#I feel like prison has a very blue with rim light vibe

[masonjarart]

First kiss (on the forehead)

#I made the lights way to dramatic for what this moment actually was lmaooo #qsmp #qsmp fanart #qsmp fitmc #hideduo #qsmp fitmc fanart #qsmp pactw #qsmp pac #qsmp pac fanart #hideduo fanart #qsmp fitpac #I feel like prison has a very blue with rim light vibe #so that’s why it’s in like all my art of the arch lol #qsmp prison

[rosierocks30]

Hidden: Ch.16

Chapter 16: Deception

(Historia)

It’s been three weeks since Levi tried to take her away from this hell. The only companion she felt safe was with Ymir who somehow was in her subconscious. Historia doesn’t know how it happened, but it helped her get through being Nathaniel’s obedient queen. The blonde woman had started to come out of her chamber to roam some areas of the palace or go to the beautiful gardens whenever she was tired being in her chamber. 

Today, the sun has shined on the west wing side of the garden. It’s one of her favorite gardens from all of them here. This garden has so many wildflowers and ponds with bridges and benches to enjoy. The geese and ducks gathered to swim in the ponds. There are also few swans which she doesn’t know how Nathaniel could afford them, especially the nation has very high national debts it needed to be paid. 

Historia was wearing a light pink dress made of silk with white and red roses as patterns. Her hat was light pink with a big white flower to match. The pearls around her neck were a gift from her “husband”. She hated these pearls and anything, Nathaniel had given her, but Ymir was right. She needed to play her part until it’s the right time to escape. Don’t expect anyone to save you if you want to be saved. So do it for yourself. 

Her blue eyes stared down at a pretty powder blue book made of leather with golden letters for the title. This book was not a storytelling book. It was a dairy; her mother’s dairy. Historia found this book in one of the old studyroom of this palace. Turns out it was her grandfather’s; then it was passed on her uncle then Frieda’s. Probably her older sister found it and hid it somewhere in that room so no one finds it. At first, the queen was reluctant to open the book to read it. Humph. Why should she care about her mother’s life before she existed? She was aware how much her own mother despised her. 

The young queen began to open the dairy and started to read the first page. Her mother was around a couple years younger than her when her father’s wife hired her as a maid. For the first several pages, all it mentioned was how excited she was to work at the palace.  The way she had described inside the palace was familiar how the palace is now. To Historia, her mother was a teenager with dreams of wanting to be part of the upper class’s life. While the queen was reading more into the diary, one of her ladies-in-waiting spoke to get her attention. 

“Your Majesty, the King is waiting for you to have lunch with him at the garden on the east wing.” The lady said. Historia laid the diary on her lap to nod. 

“Very well.” She sighed then gripped the book as the royal woman got up then started to walk to where Nathaniel was. 

By the time she and her ladies reached to the east wing of the palace, Historia entered the garden where Nathaniel was already sitting sipping wine. The servants was serving lunch when the queen spotted them. 

“Ah, my dearest. I’m pleased you’re here to join me for lunch.” Nathaniel glanced up to see his wife coming towards him. 

Historia had her expression neutral as she went to sit on the empty chair. The table was small  and made of marble with glass on top of the surface. She glanced down at the dish being served. Historia gave the servant a small smile to show her appreciation of their dedication to making it look delicious. 

“I was feeling hungry so I decided to come to eat.” She said. One of the servants served wine to her. At first, she was going to reject, but the queen had remembered Nathaniel is here. To get through their lunches, Historia will need something strong to endure this date. 

“It’s good that your appetite has returned. I assume you are getting better from your foolish attempt to escape from a few weeks ago.” He stared at her waiting to see how she would react. 

Of course, Historia wanted to grab the knife in front of her to stab him into his eyes. Her rage was rising up but a familiar voice kept her at bay. 

Hey chill, remember play the goody good Krista in order to gain his trust then strike him. 

Ymir said in her mind which thank the walls Historia was trying to calm herself down. The blonde queen finally stared into his eyes and gave him a smile. This smile was not one of her sweet warm ones. 

“Yes, I had time to think about my actions, husband. For that, I hope you will forgive me. I will do better and remember my place as your queen and beloved wife.” Historia said. 

The blue eyed queen noticed the way Nathaniel gloated at her admitting mistakes. She wanted to throw her wine at him for being an arrogant gullible asshole. Historia slowly sips her wine. 

“This makes me happy to hear.” he smirked. “So, tell me how was your morning? I’m sure you were busy with many duties to manage order in the palace.” 

“It has been a busy morning. I noticed you want to do a charity event ball? May I ask what kind of charity is it, my king?” The way she spoke made her want to gag. It just feels so forced when she said, her king.

She remembered during her mid pregnancy, Historia had considered to give Levi a title. He rejected that offer so many times, but Historia was stubborn not to give up in convincing him to accept it. 

(Flashback) 

 “Levi, I know you don’t like it but can you-” She was interrupted by her husband. 

“No.” He said bluntly. 

She pouted. “My love, you don’t even know what I was going to say.” 

“Whatever it is. The answer is no.” He said stubbornly. 

“Humph. You should have a title.” Historia finished her sentence which Levi raised his brow. 

“You know I don’t care about titles.” His beautiful silver eyes with a hint of blue looked into her. 

“I know, but when that day comes of our marriage and the baby being publicized; the council will make you take a title by their choice. I just brought it up because I want you to pick your own title and not let anyone choose it for you.” She said with concern.  

Levi still stared at her but it softened. He understood what she was trying to say. He leaned to kiss gently on her lips. Oh how she loved his sweet soft lips. His walls dropped from time to time to get where they are now. Levi was not afraid to be soft and gentle with his wife. To Historia, this was happiness. Seeing the man she loves, being his true self around her. There was no mask or anything to separate between him and her. His thumb caressing her soft pink cheek with affectionate. 

“How about the Queen’s heart?” He mumbled. 

Historia grinned when she saw a light blush on his face. “Oh is that a blush I see?” She teased him. 

“Tch, brat.” He said while Historia laid her head on his chest with a victory grin in making the Captain Levi Ackerman blushed. 

(End Flashback)

Historia was trying not to smile so Nathaniel won’t suspect her why she was smiling. Nathaniel took a bite out of a piece of cut fruit. 

“It’s a charity to raise money for security to make sure other nations will think twice in attacking us.” He said. 

“Basically, funding the military?” Historia raised her brow in confusion. 

 Nathaniel placed his eating utensils on the plate. “Yes, but not the ones we used to have. I disband them all to recruit a new army to obey their king. The three regiments had ruled this nation far too long. It’s time for the monarchs like us to retake our divine rights.” 

“I see. Why didn’t you just convert the military’s power to yours instead of disbanding them. We’re on the brink of war with Marley.” She doesn’t know if Nathaniel realized they need their soldiers more than ever which concerned her. 

“I don’t trust them. Don’t worry. Marley is too busy with their own issues. Beside, we have the templar��s support to protect us until our new military is ready.” Nathaniel was so sure of his decisions.

Historia sighed. When she was in power, at least the late Premier Zackely let her have some power in order to help the common people. As long as she doesn’t interfered very delicate decisions. A part of her wanted to have all the power as a ruler should have so she won’t be limited to help others and make life a bit easier for the common people. In her perspective, they are the driving force of the economy. 

Historia stayed quiet as her lips pressed on the rim of her wine glass slowly sipping. The templars were nothing but greedy hypocrites. She wonders if there are prisoners in the dungeon. The queen will make plans to ditch her ladies in waiting to investigate on her own later. 

“If you think this is the best; then nothing can’t go wrong right?” She finally said something. Of course, her words were full of bullshit, but Nathaniel is a gullible man. His ego is too big; it’s suffocating. 

What wonders her the most is that grandmaster. He gives off a cunning backstabbing vibe. She preferred to have Nathaniel in power than a man like Alexander Di Lorenzo. She feels something bad will happen and Historia gotta make an efficient plan to save her people and her loved ones. 

“Of course it does. By the way tonight, I won’t be visiting. Probably not for a few days.” He said. The queen was relieved about this. She doesn’t know if there will be another night of repulsiveness of having him do things only her true husband can make her feel loved and passionate. A faded smirk spread on her lip. She will use those days to explore unwanted areas. 

(Levi) 

He doesn’t know how long he was a prisoner. It’s felt like years for him. Levi was back at the animus to finish the life of his ancestor, Arne Ackerman. The captain waited for the male version of Shitty Glasses to turn on the machine. He took a deep breath as the glass-like hover over his eye view. Levi closed his eyes as the machine made it’s countdown then everything went black again. 

Eldia Empire, 1555

Arne Ackerman was busy helping his father setting the plots of crops on their 10 acres of land. They are almost done as winter solstice will arrive in several months. Arne had grown through the years being raised by two loving parents. Throughout his growing years, Arne had wondered why he never took after neither of his parents in looks or anything. Both of them had lighter hair colors with grays of strands coming out. 

He looked at his father to notice his nose was different than his along his mother’s too. At first, he was curious until one day in the village; Arne was on an errand to buy some minerals for the soils. There were some whispers from old crones near him. They were looking at him as they whispered to each other. Arne rolled his eyes in annoyance. Those old crones are nothing but gossipers. As he paid the man for the special soils, he heard what the gossips were about. 

“Oh my, Hilda’s and Birger’s kid has grown into a fine handsome man. Many village girls gossips how strong and handsome he looks.” the first crone said. 

“Pfft, my granddaughter and her silly friends, that's all they talk about. It gets tiring to hear them squeal.” The second crone scoffed. 

“I’m surprised Hilda was about to have a child; I thought she was barren. The gods had blessed her a fine strong son.” The third crone said. 

“That poor boy is not their blooded child. Hilda is barren. Always has been. They both found him at the slave market and bought him because Hilda couldn’t bear seeing a babe being alone and a slave. So, it’s a win-win for the Ackermans and Arne.” the second crone said. 

Arne couldn’t believe what he had just heard. His parents aren’t his actual parents? He was a slave. An infant slave when they bought him. The young man doesn’t know whether to be angry at. The main question was who his real parents were. Where are they? Are they alive? Did they sell him? These questions were becoming overwhelming for him. 

He didn’t realize his hand was gripping on the edge of the wooden countertop of a stand. His breath was gasping for air while Arne was holding it. His parents had never bothered to tell him of his origin? Maybe there was a reason. 

The dark haired man began to walk away. He was distracted with what the old crones were saying that Arne didn’t realize he bumped into someone else which they both fell on the ground. Arne opened his eyes to see a girl around his age with strawberry blonde hair. When her eyes opened, he could see they were blue like the deep ocean. 

“I’m sorry for not seeing where I am going…” Arne observed the girl to notice she has a teal colored dress with golden embroidery patterns. Her cloak was royal blue. The way she dressed; this girl is a daughter or some high lord or a princess. 

The girl glanced at him then blushed from realizing she’s still on top of him. “Oh dear, I think I should be the one apologizing to you, sir.” The strawberry girl gets up to dust off the dirt on her dress. 

“No my lady, I should have been the one to apologize.” He gets up after she does.

“Good sir, I insist. Take my apology.” Her tone was becoming firm. 

Arne sighed. This woman is a stubborn one. He gave in. “Very well my lady. I accept your apology, but I’m no knight to be called such an honorable title.”  

The high born woman snorted. “Oh please, a man of your status has more what it takes to be a knight than the ones at the castle.” 

The woman glanced properly at Arne to notice his exotic features. “Are you from around here?” She asked curiosity. 

“Yes, I am. I should be asking you the same thing.” He said. 

“I am afraid not. Let’s just say I escape from the chamber of the castle of my betrothed. Honestly, who wants to marry into that Fritz clan. They may be the ruling clan, but they are mad with their god-like persona.” The noble woman said with a cynical tone. 

“My lady, it’s bad luck to speak ill of the royal family. The goddess Ymir and the gods blessed the House of Fritz as our rulers.” Arne was worried for the woman who could have angered the gods for her insults at the royal family. 

“Ymir? She’s no goddess; just a woman who was granted with the power of the Titan. A blessing and a curse. We, Eldian, are cursed for many generations until some fool decides to play god to break this curse.” This woman was peculiar. She was bold to speak her mind. 

Arne couldn’t tell if this woman was completely mad or just knowledgeable. He barely knows how to read and do some counting. His mother was once a servant maiden at the palace during her youth before meeting his father, a simple farmer. She has given the best education she can give. For someone like him, he was educated compared to other farmers’ kids who received no education at all. In a way, he was lucky. 

“Has the gods and the goddess pissed you off?” He asked. 

“In a way, yes. I’m not ready for marriage. I always wanted to explore and learn so many places from the other side of the world. Did you know? There are some female rulers like Mary I of England. I have always wanted to visit Europe. I know I’m not meant to be some prince’s bride or anyone else’s. I was supposed to be the next clan leader, but my cousin took over and offered the king a bride to his heir. The nerve of him.” She stomped her foot on the dirt in frustration.  

