kedamononoken

[kedamononoken]

@cwarscars

[kedamononoken]

He reaches out - reaches forth to choke the man, to squeeze fingers around his throat til he can barely breathe his last; his grip is harsh, his fingers rough on skin. What starts as a tight squeeze, edges into the curious touch of a man so close to something he's dreamed of for so long - those hands loosen, claws withdrawn for the caress of an animal, eased. But Heidegger isn't soft, isn't gentle. He's stricken. So wanting to murder the other that he can't quite bring himself to do it - he wants to savour it. He needs to feel it, really feel it. The warmth of flesh between his fingers, the heat of Godo's breaths beside his ear. He himself pants into the other's neck - resists the temptation to draw blood with fangs, instead grazes lips along skin. Tells himself he does not want a taste but rather, blood.

Well, aren't they the same?

He hates himself enough to spare the other man's neck a kiss - pursed lips, not without the edge of his teeth between them. Oh, if only he didn't want him so badly.

As always, Godo remains obdurate as stone and just as silent.

Heidegger's visits are infrequent, yet spaced just long enough apart that some none too small part of his mind anticipates his coming. And every time the other man reaches for him, he hopes that his touch will bring what he desires most- Death.

Whatever vision of unbending steel and righteous mettle the former Commander may be seeing is simply a ghost- Some phantom echo from a time when he'd thought himself invincible, even chosen by the Gods.

Godo is no warrior-patriarch of a vast and powerful dynasty, simply a thrall to an eikon that traded power for mako. He has killed and betrayed, conquered and subjugated, sacrificed innumerable lives of the slaves he made of the once proud populaces of smaller, weaker nations.

He is no better than the conglomerate that keeps him hostage, offering false promises of enlightenment and feeding the souls of those he considered inferior to the flames. He chose this- To offer himself to Shinra in exchange for a truce, an end to a foolish era dominated by greed and arrogance.

Perhaps, in an entirely selfish way, he hopes that Shinra will follow in Wutai's footsteps with the discovery of what 'summon creatures' truly are. He does not care to live long enough to see the city reduced to ash and bones, such a fate is inevitable- what they exchange in order to seize such abilities always costs more than the price agreed upon.

He is... tired, down to his rotten marrow and blanched soul.

Not even the graze of his old rival's lips enflames him, nary a spark to be birthed from such an act given to one so unworthy. Their eyes once burned with righteous fury and a madness that only another consumed by madness could understand. Now his are dull and bereft of that light that once guided his every move and executed each decision made with wrathful certainty.

"What you truly seek is mere illusion, nothing more than the conceit of mad tyrant's pursuit of godhood. Everything that I believed, everything that I once understood with such an angry and dogmatic fervor, was little more than a child's fantasy. A foolish, intransient dream as tangible as smoke fading into air."

[kedamononoken]

Questions/Comments to be sent anonymously!

(though off anon is fine too!)

“Is there someone you hold dear?”

“Don’t you feel any guilt?”

“You’re actually afraid to be alone, aren’t you?”

“There must be something you fear.”

“Do you have a home?”

“Is there someone you like?”

“Are you really expecting a positive outcome out of this?”

“Aren’t you ashamed?”

“Aren’t you happy?”

“Who do you despise?”

“How do you sleep at night?”

“How do you manage to keep going despite everything?”

“What do you think of kindness?”

“What do you think of hatred?”

“Why do you fight?”

“Why do you live?”

“How much blood have you spilled?”

“How much death have you seen?”

“Don’t you think your actions are reckless?”

“Don’t you know how much good you’ve done for others?”

“Can’t you tell they love you?”

“Can’t you see (insert name) would die for you?”

“Can’t you see that they hate you?”

“Can’t you tell the truth for once?”

“You’re not tainted.”

“You’re not alone.”

“You’re awful.”

“You don’t think of anyone but yourself.”

“You’re an emotionless robot.”

“You’re just a lap dog.”

“It’s not over.”

“He/she needs you.”

“Stop lying.”

“Stop fighting.”

“Stop pushing others away.”

“You’re cruel.”

“You’re far too kind. Too kind for your own good.”

“You depend on him/her too often.”

“You’re overprotective, it’s stifling.”

“You’re too impulsive, it’s reckless.”

“You’re too careless, it’s a liability.”

“He/she is bringing you down.”

“You’re too timid, it’s easy to see you as a target.”

“You need to listen.”

“You need to speak up more often.”

“You’re weak.”

“You’re strong. Stronger than you’ll ever know.”

“You’re too proud.”

“Quit blaming others for your mistakes.”

“You won’t always be around to save him/her.”

“One day, he/she won’t need you anymore.”

“You can’t cheat death.”

“You can’t hide forever.”

“They’ll find out the truth eventually.”

“That person is only holding you back.”

“They’re too good for you.”

“You’ll be rewarded for your efforts if you keep trying.”

“It will get better.”

“You look lonely.”

“You look bitter.”

