披星，戴月。

moon bringer, cloaked with stars.

[wreathcrowns]

open rp blog. Written by crowns, 30+ She / Her, Asian. Not mutuals exclusive. Minors under 21 DNI. Multiship and Multiverse across fantasy & mythology. OC, crossover, duplicates, mobile, and anon friendly. Marked with * are muses who can crossover & mix media more easily than others. In order of priority:

bg3. Ketheric Thorm. myth. *Diomedes. *Patroclus. Hades. tolkien. *Elrond. *Thranduil. Oropher. Nolofinwe. biblical. Destroying angel.

explore. Prompts. Verses. Shipping. Wishlist .Opens.

guidelines below. Threads. +2 more. Inbox 0.

open to all. I don't require follows to write together. I retain full control of my dash, as do you. I reserve the right to be selective with my inbox and threads. If you follow first, please send me things to start. That's also what I do when I follow first.

minimalist. Mostly in regular font. I do not use icons, gifs, colours, and limited aesthetics / images. Accessibility is important. English is my second language.

portrayal. Headcanon based, with inspiration from books and wiki. I am quite adaptable. Interpretations of religious themes ahead. If any of it upset you, you are not required to follow my blog to write with me.

dead dove. Unrestrained. Tagged as content tw / dddne / usft / deicest may be present ( Olympians, Valar & Maiar, etc ) I will read your rules to see the topics to avoid in our threads. I do not write: Incest. Pregnancy or Miscarriage. Omegaverse. DNI: Pedophilia, CSA. Cheating. Non con. Fetishizing any gender. Spiders / insects / bugs etc.

dropping: When I have lost interest in that particular thread. You did not add anything new in your reply for my character to react to. I'll assume you've lost active interest in the thread.

unfollow / blocks. We're not writing together. I perceive lack of interest, and no initiative from you at all. Our writing styles or literary effort don't match up. Too much ooc, rants, negativity, drama, smut, nsfw. Known creeps and abusers.

activity. Low and fluctuates. I work full time in management, and am involved with my very small church ♡ I am also starting DOS 2. There will be bouts of silence.

request only. Ambessa. Madara. Hashirama. Jing Yuan / Fan Yue. Feel free to interact, do note that I won't be following their fandoms + hb / hh, asoiaf / got, hp, pop, krp, irl.

[wreathcrowns]

❝ i do not dream. i remember. ❞ / from freya to diomedes

The gods do not have need to deal with the imaginary. Why would they dream, when they could make come into existence anything that they ever want? Unless by some law, just or otherwise, that they could not do so. Diomedes was highly favoured, but he does not claim to know anything about Athena, save what she revealed to him. But Diomedes supposed that even gods have things which are not in their power.

❝ Do you wish that you can forget, goddess-queen? ❞  he chances the question.

Most times, Man marvels at gods, which births hubris. But none have really considered the plight of the gods, have they? Whom much have been given, all the more will be required of them. At least, this was how Diomedes felt about the consecration of his life. It must be a thousand times worse in the endlessness of deities.

Diomedes interlocked his fingers together, thumb rubbing the back of rough hands. For once in his life, his wisdom escapes him, and he has no solution for a god.

[wreathcrowns]

"We cry for those you burned beneath the flame." / from isobel to ketheric.

Embraced by Myrkul, Ketheric has heard the same rhetoric again, and again, and again. THE TESTAMENT OF WHO HE USED TO BE. When it came from Isobel, the daughter saved by many a sacrifice, there was the pressure of a knife twisted in a place he could no longer feel.

❝ You have that privilege because you breathe. ❞  Ketheric states plainly. He would bring up her mother, if he wished to sully her memory, but he did not. Melodia would be the first to retch, to see how her dear husband has fulfilled the protection of their only daughter.   My dear is not here to tell me how she would feel if I let you die in vain.   That was a fear, really, forgiveness for his failure would render naught all he has done in the name of resuscitating Isobel. That thought is burned in the fire that razed the world. ❝ Now you serve the ones who let you die. They had left your father to grief and destruction, and so have you, Isobel. ❞

[wreathcrowns]

So, to no one's surprise, it's official that Ketheric loves to choke people. In most any sort of situation. It would just be one of those things that happened one day, having total control of someone's breath and light in their eyes going out, and that one action brought him a surprising amount of delight.

