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shiroi---kumo · 10 months

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⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆ Those eyes were not the eyes he so adored....

That wasn't an encounter he ever wanted to have. It wasn't supposed to go that way. It wasn't supposed to happen like that. He didn't - he knew him but he didn't. How is he supposed to go back to Gaudium knowing that he did? His Excellency asked him to kill him but he knew he couldn't do it. He knew he couldn't harm in any sort of way that would actually last. He knew even sending something so tremendous as the Silver Etude barreling his way that the man of Black Winds wouldn't simply stay down...

That wasn't how this worked.

The man survived a deep slumber of over a decade and the only signs of wear to his form were that of tangled hair and the dirt that accumulated on his skin....and such things this lone moonlit Misterican worked tirelessly to tend to whenever he could sneak out to do so. Even at the risk to his own life. Even at the risk of the punishment he would receive for doing so. Time and time again over endless years did the swordsman rush out whenever he found the ability to do so, just to make sure that the gun mage didn't wither away into his surroundings.

This wasn't what was supposed to be happening. Did he truly not remember their lives? Did he not remember Seejvariil? Something was wrong. Did his Mist fail to heal his body while he slept? What was going on? They were - Rorahm-Vahree was supposed to wake and then they could run off together while they formed a plan on how to attend to the beast together.

They were supposed to be together.

This wasn't how it was supposed to be. This wasn't how it was supposed to go and he needs time now before he can go back to Gaudium and face that beast to be dealt the punishment he'll receive for not slaughtering his Other on sight but he also needs time before he can face Black Wind again, because he needs to know if the man truly has forgotten.

Orthrus' twin maw drawn on him - it must have been a nightmare. It could have only been a nightmare.

The sound of heavy boots striking down against the dirt pull his attention and he's turning to see a body of black and a face framed by burning red. Deep oceans fixated on him and he feels his lips pull out into a sad sort of smile as brows turn to stitch themselves upwards. See? See he came to find him so they could talk this out. Surely it had been a ruse to through the enemy off their trail.

That beast was much too clever.

So jade peers over his shoulder as he half turns to face the man behind him.

"There you are, My Sun. Tell me what's the matter, so I can help you fix it."

||| @kazeofthemagun has found his mark....

#v; trapped in the castle of the false joy #v; tragic eclipse #at your side forever i shall be || kazeofthemagun #kazeofthemagun #tw; long post #tw; death #tw; depression #// i needed it #// get to it at your leisure

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shiroi---kumo · 7 months

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⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆ Somehow they keep getting lucky enough to not get themselves thrown out of the last few villages on sight. Somehow they haven't been met with harsh glares or pitchforks while the local populace chants about the White Devil and The Great Destroyer and how they would be better off if either one of them ended up with their head on pike. (Or both - the fearful never seemed to be picky)

Somehow, despite their appearance as a very blinding body of white and a tall tower of black, they have managed to just blend in to the every day hustle and bustle of this small town. Are they too far out? Not every corner of Wonderland could know the name Lord Makenshi and even if they did - that doesn't mean they knew what he looked like.

His Excellency had only let his leash extend so far out after all and he's only been off the chain for a little more than a year now. There are places in this mismatched world that even he hasn't been to.

So he can't say he knows much about this town or it's people. They seem to be just as mismatched at Wonderland itself is. There are those with horns and those with fox like ears and those with ears that look like bears. There some people with hooves and some with long tails that extend out far behind them.

Perhaps it's because of this, that he has found himself in a place where for the first time in a while, he doesn't have a multitude of eyes staring at the seven horns upon the crown of his head. Though, even if there are other beings with horns here - he's never seen any with quite as many as he has.

It's nice however to be able to shop in peace. To slowly browse through the wares of their bazaar without wondering when he'll need to run next all because someone recognized one of them from those damnable wanted posters.

Gaudium really had it out for them, didn't they?

Jade eyes are scrolling over the items of a local fruit stand when his ears perk and he can't help but notice the sudden building tune in the air. There is a beat in the background of this town's bustle and he can feel it's rhythm starting to make it's way from his horns into the rest of his form.

It's harm to resist. He can hear strings and chimes. He can hear the sounds of some sort of woodwind coming into the mix but once the hand drums join the party, the prince finds himself swaying his hips ever so slightly with the tempo as he hums.

And it continues to infect his form as they walk. Pulling away from the stand he was perusing only to venture deeper into town to find an inn, yet before the Misterican is even away the cadence of his steps has picked up a very noticeable rhythm.

