#pharihyde

[etrefurieuse]

          ❝ that’s what  you get when you're trapped in a place filled of daemons and criminals. ❞

jailbreaking / @pharihyde

[herpsydaisy]

“ they say the halls are filled with them. tortured souls.” (harry or alexei)

@pharihyde / @cxmmandant

“  Are you one of them ?  ”

ah . 

the ex-commandant’s gaze is a flat thing , balanced as he stares at the bird who’s words were attempting to evoke some type of mysterious haunting . it didn’t work . the older man was much wiser to these things , and did not believe in ghosts .

“  It would make sense why you would be . As much as you love spirits .  ”

a joke is slipped in so easily as alexei pushes on past hallway to keep going , unfettered by the soft noises of the cave around them .

[murderaer-a]

❝ you’re aim’s a little sloppy. distracted, huh? ❞  /  @pharihyde​​

[murderaer-a]

blows a kiss. for the haters.

why not blow a kiss my way , wtf raven ?

[eroicus]

FLUSTERED FEATURES EMPHASIZE DESPERATION, SEEKING VALIDATION FROM ANOTHER GUILDSMEN. his voice loud enough to resound louder than dahngrest’s alarms. ❛  so, get this, right ------ the don said he doesn’t believe that i was an imperial knight before this ! can you believe that? ❜ heroic heart, golden and kind, he’s claimed to have; but it was his reckless nature that separated him from the typical austere knight. /  @pharihyde​ !

[murderaer-a]

ᴀꜱᴋᴇᴅ - ᴘʀᴏᴍᴘᴛᴇᴅ, ᴀᴄᴄᴇᴘᴛɪɴɢ  ▸  ▸  ▸  @pharihyde :  ‘ when i was with you, i was real. ’ 

absolute stillness : frigid ice forbade functionality of his own body, his bones all but frozen. the warmth of breath exhaled with the quiet admission and the arms wrapped ‘round his form not nearly enough to thaw chilled limbs. features have paled, roseate lips frostbitten. he’s far too numb to embrace and cherish such display of affection ----- an offering of truth from one who all had once deemed such a devilish liar. gentle words whispered in his ear, spoken with the intent of allowing only yuri to discern their significance. his hands aching to return the gesture, embrace the other with mimicked fervor ... but he couldn’t. ❝ raven ... ❞ his voice naught but a simple prelude to silence.

admittedly, and rather shamefully, when raven returned to him ----- nay to them, to brave vesperia, ---- yuri wondered just who this man was. countless names, countless stories to carry on to ----- and he’d wished to know just who traveled alongside them? was it the knight, the guild member ----- someone else? schwann had passed, yuri witnessed his demise; but the others from raven’s past … were there any others worth discussing? any more aliases in his repertoire? raven was, and still is, very much like a book : each chapter a different story, different tale, but the narrative always continues. the denouement … may have very well been this moment, as yuri pieced the story’s plot together for a final revelation.

he can finally feel the heat in his body again, wondering how long he’d remained so still and so silent. ❝ the real you... ❞ a soft whisper, much too soft for one so brutal, so often covered in blood. repetition of the admission acted as a sort of confirmation. whenever raven was with him, he was real. the real him?

thinking back, even when raven’s stench reeked of betrayal and treachery, yuri saw only raven; even when schwann appeared before them, he still dared refer to him as raven. ( all he ever saw was raven. even under the guise of schwann. ) raven was real, as real as the bird who scavenged and feasted ‘pon the dead. raven had been real since they’d first spoke between iron bars. the fateful night that single handedly changed yuri’s own life was a memory not forgotten. and ever since then, though raven was suspicious, he was real. any other mask he wore felt fake to yuri ------ how terribly ironic, in a sense. 

perhaps it was due to his attachment to that specific persona, his mind often reasoned. because he did not want to believe the truth, he saw only raven. no one else. hereafter, he could see no one else. he made this makeshift home for himself here, after all, in raven’s arms. the night’s he’s spent with the other, bodies entangled, lips pressed together, they drowned out the noise of the past.

his hand tentatively raises, searching the other’s form for the familiar outline of a certain blastia ‘pon the his chest, searching for raven’s life - force. he gently presses ‘gainst the cloth of the other’s shirt until he’d found the edges of steel bound to supple flesh. pads of his fingertips stray no further, dare not touch what they should not; what was not granted permission.  ❝ raven, i know that you’re real ------ always have been. ❞