Similar to seeing converts kneel to Selune, then at some point he could have imagined they essentially knelt to him, too. it was wrong to think that way, but it also made him feel accomplished.

It is not so much as power getting into his head. Ketheric did not start out that way. But it was his whole life, his identity, baptised in holiness and godliness. That it just seemed like this would be a natural progression for him. He is relating a behaviour to a form of reward for him.

Ketheric likes holding life in his hands. In its simplest form, that's a neck.

[baldursgte-arc]

raphael drinks in the sweet sound of ketheric's grief that seeps out into the moment — the display of a broken man desperate to feel anything, to have a purpose, is the devil's playground. he will push ketheric to the brink of despair & ecstasy, & then he will claim him for himself. without a response, raphael flips their positions. ketheric presses into the mattress & raphael straddles him, palm pressing against his chest to pin him there. there's a steady rock of his hips to grind himself down into ketheric, a devilish grin pulled onto his lips as he stares down at the holy general.

" is that what you wish for, paladin? to let the flames of this place to consume you? " raphael questions with a 'tsk' & a shake of his head. his body leans forward to hover over him & his teeth catch the lobe of his ear, nipping at it before he speaks. his words hot & low against the shell of ketheric's ear. " what use would you be then? i could give you something more, should you wish for it. the power of the hells, right at your fingertips. "

[wreathcrowns]

In a moment, the house spun around Ketheric while his teeth left indents on Raphael's neck. Moonlit tresses are splayed over the plush red of pillows, almost the antithesis of blood spilling across concrete. Here, it was Ketheric laid out for the slaughter. A brightness, snuffed out, if Raphael willed it.

It does not seem that Raphael willed it.

Strong calves grapple onto the devil, greedily taking the heat and friction being offered. His mouth parts in a soft moan. His hand sought to reach Raphael's neck.

❝ I wished for many things. ❞  Ketheric cradled Raphael's hair when he came near, long fingers massaging the devil's scalp in an absentminded way. Ketheric's done this for Melodia countless times.  ❝ More power … ❞  contemplative, the holy commander was the only one bold enough to close hands around Raphael's neck, and maneuver him to lock eyes together.  ❝ Do you not think I am powerful, Raphael? ❞  why do things still happen to me, with all this power, can anyone answer that?

[mvndrvke]

Dammon blinks. "You have my people locked in the dungeons of this tower," he reminds Ketheric. "I would never do anything to put them in any trouble or at risk." He's sure whatever cult-hallowed magic Ketheric possesses would keep him safe anyway, but he doesn't add that.

At the mention of others walking free, he can't hide a wince. "If you mean Zevlor, he is no friend of mine."

[wreathcrowns]

Ketheric did not mean Zevlor, but Dammon's words made him curious. Putting away the chainmail, Ketheric leaned on the side. ❝ Oh, you have a grudge to pick with the paladin, do you? ❞

[hiddcnplcts]

Muse A has been having strange dreams—too real, too vivid, too terrifying. In these dreams, they see Muse B, a stranger who feels eerily familiar. Then, one day, Muse A meets Muse B in real life. Muse B swears they’ve never met, but something in their eyes says otherwise. Muse A starts to question their own mind: are the dreams just dreams? Or is Muse B hiding something much darker—something Muse A was never meant to remember?

[cryptinspo]

– 𝗚𝗥𝗘𝗘𝗞 𝗠𝗬𝗧𝗛𝗢𝗟𝗢𝗚𝗬 𝗜𝗡𝗦𝗣𝗜𝗥𝗘𝗗 𝗣𝗥𝗢𝗠𝗣𝗧𝗦 !  an  assortment  of  a  bit  more  ‘serious’  prompts.