The swaying of his form far more noticeable than it has been before and how long it's been since he's heard such an infectious tune. Oh what kind of wizardry is this? It's an unfair but effective way to trap any Misterican because the heartbeat of the cosmos is spoken through song and those with mist forged souls struggle to resist it's call.

Even as his twin soul walks next to him, the prince is finding himself getting lost in those vibrations further and further the deeper they walk into town and the closer the beat becomes. It's almost as if his body has become entranced as he moves.

Shifting his hips and timing his steps. Hands have raised to snap fingers along with the song. It's been so long since he's heard any form of music like this and it makes his body itch with the urge to make some of his own. Fingers tingling with the desire to play those drums himself and he half wonders if the locals that own them would be so kind as to allow him to do so.

He doesn't have it in him to ask, he's too caught up in the display keeping time to the beat. Each step sat down with intention while the swordsman continues to hum right along as if he's heard this tune a million times before instead of hearing it for the first time today. He can't remember when his ears were filled with such melody.

It's alright if he enjoys himself a little right now, isn't it? Sure there are eyes on them now but it is hardly because of who they are as it usually would be but instead because the cloud of white is holding himself so well to the rhythm.

The inn has to be around here somewhere.... though he doesn't really mind if it takes them a little longer to find it.

||| Perhaps @kazeofthemagun should be looking for them - the prince seems to be in a world all his own....

#v; cloudy rhythm #kazeofthemagun #at your side forever i shall be || kazeofthemagun #tw; long post

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shiroi---kumo · 9 months

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@kazeofthemagun

The duality of the Unlimited folks.

#|| nonsense in wonderland ; shit posting ||#final fantasy unlimited #ffu #ff:u #final fantasy #two souls born of the same star || the unlimited || salvation's sun and destruction's moon #at your side forever i shall be || kazeofthemagun #// IT'S FUCKING TRUE #// Kumo will just talk to you for hours and tell you all his favorite snacks and people and all about home #// Kaze will '........'

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shiroi---kumo · 7 months

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Kaze: Did I scare you? Kumo: Yes! Don't do that again! I thought I lost you!

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shiroi---kumo · 5 months

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[ @kazeofthemagun is sketching away... ]

Stretched atop a pile of boxes in the corner of an empty storage room, the Windarian surveyed his territory. There was nobody else there, which pleased him greatly - he enjoyed his silence. An object slipped out from underneath his spacious cape - a notebook of yellowed paper, laid over a leg.

Kaze took out a pencil and began sketching. A picture clear from his memory. There was some form of irony with how precisely he recalled every inch of the sharp sword-creature, when the face of its master remained a blurry mess on the canvas of the life they used to share.

It was almost photographic, even if the rich, dark graphite smeared somewhat. It stained his fingers as he wiped on the page, creating shading. The likeness of the serpentine beast was striking; But then again, how could it not be, when he spent so many years dreaming of its blade skewering his heart?

The truth was one thing, the nightmares seared into his brain - another.

...Ah, and he was no longer alone, it seemed.

He shifted slightly to create space, should White Cloud wish to take a seat beside him on the makeshift summit. He did not hide what he drew, but he also would not speak of it unless prompted. It had been some time since art tugged at his spirit and he answered. In all honesty, it felt.. warm, an assurance that his hand could still create something, even if that something was as insignificant as a projection of old hauntings.

The Sword Dragon's snout was stained with blood - an inky blot of smudged graphite.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆ He's humming to himself as allows himself to float through the halls of the Comodeen compound. It's been a minute since he's been up. He's been far too tired to do anything and since his last glance at himself in the mirror he knows why. It's been hard to come to terms with but Cid knows now so he needs to explain this all to him in full.

Everything has been so ...quiet... lately. Everyone just leaves him alone and all he can bring himself to do most days is sleep. The curse is spreading faster as the rot infects. It's hard to come to terms with knowing his time is so short now. It was difficult before knowing that eventually his soul would give out but he can feel Death's cold breath lingering down the back of his neck every day and he's terrified of the day she will finally ask him to dance.

Even if he knows every beat and every step, that doesn't mean he wants to dance that pas de deux for eternity. That was not the eternity he imagined when he thought about it. He was supposed to keep going. He was supposed to stay by his side. He was supposed to keep his promise. He was supposed to do ... so much more than this... but he'd be gone before the year was out.

He couldn't keep lying to him about it and he needed to tell him - didn't he? How could he? He doesn't know. The man doesn't talk to him anyway. It's not like he owes him anything. So then, why does it feel like he does? Would it be another lecture? Of course it would be. Why is he even -

Jade is peering deep into one of the storage rooms knowing damn well the doctor he had sat out with the intention of finding wouldn't be there but the likelihood of a far more shadowy denizen residing in such a place so lonely was high. There is a sigh that escapes him as shoulders drop when he sees the man so focused on a task.