“You look tired.”

“You’re hiding a painful burden.”

“You’re perfect.”

“You’re beautiful.”

“You will always be worthless.”

“Your hands are too dirty, too tainted to be clean.”

“You’re lost in this world. Wandering without a purpose.”

“You’ll rise above them all.”

“You’ll find your place in this world.”

“Eventually, someone will knock you off your pedestal.”

[kedamononoken]

🤬

SEND 🤬 FOR MY MUSE TO GO ON A RANT ABOUT YOUR MUSE.

his heart is gripped by heat - a swell of flame that burns his insides. his chest swelled, breaths hasty. the deep inhales & exhales of a man, furious.

were he a sensitive sort, perhaps even a kinder man - he'd do his best to hide his disdain. lather lips with a crooked grin, gnaw fangs into the cushion of his tongue in the hopes he'd stop himself from shouting. perhaps his own coolness could quell the flame of his fury, deliver an icy edge to skin reddened with rage. unfortunately for anyone - heidegger is anything but kind.

the second indication of his anger is a balled fist that crashes into a nearby wall - moulded bricks battered by the scarred-ridge of his knuckles. a wince when pain brings forth blood atop his fingers. the general barely pays mind to the singe across his scars - his own anger, forever paired with pain. by now, he's made an old friend of them both. grown so used to his own fury that one would not be seen without the other. anger without pain. the two without heidegger.

hazel eyes look a murky sort beneath the furrow of his brow, his lips thin lines around fangs, a muscular face - gaunt with rage.

"how you're still alive escapes me-" his words taste venomous, spoken with the scowl of a man who only drinks poison "like a cockroach. you keep on going. keep on surviving..."

where is the honour-?! where is the pride - ?! godo fights as if he were in a movie ! fights less like a man and more like a poster boy !

hell, heidegger can still recall the events of that day - their battle. blood creeping from the corners of his lips, a hitch in his breath as the other stared down at him. the sharp edge of agony atop his chest, now a ragged dent forever unmoved.

that cheap motherfucker-! that goddamn, son-of-a-bitch!

"you had no idea! no idea at all-" his rage begins to best him, those clenched fists - nails bedding into palms, the draw of blood that softens skin "of what you did to me! what i lost!"

the top spot. the respect. salutes that meant something, scars that meant more.

before their battle, heidegger had been not only a man ( or poster boy, or movie star, or shinra lapdog ) but he'd been a warrior. more than propaganda, more than a word on another man's lips. he'd been a blade. a threat. no creaking joints, no daily medication, no furious anger wielded unarmed. the respect of others was worth something, the respect from himself - more.

but after his defeat; after godo's wrath...

how could a man feel any sort of pride? a lie bore by their battle; their duel a draw but both men know the truth, and fuck-

what stings more? his scars? godo's strength? or his lie-?

"all because you fought without honour - all because you cheated!" his rage has words spat through clenched teeth, the sharp beat of his heart enough pain now to have his head dropping and his steps weary. he hesitates on a breath, his anger seething through the pores of old scars and creased wrinkles. a moment's pause, anger turning tranquil because why bother with the lie when each man knows better. "...i hate you, godo-" a step forth has him close enough to the king to rest a hand atop his shoulder, fingers that fall along skin - that grow harsh as he speaks. their closeness, intimate - his hand, almost ready to choke the other. "despise you-"

because you were better than me. because you deserved to win.

"despise you because you should have-" his fingers are a clench around godo's neck - a threat that fails to act, a moment's closeness, raw. a heat between them, a fire that burns ( that has always burned ).

you should have killed me.

but he'll never say it. oh god no, he wouldn't.

instead, his other hand greets the stubble of godo's cheek - hands firm in their hold, a press of his mouth onto the other. hot and wet, his lips are harsh; a kiss that begs to bite. anger that keeps his hands, still & cruel.

"you should have died."

[kedamononoken]

[kedamononoken]

Until we’re free let me shatter and bleed And pierce at my heart, and tear me apart Biting at fate I will walk all the same Down on my last breath I'll rise up again Crossing through the long night, laughing ‘till my soul rends Until the end I will burn and repent

ɪɴᴅᴇᴘᴇɴᴅᴇɴᴛ ɢᴏᴅᴏ ғʀᴏᴍ ғғᴠɪɪ: ᴀɴ ᴇxᴘʟᴏʀᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ᴏғ ᴄᴜʟᴛᴜʀᴀʟ ɪᴅᴇɴᴛɪᴛʏ, ɴᴀᴛɪᴏɴᴀʟ ᴘʀɪᴅᴇ, ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇ sʜᴀᴍᴇ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴄᴏᴍᴇs ᴡɪᴛʜ ʙᴇᴛʀᴀʏɪɴɢ ᴏɴᴇsᴇʟғ.

Plotting preferred, para/multi-para, OC & Multimuse friendly.

⚔ Carrd.

-Written by Kkeungi; Est. 01/16/23-