dreadbornesaint-moved

[dreadbornesaint-moved]

𝐈𝐬 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐞 𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐢𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐞 '𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐈 𝐜𝐚𝐧'𝐭 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐧𝐨 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞? 𝐇𝐚𝐬 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐧 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐦𝐞, 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐞𝐝 𝐦𝐲 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐚𝐥 𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐥? 𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐦𝐲 𝐯𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐮𝐞𝐬 𝐬𝐚𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐞𝐝, 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐛𝐞 𝐬𝐨 𝐜𝐫𝐮𝐞𝐥?

Independent & Private & Selective | OC of original lore.

Includes verses for path to no.where, ble.ach, juj.utsu kais.en & others.

As wrought by: SeonHwa

[dreadbornesaint-moved]

𝐈𝐬 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐞 𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐢𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐞 '𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐈 𝐜𝐚𝐧'𝐭 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐧𝐨 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞? 𝐇𝐚𝐬 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐧 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐦𝐞, 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐞𝐝 𝐦𝐲 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐚𝐥 𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐥? 𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐦𝐲 𝐯𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐮𝐞𝐬 𝐬𝐚𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐞𝐝, 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐛𝐞 𝐬𝐨 𝐜𝐫𝐮𝐞𝐥?

Independent & Private & Selective | OC of original lore.

Includes verses for path to no.where, ble.ach, juj.utsu kais.en & others.

As wrought by: SeonHwa

[dreadbornesaint-moved]

In light of the decision I've made to start over, please like this post if you'd like me to follow you from the new blog when it's ready. I'll be under the same URL regardless.

[dreadbornesaint-moved]

𝐋𝐞𝐭'𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫.

After much thought and discussion, I have made the decision to overhaul Beryl completely. I know it is seemingly coming out of nowhere, but I will be honest, I have not been happy writing Beryl in her current iteration. It's a very watered down version of her original concept, and while it's an enjoyable romp, it hasn't ever been what I wanted for her. I want to pay respects to what she was always meant to be and I'd like to start anew to achieve that.

I thought about doing a complete overhaul here, just redoing and rewriting all the pages, but the more I worked towards that, the more dissatisfied I was with that solution. So I have decided to make a new blog entirely. This will likely be the only time I detail the reasons and I won't be leaving anything to post in the queue after. But this is it for this blog. I know I've only been here for seven months, but this is the solution I am happiest with.

As for threads, I am considering all of them to be dropped, unless I am approached and asked to continue them to the new blog. I want to make it as easy as possible for those that may no longer wish to continue writing with me. And I know there are people that I have just started things with; I understand that it is an inconvenience and I apologize.

If this is where our paths part, then thank you for giving me a chance and walking this path with me no matter how long or brief our time together may have been. For those that wish to remain, thank you for doing so as I forge another path forward.

Regardless of where we've been or where we'll go, I appreciate you and wish you all the best.

[dreadbornesaint-moved]

“Because it is the proper method of doing so.” Arguing is pointless, but she still says it anyway. Perhaps she is too traditional in regard to such matters. He seems much too used to acquiring what he desires for no other reason than because he can simply take it. As such, it seems any of her words would fail to have any real effect. He’s not sane, twisted, far from ordinary. But she is heartless, cold like a glacier, immovable as the mountains are. 

If this is to be a war of attrition, then so be it. She has faith in her defensive abilities; this is not a conquest after all. Not every battle requires a penance paid in blood. Some battles must simply be endured. And this is nothing, if not a battle.

“Though I go with you, this is not your victory and I will never be yours.” This is merely the most viable out of all the tactical options currently available. She is not beholden to such romantic notions like revenge, but she will bide her time and sharpen her blade all the same. 

Any protests or further machinations would come to nothing. And she knows far better than to attempt to slay him. No one walks upon such a battlefield unarmed and unprotected unless they have a reason for it. There is little sense in her tempting fate in an attempt to learn such an answer for herself. She is certain she will learn the answer in due time. Her weapon is sheathed, for now. There will come a time to draw it, though the present is neither the proper time nor place. 

“I suppose you have forced my hand to concede.” She holds her tongue of the more unsavory things she could say. How fortunate it is that she is long accustomed to burying true thoughts and feelings. 

If this is the part she has to play, so be it, though she intends to be the last one standing at fate's curtain call. 

