#pyrehic

[eredeha-a]

kisses both @pyrehic​ and @tartarusdwells​ at the same time

[starsfreckled]

  @pyrehic​ asked : " it hurts. "  a bland pronouncement,  from the elezen trying to hit somewhere grumpy and less pouty.  it doesn't quite work,  even as he smooths a thumb along the scaling against the underside of his jaw.  " and itches,  hells. "  definitely into dangerous territory now.  " do you put up with this all the time? "  //  i am offering u a shedding estinien ♥

they are trying their best not to laugh, they really do. their friend is clearly miserable and suffering and it is nothing to laugh about, knowing where those scales came from but... it’s just a little bit amusing. they repress any further giggles and simply shake their head. “nay, not all the time  - only when I am shedding” which is clearly something the dragoon is going through.

“may I suggest a hot bath? it will help soften and loosen the shed - trust me, you do not want it to get stuck, that is terribly painful and can even be dangerous” amaya walks towards the scions bathroom, continuing their little lecture “you’ll find a bottle of iodine in one of the cupboards, put some into the water, it will help with the itch and be soothing. while you are in there I’ll prep some tinctures and get the clippers...” they give estinien an encouraging pet to the back, grinning from horn to horn “don’t worry big guy, we’ll get this under control.”

[tartarusdwells]

quotes  that  broke  me  starters  /  accepting  |  @pyrehic​  | ❛   we’re  more  ghosts  than  people .  ❜   /  perhaps.  seti  4  emet

𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐋  𝐇𝐈𝐌  𝐀  𝐆𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐓  :  𝐇𝐄  𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐋  𝐀𝐍𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐑  𝐓𝐎  𝐓𝐇𝐄  𝐖𝐑𝐀𝐈𝐓𝐇.  A  malignant  spirit  of  yesteryears  cast  upon  a  fledgling  world,  the  revenant  clawing  at  the  bonds  of  unreality  to  prise  the  bones  from  fresh-turned  earth.  “ Possession  is  a  clever  art, ”  he  once  remembered  saying,  a  taunt  to  the  locked-in  man  turned  catatonic  in  his  own  body.  No  matter  how  he  screamed,  no  matter  how  he  begged,  he  could  not  turn  his  hand  ;  he  would  not  caress  his  wife  in  the  dark  ;  he  would  not  hold  his  son.  “ You  rarely  notice  its  intrusion  until  it’s  too  late. “

Oh,  Emperor  Solus,  how  they  obfuscate  your  final  years.  They  cover  your  truths  as  the  mad  ramblings  of  an  ill  man  ;  they  tuck  you  to  bed  when  you  see  his  shadows  in  the  corridor,  they  soothe  the  stammer  of  a  mouth  ill  used,  and  they  hide  the  honey  hues  you  so  despise.  “ It’s  not  fair, “  the  servants  lamented,  watching  you  writhe  in  your  bed,  unknowing  of  the  exorcism  being  performed  in  your  bones,  “ It’s  not  fair  for  disease  to  take  the  mightiest. ”

Who  was  he,  the  shadow  of  a  bygone  era,  to  mourn  the  shambles  that  preceded  him  ?  What  was  man  if  not  a  pawn  to  bring  about  the  welcomed  re-joining  -  he’d  thank  him,  Hades  justified,  when  it  was  all  over  ;  he’d  see  his  sacrifice  as  a  necessary  evil.

Then  who  was  she,  this  shattered  thing,  to  think  they  had  anything  in  common  ?  He’d  not  entertain  her  similarities  -  she  was  knowable,  as  they  were  all  knowable,  before  the  coming  of  the  end  -  and  in  her  eyes  he  felt  the  halcyon  days  of  Elpis  swallow  up  like  ships  rocked  to  the  bottom  of  the  sea.  The  more  he  stared,  the  further  away  they  became,  and  he  would  not  be  possessed  by  the  beauty  of  lilies  only  to  be  poisoned  by  their  ingestion.

If  they  were  ghosts  then  let  them  meet  in  the  middle  where  grief,  sorrow  and  power  entwined  into  one.  He  would  not  be  overtaken,  as  she  would  not  be  overtaken,  and  they  would  haunt  the  mausoleum  of  earth  together.

His  gloved  hand  extended  to  her,  his  fingers  tender  in  the  loft  of  her  chin  heavenward  to  his  gaze,  but  his  gaze  was  predatory  and  his  teeth  were  sharp  to  razors.  Remember,  call  him  a  ghost  :  he  will  answer  to  the  WRAITH.

“ Dearest  Seti, “  he  mocked,  his  words  the  closing  jaws.  “ I  do  not  believe  you  have  had  the  pleasure  of  death. “

[salveticn-a]

@pyrehic​ asked : ♡ 🔪

“ fear not ... you will make the right choice ...      and i will see it through ... ”

a faint voice that echoed sourceless and that traveled across everyone’s heart as the distinct and undisputable voice of the emissary . but of the emissary , not a trace .   until , finally , something poured out of zodiark’s breast , shimmering : the petite silhouette of a loved one completely covered in a pitch black mass fell onto the ground , leaving a loud thud upon impact . the sticky , muddy substance looked heavy as the body struggled to stand , or even simply getting up . it squirmed and panted , until it finally gave up , letting the will to toy with his fate however it pleased .

until ... 

until a pair of familiar arms pulled him up and pried his visage clean of the slimy goo . mismatched hues slowly opened , mouth slightly agape as it breathed faintly , yet still finding the energy to smile upon seeing the abyssal celebrant pulling him into an embrace . it was a weak smile , of course --- one that immediately dissipated as his chest was squashed against the other’s chest ; in a moment’s despair , perhaps , he allowed lithe hands to grasp tightly at the hems of lahabrea’s dark robe in a way of holding on to something   ( or perhaps in a way to convince himself that he was still alive ? )   . he exhaled a sigh of relief .   did he carry out his duty ? not that great of a god must have been born from such a dump , he thought , or he wouldn’t have been alive at all . did that mean ... ?

gravity pulled most of the substance down , slowly freeing the poor emissary . the latter lifted his head just slightly , patting the speaker’s back as if to sign him to let him go . he was slowly recollecting himself .

