𝐀 𝐒𝐓𝐔𝐃𝐘 𝐈𝐍 . . . escaping the cycle . stepping into your own . finally reaching your full potential . family, long dead and gone, still haunts . being the last of your kind . sitting down with yourself and finding your identity
#𝑤𝑎𝑛𝑒𝑔𝑜𝑑. independent & private roleplaying blog for gwyndolin - the darkmoon. lord of irithyll. king of gods - of fromsoftware's dark souls series. heavily headcanon based and canon divergent. crossover focused. mobile friendly rules under the readmore ♡ previously found on @hauntics
one . as you've already read, this is a private and selective roleplaying blog. i reserve myself the right to follow and unfollow as i please and i implore you to do the same if you ever come across anything on my blog that you simply do not vibe with. no hard feelings, ever.
two . i format my posts a moderate amount ( small text, italic and bold accents, double spaces for some punctuation ). if any of this makes my posts hard for you to read please feel free to bring it up to me! idm changing some formatting up for my mutuals if it means an easier time interacting for both of us.
three . minors dni. i, myself am above the age of twenty-one and do not wish to interact with minors online.
four . on that topic. i reserve myself the right to block freely. i whole-heartedly believe in curating your own online experience and will block what i simply do not vibe with. feel free to do the same with my blog if that means curating _your_ online experience
things i will immediately block for are any form of lgbt+ - phobia, racism, faschism and the tolerating of pedophelia. furthermore, if you use real life current political / economical events to fuel your headcanons or sympathy points by saying "xyx would (never) support xyx", i will avoid you. i don't mean topics of war or discrimination in general as these are common themes within characters in media, i specifically talk about current "hot topics". actual people are suffering and dying, character of media fame does not need to get involved.
five . this blog may contain topics such as religion, emotional and physical abuse, child neglect, murder, body-horror and sexual themes. any of these and the standard possible triggers will be tagged. i also do my best to pick up any tags my mutuals might ask for. if i ever miss one, don't hesitate to tell me so i can remedy the mistake. if you'd be so kind, i ask you to tag pictures looking down from far heights for me.
six . i absolutely love love love dynamics of any kind, may they be platonic, antagonistic, romantic or anything between and beyond. the same goes for plotting. i'm forever all for it. if you ever have an inkling of an idea about a dynamic or plot you'd like for us to write just haul it at me! i'll kiss you passionately.
seven . i practice mains and exclusives. to me, mains means that i consider you my go-to person for the character you write for plots, ic things or anything else. exclusives means, to me, that i will only ever write with _your_ version of the character and no other. for this i require some ooc plotting and chit-chatting beforehand. furthermore, affiliates mean that i consider you and your worldbuilding to be integral to my portrayal of a gwyndolin.
miquella scans them, blood still dripping onto soil. the faint pike of his cross begins to grow. " you're shakingly composed , " he says, blade of light vanishing. " i don't believe we've met. "
❛ there are worse fates. ❜ they hum. once. twice. not particularly in agreement, judging by the tune, but rather to bridge the gap of thought. ❛ blood and bones fuel the flow of time, after all . . . and it is no business of mine to interfere. ❜ time has not - and is not - their domain. their expertise lies more with the ethereal. dreams, illusions, some would even say, the lesser light. then again, what good is a god to people who no longer believe. most of all, in a land that isn't theirs ? in a land where they are nothing more than a stranger ?
they meet miquella's eyes and raise a hand in apology, as he reminds them of the lacking introduction. ❛ i once was gwyndolin. but now, no name doth me address. ❜ their bow is courteous but not deep, a mere formality. ❛ give me no heed, for i am but a wayfarer. ❜ they mean not to disturb, they merely mean to pass through. their seemingly neverending search having brought them to the furthest reaches. a single tug in their mind beckons them to leave it at that. to go about their business. they, however, do not and instead speak once more. ❛ one question, if i may. hath fortune perchance brought a stranger into these lands ? quite similar to mineself, however more imposing ? ❜
he stands at the edge of the cliff, taking in the sights in front of him. from here, it almost feels as though he can touch the sky with his fingertips if he tried hard enough. recently, kliff has gotten used to traveling alone. on an adventure of his own making, he's spent a lot of his time exploring, aiding those who he happens upon, and simply taking each day at a time. hearing footsteps approach behind him, he turns his head to look at gwyndolin, whom he promised to guide back to the nearest town, which happens to be quite a ride out, still. " it's a bit late to keep going. how do you feel about setting up camp here ? "
the day is already underway when they stop and rest for a moment. while gwyndolin stays behind to take in the last of the trees and shrubbers, kliff is already off. it takes them but a few moments to catch up at the cliff's peak. ❛ quite the drop. ❜ close enough to look down, they think out loud. ❛ does a cliffside not invite tragedy ? if anything happens upon us, there will be no way to flee. ❜ most their life, so far, has been spent in temples and cathedrals and rarely outside of those walls. so, their concern is that of a thought, seeming logical to them at the moment and not one of experience.
