#v. splintered branch

[devilsprophet]

❛ a golden cage is still just a cage ❜ (from arcane viktor!)

"And you wish to be free, do you?"

But of course. Birds did not thrive behind gilded bars or stuffed inside fish bowls—of this, Astor knew well. It would appear that the man before him was a mirror of sorts, refracting the shards of malice between them; highlights of gold and amber eyes cloaked in sunken shadows, hollow cheeks of pale skin, the gaunt bodies of those who refuse to die.

No. No, birds did not thrive in cages.

"If you have come in search of affirmations, you have been misled," Astor continues, hands folded beneath his chin as he stares past fragments of malice to his distorted reflection, "I suggest the lovely little witch next door. She'll sell you a happy thought for a shilling, and a warm body for more."

The chair scratches upon the floor as Astor moves to stand, his hands splayed lightly upon the table. He plucks a shard of malice from high above and brings it closer, filled with overlapping visions of the man before him.

"The future you want is out of your reach, Viktor."

Those golden eyes pour into amber with a heavy, cold weight.

"But if you would like to learn more of the future you need, I could offer my services, should you be willing to pay its cost. Or don't. You're a clever one, yes? Surely, you could figure it all out by yourself—you've done it before, haven't you?"

[devilsprophet]

" i lie to myself like it's not too late. " // ( The Death of Peace of Mind starters ) from Ganondorf!

The seer is silent.

His steady gaze settles on the tall, broad back of Ganondorf as he stands with hands upon the balcony railing. What was there to say? Truly, it was too late. The cycle of reincarnation between Ganondorf, the Hero, the Goddess-Blood bearer, the battle that waged in each life, the inevitable loss—these things had been carved into reality long before the creation of bricks and mortar, and would continue to withstand every test of time.

"Perhaps," Astor offers at last, his footsteps soft in the quiet night as he steps to Ganondorf's side, "you are looking at this from the wrong angle, My Lord. The fate you want so dearly to defy is already woven into its pattern, and those threads can not be shifted."

His eyes flicker up to meet his, a meeting of cold and warm gold.

"But threads can be cut and pulled. Begun anew. Force this world into a rebirth, and you will have a blank canvas of which to create a different pattern of your choosing."

[devilsprophet]

28 for link @gloryseized

Themed Starter Calls 28: for a weather - based starter .

The rain was harsh and cold, pounding into the earth with relentless speed as though intent on cleansing it of every particle of dust and sin.

What a fool Link was to be out among it. A dedicated solider, to be certain; but a fool.

The hood of Astor's cloak offered meager protection from the onslaught of storm, but he kept it up regardless. Golden eyes pierced through an ocean of gray as he narrowed his gaze at Link's form, swinging that blasted sword of his over and over again.

"Enough," his voice thundered through the rain with enough force to assure attention. "Your training is complete for the day. Now follow me."

[devilsprophet]

❛ why is everyone in this kingdom so gods damned stupid? ❜

{from this meme ; from Ganondorf}

“Complacency breeds stupidity, My Lord,” Astor answers from behind as the two gaze at the world below from the tall abandoned watch tower, the far away view of Hyrule Castle ever looming beyond grassy hills.

“They’ve been made into comfortable cattle, and their feed includes the notion that Hyrule is a blessed place,” he continues, eyeing a traveling merchant as their speck winds down the paved road, “thus, they see no reason to question or rebel.”

Astor steps forward until he is in line with Ganondorf, and golden eyes flicker to the giant of a man beside him.

“I fear such poison has seeped into Gerudo as well, My Lord. They even have a statue of Hylia…time has taken an unfortunate turn in your absence.”

[devilsprophet]

"You're unlike anyone I have ever known." // ( Epic: The Musical Starters ) from Ganon!

Astor did not like to be disturbed while he worked. Such was the irk of many professionals, from the farmer burning beneath a suns heat to the accountant tallying away at their desk. It was not merely the unwanted waste of minutes that made him so perturbed, though.

In truth, his work was difficult. Tracking thousands upon thousands of timelines required intense concentration, hours spent sitting among the fractured shards of malice in which he cast his visions. The slightest distraction could send the unstable tower of his collected thoughts tumbling, and putting them back together was like trying to puzzle broken glass.

So no, he did not like disruptions. He did not like observers. He did not like unprompted questions or commentary.

But, of course, Lord Ganondorf would forever be the exception.

Astor maintained the thousands of shards hovering in the air as Ganondorf entered his study, but his focus was on the man before him. There was a small exchange of words before he was met with the rather curious statement that raised his arched brows ever so slightly.

“Oh? Is that so?” A subtle smirk plays at Astor’s lips as his head dips in a small bow. “Then I hope you continue to find use in my rather unique person, My Lord.”