[murderaer-a]

ᴀꜱᴋᴇᴅ - ᴜɴᴘʀᴏᴍᴘᴛᴇᴅ, ᴀʟᴡᴀʏꜱ ᴀᴄᴄᴇᴘᴛɪɴɢ  ▸  ▸  ▸  @pharihyde​​ : holds his hand. not in a loud joking way either but just a quiet way. just to hold. no scene to make this time.

his hands, how they shake. more so now than ever. 

once such a mighty soldier, desertion chipped away at amassed confidence, his strength; vigilantism boosted that self - righteous ego, earning his rightfully place in hell, beside another, but did little for his sanity and peace of mind. as the burden worsened, as the days progressed, the body count climbs, the warrant for his arrest increases in reward, and he can feel himself slipping from reality. he clung so desperately to this hope that one day the world would be rid of monsters and villains that sought to oppress the masses; the world would be rid of those so willing to take advantage of the world’s weakened state without the strength of blastia. frantic knights pursue him instead, not the corruption that slips its way into the empire’s court. 

and his hands continue to shake from the anger boiling beneath his skin.

his solace, throughout it all, strangely enough, was one other whom held a bloody past, bloodier than his own. the comfort in raven’s presence was often something he sought out, especially during the darkest of nights. the moon beckoned him, but he could not bring himself to howl at its brilliance. so when raven quietly slips his hand into yuri’s lap, finding his hand, entwining their fingers, eyes open gently. lashes fluttering open to catch sight of another looking upon his form with concerned eyes. brows furrowed, lips curved into something of a pout. he’s not seen this side of raven so often.

and he notices ... how beautiful were his eyes? had he ever took note of the hue before, or did ignore the sight and focused solely on the drumming of his own heart instead? a sight to behold, truly. something of a distraction from his rampant thoughts that plagued his slumber so. the new fixation slowly pulls him away from the thoughts of bloodshed and warrants, his own hand now squeezes the other’s tightly in its grasp. lips purse themselves, as if he’d thought of something to say but forsook it in favor of admiring the other’s features, the softness from even the most roughest of hands. one breath later, and his attention all on raven. 

his hands have stopped their shaking. 

[murderaer-a]

»  ❛  @pharihyde​ asked  :  He dramatically flings an arm around the wolf's shoulders as his knees apparently give out, putting all his weight on yuri. "look! look what ya've done t' me" cries the bird, all melodrama and theatrics, "i'm too weak t' walk. i've just gotta be picked up an' carried in a pair of Strong, manly arms--"

gunmetal irides distorted by melancholy, unsmiling features may have begun to warrant worry and concern from those around him. apathy and fatigue combined, weigh heavily ‘pon his form. he moves with a rare form of lethargy, dragging his feet alongside his companions. there had been something gnawing at him, ever since they left dahngrest. and it was clear with the lack of interest and sleepiness he carried with him from town to town. much like anyone else, yuri had his secrets; held them close and locked them within an ivory cage. attempts were made to forcefully drag him from his thoughts, and though he joins in with the rest of his companions ... he lost interest in their conversations relatively quickly. though he was wise to mask his inner turmoil, it was not enough. he seemed so focused lately on his thoughts, lost in a battle with his own mind. 

it wasn’t until raven had slung himself ‘round yuri’s shoulders did he fully invest himself in an interaction. the physical touch of another pulls him away from the endless ramblings of his mind.  ❝ is that right, old man? ❞  a single quirk of his brow while his head shifts to watch the other’s dramatic expression breeze through a flurry of theatrical performances. other’s around them observe the interaction, some ( namely estelle, judith, and maybe karol ) interested in raven’s antics. yuri’s reactions are what typically fueled laughter, lightened the mood among the group. and despite the disturbance to his own mood, he decided not to ignore poor raven’s plight. half - hearted smirk twisted at his lips, and he obliges. ❝ have it your way, then. ❞ in one swift movement, yuri picked raven up rather unceremoniously. raven’s body was messily flung over yuri’s shoulder without so much as a hint of a struggle. there’s a small chime of laughter garnered from the kritiyan and the princess beside him. when he’s walked further ahead of the rest, there was a gentle tap to the other’s rear end as a playful gesture, smug expression plaster ‘pon his face. all he could focus on now was the weight of raven’s body on his shoulder, not much else besides for that. and perhaps ... he was grateful for the distraction.