Was he ....drawing?

Ah.... he noticed.

He's making space.... and he wonders for a moment how he's supposed to state something like his extreme loneliness so plain to a man who never speaks.

"Ah Sorry." He sounds dropping his gaze to avoid eye contact. "I didn't mean to bother you. I was just ... looking for... Cid. He wanted to talk to me and he's not in his office. I'll - I'll leave you be. Excuse me."

He can't do it. Not now and perhaps with the way his clock was ticking ... not ever.

#ask || inquires of the cloud #kazeofthemagun #at your side forever i shall be || kazeofthemagun #tw; long post #tw; death #tw; blood #tw; depression #tw; grief

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shiroi---kumo · 1 year

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I doodled this a couple days ago because we were talking on dis//co about how Kumo feels better once he's slept because he sleeps on Kaze / on the Magun and it makes him feel whole again.

So this is a public service announcement to say

"Please remember to plug in your Kumo. Battery low. Cuddles needed."

#g! White Cloud's Scribbles [[ Mun's Art ]]#g! the last cloud prince #g! may your aim be true #// Sun you need to charge your Moon #// Battery Depleted please send more light #at your side forever i shall be || kazeofthemagun #two souls born of the same star || the unlimited || salvation's sun and destruction's moon #//quen you may reblog

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shiroi---kumo · 6 months

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[ @kazeofthemagun is concerned: ]

Because now I will not rest until I send some stupid fluff after the horrors.

There was a particularly self-satisfied look plastered upon the Windarian's face - a rare sighting, especially considering there was seemingly nothing to be so smug about.

"White Cloud." A hum of a night-deep voice.

Upon acquiring the swordsman's attention, he parted his cape and practically swallowed the younger in it. An awkward pat on the back followed. Well, that was uncharacteristic of him.

"Thought you may need it." He explained cryptically.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆ The sound of his name has him turning to face towards the deep rumbles of the sun that call out to it's counter. The moon's brows raise as he smiles behind the thin metal that covers his face and he finds himself frozen the minute that cloak of deep charcoal and crimson opens and he's pulled inside of it. The fabric nearly swallows him whole as it wraps around him form and it's in that moment that the scent of the wind invades his senses.

It's overwhelming and all encompassing. He is suddenly drowning in the scent of soil and safe. It makes his skin prickle in the most satisfying way and his lips are stretching out from one side of his face to the other even if they cannot be seen. The emotion still reflects in his vision.

"Kiitos, Black Wind." He sounds as his brows raise and he finds himself snuggling into the fabric as the weight of it keeps his feet firmly anchored to the ground. He looks so small. A awkward pat at his back and an explanation that wind had merely thought the cloud needed such a thing.

It's such a comfort thing for him. A safe space. An item to help him level the clouds. Does Black Wind know? He's still a bit shaken after all that's happened in recent days, so this is - this is welcomed more than his Other could possibly know.

"Did I - was I zoning out again? Sorry. My mind keeps wandering back to Anarchy. I'll try to do better not to think about it."

#v; level the clouds #kazeofthemagun #at your side forever i shall be || kazeofthemagun #// directly after Ana thread? directly after Ana thread #ask || inquires of the cloud

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shiroi---kumo · 7 months

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Now he had to send it back

relationship bingo || accepting || @kazeofthemagun

"I promised to never bother you about flying again, but I will still act if you're in danger. You're getting much better at handling my emotions and I appreciate your effort, ystäväni."

#kazeofthemagun #at your side forever I shall be || kazeofthemagun #meme || kumo's type #(friendship version)#// ystäväni = my friend #gifts for the cloud || submissions

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shiroi---kumo · 1 year

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[@kazeofthemagun] (for Cid, I miss him :>)

The Windarian adjusted his position upon a nearby cargo box - back bent and both elbows resting against his legs. "So, how's it coming along..?"

He had previously agreed to allow Cid to inspect his equipment, including Orthrus. The gun seemed to be the only proper firearm he had seen so far in Wonderland, which was strange. The Comodeen still used the air in their lungs as a crude substitute for gunpowder, after all. It wasn't even comparable - the damage a dart could do and the damage from a bullet. While the former could have the advantage of poison, it simply was not a viable weapon in advanced warfare.

Hence the idea - let the blond reverse-engineer Windarian technology and hopefully get the resistance some proper gear.

