#Lofty: Executor

[otokeneko]

Anpassen on his culinary adventure!

[qweaenr]

ELSWORD - Ainchase Ishmael -

“My will is God's desire, and my existence is God's will.”

[bacon-neko]

Nano 2023 Day 0

In which Keraunos has a very exciting birthday!!!!

"Zeus slept with Metis, although she turned herself into many forms in order to avoid having sex with him. When she was pregnant, Zeus took the precaution of swallowing her, because she had said that, after giving birth to the daughter presently in her womb, she would bear a son who would gain the lordship of the sky. In fear of this he swallowed her.”

Bibliotheca by Pseudo-Apollodorus

Chapter 1

Illness in a god was not unheard of. Ingenious Hephaestus always seemed to be fighting off one ailment or another, soot-filled lungs unable to heal as well as they ought, but it wasn’t common. Few even remembered the last time glorious Zeus had taken sick.

Zeus remembered, of course. How could he forget? Hairline fractures cracking through the inside of his skull, a parasite taken host in his brain, gouging through the meat, until he couldn’t stand it anymore. Lofty Prometheus had played executor then, swung the ax and released his king. This time, sharp-sighted Athena leveled the blade against the crown of his head.

He resisted. All day, he insisted that, no, he was fine, he didn’t need help, it would fade on its own, quit fussing.

It didn’t, of course. By the time beaming Helios led his golden-chariot into the western horizon, supreme Zeus could barely speak, barely remember what he was holding back, why it scared him enough to suffer this pain. With what mind he had left, he begged his daughter to end this.

If gilded Athena knew what was to come, she didn’t show it. The warrior settled her grip on her tool, raised it above her head, and swung.

The so-called parasite quaked, roused from his slumber. Light cracked through and the boy screamed.

Suddenly, it was wet and bright and cold, and the boy was tumbling out, his shapeshifting skin instinctively transforming, taking the form of a man. He fell to the ground, soaked in blood, as puffs of air escaped him and his grey eyes flashed back and forth.

Zeus screamed, head split open, white hair soaked in blood, dripping down his face and into his beard. The boy crawled away, choking on spit, as another figure slid into view. She was armor-clad, crowned in bronze, with metallic eyes that pierced from beneath her helmet’s shadow. Grey stared into grey, Athena’s expression flicking between confusion then realization and finally fear. She gaped, jaw moving absently, some question forming on her tongue without coming to realization.

An iron-grip seized the boy’s ankle. Clear-headed, enraged and bloodied, the son of Kronos tore fresh skin as the godling wrenched backwards, scrambled to his feet, and ran.

Athena yelled something. The boy didn’t stop to listen. His feet pounded, naked skin scraping against stone, until a pair of scarred arms wrapped around his chest and a hand clamped over his mouth.

“Gotcha!” the figure said. “Now, quit squirming—”

The boy wrenched his jaw away and sank his teeth into the hand. Bone cracked, tendons snapped, and blood filled his mouth. The figure wrenched back his hand, bits of flesh still stuck between the boy’s teeth, and roared, but the boy didn’t care. He could taste freedom in the cold wind skimming across his skin as he ran, pulling feathers out from his hairline, drawing him into open skies.

Then, in a blur of motion, a new figure streaked ahead and halted in front of him, fluttering mid-air as he waved a winged wand and said, “Bedtime, kiddo.”

The boy jolted and stumbled back like a heavy wave crashed into him. He shook his head, swayed on his feet, and blinked and blinked until his eyelids grew too heavy, and he fell forward, deep in sleep.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The shepherd god caught the boy with a grunt, winged ankles fluttering with effort. The godling was lanky and thin, but even so, he dwarfed the messenger god, easily a head taller. It took some effort to keep him upright, but Hermes managed.

Beyond the pair of brothers, Athena stood, mouth agape, chest rising fast and heavy, until she noticed Hermes staring and her jaw snapped shut.

“Assist Lord Zeus with his injury,” she said, not even sparing a glance to the handful of servants who swept in to carry out her order, eyes trained on the boy in Hermes’ arms.