Arne doesn’t know why this woman decided to tell him this. A simple apology was all it took for them to go their separate ways. “I’m sorry to hear that.” He said awkwardly. 

The noblewoman noticed how awkward he sounded by her rant. “My apologies, I didn’t mean to lay my burdens on you. By the way, how rude of me for not introducing myself. I’m Lady Ingrid of the Völsung clan. What’s yours, good sir?” 

“I’m Arne Ackerman, son of two humble farmers, Birger and Hilda Ackerman, mi’ lady.” He said. Ingrid stared at him curiously. 

“For a son of a farmer, you are educated from the way you speak.” She said. 

“Yes, my mother Hilda used to work at Fritz's castle when she was a young girl until she met my father. You can say, I’m lucky I was taught the way to speak to nobles and the royal family if I encounter them. Besides, I like learning whenever I have time; I read from the books I borrowed from this village’s bookshop.” Arne’s tone became passionate whenever he mentioned learning or books. His parents praised him for his intelligence. At one point, his mother tried to convince his father to send him to a pedagogue to properly educate him so he can advance his life comfortably. Birger didn’t want to send his son away. Who will maintain this land if Birger Ackerman died? By the law of the Eldia Empire; it’s Arne as the sole living child of the Ackermans. 

Arne was determined to keep the family farm alive with his parents. He was grateful that his father at least allowed him to self-taught whenever he made time. He can understand why his mother was insisting him to become something more than just a farmer. His mother was always dotting him. He may be annoyed sometimes but he does enjoy it nonetheless. 

“Ah I see. You are fortunate, Ackerman. Maybe I can use my position to get you a better occupation? “ She offered her help. 

“I, thank you my lady for your offer, but I must decline. I am humble to be a farmer just like my father.” Arne bows respectfully to Lady Ingrid. 

“Very well. I will respect your decision.” Ingrid gave a small smile. 

Before they leave their separate ways, Ingrid hears a few men with their horses galloping through a busy main road on the village. She turned around to see those guards that were chasing her earlier looking for her. Quickly, she grabbed Arne to run into a random shop. The shop was dark and dainty. The only light it shined was from the hazy window. Both hid as the knight guards passing through the muddy street. Arne could feel the woman’s body pressed too close for his liking. Don’t get him wrong. As a man, he would enjoy it, but this woman was a high born lady. A lowly commoner must respect a high born at all cost plus his mother taught to respect women no matter what status they are. To be honest, he hasn’t ever been with a woman. Most of his time since reaching puberty, he works and reads. It had never considered him courting a decent girl. He did have a crush on a girl who was his neighbor, but she had chosen another for better crops and livestock than his family could offer. 

He remembered how heartbroken he was when Arne came back home and explained that Roslyn had coaxed flirting gestures along another boy who also liked her.  It was also the main reason he lost his best friend. In a way, he was happy for him; but it did hurt his pride. It’s stupid now to let his pride ruin his friendship. Maybe, he’ll stop by their land with a peace offer and have his best friend in his life again. 

“Are they looking for you?” Arne stared at the strawberry blonde haired woman. 

“Yes, looks like they noticed I escaped. Some of them are part of my clan.” She growled in irritation. 

“You are very committed to not marry the royal heir.” His steeled eyes looked over the window

“I rather died than marrying that incompetent imbecile boy. I am a Völsung. I will not have my bloodline tainted with an idiot who prefer to suckle his mother’s tits than grow bloody balls.” Ingrid continued. 

“I see you have colorful vocabularies for a beauty maiden such as yourself.” Arne let a smirk appear on his lips from being amused the way she ranted about Prince Adelrick of the Fritz clan, heir to the Eldia Empire. 

Ingrid blushed from his compliment and the way she used foul words. It’s not that a lady likes to use improper words, but she was never your average high born maiden. So he labels her as beautiful? In her world of high born, most men saw her as a wild maiden that hasn’t been tamed yet. Being a Völsung, she was trained to fight and be in shape as she was supposed to inherit the Attack Titan, but her cousin took it. Her clan was the only one who still allowed their females to train like warriors. Most of the clans became soft and weak. All they worried about was how to appear like an ideal maiden or lord to woo them away and live happily ever after like the Grimm brothers’ fairytale book she was read to as a child. That’s why her clan was in charge of holding the Attack Titan. Most males were born into her bloodline until her existence. Her mother died giving birth to her and her father didn’t take another wife since he had mourned and loved her mother. She had admired her father’s loyalty to her mother. Their love story was poetic to tell.  

“Yes well, if you were forced to marry some royal cunt. You would probably be colorful with your words too.” Ingrid held her chin up as her pride began to take over. 

“I guess I would.” He chuckled humorly. “It makes you look human than some godly being a peasant like me should have been worshipping.” His dark humor came out. 

“I never see myself as some divine maiden. Just like you, I’m a human that’s capable of making errors or has flaws.” She glanced through the window again.  

“Good to know.” He glanced at the window too. 

“I think it’s safe. I guess I should take my leave. Thank you for your company, Arne.” She stepped away from him which Arne felt relieved. If she had stayed closer to his body more, let just say his little friend would have woken up. 

“It’s my pleasure, my lady.” He said. 

“Ingrid. You may call me Ingrid since we are becoming familiar with one of another.” She said. 

“That seems improper for a commoner like me to call your name.” Arne said while blushing a bit. In their society, you get to call someone their first name if you are close like friends, families, or lovers. Like in their situation, people will talk and assume their lovers. Ingrid is definitely a bold wild beauty. She’s like a she-wolf. Untamed, wild, and strong. He doesn’t find women like her these days.  

“It never bothers me on what’s proper or improper. I insist. We can call each other by names. I think we are way passed being acquaintances. Beside you seem a very intriguing person to befriend.” She smirked at him.  

“Hm, very well. As long in public, we still use the proper etiquette for your sake, Ingrid. People are gossipers. We don’t want them thinking the wrong idea.” He awkwardly laughs at the thought of seeing her potential crush. Oh by the gods, he can’t already be attractive to her. She’s beautiful and tough, but seeing him as her equal. 

“What kind of wrong idea? That we are secret lovers?” She teased him to make his face flushed noticeably. 

“Yes, they will think that since we are talking too comfortably. Besides, you’re not my type.” He is trying to play cool. 

Ingrid raised her brow at him. “Not your type? Am I not a beauty as you had put it that way earlier?” 

“I- you may be beautiful, but it takes more than just beauty to have my attention…” Arne coughed as he faced away from the embarrassing position he’s in. Seriously, does this woman have no shame in being too bold. She is lucky it's him and not some other man who would have taken advantage of her. He just doesn’t want to have his heart given away too easily. He had learnt his lesson. 

“Oh I see? You are not like other men I have encountered. Most just want a pretty damsel in distress for a bride. The only reason men wanted me as their bride is because it will boost their ego for being known to tame a Völsung woman into a demure lady-like maiden. So what are your types?” She grinned. “Come, you can tell me on the way to your family farm.” 

“Wait what? Why do you want to go to my family farm? Should you be at least going back to your clan? I can’t promise you my family and I will give you the life of your status.” He was confused about her wanting to go to his home.  

“I can’t go back there. My Lord cousin will send me back to that awful place to be tied down until the wedding ceremony is complete. I am not expecting a royal treatment if that’s what concerns you.” Ingrid tried to convince him. 

“What will you do or go after your stay with my family?” He said. A part of him was concerned for her well being. She won’t last long wandering alone. There are slave traders out there who kidnaps women to be sold into brothels or some disturbing masters. He is admired for her bold and brave persona but this is the real world. She will regret running away from her wedding to have freedom that she might lose to a horrible fate. 

“Um, I’ll probably sell this gown and my jewels to use the money to travel away from this Empire and see the rest of the world.” Her tone was optimistic, but to him it was a naïve idea. 

“I see. For now, my family and I will offer hospitality until you are certain you want to travel out of the world.” He said feeling more worried. Why show he be worried for her? She had made her decision on where to go. Also, he just met her. 

Ingrid had noticed the way he asked questions like a worrying parent. To be honest, she felt flatter that her cheeks were getting warm. The noble woman had dreamt to travel and learn the world. Maybe if she convinced him to come join to travel the world then it won’t be a ridiculous plan as it sounds. Yes, she may be trained to defend herself but there will be tricksters to find a way to harm her or sell her. 

“Very well. Let’s see how it goes. It’s better than going back so, let’s head to your home, Arne.” She smiled then grabbed his arm to link around hers and dragged him away to the main road that leads to the Ackerman’s farm. 

It took a couple of hours to get to the 10 acres property of the Ackermans. Ingrid was amazed how neatly their crops were aligned. The hens and their chicks roaming around freely in the grassy area of the land. The place looks homey and inviting which is a different scenery than she was used to. Arne opened the little gate that he built to make it nice and aesthetic for the house. He had painted white the wooden fence around the property when he was a boy. Around the area, his neighbors hired him to do the same, which that’s how he earned enough money to buy materials to self-teach education.  

“This home looks very innovative. Did your father have some knowledge in architecture or any engineering talents?” Ingrid noticed how the house was so symmetrical that it looks like an experienced engineer had done it.  

He chuckled. “No, it was me who had fixed a little bit the house then added the fences.” 

“That’s amazing. You have very talented hands! Sometimes I read books on engineering and mathematics to learn the most efficient structure to lead a modern era.” The way her tone sounded was excitement and admiration for his work. 

“Um thank you, my- Ingrid. I mean yes, thank you. Ingrid.” Seriously, he’s just making this worse for him being a fool in front of her. She grinned then nudged his side playfully. 

“It’s not a problem, lover.” She smirked. 

Arne mumbled. “Oi woman, I don’t want my parents to get the wrong idea about thinking I brought a potential wife.” 

“Humph, isn’t that a good thing? You are a man of age that should be married with children by now.” She said. 

This made Arne glanced at her with his dark brow raised up. “I should say the same thing about you, Ingrid.” 

“Ok, I had that coming, but if you should know; I would have made a wonderful wife. If I choose to settle down in the near future.” Arne trying hard not to snort into laughter. Will she last to be the wife of a farmer like him? It does sound nice to have a headstrong woman with intelligence like her as his wife. No, what are you doing? Get rid of these nonsense ideas. She is a high born, and you're a low born with no true identity. Arne still remembered the gossips of the old cronies earlier about his unknown origin. Later, he will bring this up with his parents.  

“Probably to a noble or a king.” He said with a neutral tone. Ingrid noticed his tone changed as she frowned. He was being flirty in his own way for a few seconds. Maybe he doesn’t really see her that way. Don’t worry, the high born maiden was known to be stubborn and determined. She never gave her attention to any man until she met Arne. 

The way he looked was different from most average Eldian men in the empire. Something in him does give off any Eldian traits. Is he connected to the curse like the rest of them? It doesn’t matter, she got some time to get to know him well enough. They were already by the front door of the house and Arne opened the door for both of them to enter.

“Mother, father. I have returned home.” He shouted for his parents to hear his arrival. It was not that long his mother walked in fast pace to greet her son, but was surprised to see Ingrid with him. Instantly, Hilda courtesy into a bow as she once did when she had worked at the palace as a girl. 

“Oh my. My lady. This is a surprise to have  Lady Ingrid of the Völsung clan in my home. The gods have blessed my family to have such a lovely lady as you in our presence.” Hilda was still bowing.

“Please, you don’t need to bow. I’m honored to be here. Your son has said so many wonderful things to both of you.” Ingrid smiled humbly at Hilda. 

Hilda slowly rose to stand to glance at the noble woman. “Arne be a gentleman to take off her cloak and hand up.” The older woman gave a look to her son which he knows too well when he doesn’t do something right but doesn’t want to humiliate him in front of a noble. 

Arne nodded to obey his mother and removed Ingrid her cloak to place it on a hanger on the wall. Ingrid let’s him then thanked him. Both of them had another blushing moment from being in too close contact to each other. The Lady Völsung felt his fingers brushing her shoulders as he slowly removed her royal blue cloak. She hopes his mother doesn’t catch on her expression and questions both of them. They don’t have anything to hide since they just met but to others it won’t stop them assuming more. 

“Please do come in. Follow me, we’re about to eat supper.” Hilda smiled politely as she led both her son and Lady Ingrid to the kitchen. 

Once they reached the kitchen, both Ingrid and Arne sat down as Hilda began to serve their meal. Not too long, Birger walked in to see everyone at the table. 

“My lady, welcome to our home. I’m sorry I was not aware you would join us for supper.” He glanced at his wife then his son. 

“Please, don’t bow. I’m just here as a guest since your kind son had invited me here.” Ingrid glanced at Arne then back to Birger. 

“Ah, then please make yourself at home. We, Ackermans, offer our food, shelter and a place to rest whenever you need.” Birger said with warmth.  

“Thank you. I will take on your offer, Farmer Ackerman.” She smiled.

“Shall we begin to eat.” He chuckled as he sat down and looked at his meal already served. 