[dreadbornesaint-moved]

“Well, then, to a long and fruitful partnership.” It seemed appropriate to mark this new chapter with some sort of acknowledgement. A wholly unnecessary sentiment, truly, but there is no use pondering on wasted breath and wasted words. Even if this marks a change in the journey, the opening of yet another branch in time, silent exaltation of the glory ever out of reach, Beryl knows all too well the ending that awaits her. For her, the end can only come as a tragedy, regardless of her victory or the lack thereof. 

The end is only the end, regardless of how that finality may come. Even so, even if foolish, the knight does find some solace in that she may not have to face such an end alone. Another unnecessary sentiment, but she has always been overflowing with sentimentality. She’d only become talented at hiding it, keeping the unseen and unseemly away from view. 

Chaos and danger lie ahead, she knows, but she need not face this path alone. How glorious, how wondrous, how strange. It is the sort of thing worthy of revelry, rejoicing in the culmination of unlikely fate. Though Beryl has never been one for belief in the immutable nature of destiny, somehow that sense of inevitability falls perfectly into place. Perhaps, one day, in the waxing and winding future, when she is more certain of their newly forged companionship, she will find reason to celebrate such a rare realization of fate.

Trust and respect are given, with little expectation of receiving the same in turn. It is a gift, one without a great or grand price. Freely offered, as it always had been. 

She supposes they ought to head to a city. It is not as if she is unable to utilize what is available to her, but a journey that is prepared for tends to progress more smoothly. And for once, she is at liberty to make such preparations, not made to relentlessly chase after the divine, the sword ever ready to banish the dangers that lie ahead. Beryl intends fully to go forth, showing her newfound companion the world. The vast breadth of the landscapes, both natural and forged by mortal hands. Indeed, the journey may be long, arduous, dangerous, fatal perhaps, but that makes such experiences all the greater. The cosmic scale of a battle waged against the gods yields sights and sounds previously unperceived. But for now, she can idly muse to herself a little, can’t she? 

“Ah, have you ever been to a city before? They can be quite loud and hectic…”

[dreadbornesaint-moved]

i've decided. to restart on a new blog. i'll get all my current owed replies out one final time, but i'll be changing the url and such to reflect that change shortly. this is pretty much it for this blog, so see you on the flipside, or not???

[dreadbornesaint-moved]

“Divided or not, it is necessary.” At least, it is required for the vision held within her gaze. If it makes her an evil creature, so be it. She will be the necessary evil to relinquish the hold of the divine. Order will be restored, even at the cost of faith.

“Oh my, it simply is a force of habit. It would be rather untoward to lack respect for another, be they an adversary or an ally, no?” Life is a precious thing. Being in possession of life itself is reason enough to dictate respect. Though it is perhaps a bit odd; even she will recognize that. But it is always better to err on the side of respect. “There is no need to return such courtesy. And I can also drop such formalities, if that is your preference.” 

Though she doesn’t say anything about the toothpick that has seemingly changed forms. Intriguing, but that is not of importance right now. She knows better than to ask a question that will be evaded or go unanswered. All things in due time.

“There is no reason for me to consider what comes after.” The end is merely the end. One chapter’s completion does not indicate the end of the story. “I have no grand plans after fulfilling my duties as the Godhunter.”

And not having a plan suits her just fine. She may fall to a blade before she ever reaches the completion of her journey. To have a meticulously thought out future plan for what comes after is not something she’s interested in either. It rings too closely to the toll of her calling and time served as a Saint. 

“The only thing I plan to do is to return home, to the place of origin. A fitting conclusion for such a tale, is it not? Poetic even.” She relaxes her stance slightly, having decided to place him into the category of people that she doesn’t consider a threat. Not at present, as the case may be. An indication that she’s considering him in friendly terms. “No one has to know what happens after. The epilogue is for me to decide.”

[dreadbornesaint-moved]

Beryl reaches out for her drink as well, if only to bide her time as she thinks. If she finds it unpleasant, there’s no indication of such on her face. Though if she’d been the more expressive sort, surely she’d have at least wrinkled her nose a bit. But a drink is a drink, she supposes. Even if it feels like a tangible metaphor for her own inner conundrum. Unpleasant, yet still tolerated. She puts the glass down with more force than necessary. A small indication that her emotions are not nearly as controlled as she’d like to pretend they are. 

She thinks it over. His words, the proposal. Invoking two contradicting emotions, one seeking the delight of being known, the other painfully aware of the horror of being known. Endless circling, endless meandering, never quite reaching a point of conclusion. Is it a history that should die with her, living on in mostly forgotten stories containing half of the truth? In some ways, that may be for the best. A horror forgotten, a legacy that ends when she does. Poetic in a way, she thinks, but such poetry doesn’t suit her. Not anymore. 