Ares interjected. “And muzzle that one while you’re at it,” he grumbled, clenching his bleeding fist. “And tell Artemis she’s got a new hound to train.”

Athena carried on with a shake of her head. “Prepare a room for the new lord.”

“No.” Father rose to his feet, the chunks of his head held together by his own hand, blinking the blood from his eyes. “The dungeon.”

Athena wrenched her eyes away from her brother. “Sir—“

“Now!” he snapped. “Or would you like to join him?”

The whole courtyard froze. There was violence in the evening air, even Hermes could taste it, and Ares—injury and all—cast a glance between his father and his half-sister like he was deciding which side to pick. But Athena held their father’s gaze and hid the tremor of her hands behind her back.

“Your will is mine,” she said. “To the dungeon.”

Hermes’ grip tightened as a servant came and extended their arms for the boy, but Athena caught his eye and offered the slightest nod she could muster, so he shifted to a grin and cheerfully abandoned his brother to their treatment.

“Try not to drop him!” he teased, wishing he could add more bite to the order, but settling for the uneasy laugh he earned in return as the servant shuffled away.

Father was laid upon a stretcher and golden nectar was poured over his wound. The healing would go faster if Apollo were here, but this would do in a pinch. Of course, his body would heal on its own with enough time, but gods were hardly known for their patience. In fact, noting Ares’ still bleeding hand, Hermes swiped a jar of nectar and dashed back to his elder brother.

The war god’s hand was punctured, lacerated, and dripping with blood. The teeth marks didn’t even look human—like the boy had shifted mid-bite into something meaner, toothier.

“He gotcha good, huh?” Hermes uncorked the jar and poured a healthy stream onto the bite.

Ares flexed his palm in turn, masking a wince. “He’s a menace.”

“Oh, like you?” said Hermes.

“Fuck off,” he said.

“Come on, you left it right there,” Hermes said. “Easy shot.”

“I’ll give you an easy shot.” Ares swung with his left, but Hermes flew up and around, dodging the blow and perching on top of his shoulders, laughter and another quip on his tongue, before Father interrupted.

“Boys!” he said. “Quit fooling around.”

Ares grumbled low in his throat before swiping the nectar from him and swatting Hermes away. The messenger god pulled back with his palms raised, grinning easily, as he drifted casually towards his father and sister, careful to linger within the war god’s shadow.

The nectar had done its magic. Raw, red lines now held the wound together at the edges and pulled up along the crown, while their father winced as he turned his head and screwed up his brow.

“I want the boy gone,” he hissed.

Athena replied, firm and cool, all her trembling vanished. “I’m sure there’s a tall mountain we can chain him to.”

“No,” said Father. “The Pit.”

Redundantly, she repeated, “Tartaros?”

“Do it before dawn,” Father said. “Before he wakes up. And if he gets out, it’s on your head.”

She nodded, a little tight in the neck, but if Father noticed, he didn’t look it, too absorbed in the blood clinging to his hair to pay much attention to anything else. The servants hovered around him, helped steady him, and drew him back into the palace proper—no doubt towards his chambers for a proper recovery. And a bath.

In their absence, the blood-stained war-god tilted his head towards his better half and asked, “What was that about?”

Athena’s shoulders sank as she pinched the bridge of her nose. “Ares, please.”

“What?” he said. “It’s a fair question.”

“It’s a question you ought to know the answer to,” she said.

Ares bristled. “What’s the supposed to mean?”

“To be fair.” Hermes leapt forward, feet light and tongue quicker. “Dad hasn’t exactly been forthcoming with information.”

“What information?” Ares asked, voice rising. “What the fuck is going on?”

“Quit yelling,” said Athena.

“Quit hiding things from me,” he retorted.

“No one’s hiding anything,” she snapped. “You’re just too stupid to catch on.”

Hermes clapped his hands. “Okay! Wow, this is great, um, I actually have—uh.” He rummaged in his bag and dug out a roll of parchment. “Here! From your Thracian—”

Ares snatched up the letter and rolled it open against his chest with his uninjured hand, before he paused, sneered at Athena, and stalked off into the palace, leaving his siblings alone in the freezing courtyard.