The Ackermans and Ingrid enjoying the meal that Hilda had prepared for supper. The pot sew was just right in taste. The broth was flavorful with a rich texture of local spice. The vegetables were cut into bite size chunks to enjoy eating along the goat meat from early morning killing. Even the bread was warm and freshly baked as Ingrid grabbed a bread roll. Hilda Ackerman is a very skilled cook. She probably learnt some of the tips during her time working at the castle in her youth.    

“This stew tastes amazing. I never had this tasty stew like this before. You are very talented.” Ingrid looked up to praise Hilda for the tasty meal. Of course, the older woman blushed from being praised by Lady Ingrid. 

“Thank you. Your words mean so much to me. I used to work at the Fritz castle when I was a young girl. I had the opportunity to learn how to master cooking whenever my mistress let me have my breaks.” Hilda said. 

“Oh? What did you do there? Arne had mentioned you used to work there.” This made both parents glance at each other.  

They are a bit concerned for their son and Ingrid after all they are curious how both Arne and Ingrid had met? Hilda had noticed Ingrid’s outfit looked more extravagant for a casual stroll outside of the castle. The older woman figured Lady Völsung was dressed to be wed. She had heard news a few days ago that both the heir and Lady Ingrid were to be wed soon. 

“I was once the head handmaiden to the King’s mistress, Lady Astrid of the Krüger clan. She always had been a picky eater so I was put in charge of making her meals when She had tried one of my dishes I made for lunch.” Hilda said. 

“You used to know Lady Astrid?! She’s a kin on my mother’s side. I believe they were first cousins since both their fathers were brothers.” Ingrid said. 

“Oh you must be Lady Hella’s daughter? Lady Astrid had always said something good about your mother. They were dearest friends.” Both women began to talk more about the Krüger cousins.

Birger decided to interrupt them to ask both Arne and Ingrid. “Pardon to be bold, my lady. We’re curious how my son met you? He usually tells us or acts obvious when he fancies a maiden.” Arne couldn't believe his father was embarrassing him in front of Ingrid. Later, the damned woman will tease him about this. 

“Oh we just met today at the village close to here. I accidentally ran into him. I ran away from...my wedding.” Her face flushed from the embarrassment that a maiden of her age ran away like a child just because she doesn’t like her betrothed. 

“Ah I see. Do you plan on going back?” Birger carefully chooses his words. He believed it would be best to have the noblewoman go back to be wedded. It would cause less problems for his family. The older man does find Lady Ingrid compassionate, but having her here would bring danger to his family. His family was his main priority. 

“No….but I understand me being here will bring your family trouble. So, I’m planning to leave this place to explore the world.” She said. 

“My lady, would it be dangerous for you to be out by yourself? Husband, we can’t let her go out there alone in the world.” Hilda frowned while looking at her husband to plead him to help the lady. 

“Hilda.” He scolded his wife. Hilda became quiet. Meanwhile, Arne was contemplating whether to advocate Ingrid for her to stay. 

“My lady, please don’t take this too personally. I am honored for your presence here, but you are putting us in danger. I need to do what it takes to protect my family, so you are welcome here until tomorrow morning. We’ll give you a bed for you to sleep. Please understand that.” He said. 

“No, father. She can’t leave. I’m sorry….mother and father for our lie to you how we met.” Arne pushed his chair back to stand up firmly. He doesn’t know why he’s helping her out but, Arne rather she’s staying hidden here than being thrown out alone. 

“What is the meaning of your outburst, son?” Birger was a bit shaken for his son’s action. He rarely spoke out like this towards him, his father. Ingrid was confused but held a curious express to watch Arne protesting for her. 

“I can’t allow you to kick her out. I….we had been seeing each other for a while.  I convinced her to run away with me so we can be married instead of marrying with the prince.” He said it. He can’t believe he’s digging his grave further. 

Arne gently grabbed her hand. Ingrid blushed from what he had just said. This man is an idiot. She thought to herself. She understood he was trying to help her out, but not like this. Oh dear, now they will believe they’re forbidden lovers that are ready to run away together. Of course, both parents were a bit overwhelmed. 

“Arne! Do you have a death wish? If anyone figures out you were with Lady Ingrid out in the public, they will send you to the dungeon cells. The worst case scenario, you could have been executed for having an affair with a higher born much less the heir’s bride.” Arne’s father was upset at his son’s reckless action. Things would have been ok if it was some low born girl, but this one will cause serious problems for the family.  

“I understand father. But you can’t help it if you’re in love, right?” Arne glanced at his father. 

Ingrid was biting her lips carefully. She was nervous. Her guilt consumed her. Here she is being selfish again for wanting to have the freedom she craves and not thinking of the action she had placed on Arne and his family. They have not done anything wrong. The Ackermans are a nice and kind-hearted family. She should say something and diffuse the argument.  

“I understand how much both of you are in love, but this isn’t some children’s fairytale where love will conquer all. It takes more for a marriage to work without resenting each other for the rest of your lives until death comes to the door. Give us another reason why we shouldn’t send her to the guards to take her back to the castle?” Birger said with an authoritative tone. 

“Husband please. At least we can be sent to a neutral area like the temples of the gods. We can help her go to the three goddesses' temples. They protect maiden no matter what.” Again, Hilda pleaded. She doesn’t want anything bad to happen to Lady Ingrid or her family. 

“I have a reason. Lady Ingrid and I got… carry away and it’s possible she’s carrying my child.” Why does his honor have to get him into trouble. He would feel guilty for letting her go where she could danger herself so this is the plan he had quickly thought of. His grey eyes glimpse to see how red the girl’s face was. Oh he can understand how this is embarrassing for him as much as it is for her too. Now, it would be a good time for her being her playful bold self. 

“Isn’t that right my love?” Arne caressed his thumb on to her hand like a true lover would do. Ingrid was trying so hard to speak but her throat was tight. The way his thumb caressing her hand made her stomach flutter. Why does he have to act a knight in shining armor? 

“Y-yes, my heart’s warrior. I love your son. I’m sorry for the problems I have caused. He has been nothing but kind and gentle. You are both blessed with a son who treats me as an equal. I am blessed to have met him.” Ingrid steps away from Arne’s gentle gesture to get on her knees. The elder Ackermans’ eyes widened to see the noblewoman was on her knee to bow her head. She was asking for their blessing for their marriage. They don’t know what to think. 

“Please, accept me as your daughter in law. I shall honor to be a better wife for your son and learn the life of farming. I prefer this fate then being some mare to breed royal heirs instead of being seen as a person. I beg of you, give us your blessing.” Who would've thought she was a good actress? Arne for a moment was convinced she wanted to marry him. He doesn’t mind being married since it will get the ladies off his back and he can be at peace. If for some reason they do actually get married, all he will see a friendship. He knows Ingrid will not be into him. She can be bold but she was a playful person who liked jester things. Once he saw her on her knees to bow to his parents, he followed her to do what she did. 

“ Please mother and father bless us. Once we get married, we’ll go to some far away village to be hidden and one day we'll visit you.” He said. 

Birger and Hilda glanced at each other rather than contemplating from their pleads. Finally, Birger broke the silence. 

“As the damage was already done, both of you will wed. My lady it’s best you go under a different name to protect your identity. I know someone who lives on the edge of our great empire, in Kahr. It’s a city-states that’s connected to the port if both must flee from danger.” Birger sighed. They have to do this as soon as possible before they all get caught. 

Both “couples” nodded in accepting the terms. After supper, Ingrid was led to a room to rest  for the night. Arne gave her some spare clothes from his mother when she was young. 

“Here, these were my mother’s clothes. You might need to change to not be noticed.” He said. Before he was about to leave, Ingrid stopped him. 

“Arne, why did you tell your parents that we’re lovers? I’m flatter for trying to protect me but you are a fool. I can handle it on my own.” She said. The noblewoman wanted to know why he did? He doesn’t owe her anything. If everyone knew the truth, their reputation would tarnish. Arne will have it the worst since he’s a commoner. Knowing how their society was, they’ll make it seem he had kidnapped her and forced her to be with him which it was not true. 

“Because I hate to be the reason you get into danger. I know you can handle it, but that would stop the worst men from taking advantage of you. If this is the way for you to stay alive and free then I will do it. As your friend, I want to help.” He said with honesty. 

Ingrid couldn’t help to blush from his words. She took a breath to calm herself. “I see. I’m grateful for your selfless act, Ackerman.” She is trying to be aloof. 

“Oh we're back to surnames, Völsung?” He chuckled then smirked. 

The noblewoman rolled her eyes. “So, are you sure you’re ok with this...us being in a marriage?” She wondered if he wouldn't bother to have a wife like her. Ingrid had always felt she never had met the standards how a proper wife should be. 

“Yes, as I said. I don’t mind. You are someone I would have as a wife even if it’s not love.” He said. 

“I’m a high born lady. Love is a luxury for those who don't have a choice to choose to be with someone.” Ingrid said. 

“But I suppose I am lucky since I made my choice to pick how I want to live. I prefer marrying you who can offer companionship, mutual respect and honorable value than a royal cunt who only desires to tame me as I'm some wild beast. I just knew, I would be miserable if I chose death.” Arne sat on the bed which Ingrid does the same. 

“Even though we just met, I have already felt comfortable around you, Ingrid. I wish I could offer you what you deserve.” Arne had his body faced towards her. 

“You already have. I really don’t care about wealth and status. Yes, I grew up being comfortable as a noble lady, but it has been stressful. I had to try to be the ideal lady and if I showed the real me, oh it would be a scandal that I will get an earful from my cousin. I know you think this is just a game and excitement until reality hits me. I’m a committed person. So, I’m hundred percent sure of this.” She clarified him. 

“Alright, as long you know what you are getting yourself into.” Arne whispered. Now, both of them became silent and felt the awkwardness as they realized they’re in the room alone. 

“So...if your parents believed we might excepting then looks like we’ll have to make that into a reality?” She smirked, giving her playfully. 

Arne grumbled while his face flushed red from that thought that soon he will lay with her as husband and wife. He wondered what their children would look like? He hopes they inherit her spirit-free personality and optimism. If the gods bless them for that is. 

“Woman, are you that eager to have me in your bed?” He gets back at her by being playfully too. 

“I mean in a way I already did since you are sitting next to me on the bed.” She continued. Deep down her heart pounding hard from thinking they will consummate after marriage which what the elder Ackerman couples said tomorrow will be the ceremony. Birger and Hilda already make preparations since they wanted to do as soon as possible for this family’s safety. 

“You’re right. As the groom, I shouldn’t be this close to my bride.” Arne didn’t know what occurred to him in being very intimately close to her. He leaned his body where her body felt warm even though their bodies weren't in contact. 

Ingrid felt her breath become shallow when he got closer. Her blue eyes stared into grey eyes of his. It felt as the room was spinning then stopped with silence. The strawberry blonde haired woman had never been this close toward a man. Heck, not even with her betroth. The prince did try but all he got was his manhood being kneed for not respecting her boundaries. With Arne, it’s different. He was different. This man had made her heart beat like drums. She was conflicted about whether to try to go for it. Their lips are a few centimeters apart. She could feel his breath on her skin. This is what she gets for being a tease. Now, curiosity has won. She wanted to feel his lips. 

“What are you waiting for? Kiss your bride.” She said breathlessly. 

Arne should have not gonna close. Ingrid is a beautiful woman. Any man should be lucky to have a fiery spirit girl like her as a wife. He wanted to keep his boundary away from her due to their status difference. Ingrid is like the forbidden fruit he had become tempted. Just as she gave her signal to do it. The dark haired man pressed his lips onto hers. Just as he expected, her lips were warm and soft. Their kiss was gently passionate. There was no rush or intense hunger yet. 

Finally they broke away to gasp for air. They stared at each other until Arne coughed and looked away shyly. 

“You’re not a bad kisser.” Ingrid said while trying not to blush at their kiss. 

“Oh really? You’re not bad either.” He smiled. 

Both realize how late it is and Arne gets up to leave her be. He walked out of the room while thinking of how sweet like honey her lips taste. He wondered if Ingrid felt a spark from their kiss? 

The following morning, the Ackerman’s farm was busy with some villagers helping out the Ackermans for a last minute wedding. Ingrid was wearing a white simple gown. Her hair was loose with curls and on top of her head was a crown of flowers. 

She looked like a villager bride and she preferred that way. Besides, Ingrid felt comfortable without wearing a corset and heavy fabrics with jewels. It’s too much for her. The bride took a deep breath then heard a knock on the door. 

“Come in.” She said. As the door opened, Hilda entered the room then gasped into admiring the bride's beauty. 

“My lady, you look like a goddess.” The older woman smiled. 

“Hilda, you can’t no longer call me my lady. Soon, I will be your daughter.” Ingrid glanced at the older woman. 

“Then you must call me mother. We are going to be family.” Her smile hasn’t left. Hilda hugged the young bride. 