❝ the gods are not cruel, they are merely curious. ❞

❝ i have seen empires rise like prayers and fall like silence. ❞

❝ immortality is a slow kind of hunger. ❞

❝ even the divine grow tired of being worshiped. ❞

❝ i once loved a mortal. now the stars whisper his name. ❞

❝ the sea does not forgive. it only remembers differently. ❞

❝ they called me a myth to make me easier to forget. ❞

❝ the sun envies those who can set. ❞

❝ every prophecy is just nostalgia disguised as fate. ❞

❝ my hands remember the shape of creation. ❞

❝ even the gods kneel to time. ❞

❝ i wore divinity like a wound. ❞

❝ there is no glory in eternity, only repetition. ❞

❝ i loved you in every age, and none of them were kind. ❞

❝ the altar still smells like your prayers. ❞

❝ lightning does not ask for forgiveness. ❞

❝ to be feared is not the same as being known. ❞

❝ my heart beats slower than centuries. ❞

❝ the constellations were once my mistakes. ❞

❝ you built temples for me, but i lived in storms. ❞

❝ love, like prophecy, never asks permission. ❞

❝ i have turned grief into galaxies. ❞

❝ mortals call it tragedy. we call it memory. ❞

❝ i spoke the world into being and have been silent since. ❞

❝ the ocean taught me patience, then drowned me in it. ❞

❝ i am both the curse and the cure. ❞

❝ eternity is not mercy. it is echo. ❞

❝ he swore devotion, and i answered with thunder. ❞

❝ the moon only reflects because it cannot burn. ❞

❝ i am the story the poets feared to finish. ❞

❝ divinity is just loneliness with better lighting. ❞

❝ mortals die once. gods die endlessly in legend. ❞

❝ the fates never speak, but their silence threads everything. ❞

❝ i have loved across lifetimes, and each time, it ruins me. ❞

❝ creation was easy. enduring it was not. ❞

❝ my name has been worshiped, cursed, and forgotten, in that order. ❞

❝ the stars are just old gods pretending to be light. ❞

❝ i do not dream. i remember. ❞

❝ he prayed for glory. i gave him consequence. ❞

❝ thunder is only my heartbeat caught in the sky. ❞

❝ i built the world, but i cannot rebuild myself. ❞

❝ every offering is a confession. ❞

❝ i envied mortals their endings. ❞

❝ the divine bleed in metaphors. ❞

❝ i carved your name into eternity, and eternity flinched. ❞

❝ even olympus trembles when the heart remembers. ❞

❝ i have walked through centuries and never found forgiveness. ❞

❝ the gods are not kind, but they are honest. ❞

❝ i loved you like ruin loves beauty. completely. ❞

❝ divinity was never a gift. it was the punishment for wanting more. ❞

[mvndrvke]

@wreathcrowns gets a starter!

Dammon doesn't trust being in Moonrise any more than he trusted being in Avernus. He'd been resigned to waste away in the dungeons of the tower, but whether it was fate or bad luck, the guards had heard he was a smith. Their last blacksmith had been lost to the curse, and now--

Now Dammon has a forge, and a locked door keeping him in it.

Maybe he can earn some freedom for the tieflings. A life working in Moonrise is better than one wasting in the dungeons. Those he came with are a hardy bunch; they'd survived Elturel's fall, the Emerald Grove, and this cursed place so far. They will endure here too.

Ketheric is without fear, so the fact that he comes without any guard or protection to Dammon's forge is no surprise. Dammon pauses his work weaving repairs into one of Ketheric's sets of chainmail and bows his head.

He holds out the mail for Ketheric to examine his work-- the part he has repaired is done of his own style that he learned in Avernus, leather strips artfully woven among the rings to keep even the sharpest arrows from making it through.

"Forgive me, my lord," he says quietly. "This is how we did things in Elturel. I can fashion a pattern in the mail to make the repair less noticeable should you wish."

[wreathcrowns]

The reparations of his own armours was something Ketheric often neglected. After all, he was the immortal undead General of Moonrise. Not requiring protection was one of his perks. The use of armours really only served to prevent delays to his onslaught.

That's all to say that the forges would receive a hefty batch of large sized armours irregularly.

Ketheric does not put it on anyone else's agenda, but when he remembers after some time, he walks in on a random night to check on their progress. At the sight of Dammon, Ketheric had to pause, as though he'd just stepped into the wrong room. His mind quickly goes through a couple of recent events before he nods to himself.

The General waves off Dammon's apology, maintaining neutrality while looking through the works. He feels it with his hand. ❝ How sure am I, that this is not some patron-summoning inscription? ❞ Ketheric knows it isn't, but he tests Dammon's resolve. ❝ Other of your friends have also arrived in my halls, walking free. ❞ He teases freedom.

