Yamata no Orochi.
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Yamata no Orochi.
S I L E N C E - S A K U R A 2 0 2 0 , J A P A N.
©Kiyoshi Yamaguchi
lying is so funny. you just say shit that isn't true.
Photography by Xuebing Du
Instagram: xuebing.du
“... i dislike these limitations on my abilities, but at least i have more substance to my words.”
a sneer appears on his face. “... this vehicle is trash.”
he does not know how to use it. he refuses to use it.
smallblueboyscout:
If Jon had thought he was in pain that time his arm got shot, he had another think coming. He must have been more tired than he thought, overworking himself to make up for the guilt of even considering to put himself first under the delusion he might get to go home. He hadn’t even realized he’d used up his invulnerability when he saw a group of jerks attack some teen aged couple. Of course, he threw himself into the fray without a thought to himself, and of course that meant he got pummeled once the couple had run off.
His ribs hurt, his face hurt, he was pretty sure something was broken. But he wouldn’t cry or make a noise of pain. If he did, he was worried someone would tell him he clearly didn’t need to be a hero. He stopped his slow walk to Battler’s home (he’d been staying there more or less unofficially after Peter had vanished in January) when he heard someone call out to him. He took a deep breath and forced a smile through his gritted teeth.
“Uuuuuh.” He looked up at Orochi and then back down at himself. “I was trying to help some people. While I was making sure they got to safety, I kinda… got… distracted?” He braced himself for the mocking to start, the disdain for helping other people at his own expense, just the general things he had come to expect from their few conversations.
a frown appears, disapproval evident with every little facial movement. he folds his arms and says, “why do you help others, superboy? even at the expense of your own well-being?” but, no matter how many times the boy explains, orochi would not understand. likewise, no matter how many times orochi tries to convince the boy to do otherwise -- he would not understand. this is the difference between the two. one born of good, the other born from evil. maybe he even finds it admirable that there exists such people that defy his godly logic, unable to be swayed by most temptations and give up what they believe in. knowing that, he’s not going to stop trying. it’s a game he enjoys playing, only because he keeps losing. if he ever wins... well, the fun will be gone.
the sight of the boy injured, in pain, brings him no pleasure. orochi can be described as sadistic, but he thrills in chaos caused, not pain endured. if anything, he’s a bit annoyed to see his favorite child to tempt (silver tongue enjoys seeing when and if this boy will ever sway from his stupid morals) injured, his fun taken away from the boy’s fatigue. “tsk,” he sounds, walking closer to gauge the injuries better.
closer now, he can see the extent of the boy’s injuries. a face that used to be free from bruises now begin to swell. breathing seems painful -- maybe his mortal ribs have been injured. frown deepens and he sighs, almost incredulous at what he’s witnessed. “come, let’s fine some help for you,” he says, turning around, knowing where the boy could find the medical help he needs. after all, as a god, he cannot provide it, not one used to handling wounds. he would never suffer wounds like this and require intervention. he turns his back, eyes not facing the boys, he says, “it’s no fun mocking you when you look this pathetic.” a tilt of his head signals the boy to follow, not accepting no as an answer.
gallowsbough:
An organization called NULL, Yggdrasil begins. Sought to return the city, and all who live in it, to nothingness. This, Yggdrasil vaguely gestures to the city still in disarray, is the aftermath of the infighting and otherworldly enemies.
It is unfortunate, she agrees for polar opposite reasons. But getting a taste of the power we once commanded was… agreeable. The primal smiles ruefully, then laughs. Yes, agreeable. Our keepers tend to furnish us when it is convenient for them. Yggdrasil’s tone is not scornful. Rather, she intones this as though reciting a fact.
She follows suit, flopping down in a swoosh of skirts and reclining back, propping herself up by the arms.
Contained? she chimes with concern. So he had exchanged one bond for another. A cruel twist of fate indeed, close to casting one off, only to be detained again. Why? she inquires with a cant of her head. A pause. The primal had once thought of this place a prison. In which would you rather be?
what an ordeal he missed -- one he really would have enjoyed. seeing the city brought to their knees, captives struggling to figure out this situation. infighting among people who took different sides. an event that would have brought him so much pleasure to witness. and a chance for him to taste the power they took away from him, at the cost of his freedom? unfortunate timing for him to return after, only able to see the city with half of it still ruined. “fate had different plans for me,” he says, final words on the matter. no point in ruminating over events he had not experienced.
“our captives have figured out how to use us by now. giving us a taste of power, as if we are mere mortals waiting for the opportunity to be gifted by gods,” he comments. the reversal of his situation in this world something he disliked, but ultimately subjected to. one day, with time, that might change. “your words sound spiteful,” he says, gaze shifting back to her. “but your chimes are calm. resigned to this situation? then again, after so long in captivity -- what can you do but wait?”
eyes lower, smile gone from the pale face. the question asked one that would require more thought. silence inserts itself between them. he breaks it to say, “i wish i had the choice to say neither. free in my world, able to do as i pleased, instead of trapped here or there without my autonomy.”
