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ryemoon · 1 year

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Flower ghost core au expansion! So I want to talk more about fae, halfas and psychopomps.

So, every being in this world has an essence that is a representation of their shared and personal nature. Like to a living being ghosts' cores look like flowers, but it's really because the concept of the core in question is not able to be perceived by living beings.

Like at first glance, you see something vaguely like a daisy when you look at Dani, but when you look harder or try to pick out details, it slips from your mind like oil shine or the exact color and texture of your first childhood bed sheets.

Humans can not perceive their own essence, maybe only in recurring dreams always forgotten.

This brings us to the realm of death touched creatures.

Here, existence is fluid. the concept of death is not the finality of a ceased existence but rather a new classification of being. There is death, life, and imbetween. Life is oriented towards outward laws of functioning (expectations). Death is oriented towards internal laws of functioning (will). This system doesn't make a binary but a spectrum. The imbetween is the mix of traits and being who function with them. Most times, the systems of life and death repell each other. The only constant of existence is change, and two opposing laws of functioning tend to slip onto one or the other over time. This is why halfas are so rare, while they can be permanently killed, they exist in a permanent middle state, where they can switch between the systems of life and death at will.

This brings in the middle men. Fae, psychopomps, gods of concept, and halfas.

Gods of concept were never truly alive. They may merge with a being that was alive to sustain an avatar in the mortal realm, but they never touched the systems of life to begin with but exert will over the living realms as they were created from thoughts and belief from the living planes. Their cores look to be musical impressions. Like seeing a sound or light motif. Their presence is usually accompanied by sound.

Fae is a broader term for the collections of living beings that have the touch and power of death on them they as a rule tend to have little in common but the obsessive love and affinity to truth, a need for nature and instinct, and malleable flesh forms. Most fae never truly die. Their cores, if seen at all, look like the concept or memories, of experience.

Psychopomps are the caretakers of the balance of life and death. Most beings, when they shuff off the mortal coil, will begin to corrupt if left between life and death, breaking the balance. Psychopomps guide beings between states and put to rest those who resist. They are not reapers. Most psychopomps mature from the form of a ghost to psychpomps. Their cores present as a phenomenon. Whether it be a desert storm or nebulae.

halfas are symbolic of bothe entropy and hatmony. They straddle the line of life and death. They create energy by their contradictive nature existing. They can, of course, by accident or will shift to either side of the spectrum again. They are simultaneously alive and dead. Halfas cores present as flowers of glass or glass forms.

Thank you for reading!

#flower ghost core au #wes is just a little bit fae #a smidge #danny phantom #dp headcanons #dp #Desiree has the possibility of maturing into a psychopomp #as she is she won't though #fun things begin to happen when you play math with life and death in this verse #the possibilities literally are as far as all conscience can go #halfas are also natural omens of change

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lichtreich · 11 months

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This should not have happened. Nothing like this should have ever been happened. Weakness like this, crumbling down around him in the flittering nuances of soft blues and bright whites illuminating the darkness with soft glows, the same way this prison keeps him contained, sapping his strength bit by bit [ all that was left? ] in that delirium they had left him in when only those capable [ had it been Yhwach? had it been him? ] served to save who had been so beyond saving. How long ago had that been now? Minutes? Hours? Days? Would it not all blend together with whatever breath he would heave into battered lungs and broken body? Nobody had touched him beyond the powers of the Quincy Emperor's abundant rage. Nobody else would likely dare to lay a hand on the Captain Commander that, as much as he could at least assume, was to be thought dead and forlorn to those still remaining in that beloved home of his.

He should have asked, should have inquired. Raised a voice past what he could fairly muster, demand a 'why?'! An explanation to whatever plan that old ---- comrade? - of his could have had, and yet when only finding enough thought and mind in him to realise that despite what he had done to him, he was alive and breathing and moving - there had been nothing of that sort. Impossible. Utterly impossible. These ruminations that would keep his mind from racing endlessly around an answer he would never find and never receive. Knowing as much that this torturous back and forth they would soon find themselves in was nothing if not a game to be played on the sidelines leading to a bigger goal. But as it was - he would do whatever in his possible might to undermine this megalomaniac's pursuit for---

Till he hears and feels them come back. Discardable movements of reishi in the walls and the halls, whatever the Quincy wanted with him would bring no satisfaction in his premeditated choice for muteness to be narrowed down towards the gruff replies of laboured breath. After all, that was the reason why his voice had refused to chime out before, why his tongue had rejected any exclamations to be formed, thankful though he should be in disparaging shattered expectations when all that he had been able to comprehend in this near-death state of his, was the disregard with which Yhwach spoke of the whole circumstance. A distant memory, but something of a softened cadence still chiming somewhere in the back of his mind.