“Let’s go. They are waiting for you.” Hilda arm linked Ingrid and both ladies walked out to where the wedding will be located. 

Levi…wake up… 

Huh? Is it over? Wait a second, why is that apeshit here? The male Ackerman opened his eyes to see Zeke Jaeger. His eyes glowed silver as he glared at the blonde man who has a smug face on his face. The captain wanted to bash his hairy face to the wall. Just seeing him, making Levi crave to release his violent tendencies.  

“Good, you are awake. Don’t worry. We’re not done yet. I want to know what did your little armies and assassins kept my little brother, Eren? I had rumors he was taken by your rebels. I suggest you tell me what you know or this time you will be the one without arms and legs. I heard an Ackerman can regenerate like a titan shifter but at a slower pace than a shifter.” Zeke glared back at Levi. 

“I do not know or care about your kin, you weakling.” Iapetus took over Levi when Zeke appeared. The titan can smell the shifter’s fear as Zeke tries to mask it. Tch. Such a coward. Soon, he’ll regain his strength to claw his hand into Zeke to tear him into pieces where the room will be painted with guts and blood of the infamous Zeke Jaeger. Both Levi and Iapetus had enough with Zeke’s and his followers’ bullshit. 

“You better be careful with your words, monster. You don’t want nothing to happen to your whore and bastard son of yours.” Zeke threatens him.  

Instinctively, Iapetus growled at Zeke. How did this piece of shit find out about Atticus being alive? 

“Oh, Historia was sneaky for acting like a grieving mother losing her child. I’m impressed by her cunning ability to fool everyone. Once I tell the king and the grandmaster, they will send someone to assassinate your infant son along your subordinate, Sasha Braus. So, start talking, devil. Where is Eren Jaeger?” Zeke said. 

Levi/Iapetus were panicking for their mate/wife and son. Both host and titan are feeling useless being cuffed on the table. Zeke better not take away his family. He had already taken away his comrades along his late commander, Erwin Smith. 

“What do I know? If you haven't notice, I have been on this fucking table for days! I thought you would be smarter than that. Tch, figures being the Beast Titan holder had shrunk your capacity of being intellectual. I don’t even know where that shitty brat? Problem fucking some girl before he goes commit a geocide or something.” Levi regains his control. He spewed insults at his enemy. What Ackerman doesn't know is how accurate he is about what Eren had been doing.

Zeke scoffed in annoyance. “Like my little brother is capable of wasting time for such nonsense. He is determined to follow the path that Ymir opens the doors for him to save the Eldians from doom fate.” 

“You are seriously stupid. Eren is a fucking hot blooded brat. You forget how he confessed his love towards my wife.” He remembered when the Jaegerists kidnapped Historia. Eren went crazy shit that day and kissed his wife. Levi literally wanted to slice him, but his focus was recusing Historia. “I won’t be surprised that he would be sticking his cock into some poor girl and accidentally knocked her up.” 

Zeke didn’t take it well as he punched Levi out of anger. The assassin just laughed darkly. Historia punches better than Zeke’s. How fucking adorable that his punches will cause him damage? Once another punch came towards Levi, he quickly bit Zeke’s wrist to lock his jaw deep into the blonde man’s flesh. Iapetus slowly switched to take over and rip off his enemy’s hand. All you can hear the screams in agony pain. “Try to punch me and your other hand will rip off, weakling.” Zeke whimpered from pain and fear. He glanced at how monstrous Levi looked. So, this is the true power of the Ackermans. They are the real devils in this world. 

(Natasha/Eve) 

It was now night. Natasha slept on the tent that Eren made. He slept outside since Rico and Nile prohibit especially them from not sharing a tent together. Damn that Rico. She probably told the other commander. That’s embarrassing and what’s worse; Rick had been avoiding her when the camp found out Eren and Eve had a little getaway in the deep forest. SHe felt guilty for hurting the garrison soldier. Yeah, she’s a fucked up for using people. The woman from the future wanted to go apologize to him for misleading him and hurting his feelings. Turns out, he thought she was kind, compassionate and innocent. Of course, Natasha is capable of being compassionate, but most of the time she manipulates to get what she wants or needs. She lied to those that care about her for right or wrong reasons. She twists people’s words when they push her limit. Most of the time. She hadn’t felt any regret for her actions. Until the sex scandal happen. In a way, karma was a bitch and she does deserve it. Maybe if she acted like a human being, she would not disappoint her family and have arguments with them every time she visits them.   

The brown haired woman felt tears slipped out of her eyes from reflecting that she was the problem every time she argued with her grandparents. The American missed them. She remembered at one point there were so many fond memories spending time with her father’s side family. Her best friend and aunt, Kuchel, had always stuck by her. They are practical around the same age. Her grandmother, Historia, had taught her how to cook Eldian cuisines. Her grandpa Levi had bonded in silence as they sip fresh brew tea. She prefers green tea or lavender but sometimes black tea is alright. 

The heiress closed her eyes to try to sleep. She fell asleep. Her eyes open to see green grass all over the ground. There were some wildflowers. Along her view, a huge lone tree stands big and tall. The branches stretched out with leaves all over each branch. The woman was confused about where this place was. 

She noticed pathways were made to connect to the tree. Eve walked to the tree. As she got there, a little girl was sitting on one of the thick roots. The little girl had platinum blonde hair, fair skin, a misery expression. She couldn’t identify the eyes because of the bangs covering them. 

The girl looked up to stare at her. Eve felt uncertain and cautious. The girl may come off innocent but you never know what that girl is truly capable of. 

“I see that you’re Eve. What a strange name for a descendant of mine to have?” The girl spoke. 

“How do you know who I am?” This startle Eve. She looked around in an attempt to figure out where she was.

“Because as your ancestress, I know everything about my bloodline. You are a very interesting woman. I misunderstood you. You and Eren are one in the same, but yet so different. I envy you. You felt alone as no one understood you. You crave to belong. Your family slowly leaves you in many ways like death, and different mindsets.”  the girl said. 

“Hm, so you’re Ymir Fritz. Are you sure you’re talking about yourself? You had issues wanting to belong with someone as a daughter, sister, mother, aunt, cousin, niece, or wife. I think instead of being noisy with your descendants you should focus on your yearning belonging with anyone.”  Natasha was getting annoyed. What does Ymir want anyways.

“Your attitude is terrible.” Ymir said. “The reason why I contact you because there is another way to save our people without causing imbalance to the world by eradicating the rest of the human population. With your inhuman intelligence, you can create a cure. For Eldians become immune to the curse.” 

This has Natasha’s attention. “What do you mean? So, it’s possible to find a cure?” 

“Of course, the origin of how I receive it was not hundred percent true. I did make a deal with the devil, but it was an Isu. A race that was responsible for creating humans. I’m sure you know what I’m referring to. His infamous name was Lucifer. He saw a poor slave girl who he felt pity for and helped to grant a gift. A special apple that was modified to give you strength, fear, and power. I took it and ate it. Now, I curse as this power is like a disease that spreads the Eldian race if they indigested my fluid. From throughout time, Marleyans studied some Eldians who reside there and extract their DNA to make pure but weak Titans. It was never meant to become out of control like this. I didn’t know I would be responsible for the pain of my people. All because I was a selfish little girl wanting to belong with someone. So, you are right. I should be focusing on that but it’s too late. I am tired of a two thousand years old conflict. I trust you that you’ll find a curse and stop this curse before it gets much worse.” Ymir pleaded. 

“How will I find a curse? I need time and resources to figure out where Lucifer is if he is still alive. Hell, I need a sample of that apple but you ate it.” Natasha felt frustrated with this new responsibility she was given.  

“Child, you are a Stark. If your late grandfather could discover a new element and solve it to make time travel, I know you will find the cure to break this curse. About the apple, I have not finished it, it’s still out there hidden. You’ll find old scrolls that will lead to the current location of the bitten Devil’s apple.” Ymir explained. 

“Great, I have to go be like Lara Croft from Tomb Raider to be able to pull off finding the apple.”  Eve sighed. 

“Fine, I will do it, but what about Eren Should he know about this too?” The woman said curiously. 

“Eren will know eventually. Right now, he has his own destiny to fulfill. Just make sure he does not activate the Rumbling at all cost. If you must kill him, do it. He may not be planning to know, but in the future he will activate.” Ymir said. 

The thought of killing Eren made her stomach turn. She doesn’t know if she can do it. How could she do it? She loves Eren so much. It hurts from thinking one day it will come to that. She can understand why your great aunt Mikasa took her how she once struggled to be an obedient soldier whenever Eren was hurt or in danger when both were young. Her great aunt had loved him too, but he had never returned her feelings. Maybe Eve was the reason for Eren not loving Mikasa? She doesn’t know. 

“This is asking too much. I can’t kill the man I love…” Her tears form then falls from her steel colored eyes. 

“You will. It’s because you love him that motivates you to give him peace. You will understand when the time comes. There’s one more time I need to mention.” Ymir glanced at her descendant. 

“What is it?” She sniffled from crying. Her hand wiping her tears away.

“Don’t risk yourself, especially if you're in a vulnerable state.” Ymir said in a cautious tone. 

Natasha gave a confusing expression to her ancestor. “Why? I don’t get what you’re saying?” 

Ymir steps closer to her and places her cool hand on Natasha’s stomach. “You're barely still in your first trimester. Your daughter is growing strong like both her parents.” 

The heiress’s eyes widened. She’s pregnant? She’s carrying Eren’s kid. Shit, this is what happens when your boyfriend is too irresistible to keep her hands to herself. 

“No, no. How can I be? I don’t feel any symptoms besides my period should come in a few days.” The American was in denial. 

“Child, you are pregnant just only three weeks. I do want to give you a warning so you would miscarry since you’re a reckless person. Now, you must go back to your world. I will contact you next time.” Ymir disappeared

Natasha woke up with a gasp. It was dark still and cold. She felt warmth close to her. The dark hair woman turned around to see that Eren was asleep peacefully. His arm wrapped around her waist tightly, but not too tight. She took a deep breath then placed her hand on her stomach. Oh god, she hopes Ymir is wrong. A part of her knows it is possible since both Eren and Natasha can get carried away most of the time. They are both passionate people. If she is pregnant, how will she tell Eren about it? She also worried what the Jaegerists that both Eren and his older brother, Zeke had created will do to her and her child. She doesn’t want how her mother and infant brother end up. The Jaegerists were responsible for both of their deaths. The woman doesn’t know the connection they have with her father’s death. She still wants to take her revenge on these extremists. One day, she will succeed. Mark her words. They will be begging for mercy. 

A/N: Finally, done with this chapter. I’m so sorry this took two weeks to finish this. Here’s chapter 16. Enjoy, my loves <3

#rivahisu #historia reiss #levi ackerman #levihisu #ymir fritz #attack on titan #crossover #oc: natasha

[heedra]

Exalted Secret Santa Journal: 2020

Apologies for the slight delay! My journal this year is going to be pretty much the same one as last year; I was working on an additional reference but it absolutely got away from me, so I’ll give it more time and save it for next year. Without further ado:

Daia Shan- Serenity Caste Sidereal

Once just a troublesome junior bureaucrat in the halls of Yu-Shan, Daia truly gained infamy upon her selection to accompany a strike team of Exalted heroes on a mission into the depths of the worldbody of the Yozi Oramus, and her subsequent escape and return from that impossible prison, nearly a thousand years later. The experience left her profoundly changed; even now, the spite of Oramus hangs like a mantle around Daia, ensuring that the waking world she fought so hard to return to will never feel like anything more than a dream. And then, of course, there is the matter of the power she took from the Sevenfold Peacock willingly… and how that power might be changing her still.

Daia is a somewhat petite woman, belying an athletic build. She is ethnically from the Blessed Isle, with dark grey hair that she prefers to wear up, usually in a bun or a knot. Her face, which she tries but fails to keep free of stress and worry lines, is usually found bearing a smirk or an expression of dangerous faux-politeness. Her eyes bear the iconic starry blue of the Serenities caste, but are also shot through with bands of a strange prismatic iridescence. She bears a large pair of bull horns atop her head, a mutation received during her time inside the Worldbody. The nature of the power bequeathed to her by Oramus is such, though, that her very nature is beginning to blur around the edges, and it is not unusual for her day-to-day appearance to fluctuate strangely as mutations come and go like glitches. She is a bit of a fashionista, favoring blues, dramatic and sharp femme looks (she avoids ruffles and prefers sleeker outfits), and jewelry of all sorts (a lot of it). She rarely wears the same exact outfit twice, so do not feel obligated to stick to the reference- you can get creative! She wears makeup, but prefers cool colors and an understated application.