Still, he felt uneasy without Orthrus at his side. Though he still had the Magun, Bahamut's hand cannon was not exactly the best fit for... a quick pull-out-and-shoot. He felt like a wolf without teeth, with a high-yield explosive. That was one of the main things he felt jealous of when it came to White Cloud and the Maken. His other could actually depend on his Demon Weapon in most every scenario, and not just when he wanted to reduce the nearest square mile to a charred wasteland, or somebody's body to a fine red vapor.

Talk about overkill.

The Wind needed his damn sidearm back sooner or later, and he'd much rather it be sooner. "Cid." He verbally poked at the engineer.

It was almost like a scene from kindergarten - a child repeatedly complaining for their toy back. Except this was a grown man, and the "toy" was a tool of murder. Either way, it was probably hard to work under such conditions.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ It's strange to hear the Windarian talk. He next to never has a conversation with him, much less comes to him to do so. It's even more surprising that he's allowed the technician to not just handle but remove his side arm from his presence so that he can reverse engineer it in a way. The blond has been scrawling down whatever notes come to his mind as he examines the details. He doesn't need to take his time or write anything in a way that would make sense to the others.

He could write it out in the neatest diagram ever and it still would leave the rest of the Comodeen clueless so this will do for now. He will organize his notes on his computer at a later date. Kaze sounds impatient and he can't say he entirely blames him. A gunman without a gun at his side? He can't say the feeling must be very comfortable.

But he's safe here. There's no need for it in the presence of the people around him and he would certainly hope that the soil mage has no intentions of going anywhere any time soon with the way Kumo's been acting in recent days. The swordsman practically lives in bed and seems to be sleeping any chance he can get. So as long as Kumo's still off somewhere snoring away, that means Kaze doesn't have any reason to leave.

Those two are practically glued at the hip these days.

But it's the sound of his name leaving the Windarain's lips that has the blond putting the final pieces back together and handing the weapon back to taller man. He has to say he's surprised but there's a voice in the back of his mind telling him not to make a big deal out of the fact that the man who only ever calls him engineer just used his actual name. If he wants him to continue to do so, he needs to not make a fuss about it.

And he absolutely wants him to continue to do so.

"Ah, here. Sorry Kaze. It's an interesting piece of technology. Your people really knew how to make an effective firearm. I'll be sure to work this into projects where I can. It's been a big help. Thank you for letting me look it over."

The blond sounds with his hands on his hips and a smile on his lips. His hands linger at his sides for a moment before they cross over his chest and he continues to give the man a half smile.

"Say..." he starts as his tone shifts into something a tad more serious as the looks the man over from head to toe once and then twice. "...do you mind if I ask you some questions about you? Your weaponry is important but I also wanna know how you are and how you work. Do you have a moment so we could talk for a minute?"

#guest muse: cid #ask || inquires of the technician #at your side forever i shall be || kazeofthemagun #kazeofthemagun #tw; long post

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shiroi---kumo · 9 months

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Icons Only || Accepting

@kazeofthemagun is a heavy headed fool:

Icons only + Kaze trips on a tree root and fucking faceplants, then gets up and pretends it never happened

#kazeofthemagun #at your side forever i shall be || kazeofthemagun #ask || inquires of the cloud #meme || icons only #// he is thankful for his mask for all the laughing he's trying not to do #// he will fail in five minutes

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shiroi---kumo · 9 months

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I'll Be Your Shield || Accepting

[ @kazeofthemagun ] Doesn't have to be a thread but I just like seeing the puff in action ⚔️

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆ It's been like this since that village stabbed them in the back. Well literally in his case. Going into town isn't safe and there is no amount of hiding their faces that seems to help. Black Wind cannot blend into a crowd with his hair and his height but he has a better chance of it when compared to the beacon of light that is one White Cloud.

It's been like this since he took that blade to the back all because some villagers got smart and had decided to take it up on themselves to collect the bounty in their heads and rid Wonderland if it's White Devil once and for all. They thought they could bury him with a hunting knife and oh how wrong they were.

It feels like someone is on their trail now constantly and he can't begin to figure out why or how it keeps continuously getting to this. The only thing that's ever around them is the wilds of Wonderland and the creatures that live within it. Birds, some deer, a rabbit or two. Somehow they are always being watched and he doesn't like it.

He feels stupid all over again when the gunshot rings out too late and the projectile strikes the ground. A shaft of ice buried deep within Wonderland's terrain and soon it grows just like it had before. A beast of ice twisting and spreading as whip like vines with sharp frozen blades stretching out before them and it cracks as the beast brings it down to strike the rock in twain.

The Cloud can only move so quickly to push his hands against his Other's shoulder and shove the man out of the way. There's a rhythm this round. A doleful drumming of dismal dissonance that demands the duo dodge in time. Together they must dance this dreary pas de deux lest they want to get caught by those thorns of ice that are coming their way.