" We will bring him to speak about it all later. Leave him to rest for now. "

As if it were merely nothing but a pastime activity to fill out his dull little life with. If he had been the slightest further along in regaining his strength, surely enough, an outburst of different proportions would have underlined his boiling and burning displeasure, raging and raving somewhere in the pits of his stomach, but it was not good enough. Ryūjin Jakka was gone - and all hope forlorn to ever get him back from a madman dangling the very safety of those dear, cherished, adored in front of him like a priced possesion the moment he would surely step back into his field of vision. He had taken so much from him. Why go to that length? Issue a means to keep him alive. Why do such a thing beyond the knowledge that those Yamamoto wanted to be safe, he never would have any power again to attempt such a ludicrous thought with? At least, that is all that his mind came up with for hours and hours slowly spiralling back into reality. It was an interesting spectacle. To follow the pulsing reels of power, like little rivulets of gleaming water travelling along the otherwise unassuming bars of this prison cell he had been thrown into.

He had seen that before. In a better time. In a kinder past. The Quincy ways of using and utilizing reishi to its capacity in ferocious purity. It was beautiful - really---

" Are you willing to speak to us now? "

What a nonsensical question. And if he would have had it in him, a burst of huffed-out laughter would have left his lips. There was nothing to be done past defiance, glaring up from where he sat at the far end of the cell, his minutes till Yhwach had arrived with his - entourage [ he remembers the boy's name, Jugram, was it not? ] - spent looking at the bindings slung around his form in means and creations to simultaneously keep him contained and his brittle form from falling apart. Fine leashed, knitted and woven together into a sort of net, imbued and enriched with a reiatsu he did not know and could not make out. But if he had a guess: it was from the cursed King's aide. What a beguiling contraption, the twelfth division's Captain may find interest in it.

Past all these ideas he had occupied himself with , there was no reply. Not even a huff leaving dry lips was it enough to elicit a chuckle from Yhwach himself, moving and shifting, lowering past his graces to crouch down in front of his captive to keep him just on eye level as much as it had ever been possible. Their stature had been contemptuously different, ever since they'd known each other - but it had never mattered. Never come to light. Never been of interest. Past how it would be now.

" Fine then. " In a sense, at times, he hated how this man could speak. How every single syllable brought forth was nothing if not ridiculing a situation of dire need, burning it down into nothing but a silly little cumbersome realisation that needed no explanation past whatever the Captain Commander may have wanted to offer in reply. Nothing it was. And nothing would remain. " It doesn't quite matter if you talk or not. I am quite sure that you know where you ended up and what will happen now. " Does he truly know? Out of the corner of his eye Genryūsai would catch the incredulous expression the youth wore. All but a motion enough that could make him doubt that he was anywhere in or even only near the Wandenreich, anywhere even only close to that precious place where all those residents who still held his heart and who would keep it for him intact and unmarred would remain. But there was, as he could feel that ache rippling through him, masked soon enough with that slightest hiss to cover it as if pains could shoot from gaping wounds, that one person whose piece would remain missing to fill him whole.

He had lost Akime. He had lost Sasameki too.

If only - if only he had been there. If only he had not sent her there! If only he had known - if only he had killed him so many years ago.

It's a snap when his gaze of angry fire would find the Quincy's own, having long since subsided to desire to say something, anything, would he feel his eye bear upon him in trying to pull out bit by bit the pieces of information he was yet hiding. If the Shinigami had been any stronger than he was right now, perhaps a chiding remark of using that wretched and cursed power of his own to realise and figure out the truths still hidden away - but in a sense, mayhap Yamamoto was glad to find that he held no interest in it per se. Questions. Demands. Wishes. - to know the why, the reasons behind the King's refusal to use the Almighty, would die in the back of his throat the instance he watched Yhwach's companion stir.