Daia’s most important accessory is her longfang, the Sevenfold Peacock’s Tailfeather. Forged from starmetal, orichalcum, and a crystalline shard of Oramic essence, the weapon contains knowledge of every martial arts technique known by every user to have ever wielded it, and seems to hunger for more to the point where its obsession has bled over into Daia herself. Even more potently, it bears deep within its core the secret to a martial art concocted by the Dragon of Not himself, whose charms grant the power to ignore the limits of impossibility at the cost of making the wielder more and more alien to the waking world. It is a temptation that Daia has drunk deep of, despite all signs pointing to that being a very bad idea. Daia sees the spear as a trophy stolen from her greatest nemesis, but it’s very possible the Yozi himself sees it as a clever snare for hubristic Sidereals. The blade of the weapon is prismatic crystal that resembles a jagged bird’s beak, the pole is jet black starmetal shot through with an orichalcum starmap of constellations, and the orichalcum pommel is fashioned to look like seven golden peacock feathers woven together into a sphere.

While her exaltation may brand Daia a chosen of the Maidens, the elder Sid is a loose cannon, an agent of Heaven in only the most general of terms. She is mercurial, theatrical, fond of causing petty chaos, and utterly disinterested in the politics of the Bureau, unless there is way for her to stir up drama. She has tendency to get ahead of herself with her schemes, and the vast majority of her ‘downfalls’ can be traced back to her own hubris. Beneath all that, she is a lonely woman who feels adrift in a world that no longer feels real to her. She’s a terrible flirt, a huge showoff (especially where martial arts are involved) and has a weak spot for dangerous women. She’s Creation’s wildest and worst gay aunt.

Side Note: Daia is partially deaf, due to an old and potent supernatural injury. She employs the use of what magic/technology she can to aid her, but relies as well on sign language and interpreters. She’s very used to it at this point.

here’s the link to a better-resolution version of this image bc tumblr kinda fuckt it

and here’s the link to her toyhouse page, which has further images and info!

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Avenging Phoenix- Dawn Caste Solar (Formerly Ravenous Vulture Picks Clean the Bones of Creation, Dusk Caste Abyssal)

Orphaned at an early age, Phoenix was adopted by a Guild mercenary and raised as such. He spent his later mortal life as a city guard captain in Thorns, where he exalted during the fateful siege itself, disillusionment and rage at the circumstances of his death making him an easy recruit for the Mask. His path has weaved far and wide since then, a slow painful crawl from rebellion to eventual redemption; a journey that ultimately gave him a place among the saviors of Creation. Along the way, he played a role in liberating a group of orphaned children from the clutches of the Dowager, and now finds himself settling into the role of an adoptive dad to them, hanging up his metaphorical (and literal) axe and trying to live a gentler life. It’s not always easy. Violence and trauma etched in that deep doesn’t just smooth out perfectly over time. On top of that, he has impostor’s syndrome when it comes to his redemption by the Sun, and still feels uncomfortable thinking of himself as a peer to the other members of the Solar Host. Still, as long as his soul is on this side of Lethe, he is determined to fight against the Void- not because he considers himself antithesis to it, but because he has known it and survived it. And while some days it’s hard, other days it feels like, maybe, fighting against the void can be planting sunflowers for your children on a sunny spring afternoon.

Phoenix is of Western descent, very short, fat, and beefy, with warm brown skin and a round, open face.  He keeps his burgundy hair closely shaved, not fond of dealing with the mess of wavy curls it becomes when allowed to grow out. His eyes are dark brown, almost black, the outside of the iris rimmed with the faintest edge of golden yellow. His nose looks like it has been broken multiple times in the past, and never properly healed. Due to unfortunate wyld misadventures his tongue has been mutated to resemble and function like that of a frog’s, though this is only really apparent when he opens his mouth to use the damn thing. Frogs and toads are a definite motif for him in general- small, grumpy-looking, and round as they are.

Phoenix’s casual clothes tend to be simple, comfortable, loose, and in sharp contrast to his prickly combat garb. He enjoys floral patterns, and the color pink. He’s got a very ‘open hawaiian shirt and flip flops dad’ vibe, basically. He does not dress fancily unless pressed to for big occasions, and in those cases usually grudgingly follows the fashion direction of the one twisting his arm. When he’s on actual exalt business, he’s most frequently found wearing his armor; black jade full plate embellished with cruel-looking spikes, and occasionally a shaggy grey fur cloak made from the pelt of some hunting trophy. A horned skull helm, made from the skull of a nephwrack’s war-body, often completes this ensemble. The helmet is a minor artifact: when worn, it causes his eyes to glow balefully behind its sockets and makes his voice gravelly with deathly menace. He is reluctant to take it off unless he feels at ease in a situation.

Phoenix is somewhat bumbling and gruffly soft-spoken, with tendency to look more tired than he feels. Beneath this is a talent for strategic leadership and a determination that gets fiercer as the going gets tougher. On the battlefield, he is utterly terrifying when he needs to be, but would much prefer to be at home in his garden than on a battlefield these days.

His anima banner starts as burst of gold-and crimson fire that solidifies into the form of a fierce and predatory-looking phoenix, with aspects of a garda bird and a lammergeier both. It moves as he does across the battlefield, swooping and rising with each swing of his axe, its fierce eyes focused on his opponent. Additional refs:

link to his toyhouse page, which has a TON more reference images

what he looked like as an abyssal | his grand grimcleaver looks like this except made outta fiery golden light | rough sketch of his skull helmet

#exalted secret santa #exalted secret santa 2020 #tabletoppin #yeah this is pretty much the same exact journal from last year ghdghsdgsdh #i was gonna add bite but i got very caught up in trying to draw her warform correctly so i wanna give that more time #plus i love these two #my characters

[alloveroliver]

Evil!Harr, Part 2

harr anon bringing part deux to the table :D again, i LIVE for cradle gothic so there are some elements ahead!

apologies for the lateness too, i actually had an extra 3000 words on this for an epilogue (with some harr/loki/alice content :3c) but i shaved it off to save time/stop rambling. even though this still came out to 5000 words *shrug* for the harr lovers out there, we are so starved for content, its a case of go big or go home!

warning ahead: NS-FW (rated content, yandere vibes from our new overlord silver, sad loki)

please enjoy!

…

By the time Alice wakes, she finds herself beneath a curtain of stars.

Incense sticks burning out around her head, she pushes the heavy bed sheets down the length of her body amidst soft plumes of fragranced smoke. Trailing small wisps of blue and purple in the faint moonlight, she watches as they dissipate overhead, until they fade from sight. Their fumes sting her eyes a little, but perhaps it was getting used to them that bothers her so much.

Harr had suggested they would require a moment to adjust to.

Speaking of…

While her mind had been foggy, there was no doubt she had not gone to bed alone. The duvet is crumpled at her side, stray dark hairs against the pillow…but they are ice cold when her fingers play over the fabric. The tattered robe is no longer on the floor, neither are his shoes, his shirt, his trousers…

Alice shivers as the wind howls through the pillars above her head. It seems so much scarier when she is alone.

Quietly stepping out from beneath the covers, Alice places her bare feet upon the frigid marble floor. It stings to the touch - how long have I been asleep? - and her legs wobble uncomfortably, until she manages to plant her hands over the vanity table beside her and regain some balance. The movements feel slow, almost dream-like in their fluidity, but that only serves to leave Alice trembling even harder.

The ornate pillars are oppressive in their structure, more akin to the bars of a prison cell, with the view of Cradle beneath as a reality too far to reach. The wind clatters new black flags against their poles, etchings of a new order now ruling where Amon once stood, and yet…the unease remains the same.

Personally, she couldn’t quite remember the sequence of events that had led to her coming here. Above all others, held in the Magic Tower’s highest room, as though she were the Cradle equivalent of a very bewildered Rapunzel. No matter how hard she tries, hands balling into fists so tight she almost cuts her palms with her nails, she struggles to make heads or tails of how she found herself slumbering here, without Harr by her side.

 Indeed…where was he?

“Alice? What are you doing out of bed?”

As if summoned by her mere thoughts, he arrives on heavy footsteps, draped in a cloak as dark as a crow’s wing. His crimson eye is wide and glassy, as if shocked by the sight of Alice up and out of her bed. Their bed, she wants to say. But when he never seems to be beside her when she wakes…can she even say that at all?

“I just woke up now,” she replies, though judging by the look of shock Harr gives her, it seems that was enough to have him on edge. “I couldn’t find you when I woke up so I just-”

“Well, I’m here now, dear,” comes the soothing reply, as the sorcerer gently places the tray upon the stand and takes Alice’s hands in his own. The touch is familiar…the scene is familiar…but she finds herself struggling to remember just how. “And there’s nothing to be afraid of.”

Afraid? Afraid…of what, exactly? She can’t be sure, but given how Harr is suddenly so skittish, it doesn’t bode well. “Oh…well, I’m glad about that. Then how about we go outside tonight? We could go for a walk, like we used to do.”

“No…no, no, no…Alice, you can’t go out there.” Urgency tinges every word from Harr’s lips, and he almost trips over himself in his haste to gently press his hand against Alice’s lower back.

But she doesn’t budge. Instead, a veil of frost settles in her words. “Harr, talk to me. Please tell me what’s happening.”

“It’s not safe for you right now. I want you to stay here, where I can protect you.”

“From what? What’s out there?”

“The last dregs of Amon’s miserable campaign…I fear they may come to take you from me.”

At those simple words, Alice feels her blood freeze in her veins. Her pale gaze goes wide, waiting for Harr to simply say it was a joke, a joke in such poor taste that it wouldn’t even have been funny.

“My dear, it’s complicated…,” But Harr only sits at the foot of her bed, gently patting the spot beside him for Alice to copy the motion. She smoothes her nightdress and cocks her head as he sighs, as though he is struggling to place his words in a satisfactory manner. “At least let me give you a drink before I start. You must be parched.”

But as Alice reaches out to take the teacup from the tray, Harr takes hold and raises the rim to his lips. He takes a mouthful, a glint of mischief in his eye, and crooks two fingers to beckon her closer.

A small sigh breaks the silence. The bed squeaks as she crawls closer to almost rest on his lap. “Even in these moments, you find the time to tease me.”

When his lips touch hers, the taste is unbelievable. A saccharine sensation, as though his lips had been coated in sugar, floods her taste buds and spills down her throat. The tea is warm and soothing as she drinks from his lips, even as her hands come to gently hold his cheeks, lapping at his lips for more.

Parting for a moment, a light flush tinges his cheeks as he feeds her again. Each kiss lasts longer between mouthfuls of warm tea, until Alice no longer minds the sweetness numbing her tongue, not when it’s chased with such dizzying pleasure.

As the cup runs empty, Harr holds her face with tender hands. “You look so beautiful right now,” he murmurs, tongue running against his lips. The blood beneath her skin, pounding and flushing, tints her face a gorgeous shade of pink. “I don’t want to lose you to the outside. Not when I see you like this.”

“But I know you could protect me,” she counters.

Despite that, Harr only laughs softly and shakes his head. “When Amon fell and I overthrew the Tower, some of his lackeys managed to flee into the forest and into Cradle itself,” he begins, gently taking Alice’s hand in his own. The touch is warm, comforting after so long. “They may be small and they may be few, but the fact that they worked for the Tower is already an issue I cannot let slide. They know you’re here, and I wouldn’t feel comfortable leaving loose ends.”

“And the Red and Black Armies? Would they not be able to help?”

“I have friends in both sides now, but I don’t imagine it would be enough.”

“What would be enough for us, Harr?”

“I don’t know…not yet, at least. I’m afraid I haven’t quite finished making Cradle safe enough for you just yet.” Making Cradle safe? What did he mean by that? “But you only need to wait for me a little longer, when I can finally show you what I’ve been working on.”

Something wants to protest inside her. But…every time the thought was just in grasp…just underneath her claws…it scrambles away into the recesses of her mind. Instead, the sugary tang of Harr’s sweet tea takes its place. A replacement of thoughts, a candied distraction that lured her into silence, perhaps?

Her tongue doesn’t allow her to object to the suspicious words that spill from her lover’s lips. And the conversation moves on.

Harr speaks of the weather and of the world, but doesn’t permit her to see it yet. He weaves light tales of how the Black Army is doing in an era of newly-founded freedom, how the Red Army is coping after the exposure of Amon Jabberwock’s nest of lies. Lancelot Kingsley has a ‘change of heart’, he says, and wishes to abdicate the throne, longing for a better life without the pressures associated with being the King of Hearts. Ray Blackwell remains silent for now, but Harr suspects there are similar motions being made under the cloak of ravens’ wings.

And Alice believes it. She swallows these words as easily as each mouthful of tea.

…

“If the world outside is so dangerous, Harr…am I truly any safer being kept in here?”

Setting down the empty teacup upon the stand, Harr holds his love with a questioning glance. Of course she would be curious - such seems to be the in the blood of every resident from the Land of Reason - but he is already prepared.

He shakes his head at her question. “I can guarantee your safety here, darling. I can’t guarantee it outside these walls. Not until I am sure Amon’s servants are caught.”

“But what if they find me here? All of Cradle knows who I am.”

“And all of Cradle knows who I am. They would be fools to try and take you from my side. As I say, I guarantee your safety.”

