Reason. Well, who other than, the right-hand man, the First Crewmate Judas wasn't just providing questioning but being the most-questioned with intent, after-all, a snake like him; the predator of deceit. This is a man who strategically lays plans ahead, at least that's what anyone's initial thoughts would have of him.

Sudden vocal skirmishes of shouts pierced through the veil. A mutiny was going to take place, but in that unexpected, instant after many Sun's escaped. Amber feline eye's awoke, with a dry, voice, "Can ye fucks keep it quiet? I'm tryna' rest." A painful chortle hitting his lungs as he coughed up some smoke. Signs of consciousness returned.

🌊 ♫Overdose♫ - Reference - Last Chapter🌊

[captainkurosolaire]

Prompt #28 ~ Just Communication

♫Can You Feel My Heart (Remix)♫ - (C.F) Forgiveness / Counsel

As fearsome the Captain served to be when it came to the dealings with handling parenthood he unraveled and faltered, now understanding the complexity he put on his own old man. Anything above his value, to the emotions of worrying about him. Was easier to evade this type ordeal, go find some vices to drown underneath. She was forcefully actively making him incur true braveness. To honorably respect his own life, not cast it so aimless, recklessly. Yet it was his nature. The duty to be something proud to look up at was encouraged, to mature. Accept help for his monsters, overcome his pasts, learn from them actively. Overlooking the bow as high water's splashes over. The line in the sand between, hatred and disappointment, were aspects that upon the surface felt the same. That animosity, tension. His recent therapy sessions with his Crewmate provided some relief, and insight, to have that ability to spill. Letting bottle's fill up with useless dread, would eventually boil until explode, that often led to splinters affecting the masses he surrounded with. This was just another sail he needed to learn. His leather steps came inbound. "Ahoy." What else was there to say? Could he really call her daughter; nay. That was unfitting in his belief. She begrudgingly tilted her head with aquatic eyes, "Hey what do you need?" She scanned him as if could easily analyze. Piercing through him with such uncanny intuition. She was impossible to lie too. Scratching his neck showing signs of discomfort. "Wanted t' talk and resolve our little squabble." She brushed her hands together before standing up. "Don't think that's possible. Did you suddenly cancel this idiotic death battle? - I didn't ask you to fight for me. I'm not expecting or desiring you to suddenly be my Father. I don't understand this need of you attempting..." She said callously, empowered and like himself, was very blunt.

He swallowed gingerly before loosening tension in his jaw. "More than that isn't it? You're now apart ov' my crew too. That part makes it my duty. I've overexposed you too many unpleasantness. Wondered why I made it difficult t' be found. Cause I fail in safeguarding anything I care for. Anytime I remotely get too close, It dies, or I die in the process. When you somehow came from out of nowhere. Tracking me down, well, for a pirate. Who always craves to uncover things until I know all the meaning. it's my flawed obsessiveness. Like t' pretend, I'm someone who's found all th' answers t' life, but It's complicated." Letting out a raspy exhale. His words conveyed stress by inflection alone. She however saw a glint of something curious. He really was trying. How many people had died in his arms. Or times when he was burying others, who he thought would always be here, or outlast him, did he end up burying himself in the process. He struggled in confronting her eyesight. Anyone else would brazen be overly confrontational, yet not with her poetically. To someone who shared his blood and was like confronting not only just some shaded past, or present, but even future. Everything was confronting her. This cut was worse than any wound. Spilling furthermore in confession. "I was fine. Remaining buried, a ghost. I didn't deserve th' light... When you came into my life now if I refrain from ushering or resolving, or doing better. I make you suffer alongside so many others... I cannot do that anymore. Now the only reason, I am stepping out into the light. Is, so I can hoist ye all above and ensure dream's are awakened. If, I could fulfill such, maybe." He canted his head to the side looking with a pathetic idealism. Disbelieving he could ever truly feel entirely cured, overcome beyond numbness. Her keenness knew leaps. She showed signs of empathy, and wouldn't strike or plunge into an already broken shell man who was genuinely on the verge of trying to be above. Reflecting on her mean comments back but also truthfully she didn't wish to see him become more hurt because of her lingering. She also could admit her weaknesses and shortcomings. Especially recently uncovering there was more than his seemingly paranoid. Whatever he once represented, it seemed he angered many monstrosities. This world of seas was chaotic. The surface and depth each held infinite bottomless and abundant mysteries. Although yet, he actively tried confronting this now. When most would end themselves, or remove and hide. Even hearing of his pasts and multiple Crews, he took a gambit for a last. He was correct, she was a Crewmate too. "This battle is touted as where someone damages their soul or dies-- Will if you lose even with all the stakes, make sure you get up again. Then when you do, never lose the same way again. I too; wish to grow. For my reasons as well." Both them showed an unspoken concern to advance to newer heights. They both genuinely cared for another. He found a bit of the tension loosened, "Will I do b' curious would you like t' train under my mentor, yer Grandfather? I think he'd do better than me in handling your training, I lacked th' same resolve n' control, 'principals'. I couldn't complete his training. You're more compatible, eager. His therapy sessions showed the actual frontal stage; changing. She saw his active pursuits in attempting to forge a bond. A better relationship with her own, alongside actually asking, unlike just springing out, something suddenly half-baked. Least it felt less like him pushing her away in this manner. Then he'd further drown that notion and resolve up to confront his true ask, "Want t' fish with me?" She looked startled and amazed and rewarded him with an actual sentimental nod. Nurturing together as Sun's to higher heights.