Hermes whistled. “That went well.”

Athena rolled her eyes. “Shut up.”

“No, I mean it,” he said. “You didn’t even punch each other this time.”

She cast him a withering glare and then pushed her hair back from her forehead, removing her helmet in the same gesture, before setting it back atop her head with a steadying breath. “Come on. We’re short on time.”

The strategist turned and sailed out of the courtyard, bronze helm gleaming in the dying light of winter just before she dipped into the palace. Hermes dashed after her, flying ahead and then floating beside her as he kept pace.

With his ears tuned to oncoming footsteps and his eyes flicking up and down the hall, he asked, “So, what’s the plan?”

“We follow Father’s orders,” she replied.

The trickster halted in his tracks—or he would’ve if he left any. As it stood, Athena ducked down a staircase and he hung at the top of the steps, heart in his throat, before he managed to shake it out and chase after her.

“You can’t be serious,” he said.

“We don’t have much of a choice.”

“You saw how he ran for that horizon,” he said, shooting past her argument. “The boy will hate it down there, you know that.”

“You don’t mind it,” she countered.

Matter of factly, he replied, “I’m weird. And suited for it, you shouldn’t make the same bet for him.”

“And what would you have us do instead?” she asked.

“I dunno, find a nymph for him to hang out with!”

“Oh, yeah, and Father never talks to any of those,” she said, iron voice dripping with sarcasm. “He definitely won’t find out.”

“So, we just leave him down there?”

“Yes!” she said. “That or we go to war tomorrow morning.”

He bristled but bit down the sensation before shifting tactics. “I thought you’d enjoy a good war.”

“I enjoy wars I can win,” she corrected. “We have no definite allies, no defenses, and the boy is entirely untrained.”

“He’s got a mean bite,” Hermes said.

“We’d lose,” she insisted, dismissing the comment. “It’d be ugly. And then we’d all be in Tartaros which isn’t even square one, it’d be square negative a billion.”

“Oh, good, negative a billion, so glad we’re sending our brother there,” he retorted. “And leave the theatrics to Dionysus, they don’t suit you.”

“Would you just—” Athena ground to a halt, kneading her brow between her knuckles and then stealing her hand to the crest of her shoulder. “Trust me on this. Please.”

Her gunmetal eyes softened into chalk. Her younger brother sighed and scraped a hand through his curls, wracking his brain for the will to deny her. With nothing to offer but a wince and a pang of guilt, he said, “Fine. We’ll do it your way.”

She loosened at that, heavy shoulders becoming just a little more light. She started to thank him, but he shook his head and said, “I suppose I’m the one taking him?”

She grimaced but told him all the same, “I trust no one more.” Gently, she added, “I know it’s not exactly in your nature as a shepherd, but there’s no one better for the job.”

“Dionysus could do it,” he said, mostly joking.

Athena smiled in turn. “Dionysus would take him on a bender. Then where would we be?”

“Square zero?” he suggested.

A breathy chuckle puffed out of her as they turned another corner into a dark corridor. Magically-lit torches cast a pale glow over the stone floor, delicately cut and well-swept although the area was so rarely used and certainly not kept around for its aesthetic appeal.

The prison of Olympus had been crafted by the Cyclopes, commissioned by Father Zeus to serve as a holding cell for those accused who could not be trusted to remain for judgment and, perhaps, their subsequent punishment. More often than not, the bars swung free and the torches lay dark with not even a rat to disturb this place.

But on this winter’s night, a godling lay curled up upon the floor, naked and trembling. Barred even the dignity of a bath, blood still streaked across his skin, dried now even at his ankle where Father had seized him and cut into his flesh. Perhaps it will leave a scar or maybe the injury will prove too forgettable to make a lasting mark. After all, the skin of a shapeshifter is a hard thing to permanently alter.

“You know,” Hermes started as the metal bars swung open. “If Dad wanted the boy out of here tonight, he really didn’t need to have him dragged down here too.”

Athena hid a grimace in the shadow of her helm as she propped the door open. “I’m sure he had some point to make. Now help me get him up.”