“You can…how?”

Alice watches as Harr wraps his cloak around himself, rising from the bed with quiet elegance. “I am the most powerful wizard that has ever existed in Cradle. My life has been devoted to honing my talent into the purest form of sorcery, and my knowledge of the magical arts surpasses all those in the Magic Tower and the armies combined,” He turns to face his love with a knowing grin, as though flaunting his expertise. “When it comes to magic, I believe I can offer my solid word.”

“But does it not drain you? To constantly protect me?”

“Charms and concoctions imbued with magic are not hard to create, especially when I need to defend the one I love. These incense sticks are one such thing,” he murmurs, summoning a small flame on his fingertip to reignite fresh sticks that hang from an owl-shaped dish, and fill the air with perfume. “An ancient herbal formula to hide your presence from those who would hunt you, from those who would hurt you.”

Alice watches with cloudy eyes as he lights more sticks, until the scent has her eyelids growing heavier and her heartbeat slowing. But above her headboard, her fingers find purchase over the woven fabric nailed to the wood, images of animals and figures running over a green field. Crimson dogs and midnight wolves, accompanied by purple-cloaked masters, seem to give chase to a small yellow bird, but never quite in reach.

As hard as she tries, she can’t remember this tapestry. Even the material feels foreign under her palm, no matter how hard she tries to recall. “And this?”

Harr’s smile is gentle, sweeter than before. “Woven with love and magic. No matter what monsters try to chase you, they will never catch you as you sleep with that charm above your bed.”

Of course he would say something so charming. He always had a way of soothing Alice’s worries, and now is no exception. She snuggles under the duvet once more as Harr’s broad chest looms overhead, gently stoking fresh fires in the oil lanterns.

Not enough so she could see the deep red of his eye, however. That was something she didn’t need to notice…not before the incantations took effect.

She didn’t need to know their real purpose. How those incense stocks were to lower her resistance to persuasion, the woven charms to dampen her repelling energies, the elixir she consumed from his lips to stimulate pleasure from her nerves.

In time, of course.

Ignorance is bliss, and it makes Alice’s essence all the more sweeter for consumption.

 …

As the night grows longer, Alice finds her belly growing warm.

Perhaps the tea had helped to raise her temperature, she muses, but it doesn’t feel quite the same. Her chest doesn’t feel as tight as it usually would when she drinks something too hot, and the energy seems to gather in the pit of her stomach, instead of the top. It reminds her of other forms of heat, but she can only flush and shake her head in dismay. As inappropriate she finds it to be, there is little she can do to avoid Harr’s sudden roving eye and piqued interest.

“You’re feeling rather warm, dear,” He places his hand upon Alice’s forehead, soon followed by his own. The vivid scarlet of his eye is mesmerizing, and Alice finds herself subtly shifting her position to accommodate how sticky she is suddenly feeling. He breathes in, deep and even, eye fluttering closed. “And your heart…it’s racing in your chest.”

“I don’t…I don’t know what’s come over me,” Alice finds herself panting at every little touch that the wizard casts upon her, and she scolds herself for how lustful she has become in his presence. “I feel so…hot, I…,” But the sensations aren’t unwelcome, and as Harr gently rests his palm over her left breast, inhibition flees her as her breath gives way to a plaintive mewl. “Oh, Harr…”

Harr’s eye widens for a heartbeat, but the flush on his face matches the hunger in his gaze. “Perhaps it has been too long. I’ve been neglecting you, haven’t I?”

“Harr, I…oh, my dear, I need-”

The air seems to fill with the scent of flowers, sweet and fragrant, and Alice begins to wonder why her head feels like its spinning. Similar to her first tumble into Cradle, the crystal lights and burning candles glitter and fragment before her eyes and a single glint of scarlet draws her in like a moth to the flame. Harr’s breath quickens - she almost swears blind that she can hear him purring - and it is with a sigh that she tumbles into his warm embrace. Into his arms she lands, where he waits with a deceptively rough kiss.

“My dear Alice…do you want me?”

Breathless and heavy-lidded, she croons. “…Yes.”

This is rather unlike how he used to be. Harr was a gentle lover at first, sweet and soft as could be. But oh, it would have been a lie to say that a little spice wasn’t welcome right now. Because every time Alice rubs her thighs together, runs her fingers over Harr’s broad shoulders, the heat in the pit of her belly grows warmer, roars louder through her veins until her heart feels ready to burst out of her ribcage.

Unbeknownst to her, Harr almost salivates at that very thought.

“Feeling good?” he asks between kisses, one hand trailing down to rest upon the folds of her nightdress, crumpled up and barely obscuring her underwear. Alice nods and chews her lip, if only to suppress her whimpers. “And how about…here?” Another nod, and the rush of validation to his ego is purely delightful.

Harr presses his fingers down against the soft material and rubs small circles through it. Given how Alice squeaks and whines under his ministrations, even as he only stimulates her folds through her undergarments, he preens himself knowing how easily she surrenders to him. Even now, she soaks through the white fabric, dampening his fingers and matching her breathy moans with faint wet noises.

The scent is intoxicating. He knows the taste will be even more so.

“Let me make you feel even better.”

His path down the length of her torso makes a brief stop at her heaving chest, where her breasts perk even through the material of her gown. Harr gently laps at the first with his tongue, rubbing the second between two fingers until both stiffen and Alice keens against him. The fabric grows cold as he lifts his mouth away, and the sensation against bare flesh makes his lover squirm.

Kisses to the exposed skin work even better, and he lavishes both with licks and sucks, all while skilled fingers continue to press and curl at her lower lips. Alice finds her body rocking harder into the actions of its own accord, following the motions as though this were a dance she was well-versed in already, and Harr greedily welcomes the movement. She was so close to her peak already, and with barely any effort? He takes great pride in knowing her body like the back of his hand.

And so he permits himself a satisfied grin as he moves to the apex of her thighs, knowing that as the wet material slides down her legs to bunch at her ankles, he can play her like a fiddle, her pleasure entirely at his bidding.

“Hold still for me, darling. Let me taste you.”

When the first lap of his tongue reaches her core, Alice chokes on her own breath. He is ravenous in his actions, tongue and lips licking, sucking, reaching every inch of her that he possibly could.

As predicted, her essence is heavenly. Harr can’t contain each little grunt and moan as he kisses here, bites there, lets himself get absolutely lost in the heady stimulation of his every sense. Alice’s cries are the sweetest music to his ears, her nails scraping his scalp a delicious kick that makes him groan louder against her flesh. Harder, faster, he sucks at her nub and plunges his tongue and fingers, all while she can barely string together a coherent sentence above him.

With surprising speed, Alice finds herself shuddering under the force of her orgasm, teeth clenched to hold back the shriek of surprised ecstasy. The constant coaxing of her chest and neck had left her pliant and ready, until the heat in her lower stomach could no longer handle the sorcerer’s wicked mouth and hands. Her own palms raised to muffle her cries, Alice rides out the waves with drunken satisfaction.

But Harr feels her muscles contract around his fingers, thighs squeezing the sides of his head as Alice rolls her hips into his mouth to prolong her climax, and he knows that he is doing well. It’s a small victory, knowing he had total domination over her pleasure, but it greatly strokes his ego to know that as she moans and begs for only him. And that no other man will ever know such sweetness.

Harr raises his head from between Alice’s legs, tongue swiping hungrily at every trace of her that may have remained. Such a sinful tongue, she muses, but gives no protest as he crawls up the length of her body, tangling it with her own in a bruising kiss. She tastes herself in his mouth, along with hints of magic and blood. A bitter tang, her clouded brain remarks, but remains unable to voice how her palate judges it.

The thin fabric of the nightdress is ripped easily between frantic hands, baring her torso beneath him. In her muddled thoughts, she doesn’t protest, other than to stare into that hungry scarlet eye, watching how he almost growls at the prospect of devouring her. His voice is deep and beautiful, an edge of danger that clenches the muscles of her belly with ardent want. Bare beneath him, a beast chained only by a thread, her breath catches between something akin to a cry and a moan.

Outlined by the presence of the moon, his silver form looms overhead. Bare as the day he was born, hot and heavy between his legs; he takes himself in hand and presses his head between her slick folds. Alice’s muddied thoughts only amplify the pleasure, and she simply falls back into the sheets, lips parted as her lover moves to embrace her ever closer.

“Let me have you, my dear. Every inch of you. Show you how much I love you.”

As he sheathes himself within her, the tightness of her stomach unravels in seconds.

“H-Harr, wait, I–!”

Already over stimulated, Alice jerks and jolts beneath him at the brusque intrusion, torn apart by the strength of yet another climax. But Harr pays it little heed, only smiling with clear satisfaction that he was the one to bring his lover to her peak in such a fashion. Saliva dripping down her chin, eyes unfocused and bleary, chest heaving amid shreds of her negligee…she is a picture of decadence and debauchery, and it drives him forward with a fanged grin and a snap of his hips.

“Already, my dear?” he croons, taking a handful of her beautiful golden locks and bringing her face closer. The kiss he gives is burning to the touch; searing every inch of passion he can muster into the promise that this was only the beginning. “Then you’ll definitely enjoy this.”

The coupling is frenzied, a pair of wild animals caught in the depths of unbearable heat. Alice finds herself dragged and draped like a doll all across the length of her bed, and even beyond that. A shameful look crosses her beautiful face as she glances back at Harr over the shoulder, hips raised high as he takes her from behind with powerful thrusts. But such innocent expressions of guilt, knowing what they do is wrong, only serves to stir the beast in his belly; he bites down hard into her nape, pushing her forward and snapping his hips faster into her warmth.

The nausea is briefly chased away by the sheer pleasure building, as Harr seems to push himself deeper into her guts.

On all fours like an animal, Alice cries out as her thighs begin to quiver once again, the telltale knotting of her stomach indicating she is not far from another orgasm. And yet behind her, the sorcerer continues to pound into her like a man possessed. His dark hair fans over his face, his one red eye feral as sweat drips from his brow and runs his rivulets down the column of his throat. The power he must be exerting is dizzying to imagine; Alice doesn’t have to imagine hard as Harr suddenly slams his length deeper, her core pulsing and dripping around him.

When had he accrued such stamina? Where had he found such power? Alice wants to entertain the thoughts, but finds her legs rend wide as he flips her over, teeth latched in her throat.

His hands knead her breasts, grasp her hips, pull her hair…his savagery knows no bounds as he fucks her. There is no other word for it. And despite the brutality with which he claims her, Alice cannot find herself complaining at all.

“Mine…you’re mine, aren’t you…my dear,” he groans, a brief moment of lucidity as he rolls his hips into her tight warmth. “Waiting here for me, my little darling…”

The bite aches as he pulls his teeth away, and Alice swears she can feel something hot dripping from the wound. But her mind is reduced to primitive thoughts by their aggressive style of play, more akin to wild mating than the tender love-making they once had.

Yet she still pushes herself into his thrusts, screams his name, coaxes him onward. “Yes, Harr, yes! Yours!”

“Only me…only for me,” he huffs between each powerful roll of his hips, almost jerking Alice up the bed in his urgency. His stomach is tightening, the muscles taut and outlined as she runs her hands over his sides, his back, his arms, everywhere she can reach. “Mine, mine, mine.”

They fall together over the edge in a cacophony. Alice caterwauls at the top of her lungs when Harr’s slender fingers jolt and rub her nerves as he pistons into her, never letting up as she crumbles beneath him into a disordered, screaming mess. She rakes her nails down his shoulder as the floorboards threaten to splinter, his guttural roar filling her ears when each thrust suddenly warms her insides with hot stickiness. He twitches, pulses, thick and wet, all kinds of words of worship spilling from his mouth as he proceeds to fill her.

The stimulation is too much…the heat is too much for her body to take, and Alice sinks into sweet oblivion. Guided by the warm hands of her lover, lain against sweat-coated pillows as willowy fingers card through her hair and over her scalp. The gentle touch burns so sweetly, a numbing fire that tingles with an edge of magic; just enough to make her eyelids grow heavy and the strength leave her muscles.

But before sleep claims her, a lullaby of ragged panting guides her there. Hot breaths fan her neck as that sinful tongue licks over her marks, with only his husky words breaking the silence.

“My sweetheart…my dear…mine.”

 …

As Alice slides into blissful numbness once more, Harr slithers up the length of her torso, only to gently card his fingers through her golden hair. The sweat begins to dry from the tips, but around her face remains a halo of strands, a stark contrast to the fading rouge of her glowing cheeks.

The time was right, her magical energy at its purest form.

He harvests what he can, the lock of hair and fresh blood safely stowed in vials for later refinement. Her sweat, her tears, her saliva, all was ripe for the taking, still seeming to crackle with traces of magic. In his heightened state of magical being, the very flow of Cradle’s universe lays itself before him, and Alice was no exception. A very different energy, yes, but one that no doubt piques the attention of the green-eyed monster that now wore his skin.

Because if he could see her potential…someone else could.