[consiliums]

She nodded at his words. Valentine allowed herself to become lost in the task. The scrubbing, heavy metal that was metaphorically stained in a way she would never be able to clean, small waves in dark water. Her blood would be bright red. When she inevitably failed to kill him, her blood would stain the stone floor in an unmissable sign that she once lived. Then her father would have her and he would be happy. She would be seated at his right side. The Underworld would have a princess to aid in ruling and her dreams of gardens and sunshine would be gone forever. Moonrise Towers was unpleasant to say the least, but at least it was safe. She would take that at least.

A dagger, a shortsword. Anything that would provide her with the power she needed to so her future was guaranteed. He was in as vulnerable state as the great Ketheric Thorm ever was but she was stuck with pruned fingers and a feeling of being unmoored. With another grunt, Valentine lifted the cleaned armor from the basin and set it aside. Always aim to seem weak and ineffective. Not that her skills were even remotely close to his but her father had told her a thing or two. Not enough though. Perhaps she would don the armor, stun him, then push him into the water deep enough to stop him from ever breathing air again (presumably).

"I understand that it is not my place," Valentine said as she dried the armor off. "But perhaps you could spare some time for a sparring session. I would be foolish if I didn't risk rejection by requesting a lesson from one of the greatest fighters of our time." The idea came to her abruptly and she seized it. Valentine had her own background knowledge but if she could become even more adept, it would aid her significantly.

[wreathcrowns]

Her question made Ketheric tarry at the chamber doors. It seemed odd to him that a Chosen would risk being killed by another, asking for a spar. But she was humble enough to ask, and Ketheric has always been an impartial, generous man, rewarding and punishing in equal amounts.

Though, Ketheric does not mistake that compliment of hers for anything else other than a manner of coaxing. It draws yet another unseen smirk, and shaking of head.  ❝ You need to gain more strength before meeting me in battle. Bring my cuisse and greaves to wash. ❞  he commanded, more mildly, in contrast to the prior challenge to her pride.

Ketheric stepped into the bath chambers proper, but left the doors ajar, so that they may continue to converse about the potential of her training. He removed his circlet and placed it on the side of the sink, and hung the towel.

Amidst soft swishes of water, he asked, ❝ Are you eating well in my halls? ❞  one's caloric intake directly affected how much they can train, after all.

[wreathcrowns]

Share a bath with Ketheric, and talk at him. Almost climb him 😘 You'd think a man would kiss to shut y/m up but he just looks & closes a hand around the neck, squeeze the airway abit, hear y/m squeal & squirm. He laughs. "What were you saying? Tell me again."

[wreathcrowns]

Ketheric doesn't require sleep, so while much of the tower sleeps ( aside from night wardens, patrols, etc ) He in fact does a lot of mundane tasks that one would not think a General would do.

For example, he cleans his own armour. He'll complete whatever equations Araj was working on. He'll leave notes, or letters, to Balthazar.

But he also would take longer baths than necessary ( because what else do you do with time? ) just to think and plan in his own mind, though it does nothing for him since his muscles do not require any form of relaxation.

[wreathcrowns]

astarion's clearly lost in his own thoughts, his eyes fixated on a particular point of the general's neck. not that it had been intentional, but he's rather hungry & he can't help but wonder what in the hells an immortal being such as ketheric would taste like. surely nothing good, right? then again... perhaps...

Followers of Ketheric Thorm are usually of his brood from the days of yore, or mindless undead servants. The General does not count the throes of True Souls who come by into the gooey caverns below Moonrise, unless they would die on the altar above, and be consecrated to Myrkul, and become his servants. But with the magistrate turned vampire, the General had yet to find a conclusion for this familiar face from the days of light.