Getting the boy out of the cell was an ordeal of its own, his lanky limbs causing more than enough trouble as his two siblings tugged and pulled and hushed whenever a drowsy groan rumbled out from his chest, but soon enough they made their way back to the courtyard.

It felt criminal shuffling along in the dark, a limp body held between them, dried blood smearing on their own clothes and skin. Hermes kept hearing things: footsteps, doors scraping open, the animals in the shadowed stable rousing awake at the odd hour’s commotion.

Athena pulled the boy’s arm from her shoulder and leaned his weight against Hermes. “I’ll get a chariot,” she said, already setting off for the stable, but Hermes snagged her arm.

“Just get him onto my back,” he said, wings itching at his ankles.

They shuffled the boy around, adjusted Hermes’ bag to keep it out of the way, and then hefted the boy up across his back and shoulders. With a grunt of effort, Hermes kept himself steady. Ready to take off, he stole one last glance back at Athena, hesitating, hoping, but she raised her chin and tucked her hands behind her back.

Steadier than sky-bearing Atlas and more certain than Fate, she told him, “We’re making the right move here.”

He hoped she was right.

And so the immortal guide flew, racing towards the edge of earth and the underworld beneath. He visited Uncle Hades frequently, shepherding shades and delivering news to his realm, but only a spare few times had Hermes made the full journey to the Pit. There lay the Titans—most of them anyway—forever bound as punishment for their crimes.

It was wrong to take the boy there. So wrong that Hermes kept seeing phantom flashes of burning Furies in the corner of his eye, chasing after him, but he shook his head and tore through the air, wind howling around him.

Then, roused by the bruising wind, the boy pulled away from his slumber.

The boy inhaled—sharp and heavy, drawing thin air into his lungs, pushing himself into full consciousness. His arm and leg were bound, held by something, and a frightened part of him threatened to thrash and claw away, but instead his eyes welled up with stinging tears as he looked out into open sky.

Stars filled every inch of black above him, vast and endless, streaked with clouds and threaded by wind, tousling his hair, sending sparks down his spine. Something red and burning in the distance caught his eye for a moment, but a rough breeze cut across his skin, drawing him back to his sky.

He didn’t dare blink, terrified the vision might vanish, but the tears grew too much and he swiped them away with his spare hand, brushing against the whatever that was holding him.But the whatever flinched, turned his head, met the boy’s eyes, and said, “Shit. You’re not supposed to be awake.”

[lilith-devi-nyx-elsword-theorist]

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!! My one favorite Ain of the many Ain’s!!!

[djinn-box]

I drew the Ain's as dragons and no one can stop my crippling addiction from turning beloved characters into fire breathing lizards with wings.

[ri-ael]

new icon~

[nanintell]

When Wanderer was teamed up with Executor in a dungeon.

Wanderer : ... *stared at Executor* Executor : ... *stared at Wanderer and started to get pissed* Wanderer : ...Not good... *casted Schmerz to clear a way then ran ahead* Executor : Hey ,COME BACK HERE ,YOU CORRUPTED BASTARD!!! *ran after Wanderer while throwing his spears* 

[dark-wood-circus]

[otokeneko]

💕

[imagines-for-elrios]

EE and Arme compete with each other to win Apos love?

(Okay! So this took a bit longer because Mod Sei from Els-Imagines and I decided (before this whole mod ship thing went down) to do this ask as a collab! They helped me by writing the middle part, so thanks, @ainchaseseiker!)

“Arme, it’s just a vase of flowers! I want to cheer up his day!” 

“I will not allow you to give it to him,” Arme raised a hand. “Hand over the flowers.

“Never! I gathered these for him!” Emotion held the vase to his chest and looked away. “I want to see the look of happiness on his face when he gets them!”

“He never will, at least not from your hands.” Arme took a step closer and reached the hand he had raised previously out to him. “Hand them over.”

“B-But I said I wanted to give them to him myself, I-”

“I said hand them over!”

“No! I’ll give them to him myse-”

Crash!