Having stood there as unmoving as a marble statue, leant against the wall right next to his enclosure, for they had moved the Captain to the one farthest away, the one the most solitary, where none could find him, even if they were to search. He had just stood there, no motions past in reaction to his Master's words, there had been nothing to imply that Jugram's alertness could be disturbed, could be broken, redirected to something else that was not that little, near intimately private interaction between two enemies that so starkly, so absurdly, seemed like they had been so close. Old friends turned to foes, turned into nemesis, enemies at each other's throats. Perhaps Yhwach's sudden benevolence to save his old comrade from injuries that would have been an undoing to anybody else, was it not a testament of that?

No--- no.

A broken and shattered remaining pride as it was that sudden shift of the atmosphere, still uncommented by the Ruler of these Lands, that finally, finally offered a realisation past what he had been able to comprehend. To pick up. How could it have been that only now that very small, fragile little presence had become known to him? How could he have ignored it so easily before? Drowned out beneath powers of immeasurable worth, near a bulwark to even restrict breathing, to find that bit of a soul that had followed him [ why had he followed him? how had he followed him? ], now caught like a mouse in a trap. Overhelmed. Confused. Amongst this onslaught of spiritual pressure, even only with his own in that unkempt and uncontained state of ghastly injuries, it would be too much, but with the two rulers so near? He was far too young for this, panic rising in the boy's rapidly beating heart, like a little rabbit caught in a predator's grasp, a lion about to play with nought but a rodent and he could swear - swear like it was.

He could hear nought but a fine whine of pure terror rising from Kagerō's throat. Soft and deliberately low, trying to keep himself hidden in that shadow he had been trapped into, traversing through it near naturally like his father had attained as a power of mirth and play, the boy was far too young. Perhaps caught in an attempt to find a safe place, misplaced the fact that these murmurming and whispering shadows were nothing like his dear Sire's, how could he have known?

And what was there to even do?

He still could feel Yhwach's stare. As if testing to find whatever question he could ask him in an attempt to figure out a reaction past that obvious disregard for the danger he had found himself in. There was, undoubtedly, a myriad of things that there could be exchanged in voices ranging from subtle hums and droning frenzy to agitated screams and feverish accusations. But it all turned to nothing, to the stone of a mien unwavering in the eyes of something whose pure raised hand could kill him if he willed it - but he would not [ don't they both know? ].

( ' --- what… what should I do… I'm scared… I'm scared. ' )

It was like an insufferable fever dream. There was no voice. Yet a voice was meandering through the stone wall, permeating the unmoving air of dampened hall and he wonders, he could only wonder: if Yhwach was not aware? If he was willfully ignoring the man standing at near predatory attention behind him, within that twitch - that subtle twitch - of his hand underlining the knowledge that: yes, if he wanted to, he could reach into the masonry work to tear out the boy like an eagle would pinpoint take a mouse out of the air with precision and deadly grace. It was a nightmare come true, and a nightmare he hoped it would be. For him, and his grandson.

In those torturing, maddening seconds that have him wince and writhe as if to underline the fact that he wanted to just be a bit more comfortable in that strain of wounds inflicted on him. He had been cut in half, was that not right? Lost his remaining arm too? Thoughts of nothing and everything when only grounding himself out that this could not be Kagerō. This could not be true. There was no possible explanation that for all that way out and through miles and miles of powers that should guard secrecy like this. This could not be real.

Please don't let it be real.

( ' … I don't know what to do. … Jiichan--- please… help me. ' )

This can not be real.

He knows Kagerō does not answer him, hears that voice as a maniacal fine little sing-song somewhere in the back of his mind, the very pretence of what could be in a near shell-shocked state to keep up a facade breaking and cracking at a moment's notice with each breath he takes in laboured attempts. Heavier and heavier. As if he would drown in whatever frenzy was there to envelop him whole---

--- he should be dead and this whole little dreadful subterfuge of delusions was nothing more than an attempt to drive him mad. He knew what the Quincy were capable of, this could be nothing else. With the sensations and voices and drawn-out pleas, it could be nought else but an attempt to have him kneel in front of a fiendish King. So he had brought himself to close his eyes in an attempt to shut out all the sensations that could sway him to bring forth any words of commentary nature to be seen as a weakness in this demented process. It could be nought else but deliberately trying to get a rise out of him, where nothing should ever reach his heart. His dear little grandson could not be here, he was safe. He was safe back in Soul Society---