a moment of silence settles itself between them and a thought crosses their ever-busy mind. given that they are - in a way - truly dependent on kliff's aid, they should not be the one questioning his desicions. ❛ however, i trust your judgement. you know the wilderness better than i. ❜ a nod of recognition. if kliff has decided to camp up here, then so be it. ❛ thank you again for heeding my request. the people demand their my swift return. ❜ gwyndolin's every fifth sentence seems to be some sort of thankful statement these past days. the trek is long and has already proven to be difficult, even until now.
like a startled deer, serpentine eyes dart from left to right until they settle on @through-fire-and-flame. he seems far, through the dizziness of bloodloss. this is new to them as well. a scrape here, a cut there. these are natural occurences that come with daily life. but a blade so deep the force already displaced them ? that one's new. how mortal they seem all of a sudden. divinity only grants immortality, not an indestructible form, after all. every breath seems to hurt, even if the wound is not in a position to threaten their lungs. the tension of muscles and the movement of flesh with every passing second does the trick just as well.
the clash had been so quick, so brief, that the result of it seems so far out of reach, even now. their attention moves once more. this time toward the torn cloth where the man, currently kneeling in ichor, was almost cut clean through as well. the skin is stitched. good. had they the capacity, the god might have breathed a sigh of relief. considering their current situation, this shall be an activity for later . . . if the cosmos shall grant them a ' later '.
the knight, once silver, had not heeded their command to halt. of course not. in loyalties, authority and presence they were no match for the lord the knights once followed. if not with words, then with actions had they stopped the approach. unfortunately, in the midst of exchanging one life for another, they did not mind their own position. the conjured crescent of a sickle had done its job. it did, however, also conceal the knight's own last swing. for their sight is directed ever towards the future, the present seems to slip from time to time. they knew only a second before the blade connected.
He has no idea what he's doing. He's never done triage on a god. Going by the myriad scars on his face and hands, he's not done a sterling job of it on himself.
But no, there lay a god, and there around them is their divinity, spilling right out of a grievous wound. Laurentius' own wound, a godawful gash along his side suffered during his bid to stop the darkened knight from finishing the job, had been sealed already. Estus stiches you right up when you're not really alive.
But gods? Gods. How do you heal a god? Someone certainly managed the trick of wounding one.
All he had was the gasping godling before him, the dead knight in a heap nearby, and his own two hands.
His palm glows. All he knows is this. He can only hope divine physiology follows the same reason, or lack thereof, as mortal innards. He has to help. The knight almost killed him, silent the while, after Laurentius stepped in to stop the former's murderous assault. It was only the god's intervention - marked by a gleaming wound in shattered plate - that kept Laurentius upright.
"I'll be as gentle as I can be, I promise."
they take little note of his hesitation. most of their effort and attention is directed towards keeping themself somewhat grounded. if panic sets in, the entire situation will only get worse. they know this, they've seen it happen before to others. others . . . bleeding out like commonfolk is still a vague concept, even with the fact that it is currently happening to them. there's little they can do to support the effort, their domain lies not with the art of healing.
❛ be not . . . gentle. ❜ gold now smears into already stained fabric, as they grab at whatever their hand can reach. a response of both pain and fear. how truly shameful, to think that someone so divine could so easily be turned back into a scared child. scared of what is to come, scared of what will happen once their muscles relax just a little. ❛ be efficient. ❜ a plea, a command. their tone isn't set on either of the two. better to get the words out at all than question their intent. there's despair now seeping into their words. one of the few emotions they didn't know divinity had left them still. one of the emotions they so rarely make use of.
𝐊𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐃𝐈𝐕𝐈𝐍𝐄. a very slow , highly selective , art & writing blog , for 𝐖𝐔𝐘𝐀. a genderfluid, shapeshifting crow spirit, inspired by, and based out of old chinese myths and folktales. with base lore set to a fixed story. though wuya does have multiple different verses set in ; honkai star rail, onmyoji, gachiakuta, pokemon, and more.
holding your hand while i say this. the thing that got lin killed was their trust and love for mankind. not a lack of strength, not plain naïveté, not any amount of stupidity. it was trust and love that got them killed in the end