“Arme! Why would you do that?!” Emotion stared with big eyes at the shattered vase on the ground in front of him. In his left hand, Arme held a projection sword while he stared at the other angel with somewhat of a glare. 

“I told you. I will not let you take him from me.” Arme’s voice was low, dangerous, almost like a threat. He was tense and didn’t move from his spot, his back straightened and his head high, as expected from the left hand of the Goddess. Emotion, on the other hand, seemed more relaxed and light, his movements more natural and swift, like a leaf being blown in the wind. He let out a sigh and crouched down, starting to pick up the bigger shards of glass.

“You’re mean, Arme… I just wanted to make him smile…” Emotion pouted childishly and threw the shards in the trash. “Now, the flowers are gonna wilt unless I get a new vase…”

When Mochi started cleaning up the second round of shards, Apostasia came out of his room, pausing when he saw the mess. It was as if he expecting an answer, but Apostasia being Apostasia, he probably rather wouldn’t know.

“Ah! Sorry, Apos…” Emotion laughed awkwardly and scratched the back of his head. “I brought you flowers, but Arme didn’t like the vase so he destroyed it.” It was the best excuse he could make up on the spot, but as long as Apostasia believed it, it was good enough. Apostasia just nodded and crouched in front of Mochi. He opened his mouth for a second, probably to offer him his help, but seemed to change his mind before he did so and got up again, walking past the two angels and outside.

Emotion and Arme just watched them go, falling silent until several seconds until Apostasia was out of their field of sight. When that moment came, they just stared back at each other.

“Do you think he’s onto us?”

“I’d have no idea. That guy is unreadable.”

“Ah! Ain, what are you doing?” Anpassen hopped over to Ain, wearing his usual wide smile. Ain smiled at him, holding an open suitcase with several notes and sheets in front of him.

“I heard this is what humans call “betting! You put money or anything on which you think the possible outcome will be, and if you win, you take it all.”

“Oh! That sounds amazing!” Anny’s eyes sparkled and he clapped his hands togehter. “Can I participate? What are you betting on?!”

“On who will conquer Apostasia’s heart!”

“I’ll bet an El Shard on… Emotion!” Anpassen hopped up and down excitedly. Ain nodded and started taking a few notes with a soft smile.

“You’re still going on about that?” Executor appeared from the kitchen, holding a glass of water in his hands. He didn’t look amused at all. Anny pouted a little and looked at him.

“You don’t like the idea? I think it could be fun!”

“No. It’s immature and dumb.”

“Executor, you placed three El shards on Arme.” Ain intervened, looking slightly thrown off by Executor’s words.

After Ain’s intervention, the room fell into an awkward silence.

“…Hey, where’s Wanderer?” Anny asked after a while. 

Ain and Executor just shrugged and left.

Arme sucks a breath through his teeth, clenching his hands into fists. Apostasia was sitting silently in the grass, idly playing with the green plants.

Silently he sits next to the corrupted celestial.“ Hello Apos..” he greets calmly despite his racing heart, watching the other out of the corner of his eye.

 Apos doesn’t respond, only nodding in acknowledgement as he continues to toy with his grass. Arme found himself taking in the celestial’s appearance, specifically his hair. 

 Without thinking, Arme reached over and ran his hand through Apos’ hair. The corrupted celestial froze and tensed up, looking at him with wide eyes.

“Arme.” His name left Apos’ lips in a breathy whisper.“ What are you doing?”

Arme keeps staring seriously amidst the slow red rising up his cheeks as he starts using bith hands to brush Apos’ hair.

“Come closer so I can remove the tangles.”Yes, he did feel irked at the sight of Apos’ messy hair but hey, at least he could get near the celestial. Apos hesitates, but the usual hard look in Arme’s eyes (that he still wasn’t used too) made him relent. 

 He scoots so he’s sitting in front of Arme with his back turned to him. Arme hums and starts sombing his fingers through Apos’ hair. 

…Arme was gentle, it surprised Apos as he closes his eyes to the feeling of Arme gently combing his hair with his fingers. 