“It is more complicated than that.” No, the matter is rather simple. It’s her emotions over-complicating things. The very same emotions she’d become accustomed to suppressing. And to what end? It is a matter of telling him to cease or continue, a simple request either way. 

Perhaps she simply does not want to be reminded of how instrumental she had been in such horrific acts. 

“It is difficult to discern if such a legacy should die with me or if that forgotten history can be learned from.” Which ideals do she serve? Whose interests are the ones she will honor? It is an immense burden, but… deep inside, she knows what the right answer is. Even if it isn’t the answer she wants. 

“I suppose, the best way to take responsibility is to ask you to illuminate that forgotten history. To that end… I will selfishly ask you to continue. Until, you, too, know of the truth as I know it.”

[dreadbornesaint-moved]

“I suppose it depends on the sorts of things you consider worrisome.” Indeed, there are a number of concerning things about Beryl, her personhood, her origins, her goals. But she is not one to willingly spill forth the multitude of her secrets. And yet her quest has always been clear, never a task she has shied from, regardless of how much sorrow it could give rise to. So she has little issue imparting the reason for her current existence. “Though perhaps the most concerning thing is that I hunt gods.”

She frowns a bit. Had her expression been truly one of obvious ire? No, perhaps she should not be surprised. Anger has guided her thus far and the flames of rage are not easily concealed when she seems to be bleeding that dire vengeance. 

“But I do not kill deities indiscriminately. I am only interested in the gods that damned my people.” Her steadfast sense of duty, her shaky morality, both guide her to be a being closer to justice than simply a beast blinded by her own rage. Even if, perhaps, only barely. 

“None of my gods are here.” Though, it may be true that there isn’t much she can confirm simply by staring. But she has her divine gifts to aid her. And such boons are silent, unmoved by the current circumstances, indifferent to the ways of this world. There is no sign, no signal that would otherwise indicate the start of a hunt.

“I only came to confirm such a thing.”

[dreadbornesaint-moved]

She gives her friend a big, tight hug, "Happy new year, Beryl!" { for whatever verse you wish it to be ♥ }

Beryl returns the hug, with an equal enthusiasm. It’s always good to see one of her dearest friends. 

“Happy New Year, Miran. I hope that the new year is as gentle and bright as you are.”

[dreadbornesaint-moved]

“If it is truly marriage that you seek, then you should ask my father for my hand.” Not that it would matter, she thinks. The man standing before her is certainly a lunatic if she’d ever cast eyes on one. How could she see him as anything but deranged? And there is no reasoning with someone lost to such madness. Both words and the sword would fall short of conveying anything to such a being. 

Above all, she is certain her father would never approve of a union with such a man. Even if the proper steps are undertaken, it would be but an exercise in futility. Not that such futility has any bearing on the present. Her family as a whole has been lost to her for a long while now, long before she’d taken up her current post. They are in a place far from here, out of reach. And she would never willingly allow such a person to meet her family had they still been of this world. Even she can tell that to meet with this man is to invite misfortune. 

“I am not blushing and certainly no bride.” Beryl had long devoted herself to her chosen art, the art of war, the art of violence, a masterpiece of bloodshed, a masterwork composed of fragments of the darkest, most depraved nature. Marriage had never been a prospect to entertain, only ever being a matter to consider in some ever-distant, not quite real future. Her principles on such a matter would not waver now. “You must be blind, unable to see the reality in front of you.” 

Though this little conversation would not be entertained indefinitely. Beryl knows this. She has encountered his kind before. There have never been any qualms with tempting fate, with entreating destiny to do both its best and its worst. But something tells her, a faint whisper that grates in the hollows of her bones, that tells her it would not be wise to play with such fire.

Despite that warning, she still thinks that she would rather fall upon her own sword than swear a vow of marriage. Beryl stands, clad in the armor that has seen her through chaos and hellfire, choosing to stay the course. She cuts a dashing figure, the ever noble knight against the backdrop of a falling empire. Not once does her hand loosen its hold on her weapon. A knight's sword is an extension of the self, a symbol of unwavering will. 

“You have great audacity, to demand for my hand, giving neither respect nor even your name.”

[dreadbornesaint-moved]

˚ʚ starter for @satorusms ɞ˚

She’d just finished submitting the report for the assignment she’d recently completed. She’s not sure what’s worse, staring down a powerful cursed spirit or the bureaucracy associated with a completed job. They’re both terrible, she concludes, a sigh passing through her lips. It seems that great strength is its own great burden. But it cannot be helped, she supposes.  