[captainkurosolaire]

Twisted Freedom

“You're an outmatched little kitten. Shouldn’t have come alone! I’ll enjoy savoring your demise.” The Warlock, placed before preparing to foresight into the steam and rid it out, lapping his lip’s with a disgusting intent at the youthful presence that smelled of hope and innocence unbroken and shattered, soon that’d be fixed, after many attempts at flailing random ice pelts throughout in hitting contact. Klethera didn’t argue, she was outmatched and inexperienced for this level, as many tried to defeat him.

However she wasn’t alone, he got that wrong. Soon as her image was seen prone in the smoke, before he could release a devastating blow, he became blind from an eye as a whizzing bullet lobbed through with perfect pin-point accuracy and went clean through his skull. Hissing and making him shriek back. Shelah huffing with all her injuries still steep and ill, only able to dish out that one concentrated attack before she plummeted with her goggles that allowed her to take the shot, and collapsed at the entrance. Behind that crouched Deadeye, came a terrifying menace that brought fear even to the bottom of a mutually dark demon, that sensation re-struck from the Ship that caused him to flee earlier in advance in worry and horrendous dread, that Xaela jumped with a ferocity guttural onslaught of piercing symphony of massacring intent bellowing with it’s grated mask. Slicing off an effortlessly hacking off the wizard’s arm. Then slashing a fury of slashes until he stripped the plate armor of SIlv’a then with even that berserk push, he still administered a bloody ‘x’ across the torso made bare, with revenge before also succumbing to his own wounds from the battle against Captain still fresh, his regeneration cost a hefty toll and wasn’t going to give into his own gluttonous when allies were around, showing his resolve to not bend to his own pact. 

Flailing back and suffering from the combination, Klethera came and took a mighty samurai pose before blitzing across past the demon with her sword drawn and flame blazing through with her added aether and combined huntress warcry screaming at the heaven’s and all that is just, to empower her to see the bane. Slicing the foe cleanly in-half and brimming with a destructive set of embers starting to scorch and consume. She screamed out with all her fury before collapsing in another heap pile aside Nihlius. The two-swords of the gold and black brand gave their all. Agony encompassed Silv’a being met with a last-ditch effort by a bundle of pests who sought to foil. Aggravation was drowning his sanity. He brought upon himself chilly-unforgiving ice that began fighting and attempted to quell the fires, they were still novice level. Though he was struggling and helpless, an unenjoyable existence and welcomining, first time taking major damage since his resurrection.   His immortal-body wouldn’t allow this, he too had convicted cause, his belief would swallow and engulf them all. His eye’s blistered in seething agony and rage to defile dying, never, would he allow it, or go back to the Tormented Planes.  He’d bring the worst and heinous evil here for them to unleash their own overwhelming pent up havoc. Twisted he was also bringing ‘freedom’, it just required pain and strife for all others! But that wasn’t to be worried if they weren’t weaklings. Many would find suitable joy in their vessel’s being shared with unbridled power and indestructibility, already treacherous fiends walking among everywhere that a crowd passed, blended in. They were the neighbors, friends, loved one’s secretly in their abyss, their thoughts and pit core laid the root of wanting more out of this cesspool of an existence. Deep down none could deny they’d take more if they were afforded it! If they could dictate it! To be of sin wasn’t a crime to his psychological break. Ends justifies the means. He saw righteousness. Everything was meant to be taken and relinquished over to the mortals but they were defiled and denied. Told what was moral and ethical. So a fix to all that, they’d possess the levels of the gods and eat them, they’d inherit their rightful birth claim! The true Nobles soon would claim their Thrones. His thoughts repeated in infinite loops of whispering mania. This philosophy and evil malice was so inviting and intoxicating that the tear and rift that Silv’a opened up, this grand vision, was inviting and darkness poured to him, as his mouth opened up to fetch them, gobbling countless murders and souls that were executed and slain now becoming joined to his cause, this was his crew. His wound’s locked up and he began reformulating with terrifying regeneration that was anti-death defining. While the boy’s of opposing forces of unlikely alliances, broke from their curse in reversing their child-selves, they would be given a most unwelcoming sight. Their efforts were all bottomless! His resolve to see the ushering of an Immortal Age, outweighed anything living! To make something better than before you first have to tear down the brittle old and flawed!  As a conjurer who once earned his acclaimed title in the Dragonsong War who once wasn’t driven to this he became consumed with corruption, watching the extinguish of life too many times over again, by things that could’ve been avoided, if only they were drawn to a power higher. More, more, more, that’s all many see and demand. To think when here long ago hearing Shiro was being announced to be born before going into the field and was attached to the infant with humane contact of unconditional love, he was a happy man like all others, but War creates many new retrospectives. Being the one responsible to hold and maintain life is a dangerous scale to possess and command, eventually, those who hold lives in their hand’s feel like they’re gods weaving their magic to defile and push death or grant life. Eventually you sustain so many burials in failures, you become in a shallow grave of blackness, then, the Void, is what offers you a way-out, not the scarce light.                                                (Previous) << (Voidal Relics) >> (Next)