“at the end, home is where i’ll rather be. it’s the world i had been born with. i had been close to escape.” a pleasant smile appears on his face. “wouldn’t you choose the same?"
i’m entirely capable of being a fucking nightmare.
darkmoondelusion:
“Mm… It soundeth… awful. And… lonely.”
Gwyndolin could guess at what sort of things Orochi wanted to do. Did he want to rule over them all? Apparently, the snake’s ambition was enough for the other gods to step in… He’s afraid to ask what the truth is. No one deserved such a fate, but perhaps it’d been their only option.
“Ah, that’s right. My father was the king of gods, the god of the sun… but I wasn’t like him. I was of the moon and scales. He thought I was weak and disgusting. I’m sure if he’d had his way, I’d be hidden away forever like thee, as his pawn. Of course… I ended up outliving him and taking his title.”
Why is he telling Orochi this? At least there’s little harm in it.
“I have a church in Archimedes. Small, but… cozy, yes. I do not really need another, unless they wished for it.”
orochi shrugs. anger at his imprisonment a mere throb compared to the intensity he originally felt. voice soft, he says, “at the end, the passage of time makes one grow accustomed to anything, no?”
he listens to the other god’s past, a turbulent history between him and his father. “he disliked you because you were different?” he asks, expression blank, his thoughts unvoiced. a crooked smile reappears. “destiny is strange, isn’t it? a god of the sun overtaken by a god of the moon. he thought you weak, but you succeeded him regardless,” he ponders. “if i may ask, what brought about your father’s demise?” murder? wouldn’t that be fun.
“you ask for too little, gwyndolin,” he retorts. “one small, but cozy church? where’s your ambition?” he asks. there’s no derision. there’s no mockery. simply... a question for the other to answer.
tiamatsixth:
Tʜɪs ᴡᴀsɴ'ᴛ exactly something Enoch expected to be quizzed on today. He had assumed his night would be like any other as of late - alone, sublime, drowned to drink his horrific lamentations away til the morning. To sulk in his empty head, to mull over what he’d lost. So when a voice rang out somewhere beside him, curious, slick, too smooth to be human, he pauses. Shakes himself out of his skin, to snap back to reality.
Tʜᴇʀᴇ’s ᴀ drink set before him (when did that get there?). He takes it in his palm with a quiet hum.
“ Quite the opposite. ”
Aʙᴢᴜ ᴄᴀsᴛs the stranger a quiet glance, bloodied face sliding to drip from his chin at the downward angle of his head. And he was right - there was something so inhuman about this gaze, so otherworldly, that if he were mortal it would’ve sent a reckless shiver up his spine.
“ I am… a conduit. A vessel, a… prophet, if you will. For Lady Tiamat, our bringer of chaos. ”
Hᴇ ʟᴀᴜɢʜs. Her name sours his tongue.
“ And what are you? If I may. ”
the mocking smile never leaves those lips -- in fact, they might be mocking him more with every word that orochi hears. although the name of the goddess that the boy speaks of is not within orochi’s realm of knowledge, originating from a world not his own, he’s very familiar with what he speaks of. another mortal who sought eternity, obtaining a fraction of some power that they would never have had the opportunity to obtain otherwise. they think themselves more than what they actually are, pawns of the beings they created a contract with. fingers run along the cup of his drink, slitted eyes narrowing from amusement.
“i’m familiar,” he says, voice calm, derisive tone minimal. “i can’t help myself but continue to pry -- why did you go to a goddess to obtain her power? what did you have to give to obtain it?” he chuckles, head canted -- waiting for his response.
“how... ignorant,” he comments. orochi delights in this personality in front of him.
“perhaps you’re more than mortal now,” he muses, snake eyes finally leaving the creature’s gaze, returning back to his drink. he takes a small sip, the fiery burn of the alcohol delightful, but lacking compared to the drinks of the gods. “but you are no god, merely a vessel for one.” a biting tone, baiting the person to speak, to fight back. “delightful.”
“ah~” he muses, “i am god.” eyes glow, shining brightly in the darkness of the bar. “my name is yamata no orochi, little one. pleasure.”
Here he is;;;; I love him;;;;
❖— ❜ @smallblueboyscout ( planned ! )
a recognizable figure limps in front of him, body in clear pain for a reason unknown. he watches as the boy trips over every crack on the street, already destroyed by the chaos that unfolded prior to his return. he looks on, expression unreadable.
“superboy,” he finally calls out, revealing his presence to the child in pain. he walks towards the boy. snake eyes scan the boy’s injured form, analyzing the extent of the injuries obtained. his lips curling downwards into a frown at the sight -- truly pathetic in ways orochi does not find pleasure in. arms fold across his chest, fingers idly tap against his arm. with annoyance lining each word, he asks, “what had you done to get yourself into this sorry state?”