Harr knows this girl is more precious than Amon could ever have imagined. A breed from another world entirely, she was the key to his domination over Cradle.

And in her veins, the power to repel the very force that dictated his every move. She whimpers and bends to his every whim now, but to imagine how she would be sitting beside him…regal, perfect, the purest incarnation of azoth and his beloved queen.

And even better…she loves him.

A throaty purr rumbles deep within Harr’s core. “How about we dance again, my dear?” he asks, a voice as sweet and thick as molasses. His hand slides down to rest just below her navel, only to press into the soft flesh and elicit the smallest of twitches. “It’s been a long while since we indulged, and I wish to get my fill of you.”

At the most subtle of persuasions, Alice parts her thighs, still sticky, and gently flexes her spine to expose her chest. Littered with bites that the elixir refused her to feel, she looks ravished beyond compare, yet still willing and waiting for even more.

He dips his fingers into her heat with tenderness, eye trained upon the delicate expressions that run over Alice’s face. Calloused fingertips rub and curl in all the right places, lubricated by his own seed, pushing it deeper inside and swirling it around. She sighs and bucks into his touch, before an inviting smile carves over her sweet lips.

There would be plenty of time for more when they ruled Cradle side by side, when Harr could allow her to step from the birdcage in the safe knowledge he had her still in his grasp.

So as he kisses a trail down between her thighs, he allows himself another small taste of her heaven, just for now.

 …

Loki jerks his head up as he hears footsteps trailing from the entrance to the staircase. They’re light and tentative - only one person had such a gait - and the young man can’t help but gasp.

If she was awake, if she was aware…what would she say of the madness Cradle had become?

But a stronger stride soon matches those steps, and he knows that Harr will have intercepted Alice before she could have even made it past the doorframe. They had this tango many a time, some of which he had been privy to through the crack in the doorway, but it was always the same.

Ever so charming, Harr would coax his lover back to their bed with a pretty little set of lies, wrapped up neatly with Amon’s dead servants as a phantom to scare her into staying, before sating his desires with Alice’s body until she was ready to slumber once again.

The cycle never ends. The snake never stops eating its own tail.

…It’s too much.

He lies down upon the marble, the wind fanning his wild locks and filling his ears with ghostly howls. It’s a cruel and unusual punishment he inflicts upon himself, to subject himself to the sounds of the distant storm, but it seems only fair. A reminder of where he came from, the sheer despair that had once yawned painfully in the depths of his soul, now acting as his comforter for the long and lonely nights.

The humorous side might have been subjective, but the ironic side was downright cruel.

Cold marble robs him of feeling as he hears Alice’s voice from the mouth of the staircase, breathless and pleading, crying out for her lovesick captor. She simpers, she howls, she croons…a voice like the wind which carries it.

Harr responds in kind to Alice’s beautiful voice, though he cannot make out the words. If she is the wind, he is the thunder; a dangerous growl that makes the younger’s skin crawl.

…And alongside their duet, the rhythmic creaking of wooden posts against a tiled floor.

It almost seems like forever before Alice’s caterwauls finally settle down into sleepy murmurs and airy laughter. But thankfully, the silence passes much faster, and Loki distracts himself with thoughts of yesterday, of when he didn’t need to fear his only true friend snapping and tearing his organs from his chest, or constantly have the gnawing loneliness left behind by one of the few good people left in this world being completely and utterly ravaged, torn apart by the fantasies of a twisted lovesick monster.

Was it a bad thing to cry now?

Knowing he had been complicit in this awful descent into insanity?

Loki instead squeezes his throat tight, fighting the urge to throw up.

#my little darling godddd!!!! #anon submittion #harr anon. this was incredible to read! #ikemen revolution #harr silver art #evil!harr silver #harr x mc #i am floored ahhhhhh #i loved this so so so much! #thank you for submitting this! you are amazing! #submission

[scriptmin]

three worlds theory

Warning: Shitload of crappy, awkward screenshots and LQ gifs ahead. But it’ll be worth it.

This is not an analysis that attempts to formulate a hard, foolproof storyline, but rather, it is an interpretation of why the chosen colours are associated with certain scenes/members, and the meanings they might represent to the relevant member. More literal than figurative.

Get your colour wheels out, children.

Right from the get-go we have a scene of Jungkook who appears to be just waking up. While some may feel his awakening marks the beginning of the events about to unfold throughout the video, I believe he is only waking up after everything has already happened. The paint streaks on the wall resemble the aftermath of an epic explosion, which we will go into later on.

In this scene we can safely assume that Taehyung seems to have entered a limbo of sorts because of the standstill on the entire set. The faceless figure on the left hand side is Hoseok, and proof of why that is so is in the screenshot on the right. We’ll see the white portion of the sleeve again later in Hoseok’s individual cuts.

I want to draw focus into the choice of colour in the left screenshot. Seeing as how the red and blue (i.e two worlds) are shown meshed together, can we assume that this could be a void space between Red World and Blue World? Taking it one step further— could the choice to use blue at the center and red at the sidelines be reasonable grounds to say that Taehyung seems to belong more to the Blue World than Red?

Here in Red World, Jimin has just removed Yoongi’s hands from his eyes. He then begins to break free from who we can guess has been his “captor” or “guardian”, but he is hesitant. He looks back despite his forward steps, as if to say, “is this okay? Can I do this? Can I really leave?” Yoongi however makes no attempt to stop him, his unchanging posture leading me to think that he has already predicted this. The red background then transitions into black, and Jimin is seen running into yet another void— traveling between worlds.

This is one of the best scenes. For the first time since the opening cut, we are able to see all three colours in a single shot. On the left there’s Namjoon and blue, on the right, Jungkook and red. On the rim of the window in the background is the colour green.

If you’ve watched the MV, you’ll see that Red Jimin literally crosses worlds and ends up meeting Blue Jimin. But here, I believe that the clashing of Blue and Red and the fact that Namjoon and Jungkook, boys from two different “worlds” can meet, is not something to take literally. Rather, we should view it as Blue Namjoon being representative of certain qualities such as: maturity, adulthood, while Red Jungkook could be a boy of the exact opposite— volatility, ignorance, youth.

Why I make this assumption is because of the scenery beyond the window. On the blue side we see what looks like a pretty expensive neighbourhood— sleek, clean high-rises, and on the red side we see a large “motel” sign amidst a street of old, rugged shophouses/buildings. (See: SKOPF)

But the next thing I notice is how there seems to be a greater volume of blue than red. The table leg marking the middle line in the frame is where we naturally expect the blue stops and red begins, but instead, the blue eats into Jungkook’s half of the shot, taking up a good two-thirds of the frame. This could be a sign that Jungkook, despite still having traces of immaturity, is slowly starting to be influenced by his hyung, and is beginning to walk his own path towards Blue. At 19 years old, he is leaving behind his teens and entering “adulthood.”

BUT, I think the colour blue, and essentially the Blue World here, only represents maturity-with-age. Just like how many people say age does not always equal maturity, it is also very possible that a teen can possess a higher level of spiritual, mental and/or emotional maturity than a full-fledged adult provided said teen has gone through the experiences necessary to achieving it. The Blue World that Namjoon is in right now could solely be because of his seniority in age, and with the sheer number of years lived comes certain experiences that a young Jungkook might not have gone through for himself yet. In this instance, Namjoon is indeed mature in comparison to his younger friend, but he is not fully developed, therefore his maturity is not innate.

In contrast to the blue and red, green takes up very little space in the frame, and will very likely go unnoticed amidst the bigger picture. This could be done with the intention of only wanting to subtly hint of the third and greater world that neither of the boys in this scene have achieved yet. The meeting of these two boys and the deed that follows (JK’s consumption of absinthe) could be the start of transcending the Red and Blue worlds. But as you all know, the green drink that Namjoon offers the younger in what we can assume is an attempt to bring him over to “maturity”, does not go well at all.

In a still very obviously Red world, Jungkook hurls a portion of the liquid that Namjoon has just given him. Why didn’t it work? Now’s the time to get out your colour wheels.

Which colours do you mix to achieve blue?

The answer is none. Blue is a primary colour and cannot be obtained by mixing. On this basis, we get a confirmation that Namjoon’s world of maturity founded based on age is a destination that Jungkook cannot arrive at without first having to live through the same number of years. In simpler terms, there is no shortcut to age maturity, for the very simple fact that it is impossible to age three years in one go.

So then what colour did Namjoon create by giving Red Jungkook a green drink? Well, Red + Green = Cyan.

In the cuts between NJ and JK’s exchange, we get a solo shot of Namjoon sitting in a green room. He then turns around to look into a red mirror and… smirks?

Oh, but we don’t actually get to see the smirk. Cheeky fellas. To claim that mirrors are one of the many portals to alternate worlds is not entirely blasphemy— the idea has been used in multiple mediums.

This cut gives us a bit more insight to the Green World that, so far, has a grand population of one. I’m starting to get a vibe that the Green World is somehow a more ultimate place than Blue and Red. There seems to be an awareness that transcends the world he is in, and extends to the Red World as we can already see, and possibly even Blue. Could it be that Green Namjoon (and Green Whoever) possesses some form of godly foresight? Do they not only know what is happening in the other worlds, but also what will happen?

It’s either that or simply, the Green World represents a period in the future where the member has achieved true maturity and is looking back on his progress, the trials he overcame in order to get to where he is. You can choose to go with whichever.

And while all this is happening, it is clear a certain someone doesn’t give a flying fuck. Jimin.

Obviously the journey between worlds is no easy feat. Red Jimin makes a quick pitstop to refuel and… apples are his first choice. Maybe the prison world in which Yoongi locked him had a trade ban on apples. 

Anyhow, I digress. In this shot we are introduced a fourth colour— magenta. I won’t be getting into the symbolism behind that apple and him eating it because with the amount of theories out, y’all would have an idea by now. But yes, we can interpret this as Red Jimin accepting his “sin”, him meeting his evil and accepting it— accepting his duality. To put it into colours, I would say a young, ignorant Red Jimin has managed to survive his share of growing pains and achieved maturity-through-age (Blue) by his own means. And because red and blue are both primary colours, mixing is possible, and the mixing worked.

Red + Blue = Magenta.

Or so we thought.

When the apple is thoroughly ground, magenta transitions to green. This scene is the reason why I didn’t say “we are introduced a fourth world” earlier. Magenta is merely a transition phase into the seemingly peaceful, balanced world of Green. We may view this as Jimin not just acknowledging his “evil” or his “temptations”, but going one step further to completely ground it, drink it, and become one with it. We can say that here, Jimin has finally reached true maturity. Green World Population: two.

At this point we can all agree that Red and Blue Worlds are 1) primary worlds, aka worlds that are equal, one is not better than the other, one is not better without the other, 2) phases of growth that represent youth (red) and aged maturity (blue) / knowledge (red) and ignorance (blue) / temptation (red) and purity (blue) and finally, 3) literal sections of an individual’s timeline. Do note that for point three, there is not one colour that must come before the other, it depends on the growing process, which is entirely unique and personal to the individual.

Since we’ve touched on magenta, let’s revisit this familiar scene:

Before we get into what I think is actually happening, I want to zoom in a little on Jungkook over there on our right. I maaay be stretching it a little tight, but doesn’t it seem as though Jungkook’s side of the shot is a little more red than magenta, as compared to Jimin on the left? It could just be owed to the actual lighting on set and all, but I like to think that he’s still Red Jungkook just because it rolls with my little presentation here so much more. Also— is it just coincidence that, much like his scene with Namjoon, Jungkook is once again positioned at the right hand side of the frame? Hmm… You be the judge.

Back to magenta. We mentioned before that this colour is merely a transition into the Green World that is presumably the destination everyone wants to arrive at eventually. Now, if Jimin had his apple, what does Taehyung have that combines his Blue-Red Worlds to form magenta?

The elimination of his abuser. Some victims cannot realise that they are being abused, especially in domestic violence. The fact that Taehyung can learn this and step up to confront his personal demon is one form of maturity. Taehyung’s act here contains huge contradictory elements. The aspect of a son killing his own father then brings in the concept of Abraxas, a god that is good and evil. 

While he is doing good by putting he and his sister out of misery by eliminating their abuser, he is also committing a sin by becoming a child that murders his parent, which will most likely guarantee a lifetime of shame and blame, no matter the reason for doing it. But the fact that Taehyung still did it shows that he is willing to swallow that “evil” and let it become part of himself, much like Jimin eating his apples. Hence, the magenta.

But seeing as how his maturity took place during INU era, and basing it on the plain and simple fact that INU MV was released in 2015, this act would have been quite some time ago by now. Therefore we can say that Taehyung has been wandering in the magenta realm for a while, refusing to accept the Green World.

Why does he refuse? I say most likely because of guilt. This refusal could be part of what hinders his growth and progression from magenta to green. We see numerous displays of this in Prologue, some in Spring Day— hell we even have the entire Stigma where he sings about his guilt.