“ i’m ... sorry ... ”   was all he could manage to say .   did this pitiful sacrifice even do something ? did it stall the final days ? was he even alive or was he living a nightmare ? he felt exhausted ...

[tartarusdwells]

𝐚𝐬𝐤  𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐞 :    𝒎𝒊𝒔𝒄𝒆𝒍𝒍𝒂𝒏𝒆𝒐𝒖𝒔  𝒒𝒖𝒐𝒕𝒆𝒔  /  accepting  |  @pyrehic​  |  ‘  you  can  love  and  be  loved ,  despite  what  may  feel  like  the  eternally  brutal  nature  of  the  world .  ’  twirls hair hey what if uhhhh crystal exarch & kor

𝐇𝐄𝐑  𝐒𝐎𝐔𝐋,  𝐇𝐄𝐑  𝐒𝐊𝐈𝐍,  𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐕𝐄  𝐓𝐇𝐄  𝐄𝐏𝐈𝐓𝐀𝐏𝐇.  She  has  always  known  brutality,  the  girl  turned  wolf  ;  forged  by  her  father’s  barbarous  hand  and  tempered  by  this  world’s  cruel  realities.  Like  a  star  spun  off  its  planetary  axis,  she  does  no  good  for  the  comets  that  pass  by  (  Like  a  black  hole,  her  existence  ensnares.  It  so  often  obliterates  )  and  she  commits  her  friends  to  the  dark  like  ships  to  the  bottom  of  the  sea.

He  should  know,  better  than  most,  the  pieces  she  unwittingly  ripped  through  fate.  From  his  first  orbit,  she  took  from  him  ;  freedom  committed  to  crystal,  years  lost  in  stasis,  a  fate  ushered  unwittingly  to  the  smog  of  black  rose  and  her  body  wreathed  in  rot.  ‘ I  wish  you  would  not  lie,  not  to  me, ‘  she  wanted  to  say,  but  every  time  the  words  turned  to  ash  and  she  convinced  herself  his  secrecy  was  protection  from  the  very  thing  she  was  :  a  supernova,  a  tempest  billowing  out  of  control.

Still,  she  sometimes  wished  she  could  spur  that  anger  in  him  —  to  know  completely,  in  his  outrage,  what  he  had  lost.  What  he  had  sacrificed.  She  wanted  him  to  sink  his  teeth  into  her  jugular  and  rend  his  pound  of  flesh,  for  her  blood  to  fall  like  ribbons  until  she  came  undone.  Was  it  not  the  path  of  the  martyr  to  atone  ?  Savagery  had  always  been  a  friend  of  hers,  she  knew  its  pretty  jaws.  Suspended  between  them,  she  felt  the  most  herself.

‘ You  can  love, ‘  her  snort  is  crueller  than  she  intended,  and  she  chides  herself  for  its  use.  She  cupped  one  hand  in  the  other  like  a  vagabond  holding  water  ;  a  pool  to  hold  the  waters  of  the  styx  she’d  drawn  in  the  aftermath  of  her  loved  ones’  death  (  commit  their  names,  count  the  ways.  It’s  a  well  that’s  never-ending ). 

‘ You  can  be  loved, ‘  Ah,  but  you  can  loose.  Koret  wondered  if  he  heard  her  desperate  screams  the  day  he  was  interred  within  the  tower,  a  cerulean  mausoleum  she  banged  her  hands  on  until  they  bruised.  She  was  no  Orpheus,  the  validity  of  her  blood  was  not  divine,  and  it  was  only  when  the  day  bled  to  night  and  NORA’s  retrieval  of  her  she  bitterly  realised  he  was  not  coming  back.  It  was  the  day  she  tried  to  hate  him,  rather  than  accept  the  truth.

‘ Despite  what  may  feel like  the  eternally  brutal  nature  of  the  world. ’  It  was  then  she  looked  at  him,  a  single  eye  to  shielded  cowl   —  she  wondered  what  he  thought  of  that,  the  brutality,  when  he  looked  upon  her  loss  —  and  the  subtle  twitch  of  her  lip  held  no  abject  humour.  A  hollow  placation  she  knew  would  not  appease  him  (  that  was  the  problem  with  beasts,  they  were  so  two  dimensional  )  but  better  than  nothing  at  all.

“ I  convinced  myself  a  while  ago  there  was  a  graveyard  inside  of  me. “  A  twist  of  stones  beset  by  revenants  who  haunted  her  in  the  night.  “ I  see  them  in  my  sleep,  the  ones  I  loved. ”

She  used  to  see  him  too,  collecting  dust  beneath  a  kaleidoscope  sky.  It  was  no  pretty  picture.

“ I  don’t  want  any  new  additions,  Exarch.  I’ve  lost  enough. “