More importantly, since she’d worked hard, it stands to reason she should take a break before duty inevitably calls her away. Work hard, play hard, as they say; how unfortunate that the former is her strong suit. She’s far too serious to know what to do in her free time other than practicing swordsmanship or driving herself mad regarding her more personal matters. Surely, she can figure something out if she wanders around, idling the time away until she finds something that catches her eye.

And indeed she does wander and lo and behold, something, or rather someone, has caught her attention.

Ah, is that…? No, there’s no question about it. Any sorcerer would be able to recognize him. But… What was his name again? 

“It was… Sa…? Sa something….” Leave it to Beryl to be distracted by a matter that isn’t terribly important in the grand scheme of things. But now that she’s thinking of it, it bothers her that she can’t clearly recall the name of the supposedly greatest sorcerer of the present time.

The better thing to do is move on and disregard him for now, but alas, she pauses, wondering aloud.  “Was it… Satoshi? No…”

[dreadbornesaint-moved]

"Zoinks."

[dreadbornesaint-moved]

“Hmm, all right.” She doesn't comment on the forbidden animal comment, opting to accept such words at face value. Everyone has their own reasons and it is entirely possible that she is looking too deeply into the matter. Beryl has no reason to doubt his words or look too deeply therein. 

“Ah, no that is quite all right. I am stronger than I appear.” Though, now that she thinks of it, it would be faster if she had some assistance. Certainly, she is strong enough to do it on her own, but if it's a matter of efficiency, then a stubborn insistence on doing it on her own would only act against expedience.

“On second thought, it would be a bit faster with your help. I suppose I shall take you up on that offer.”

[dreadbornesaint-moved]

He seems to hold a distaste for the gods as well. Hmm. It makes for an interesting contemplation, but she knows to mind her curiosity. Everyone has their story. She knows better to ask others to impart their story if she herself is not willing to part with her own. Though it does lead her to contemplate other things. Namely the nature of the divine entities with which she’d found herself entangled with in some form or another. She has met a fair number of gods, some malicious, others benevolent, but all mighty and terrible in their own power. 

“It is a simple matter, is it not? Crying, screaming, cursing the gods by name will do nothing. When pleading, prayer, and sacrifice is not enough, then there exists only one recourse.” Or rather, there are several paths one can take. Yet in the circumstances she'd found herself in, then and now, peace had never truly been an option. “If a prayer will not be answered, then a miracle will be made.”

Though she herself has witnessed it, countless times, with endless repetition. No great miracle ever comes without an equally great cost. She knows all too well: miracles are not always enough, even in the equally miraculous circumstances when they do occur. 

“A gardener.” It's clear she doesn't believe his words, not fully. At best, it is a lie encoded with some fragment of truth. But she knows she's not going to acquire a more definitive answer if she presses him, so she accepts his words at their surface value, for now. He's something much more than he's presenting himself to be, she knows that to be true.  All the same, without knowing more, there is naught she can do but accept the facade. Everyone has their secrets.

“A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Sir Alder.” It would be remiss of her to not give her name when he'd offered his. But she knows to tread carefully. It is always a dangerous thing, the matter of giving one’s name when otherworldly forces are involved. But she’s braved more turbulent waters, has faith in her ability to protect herself, should the circumstances skew in such a way. 

“I am called Beryl.”

[dreadbornesaint-moved]

Beryl wastes no time in kneeling down and assisting Miran gather the now fallen books. She chooses not to make a comment on it, knowing that the situation itself is embarrassing enough. Though even she would admit that the timing itself had been almost comedic, the books falling so soon after saying she didn't need help. But she supposes that it is very like her friend to try and do everything on her own in the first place, until the circumstances become something she can't handle.

“Yes, I can take half.” Despite her verbal agreement to split the books evenly between the two of them, Beryl takes on a few extra. Enough to lessen the load on Miran, but also evenly enough that the excuse that she merely misjudged how much was half would be believable, should Miran call her out on it.

“Where do we need to take these?” She looks to the other for guidance, contemplating the offer. A discussion over tea is certainly enticing. Hers is a brief matter that could be resolved fairly quickly, but Beryl wouldn't turn down the opportunity to spend time with her friend. 

“I do not mind, we can get some tea afterwards too. You know I would never decline your company.”