However the Misterican can only do so much when sensitive ears pick up the sound of the winds shifting and soon he's looping his arm around the other man's only to drag him out of view and behind a near by rock face that is protruding from the ground. One breath. In. Out again. Two. They couldn't keep this up with another beast in play and when he peeks around the corner to see what sort of monstrous ammunition would arise this time, he can only gasp in horror.

"Paska." He's groaning aloud as where jade eyes awaited the rise of another beast of ice, instead there is a similar plant like creature except the vines that spread out from its body are covered with large pink blossoms only for them to light ablaze as they bloom. Jade moons could only fill with fire.

Just when he was going to give them some cover. That was how these excursions had been going as of late. Villagers hunting for the bounty would come to claim them and while they could hold them off, he didn't see much good in stripping the life out of misguided souls who didn't know any better when believing Guadium's propaganda. So he would part mist coated lips to trap them all in a maze of white but now he can't dare to lay down a blanket of hazy slumber without putting himself at risk.

So his mask stays firmly on his face while the less than pleasant words of his mother tongue start rolling through his mind. His Mother would have fainted if she ever heard him speak such sinful strings aloud. What was he supposed to do now? He couldn't lay out his Mist without risking smoke exposure and if Black Wind fired into those flames it would only ignite.

He's just going to have to handle this face to face because every time those bullets have been fired they've been aimed directly for Black Wind. Both then and now.

"Black Wind, I need you to trust me. I know you normally take the lead but for once, I ask you, please just follow my lead and trust me. I have a plan. So stay here and cover my back."

He's not giving the Windarian time to argue. He's not giving him time to disagree or fight him on this. For once the General needs to follow his King and to just do as he says and trust him. Trust his Moon to use the light he was given to unleash hell's wrath upon those that would cross them.

With the Maken in hand, he's dipping out from their hiding spot and rushing forward. Expert motions see the blade lifting to block and parry every fiery vine and whipped blade that comes blazing in his direction. Two on one aren't odds he cares for but he's dealt with worse. He can't rely on a smoke screen but yet his mask floods back for only a moment to allow only enough of the white slumber to fill the space directly around him.

His mask slides back to security only moments later. He doesn't need much. Just enough for his purposes in a short while.

Fancy footwork combined with MIsterican acceleration has the swordsman of the skies giving no quarter to his foes this time around. They caught him off guard last round. They left him off balance and he didn't have a proper handle on his enemy but he's more prepared this time. He can hear their rhythm and he's an expert when it comes to moving to a beat.

A nimble body is moving fluidly like dancing through the vines and blades at they're crashing in his direction, the Maken raising to take an appendage with it for his trouble. Once and again, and just like before they seem to regenerate faster than he can sever them from their core. So that means it does come to that.

Even as he slips and slides out of the path of danger, taking bit by bit of these foes to the ground as he moves - a pale hand slips down to his belt and slender digits slips on of those mist filled glass gems into his hands.

He just needs to time this right.

The creature of fire is whipping one of it's flaming vines in his direction and that's it, right there -

"BLACK WIND GET DOWN!!!"

The swordsman bellows as the bottle leaves his hand and he throws it directly at the incoming line of flame. Glass shatters on impact and as such the Mist trapped inside is released causing that haze of slumber to ignite. An explosion erupts from the point of contact causing all to crumble in it's wake.

Nimble fingers extend, two forward as the prince's arm swings through the small patch of mist he had released earlier summoning it to his command and a barrier erects around him to prevent the flames from ever touching his skin.

Once the dust settles, there is naught that remain. Only the ashes left of the field they had been walking through and the enemies who had dared challenge the Unlimited. He... can't hear anything in the general vicinity.

Jade eyes glancing back towards the rock face where his counterpart should still be using for cover.

"I can't hear anything in the area. We should be safe now. Black Wind, are you alright?"

Getting attacked by Gaudium on the daily was one thing and villagers trying to claim the bounties on their heads another... but it seems their friend is back and that's a completely different problem all on it's own.

But at least he knows one thing for sure now.

They were aiming for Black Wind and this isn't good. This isn't good at all.

#arc: creeping shadows of anarchy #kazeofthemagun #at your side forever i shall be || kazeofthemagun #tw; long post #tw; fighting #tw; death #'paska' = 'SHIT!'#tw; all caps #ask || inquires of the cloud #meme || i'll be your shield #// PAH-sk-ah

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shiroi---kumo · 4 months

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thread moved from here || Hunter or Hunted

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆ He doesn’t know how much longer he can run before this man catches him. All he can do is keep running. He can’t stop. He has to get back to the cabin. He has to get back to Aura and Black Wind. He has to get back to -

A gunshot has him ducking down as he runs, hoping the bullet would miss him. A second has him nearly dropping to the ground to avoid it’s path and the hood over his head falls as he does. He jerks and keeps running. He’s not supposed to engage. He’s not supposed to acknowledge. Even as he hears the word

“Misterican!”

