"The world is something that was put into your hands and that you must deal with- so you will." Okay, test, you don't need to go so deep into my psyche 🫠
Goro is the Soldier. He is tired of fighting but he knows no other way forward. He claws his way through life, all sharp edges and shining teeth. He dreams of quiet, of healing, of something-or someone-completely and utterly /safe/. but he cannot see a world for himself where that is achievable. But still. He fights. He wishes he were the King, steadfast and strong, sure of his own steps. But, alas, he stays the Soldier.
Sumire is the Poet. She feels so deeply, loves so deeply. She is filled with pain and sorrow she cannot even begin to understand. She channels every ounce of that pain into anything she can create, and tears herself to shreds in the process. She wishes to be the soldier, to stand tall and proud and know how to use the passion she holds to /ruin/ any person who threatens to hurt those she loves. And yet, her nature cannot betray her, and she is the Poet.
Akira, The King. Surrounded by those who look to him for guidance, whether he believes he deserves such trust or not. He gives every ounce of himself to his people, lets them pull him apart if it may keep them fed, if only for a day. He cries out to the world for help, only for an echo to return. He is the highest power, no mentor to guide him. He wishes he were the Poet, able to relinquish the burden on his shoulders. Wishes to love so openly, without expectation. But of course, when nobody else knows where to turn, it’s him who picks up the pieces of the kingdom, who tells his people that everything will, of course, be okay.
Saw someone do a soldier poet king quiz so here we are
Link to the quiz I took:
(Feel free to share your results :))
Your(my) Result:
The King
"There will come a ruler
Whose brow is laid in thorn
Smeared with oil like David's boy"
Duty. Strength. Resignation. You were told to do things and you did them. The world is something that was put into your hands and that you must deal with - so you will.
You have a rigid back and steady hands, either metaphorically or physically. Is it nature or nurture ? You don't know.
You are tired of being steady. You dream of feeling alive. Not that you aren't, but, sometimes, it's hard to remember that there is a heart between your ribs.
Your love is where you breathe. Come on, breathe. In. Out. It starts now.
Smeared with oil like David's boy, oh-lei-oh-lai-oh Lord ~ 👑
~°~
Are you a Soldier, Poet, or King?
Me? I am a King, who sees the world as a burden and takes on the responsibility because if not me, then who will?
A self-portrait of my results in the Soldier, Poet, or King quiz. Kind of a challenge because I tried to replicate the old royalty paintings and used references for the background, outfit, and pose, too. I love how it turned out!
(Also, why not draw me as a King? It's my birth month today so...)
For all the poets who thought they’d be kings or soldiers:
Poets are free spirits and old souls. They are surrounded by people and yet feel deeply, irrevocably alone. Poets want nothing more than to belong but are terrified of being trapped. Poets are waiting for something that never comes. They chase the worlds they create in their head with everything in their being and mourn the beauty of impossible fantasies. Poets do not have leadership forced upon them like the king but instead take the spotlight naturally, refusing to silence their golden tongues. Poets are restless. They are ambitious. They know how to cut deep. Poets wield words like knives and know just what to say to rally a crowd. They crave wisdom and depth and can’t imagine a life without beauty. Poets turn their suffering into art because they need their pain to have meaning. They want to leave an indelible mark on the face of the earth. Poets see their dreams for the world as a future worth seeking and they reach for the stars just to taste the light at the end of an endless tunnel. They find meaning in even the darkest moments because they have to. Because they don't know how to cope with an idle existence. Poets write endlessly so their lives will be remembered in prose, and their hearts enshrined in verses. Poets are the authors of their legacies and the translator of their souls.