And truly, none of his followers have been as conspicuous as Astarion, whose red eyes bore into Ketheric for the whole duration writing notes on reports at the Sanguine Laboratory. Once Ketheric had arranged the vials, potions, and alchemical ingredients back into their original positions, the way Araj prefers them, he finally acknowledged Astarion's … whatever it was.  ❝ This cannot keep going on. ❞  red eyes meet each other.  ❝ Surely you— ❞  a vague gesture at the elf.  ❝ Youths do not find enjoyment doing nothing. ❞

[loveridden1999]

one thing you should know about me is that it is always that serious and that deep for me. thank you

[wreathcrowns]

It was one more letter of the trials of Odysseus at sea, addressed to Diomedes, miraculously finding him amid this wandering exile from his (ex) wife's treachery at Argos. I should have gotten him on my ship,   he thought.   Odysseus would have been fine.   In a way, Diomedes could have done everything in his power to prevent Odysseus from offending the god of the seas. Was it too arrogant of Diomedes to think so? Diomedes, who was favoured, and Poseidon had never found trouble with him.

So Diomedes sighs to the waters on the way to Italy. It troubles him, of course. This guilt of having a nostoi safe and sound, while the other Archaeans suffer his goddess' temper. If she has indeed turned away from them for a period of time ( which was her absolute right ) what else could Diomedes do, except to appeal to Poseidon, and intercede on their behalf?

❝ Hear me, Poseidon, King of the sea, you who hold sway over the oceans and the ships above and the creatures below. Faithful Diomedes, who is not of your cove, but prays to you now, and offers up the humble works of my hand and mind, whichever you find delight in. I ask that you watch over my brothers and sisters out at sea, and show to them that your wrath comes with wisdom, and bring glory to yourself. Exceptionally, for … Odysseus … Diomedes is willing to take on the years of his punishment, if you so will it. ❞ @mvndrvke

[mvndrvke]

"Some nights, I cannot stop," Halsin confirms. Ketheric's hands move to his shoulders, and he smiles at the gentle intimacy. It's a smile that turns softer at the ministrations of his lover, careful work that seeks to pull the tension from his body.

For a change, the blessing is a welcome one. Halsin tilts his head backwards slightly, eyes closing as he enjoys the other's hands on him. It's the relaxed state the other elicits that has him speaking again, nearly without thought.

"I was.... kept. For a time. In the Underdark." He hasn't spoken of this, but the words fall unbidden from his lips now. "When I finally made it back to the surface, the world was bathed in her light. Strange that such a little thing, a detail of a moment, brought me here. Like something in me called to you."

[wreathcrowns]

Kept in the Underdark. Ketheric held his breath, unseen expression turning another shade. An ugly thing coiled within him at Halsin's brief statement. Someone dared to touch his druid ?? Ketheric stopped his ministrations, and slides arms possessively over Halsin, draping himself like a cloak of silver, as if to shelter Halsin from memory itself. Oh, by Selune's sword, Ketheric will— Oh. Oh?

❝ ... praise Selune. ❞ Ketheric let out, forcing this rage to uncoil itself. ❝ The world is unkind. I wish the circumstances that brought you to me were better. ❞

Ketheric sat himself down and leaned on Halsin's arm, winding fingers together. Such a sweet moment, this. Sometimes, Ketheric can scarcely believe how Selune rewards him so generously. Smitten by his own thoughts, Ketheric smiles up at Halsin, cheeks more rosy, ❝ I can purge the Underdark for you. ❞

[baldursgte-arc]

"will the buying of new boots be before or after i've walked myself into the bloody ground? just curious, darling." a scoff pulls from your lips as your body is forcefully moved from the spot you stand, fury burning bright in the red of your eyes. "no, no, no — you are not going to command me to do anything." though, you do know how & when to pick your battles & the general is not someone you're particularly interested in being on the wrong side of. with a drop of your shoulders & completely of your own accord, your arms cross over your chest & you begin walking forward with a scowl. "how do you people just do this all day, i mean, seriously? this is actually enjoyable for you?"

[wreathcrowns]

Ketheric graces no answer to Astarion's initial whining, and he flinches not when rage clearly took over the elf. Ketheric possesses many fair talents to haul a light weight around. Look at the shield at his back, and the warhammer oh so casually sheathed in it. Gauntlet hands have closed around slender necks for far less. ❝ Some strength training will do you good, Astarion. ❞ his lecture comes paired with an odd sort of persuasion. ❝ Envision: What great beings you could fell, with little consideration required on your end. Mayhaps, even me. ❞ Ketheric added himself to one of those great beings, though the General doesn't believe Astarion could ever succeed against him. Still, it can be seen as some form of encouragement.