HARD QUESTIONS MEME - ( open ! )
@edeneyed asked 16 ( Have you ever contemplated killing someone? Who and why? Would you ever act on it? Are you frightened you might? )
“when you’re stuck in a void of nothingness, trapped for the rest of eternity, you have a lot of time to think. it’s nothing but time and your thoughts,,” he says. there’s a noticeable lack of expression on his face. his emotions are unreadable. eyes leave the other’s, looking out into the bright streets around him filled with life and death, unlike the trap he resided in for most, if not all, of his life. “you have a lot of time to reflect upon your situation, who put you there, and what you wish to do as soon as you leave.”
“i’ve contemplated killing them all,” he says, every word enunciated with hate. his voice never raises, but the seething rage underneath evident as he continues, “the gods enjoying their lives in takamagahara, the ones who banded together to lock me for eternity deserve death, do they not? apt vengeance for the countless millenniums i spent wasting away.” he closes his eyes and... sighs.
a smile returns, all the spite gone as quickly as it had come. “but that would be too easy, wouldn’t it?” he asks gently, a tilt of his head, searching for the other’s agreement. “no, i would not act on their murders, not because i’m frightened. i merely want them to suffer for as long as i have, if not more. i would not hesitate if given the opportunity.”
and 17 ( Have you ever gotten sheer joy out of hurting someone else, either physically or mentally? To whom and why? Did it scare you? )
“hmmm~” he thinks about this one. eventually, he replies, “i’ve had little opportunity to do so.” again, the woes of captivity -- only able to experience things though a tiny window created from the greed of the minamoto clan. at the end, there’s only so much he can see. there’s nearly nothing he can do without a proper catalyst.
“i like seeing people at their lowest, at the brink of giving up. i enjoy seeing their despair. i enjoy seeing them in chaos. admittedly, hurting them is not what i find amusing,” he idly waves his hand, eyes wandering away, staring at nothing in particular. he continues, telling a tale from a lengthy, but ultimately limited, past, “once, my power flowed into a miko, hurting her, breaking her from the inside,” he speaks calmly. “i did not find it pleasurable to hear her screams, watch her as her body decayed. if anything, i felt impatient that she suffered for so long before she finally became what i wanted to see -- a mere conduit for my eventual, inevitable escape.”
and 18 ( Have you ever done something morally wrong? If it’s morally wrong do you regret it? )
“morals are a human construct and even subjective per human,” he says, a lack of derision in his voice. he states facts without any malice. “as a god, i am beyond the morals than humans place on themselves. simply put, all my actions are just, incapable of being judged by human standards.” he turns to face the person who asked him such a question, treating them like a child who does not understand the way of gods, the will of the heavens above them.
“if you want me to answer as if i cared about that morality you speak of, as if it applied -- then yes, i have done some things many humans would consider morally wrong. i have lied. i have manipulated. i have killed,” he says, listing that like how would list their groceries, blandly and bluntly. “but i am not human. do not subject me to those morals.”
“you can figure out for yourself if i have any regrets over those actions. i will not insult your intelligence, human.”
HARD QUESTIONS MEME - ( open ! )
@memoriams asked 19 ( What is more likely a thought to you – that this world is wrong or that you are wrong? )
he raises his eyebrows. “i am never wrong. how can a god be wrong?” briefly, annoyance flickers across his fate, presumptions made about him that he does not appreciate. yet, his temper isn’t bad, he calms down rather quickly, the smile on his face reappears -- a smile filled with disdain.
“i already believe the world is wrong,” he says, folding his arms, reminiscing about his captivity. stuck in a world for millenniums, all because of fear for what he could do. "the world lacks a true god, especially in this forsaken place. filled with rabble that run around without purpose. the world rejects one willing to rectify that.”
“well, one day i’ll correct that wrong.”
HARD QUESTIONS MEME - ( open ! )
@nurotoxin asked 24 ( How do you feel about tears? Are they cowardly and weak? Do you cry? Would you consider that shameful? )
"i have never cried.”
greater truths have never left those lips. orochi smiles and continues, “i am a god. i am eternal and everlasting. what reasons can i possibly have to cry?” the question is returned back to the asker. with a tilt of his head, he waits for their response.
“but...” sadistic pleasure flashes across that porcelain face. “i do not find tears cowardly. in fact, it might even be brave for humans to break down their facade, revealing the tears that accumulated underneath. after all, even if i do not shame them, there are others who will.”
a low chuckle follows. he says, “i do view it as weakness. humans... so fragile, so weak, that they must cry to show their despair at that fact. without any hope, all they’re left with are tears. it’s amusing to witness one cry.”
“i will not shame them for doing so -- after all, i only want to see them cry more.”