[devilsprophet]

❝ there’s an air about you. something alien. ❞

baldur's gate 3 starters

Astor had been conducting an experiment of sorts. The little darkling creatures (the "heartless" as his rather useful companion called them) were not entirely made of darkness. Or, rather, they were not created using malice. Yet they appeared to have similar properties, the ability to create new forms, meld anew, shift their shapes to their intrinsic desire—so then, could they be ripped apart and used in pieces as Astor had once used the malice under his control?

The experiment was less than fruitful. Without the Sheikah technology that once contained said malice, Astor had little means of a true replication. Still, it was an intriguing enough attempt, and with each heartless death upon his hands a bit more knowledge was gained about their abilities and limits.

He paused when Aqua rejoined him for the evening. Such a delicate disposition for a solider. The heartless trembled before him, torn between the instinct to flee and serve, and Astor shooed it away with a wave of his hand. Truth be told, he'd been rather lost in thought when the young woman spoke, and his eyes darted up to meet her blue stare.

"An intriguing observation," he replied, chin still resting in his hand. Then he shifted to a stand, crossing the length between them until he could reach out and touch a strand of blue hair between his finger tips.

"I could say the same of you, my dear." He released her to gesture to the world of shadow around them. "You and this strange world."

Astor's gaze returned to her and paused, taking on an observant glaze in much the same manner as before; analytical and patient.

"I think I've worked enough for this span," he said at last, as though closing the book on his thoughts, "Why don't you join me for a walk? Perhaps you can sate some of your curiosities, and I mine."

[devilsprophet]

❝ It's funny, isn't it? ❞ She smarms, though the typically bubbly voice is decidedly without humor. ❝ –how, even on a day designed for lovers, there are people who just can't help themselves but to come here and give up their gifts; laying favors at her feet. ❞

The fairy plucks up one such offering—a handful of pretty flowers, tied with a frilled ribbon—and turns it in her hand, before looking up at the figure in question with an... unreadable expression. The goddess statue is a humble thing, simple in shape and design; meant, no doubt, to convey some kind of gentleness in its round edges and tranquil expression. But it looms, above. And not all find peace in silence.

❝ Thanking the goddess for 'blessing them with love' or 'helping them find their soulmate'... as if. She wouldn't bother lifting a finger for anything as trivial as her people's happiness... we make that ourselves. Always have. ❞ She looks up—irreverent—for another beat before turning on her heel and popping down the mossy steps which approached the effigy, plucking one flower from the little bouquet to tuck under the clasp of his cloak. ❝ Though I guess that's, like, all well and good, isn't it? Wouldn't want her poking around in my love life, anyways.

Sorry if I got in between you and, like, whatever machinations you had going on. Feel free to go on with defacing or blaspheming however you see fit. ❞

How do you capture a fairy?

Astor could recall his younger brother Geole raising his hand to their tutor many, many years ago with the question in tow; how do you capture a fairy?

Their tutor had explained, with some level of exasperation, that certain small fairies could be trapped within glass jars, but it was ill advised. Oh, there were old hero tales of fairies being kindly folk, to be certain, but their generosity did not necessarily extend to one and all. Fairies, their tutor warned, could be very spiteful, venomous little things.

How delightful to find that such a claim proved to be true.

Of course, Astor had no interest in the statue of Hylia, be it to worship or desecrate—it was merely stone, after all—but he did have a very keen interest in the petite blonde woman who he foresaw lingering amongst it. Golden eyes watch her with amused intrigue as she speaks and places a little flower in his cloak. His hand strikes out to halt her at the wrist before she can pull away, holding her in the place with a gentle press of fingertips, as though he were handling a butterfly and was being mindful of bruising its delicate wings.

Well. Wasn't terribly far off, now, was it?

Astor smiles softly as he brings her pale knuckle to his lips—not quite the delicate hands of a woman of leisure, but still soft and small in his hold.

"However I see fit...?"

How do you capture a fairy?

"Then might I spend it with you?"

You invite them in.

[devilsprophet]

❛ the gods love to fuck with us ❜

"That is one way to put it..."

The words come murmured as Astor stares as the flames ahead, engulfing the very temple which had once been placed at the heart of their plans. The fire, it would seem, had been going for some time before their arrival and there was no hope of recovery—was the damage a coincidence? Fate? The result of rats in the walls picking up whispers and betraying their hand?

Or was it as Lord Ganondorf claimed, and it was merely the Gods fucking with them?

"I would like to see the ruins of this temple once the fire quells," Astor continues, hands held idly behind his back, "I shall make camp here tonight and report any findings to you on the morrow, My Lord."