Tear through the forest walls. No one else around here was supposed to know. No one else was supposed to know he was even alive but the jig is up and the man behind him won’t stop chasing him. He can’t shake him no matter how fast he runs; no matter how quick he turns. A third gunshot and it’s moving too fast. It’s all he can do to call the Maken to swing around behind him and block the bullet from going right through the back of his skull. He needs to move faster but his legs hurt and he’s not used to running like this when it would be so much more efficient to simply fly.

He needs to get to Black Wind. He needs to focus and just get to Black Wind. He needs to focus on nothing else but that’s proving difficult when this man is hot on his trail. He can feel him getting closer. He can feel him gaining on him and he doesn’t know if he can keep this up. His breath his heavy. His back hurts but he just needs to move. Don’t think. Move... Pilvi there’s no time. Don’t think. If you think you die. So stop panicking and run faster.

It’s not enough. He’ll never get away and soon he feels himself getting wrenched backwards as a hand reaches out and he’s pulled back by the hood of the dark cloak covering his person. A yell leaves him, heavy puffs of mist pouring out of his lips as he shouts and fights to get himself free. It takes all his focus to call to the Maken to swing to his aid and force the man to release him. It’s in his hands only moments later while he braces himself to fight.

"I don't want to fight you."

His voice quakes as he raises his blade. Jade eyes peer forward to take in the sight of his assailant and deep red eyes framed by near black hair stare back at him. He is a tall man, nearly as tall as Black Wind - if not possibly the same height. His hair is long but nowhere near the length of his other and there is a frown growling on lips that are nearly hidden behind deep blue fabric.

"Die then, Serpent Child."

And the man is lunging at him with a curved blade of a dull blue and from the angle of the strike he's aiming directly for his chest. It's all the prince can do to raise the Maken in defense of himself and to stop that blade from piercing his extra delicate upper half.

"You know you're just so delicate."

A voice echoes from above and it's almost as if only the Misterican can hear because his attacker doesn't seem to notice at all. Instead the man continues to lunge at him forcing the Misterican to keep that blade up to keep blocking his advance.

"Listen to me." He sounds again in a panic. "Listen to me! I'm not your enemy. I don't want to fight you."

But his attacker says nothing and just continues to come at him like a rabid animal. It's as if he only has one goal in mind and that's to strike the Misterican down at any cost and a second blade is drawn into the mix causing the swordsman to twist his body in a strange way to avoid its bite but still it manages to scrape across his side.

The prince cries out and his agony echoes off the trees. He's not supposed to engage. He's not supposed to acknowledge. He shouldn't be doing this. He shouldn't be doing this; he should have ran when he had the chance. But what good would that have done when this man's reach was twice the length of his? How was he supposed to escape that?

There was no way he could have gotten away once he was caught and there's no way he can get away from him now. Should he scream? Should he scream for help? No one is supposed to know he's here and if he yells then everyone will know that this little Misterican Prince belongs to Black Wind and he can't get him in trouble like that.

At least this way. At least this way if this man kills him, no one will know who he was affiliated with and Black Wind won't get damned and shamed by his people. The man already had enough problems with being cursed.

So the prince does his best to continue to parry blows coming from two sources but again they slip past his defenses and their fangs dig deep into his flesh.

"Stop!" He cries out as he releases his blade and allows it to float in front of him while his right hand raises to cover his left shoulder. "The Celestial Mother….Lady Tiamat never wanted this. She never wanted us to fight like this."

And finally this man as fast as a Rushing Stream speaks. "Silence Fume Lung! That wicked viper speaks not for my people, I have no reason to listen to you, boy."

And the man strikes out at him again, but the Maken moves with lightning speed to block the blow without the prince so much as ever laying a hand upon it. There is a disgusted growl that leaves this man of tanned skin and a thin blue tattooed over his nose.

Black Wind?

His eyes blur to suddenly see blue eyes and red hair. No. No this man is not his other. This man is not -

He's doing everything he can to focus on his sword and not the pain because he can't take another blow. He can't take another hit when this man is too precise in his aim and too deadly to look away from. If he's not careful this wolf will snatch him by the throat in a single hit.