In a background of magenta, someone holds a green dart.

I’ve seen some people debating on whether the one throwing the dart is Hoseok or Seokjin. From the screenshots above, it’s obviously the former. However, we never get a proper glimpse of his face throughout the magenta scene with Taehyung— why’s that? Perhaps Hoseok is not exactly in the magenta phase at that point in time. That is why we only get shots of him facing the three youngest members, while he stands against the camera. Like an outsider.

But why Hoseok? Wasn’t Taehyung initially paired with Namjoon (in INU and especially Run)? I would say that according to his short film and song, MAMA, where he blatantly expresses his love and appreciation for his mother, Hoseok is the best fit to act as Taehyung’s “transitioner”. Throughout the MVs, we have never once seen a motherly figure present in Taehyung’s life. And here one is overflowing with motherly love, while the other is pitifully lacking it. What better “guide” could Taehyung ask for, if not Hoseok?

But it appears Taehyung still doesn’t want it. He needs to be held down by two other members and flinches whenever Hoseok so much so as looks at him, as seen in the way the two scenes are arranged in the MV. Here we wonder— what could be the problem? Why doesn’t he want Hoseok’s help?

I want to suggest that it’s because Hoseok is in the “falsely” mature Blue World. Trapped in a holding facility, Hoseok could still be clinging to the motherly embrace that he loves so dearly, much like the attitude of a young Sinclair where he is relieved to know he can run to his mother’s arms and return to the clean, pure world once again.

Perhaps Taehyung recognizes this: that Hoseok is just a fake. We never see that dart go off, because Hoseok’s hand is still poised in the air, ready to fire, in the first screenshot of Taehyung. Although we first mentioned that he entered a limbo in this moment, I think we mustn’t rule out the possibility that he could also have receded into his sub-conscience.

And in between all this, we get one shot of Namjoon and Seokjin each.

The direction Namjoon is looking in and the colour of the shot is almost as if he’s looking at Taehyung, since their positions and background do add up. After majorly fucking Jungkook over, of course Namjoon would be curious as to whether Hoseok’s attempt at “maturing” Taehyung is going to work. but none of us ever finds out, because he escapes into a limbo/sub-conscience. 

Here’s where Seokjin comes in— we’ve been getting hints that he’s some sort of observer throughout all this. No matter in which era or music video, Seokjin is always isolated from the group. He has his own story going, and I won’t go into what it is, but let’s just establish that he either has foresight, a supernatural sixth sense as to what their fates are, or is just looking back on all that has happened. Whatever it is, I am given the idea that he knows what Taehyung is about to do. Hoseok will fail at transitioning him, he’ll go into a limbo and when he comes out, Seokjin knows exactly where he’ll be.

The same kitchen where it all started, of course. While he beats the living daylights out of a probably very confused Taehyung, the audio in the MV pauses abruptly to accommodate a very soft and inconspicuous “Sorry,” from Seokjin to Taehyung.

The reason why the elder has to resort to this drastic measure of hurting his friend is unclear, but since we’ve gathered that Taehyung has been wandering in the magenta realm for a long time, we might as well go on to say that he could be the last to enter the Green World, and Seokjin is helping him along. Taehyung, on the other hand, has no idea. And the pain of being hurt by a trusted friend goes deep enough to birth that one mysterious line in his song, Stigma:

Why did you do that to me back then?

We see a clear mirror of INU in which Taehyung also stabbed his father. Whatever Seokjin’s intentions were, Taehyung’s actions triggers some sort of artistic orgasm, and a burst of colours explode in Jungkook’s room.

Remember the explosion I mentioned right at the beginning? This is it.

I am led to believe that the explosion we just saw is synonymous with the supposed destruction of the Blue World, as we see in this next screenshot:

If a glass window or mirror were to suddenly shatter right next to you, the natural reaction would surely be shock, but in Namjoon’s case, he clearly doesn’t seem bothered by it. Did he already expect this? Once again, my belief that Green Residents have some type of foresight is reinforced. Their awareness is much higher than anyone in the Red and Blue Worlds.

Namjoon’s scene cuts to that of Taehyung who appears to have gone off the rails, scratching walls with a screwdriver as he seemingly emerges from green light. But wait… screwdriver? Green light…?

Stigma opens with this scene. His scratching of the name Abraxas comes off to me as lot like he’s facing a moral dilemma. Does he believe in the god or not? Before, stabbing his father as a form of self-defense was somewhat excusable in the eyes of the law and his own guilty-conscience, he could be forgiven, and forgive himself, by resigning himself as a figure of good and evil. But after what he did to Seokjin? Maybe the “stigma” isn’t about the wicked son killing his father or being a criminal in society, but rather, the one on a murderer always being a murderer.

Can a leopard ever change its spots?

Taehyung emerges from an opening that pours out green light, aka the Green World, as he scratches his way up the stairs, the light turns blue. 

Remember how I said that Taehyung rejected the Green World probably because of the guilt from stabbing his father? Here’s another thought: what if he was already in it, and only escaped?

Despite the above screenshots being a scene that is shown after the destruction of the Blue World, I want to think that not all scenes are in chronological order, and this could have happened before Blue was obliterated.

Taehyung is very clearly on the Blue side of the frame, and he is the only one looking into the bucket with a green rim. I would say this is yet another portal to the next world, that being Green, and as a gleeful escapee, Taehyung seems to be peering in to check out how things are going.

In that light, wouldn’t it also make sense for me to say that Hoseok shooting a dart at Taehyung is not to lead him to the Green World, but to put him back?

I think those are enough thinking caps to put on for one post.

Read on to the next if you’re still interested in how I conclude this epic word vomit. Feel free to send in your thoughts so far too.

#bts theory #bst japanese version #bts mv theory #jungkook scenarios #bts bst

[heedra]

OK ITS FINALLY EXALTED SECRET SANTA JOURNAL TIME

@ my secret santa: i am so so so sorry for the ref delay. you already deserve sainthood in advance for dealing with it. without further ado here they are, two of my favorite bastards

Daia Shan- Serenity Caste Sidereal

Once just a troublesome junior bureaucrat in the halls of Yu-Shan, Daia truly gained infamy upon her selection to accompany a strike team of Exalted heroes on a mission into the depths of the worldbody of the Yozi Oramus, and her subsequent escape and return from that impossible prison, nearly a thousand years later. The experience left her profoundly changed; even now, the spite of Oramus hangs like a mantle around Daia, ensuring that the waking world she fought so hard to return to will never feel like anything more than a dream. And then, of course, there is the matter of the power she took from the Sevenfold Peacock willingly… and how that power might be changing her still.

Daia is a somewhat petite woman, belying an athletic build. She is ethnically from the Blessed Isle, with dark grey hair that she prefers to wear up, usually in a bun or a knot. Her face, which she tries but fails to keep free of stress and worry lines, is usually found bearing a smirk or an expression of dangerous faux-politeness. Her eyes bear the iconic starry blue of the Serenities caste, but are also shot through with bands of a strange prismatic iridescence. She bears a large pair of bull horns atop her head, a mutation received during her time inside the Worldbody. The nature of the power bequeathed to her by Oramus is such, though, that her very nature is beginning to blur around the edges, and it is not unusual for her day-to-day appearance to fluctuate strangely as mutations come and go like glitches. She is a bit of a fashionista, favoring blues, dramatic and sharp femme looks (she avoids ruffles and prefers sleeker outfits), and jewelry of all sorts (a lot of it). She rarely wears the same exact outfit twice, so do not feel obligated to stick to the reference- you can get creative! She wears makeup, but prefers cool colors and an understated application.

Daia’s most important accessory is her longfang, the Sevenfold Peacock’s Tailfeather. Forged from starmetal, orichalcum, and a crystalline shard of Oramic essence, the weapon contains knowledge of every martial arts technique known by every user to have ever wielded it, and seems to hunger for more to the point where its obsession has bled over into Daia herself. Even more potently, it bears deep within its core the secret to a martial art concocted by the Dragon of Not himself, whose charms grant the power to ignore the limits of impossibility at the cost of making the wielder more and more alien to the waking world. It is a temptation that Daia has drunk deep of, despite all signs pointing to that being a very bad idea. Daia sees the spear as a trophy stolen from her greatest nemesis, but it’s very possible the Yozi himself sees it as a clever snare for hubristic Sidereals. The blade of the weapon is prismatic crystal that resembles a jagged bird’s beak, the pole is jet black starmetal shot through with an orichalcum starmap of constellations, and the orichalcum pommel is fashioned to look like seven golden peacock feathers woven together into a sphere.

While her exaltation may brand Daia a chosen of the Maidens, the elder Sid is a loose cannon, an agent of Heaven in only the most general of terms. She is mercurial, theatrical, fond of causing petty chaos, and utterly disinterested in the politics of the Bureau, unless there is way for her to stir up drama. She has tendency to get ahead of herself with her schemes, and the vast majority of her ‘downfalls’ can be traced back to her own hubris. Beneath all that, she is a lonely woman who feels adrift in a world that no longer feels real to her. She’s a terrible flirt, a huge showoff (especially where martial arts are involved) and has a weak spot for dangerous women. She’s Creation’s wildest and worst gay aunt.

Side Note: Daia is partially deaf, due to an old and potent supernatural injury. She employs the use of what magic/technology she can to aid her, but relies as well on sign language and interpreters. She’s very used to it at this point.

here’s the link to a better-resolution version of this image bc tumblr kinda fuckt it

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Avenging Phoenix- Dawn Caste Solar (Formerly Ravenous Vulture Picks Clean the Bones of Creation, Dusk Caste Abyssal)

Orphaned at an early age, Phoenix was adopted by a Guild mercenary and raised as such. He spent his later mortal life as a city guard captain in Thorns, where he exalted during the fateful siege itself, disillusionment and rage at the circumstances of his death making him an easy recruit for the Mask. His path has weaved far and wide since then, a slow painful crawl from rebellion to eventual redemption; a journey that ultimately gave him a place among the saviors of Creation. Along the way, he played a role in liberating a group of orphaned children from the clutches of the Dowager, and now finds himself settling into the role of an adoptive dad to them, hanging up his metaphorical (and literal) axe and trying to live a gentler life. It’s not always easy. Violence and trauma etched in that deep doesn’t just smooth out perfectly over time. On top of that, he has impostor’s syndrome when it comes to his redemption by the Sun, and still feels uncomfortable thinking of himself as a peer to the other members of the Solar Host. Still, as long as his soul is on this side of Lethe, he is determined to fight against the Void- not because he considers himself antithesis to it, but because he has known it and survived it. And while some days it’s hard to know how to separate that fight from the taste of blood, other days it feels like, maybe, fighting against the void can be planting sunflowers for your children on a sunny spring afternoon.

Phoenix is of Western descent, very short, fat, and beefy, with warm brown skin and a round, open face.  He keeps his burgundy hair closely shaved, not fond of dealing with the mess of wavy curls it becomes when allowed to grow out. His eyes are dark brown, almost black, the outside of the iris rimmed with the faintest edge of golden yellow. His nose looks like it has been broken multiple times in the past, and never properly healed. Due to unfortunate wyld misadventures his tongue has been mutated to resemble and function like that of a frog’s, though this is only really apparent when he opens his mouth to use the damn thing. Frogs and toads are a definite motif for him in general- small, grumpy-looking, and round as they are.

Phoenix’s casual clothes tend to be simple, comfortable, loose, and in sharp contrast to his prickly combat garb. He enjoys floral patterns, and the color pink. He’s got a very ‘open hawaiian shirt and flip flops dad’ vibe, basically. He does not dress fancily unless pressed to for big occasions, and in those cases usually grudgingly follows the fashion direction of the one twisting his arm. When he’s on actual exalt business, he’s most frequently found wearing his armor; black jade full plate embellished with cruel-looking spikes, and occasionally a shaggy grey fur cloak made from the pelt of some hunting trophy. A horned skull helm, made from the skull of a nephwrack’s war-body, often completes this ensemble. The helmet is a minor artifact: when worn, it causes his eyes to glow balefully behind its sockets and makes his voice gravelly with deathly menace. He is reluctant to take it off unless he feels at ease in a situation.

Phoenix is somewhat bumbling and gruffly soft-spoken, with tendency to look more tired than he feels. Beneath this is a talent for strategic leadership and a stoic determination that gets fiercer as the going gets tougher. On the battlefield, he is utterly terrifying when he needs to be, but would much prefer to be at home in his garden than on a battlefield these days.

His anima banner starts as burst of gold-and crimson fire that solidifies into the form of a fierce and predatory-looking phoenix, with aspects of a garda bird and a lammergeier both. It moves as he does across the battlefield, swooping and rising with each swing of his axe, its fierce eyes focused on his prey. Additional refs:

what he looked like as an abyssal | his grand grimcleaver looks like this except made outta fiery golden light | rough sketch of his skull helmet

#extremely sorry abt the excessive thoroughness i can't write short paragraphs at all #exalted secret santa #daia post #pho post