But the thought only lasted within that sigh he exhaled. His eye cracks open for but a margin and he realised it. The fact that Yhwach had lost his interest in trying to figure out how to get him to speak, had turned, still crouched down, to just follow his Grandmaster's gaze transfixed on a point in the wall. No words were spoken, no question dropped, the sheer acceptance that there was a trail of thought to be followed after with all but curious gaze. From the young man's back over the slant and tilt of his head, down and down, snaking in an invisible, maze-like path over the cracks of stones, towards the unmistakable place where Yamamoto, as well, could see him. Kagerō. Sitting there like a scared, cornered little soul, watching and waiting, having caught his beloved Grandfather's worry.

( '… he sees me. What should I do Jiichan, please, help me… what should I do? ' )

It was an unbearable amount of torture. And finally, he moves. How about - they play a game? He had thought as much, even knowing how impossible, improbable, a chance for success even was, watching this scene like a fawn would be caught before two wolves, ready to tear it out of its hideout, to string it up, pull it open without any remorse. Sheer regard for power discrepancy, within that fact, that this whole scene moved like it would take a thousand years, had he already brought an injured hand to his lips. It was a gesture of hide and seek - play this game to stay as silent as only possible, to be as imperceptible as only you would be capable and be still.

Be so still.

Do not move.

It will be alright.

It will be fine.

This very gesture would remain hidden from the two men that had captured a foe of insurmountable power and will, reduced to nought but an attempt in bringing peace to a scared, little child. Hope to brew that, by some strange stroke of luck, this could be ended favourably. Hope to rise in his mind that if it all came down to it, whatever he could offer for the Quincy Emperor would be good enough to have the boy be spared and leave him unharmed, wishful thinking in that essentially hysterical haze that his mind had thrown itself into. Everything. Anything possible to have his sweet little boy come out as unharmed as it was only a dire need to remain.

" It is just a mouse, Jugram. Ignore it. "

It was as if a dam had broken over both their heads. His hand was quick enough to find a place back at his side, barely adjusted as if to give the intention and keep up the facade that the noise of fabric brushing against each other had just been him attempting to be that bit more comfortable. That bit more at ease in front of a monster who had shown benevolence unexpected to come down upon them. He wanted to ask why. Yet he dares it not. Dares not to break whatever quip had driven Yhwach to release his child from the heavy tenor of a terror befalling them both, for he had not been able to hide it. Had not been able to keep it all contained in that slight moment his gaze had found Kagerō's to play with him a game so well known and so well loved, his eyes had been filled with the same sheer dread of hopelessness as the youth's very own.

He desired just with all he had, that this would lead to nought at all.

( ' A mouse…. yes. I am a mouse. Nothing… but a mouse. ' )

And within the steep ridiculousness of this back and forth that had drawn and dragged itself out over nothing but a mere ten heartbeats rushing in his ears, Jugram relented. Moved back to his place as if he had never been caught by the urge to break open the wall, tear out the child, and make an example of what could only be called foolish disobedience before those that had conquered it all. No, he was calm, and collected. Closing his eyes while leaning back against the wall next to them like nothing, nothing in that maddening moment of shattering realisations had ever happened - the very realisation that, if nothing would be done.

All he would want would be in the mad King's hands. " So. " It snaps Yamamoto back, makes him blink, that ease in which his old - friend - knew how to get a reaction where just so often Genryūsai had refused in mild jest to give it to him all those years ago--- and he felt Kagerō gone when only that memory came rushing back to him. Whatever it was Yhwach wanted to say now---

--- there was left nothing but to listen to him. || ♡ @jinjahime | @bornhollow | @hxbiris

#★ [ drabble ]#[ might have gone a touch insane over this #just a bit #A SMIDGE #★ [ verse au ] tbt #need a verse tag for this ho boy #jinjahime #bornhollow #hxbiris #i tag you all three because this basically belong to all three SO I HOPE YOU ENJOY ;v ; / ♡ ]

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