Before the prince realizes what his opponent is doing the taller man has flipped his blade around in his hand so the blunt end of the hilt is facing forward and he's striking again. Confusion makes the young swordsman and he hardly sees it coming when the blunt end of that hilt comes crashing into his center horn.

Nothing breaks but it feels like it does and he's dizzy at near instant, jerking to a halt for the moment and it's at this time that his opponent's foot comes forward to sweep his legs right out from under him taking the prince straight down to the ground. He's flat on his back when that man climbs on top of him and pins him in place.

Oh no. What is he supposed to do now?!

"I keep telling you they'll tear you apart but you never listen. Even when they tried long before I was keeping you safe and still you learned nothing… what am I going to do with you, My Precious Little Cloud?"

Where is this voice coming from and why won't it leave him alone? Who is it?

He can't focus on this right now when his attacker is coming in with one hand to take him by the throat. It's crushing. He can't breathe. The Maken has fallen to the ground discarded and out of reach as his own hands reach up to weakly tug at the hand on his throat. He … can't… breathe…

"Ple…ase." He heaves out the words as he tugs, hoping against hope to try to get himself free, but he can see the man's other hand readying the blade to strike him down and he finds himself wondering just where on his chest will he strike because that's what all Windarians we're taught right? To slay their enemies in the worst way possible.

Black Wind wasn't like that.

The arm moves, the blade is coming but it jerks and freezes mid swing. Soon, his assailant is just lingering there with wide red eyes before blood erupts past his lips and pours over his chin. He's falling. He's falling from the blade that has been buried in his stomach but the only two people here were this Windarian man and himself…

The man collapses to the ground and wait…wait he can remember now. This man.. this is Rushing Stream but he didn't die in the forest when he attacked him. He died in the match when Black Wind killed during the right of challenge masked as a way of settling the anger. The anger over housing a Misterican and aiding the enemy.

"You never could be trusted with a son."

The words echo above him as he looks past the corpse that suddenly fades away and above him stands a tall man of deep red hair and pure black.

"Mine." He growls out the single word with oceanic suns fixated on jade moons.

"My prey…My kill."

There’s no time to get up. There’s no time to run. He can only watch in horror as those same beloved irises of ocean bleed to blood crimson as the man growls again and bares his fangs at him.

“Mine.” He growls for a second time, and he’s reaching for him. He’s reaching out a hand that is no longer Windarian but that of the Dragon Lord’s clawed hand itself. He’s frozen. He can’t move. His beloved Other’s form is twisting before his eyes as he watches the man morph into a mix of half dragon half man.

“Mine.” He’s growling possessively as that clawed hand reaches as grips around the throat. It squeezes and he can feel the blood rushing to his ears as his head starts swimming.

“Mine. My kill.”

He’s not in control of himself. Neither one of them are. What’s he supposed to do? What’s he supposed to do when he’s pinned down like this? He can’t reach the Maken and besides it’s - It’s Black Wind - he can’t just -

That black cloak is flooding back as it twists into a grand wind and a second clawed hand is reaching towards him - the Magun gone from sight - and this man turned beast is digging his claws deep into his chest to carve out his -

Jade eyes are wide as shallow jagged breaths leave a gaping mouth. Hands are raising in a fright to pat against his chest and down to his stomach where he finds only bare skin and bandages. His robe is gone and his under-armour is too. His stomach is bandaged from the waist up. He’s in one piece. He’s in one piece and it was just a dream.

What happened? What happened?

His back hurts as his left side screams like fire as he moves and he’s hissing out in pain once the sensation hits his brain. “Au. Au. Au. Au.”

That’s right. Those villagers. They tried to kill him…. And Black Wind… he was hurt too. Where - where is he? The last he remembers he was in the forest with him and then he fired Orthrus…

Where was Black -

Worried jade settles on the sight of long red hair and black fabric. He’s upright and facing towards the entrance of the cave they seem to be occupying. All he can do is groan, as he sets there, still slightly dazed from sleeping for so long? He assumes it was long anyway knowing how his regeneration system currently functions in its damage state. He can only assume he’s been down for the better part of the day and he’s lifting his right hand to rub it against his face as the prince lets out a groan again.

“Black Wind?” His voice sounds softly to break the silence between them. “Are you alright?”

#v; hunter or hunted #arc: creeping shadows of anarchy #kazeofthemagun #at your side forever i shall be || kazeofthemagun #tw; long post #tw; night terrors #tw; nightmares #tw; murder #tw; fantasy racism #tw; slurs #tw; death #tw; blood #// Au is pronounced Ow.#// and it means 'ouch'#tw; racism #// i tagged it mature to just be safe since that wasnt in existence when it was written #// just moving it out of legacy editor so it's easier

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shiroi---kumo · 8 months

Text

Imagine Dragons || accepting

[ @kazeofthemagun ] “We make each other get a bit crazy, but you will always be a part of me.” (Leaving the context up to you but Wind man is feeling a tad sappy)

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆ What a strange thing to say? The Windarian's words nearly catch him off guard if he weren't already half asleep as he listens. Part of him wants to set up properly to argue with him and he supposes that is the 'crazy' part of him rising to the surface in a bubbling offense at near instant but the other half of him is far too lazy to do so. They only ever talk like this when they're in the middle of no where.

They only ever talk like this when they're in front of the fire, hidden deep within the inky blanket of the night's hue and the wind only ever whispers when the Clouds are quiet. He's been this way for the last few days. Caught in his own head, and quiet for the most part. How unlike the Wind to speak and how unlike the Cloud to say nothing.

He doesn't want to.

Let him have this. Whatever strange twisted up meaning he's found in such words - cryptic as always and never direct. He supposes for a moment that it all finally makes sense that they are like this. Frustrated to no end with one another because Black Wind can never just say what he means and the Cloud is always quick to get straight to the point.

How else are the spiral and the linear line supposed to communicate?

He always gets frustrated talking to this man because he feels like when the Windarian does speak, he can talk the Misterican in circles and it always leaves his mind spinning. He does not like spinning. Yet Black Wind always seems to shut down and become unable to process because when the Cloud speaks, he is direct and firm. Straight to core of whatever is on his mind and there are no twists and curves in the ways he explains himself. It is one clear linear path for his train of thought and somehow he wonders if it is too direct and too clear and that the Wind loses focus if he doesn't have something more colorful in his prose to stick his attention to so he can pay attention long enough to actually listen.

Today the Wind is speaking and today the Cloud is merely lounged up against him in a listless sprawl, too comfortable and too lazy to move. He's too caught up in his own head to say anything to the Wind's words. A groan is all that leaves him as he shifts a bit to tug at the other's cloak to pull it over himself a little more like a makeshift blanket. Whether it be a thick sheet of black or the body that it keeps beneath it - both are a source of such warmth.

All he can do is stare forward at the fire. It flickers and it dances like his people once did. Festival rhythms still more than prominent in his mind. He can see them all dancing within the space of his memory and he feel the rhythms written specifically for him almost urging his body to action but he doesn't move; even as muscles tingle and he can feel his fingers growing a bit numb.

He's too comfortable.

Black Wind is trying to express some sort of sentiment he doesn't completely understand but is far too tired to try to misconstrue. So instead he just pushed his head up against the other man's chest and lets that thick layer of black drape over him as the fire crackles. The spiral is spinning again and sometimes he wishes he wouldn't. Sometimes he wishes he would just let it all lie so he didn't have to think about the more painful parts of their past.

Somehow he wishes he would just hate him openly so it would be that much easier to live with the depression and regret. He is the straight line. The linear path but there's moments like this one where he wonders if he's ever moved forward. He supposes he has, time wouldn't allow him to idle but his heart remains stuck nonetheless. His mind lingers with it. His being progress but his spirit remains as frozen in time as ever, just like this unageing body he's been cursed with.

And he finds himself wondering what the core of that curse is. The inability to age? The inability to die? Watching all you care for pass around you? Feeling your home crumble away beneath your very fingertips? He remembers it so vividly. Just as he watches his people dance in the crackle of the fire's light. He remembers their frolic and he remembers their folly. Both are stitched into his being the same as the celestial ink of the tattoos on his back.

Black Wind is trying to say something and he doesn't want to argue because it wouldn't be fair. He only half heard him and his mind is much too loud right now for his Misterican hearing to do its job. He's caught in a wind tunnel of thoughts and emotions violently wiping all around him like the gale force winds that destroyed cities and mountains alike when the great dark, when Chaos came to take Misterica for its own.

Black Wind is trying to say something and even if he didn't completely understand him, the tone and the vibrations of those night deep dulcets were enough to form of strange emotion he normally doesn't feel from the Hunter of Chaos. A strange softness echoing against his horns that feels almost the same as mother's singing.

He's too lazy to move. Too tired to speak.

Everything has been so difficult lately. His body is exhausted, and his head is swimming. He feels like he's drowning without ever slipping beneath the waves and that's fine. Tonight he's too tired to fight. He'll slip beneath the blue into the murky dark for now. He's always found safety in the ocean.

#ask || inquires of the cloud #drifting clouds || queue #tw; long post #at your side forever i shall be || kazeofthemagun #kazeofthemagun #tw; death #tw; depression #tw; grief #v; the linear and the spiral

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