 Arme feels a small smile twitch on his face  when he sneaked a look on Apos and saw the celestial’s peaceful face. He took a lock of hair between his fingers and absentmindedly pressed it to his lips.

Cuto sends a victorious smirk to Anpa who gasps and pouts at him.“ Arme is going to win.” Cuto declares proudly. 

 Anpa shakes his head adamantly.“ No! Erblu is!” He retorts before he felt a hand on his back, same for Cuto. 

 "Now now,“ Ain repriminds smoothly.” No fighting you two.“ He turns his back to pat Lowa and takes out a notebook from his pocket. He scribbles something on it before snapping it shut. 

 Arme: 1 Erblu: 0?

“Wonder?” Mochi smiled and peeked into Apostasia’s dark room, holding a blanket in his arms.

“I told you, it was Wanderer, not Wonder…” Apos’s voice was quiet as he stared right ahead at the wall. “Leave.”

But Emotion hummed and hopped instead, his footing so light he might as well have been a nymph. “Don’t lock us out like that… Come on! Do you wanna feed the ducks with me?” He put the blanket around the fallen angel and nuzzled his cheek. “Some ravens might come too!”

Apostasia was non-responsive.

“Wonder…?” He moved back a little and looked down at him. He kept quiet for a moment, thinking, then straightened up, a smile spreading across his face. “Oh! I know! We can just play hide and seek in the dark!”

Still, no reaction from Apostasia. Mochi saddened a little and decided that maybe it was better if they just relaxed. Wonder didn’t really seem to be in the mood to play. He exhaled deeply as he cuddled up to the other, putting his arms around him.

A small smile crept across his face again.

“This is nice…” He whispered, glancing up at him. Apostasia finally looked back down at him. His face was lank, but he certainly didn’t look angry. Was it maybe that he enjoyed his presence?

Nevertheless, Apostasia’s gaze seemed to cheer up Mochi. He had done the right thing by coming.

“Ah…! There you are!” He reached out and pinched his cheek, brimming with joy. “You’re so cute!”

Apostasia looked at him for a bit longer, but finally couldn’t help himself and cracked a small smile.

Nevertheless, Mochi had already gone back to cuddling the fallen angel, his eyes closed, and didn’t notice.

“That was cute…” Anny, who had been watching the scenario unfold with his brothers, commented with a smile. “See? Emotion is gonna win!” 

“Don’t get your hopes up.” Exe rested his face in his hand, almost as if in a tired facepalm. “These results aren’t conclusive.”

“I don’t think Apos is going to make up his mind… I don’t even know if he wants them…” Wanderer rubbed his eyes sleepily.

Ain was just messing around with his notebook and his suitcase, trying to keep up with everything going on.

“Ah! Has anyone seen my pencil!”

“I can lend you my multicolor pen!” Anny chirped, handing him the writing tool. It was covered in rainbows and ladybugs and flowers. Executor groaned in embarassment.

“Why did you have to be MY brother?” He complained. Anny just smiled and patted his head like an animal.

“You still love me.”

“No I don’t.”

“Yes you do. Executor, stop it; you’re making Wonder cry.”

“I’m not crying?” Wanderer commented, a bit startled at being dragged into the argument.

“Shush, Wonder. I’m trying to get Exe to admit that he loves us.” Anny smiled at him.

Ain had just scribbled down something in his notebook with his new pen.

Arme: 1 Erblu: 1

This is gonna go on like this forever…

[eclipse-remade-blog]

in a restaurant

Richter: When we go in this restaurant, you are 12.

Lofty Executor: Richter, I am 21-

[RI smacks LE in the face]

Waiter (to Executor): Would you like the kids menu?

Lofty Executor: ...Yes I do.

[space-thyme]

I’m being so darn slow on the Deep And Serious™ drawings so here’s the middle kids

also more like ainxiety amirite

[frostymeat]

(ㅠ_ㅠ)ʅoO(furry)

(ㅠ_ミ)oO((((((DONT)))))

(ㅠ_ㅠ)ʅoO(...)

[theempresstarot]

SUUUPER LATE BDAY GIFT FOR @wechsei ILY SWEETS

[01rand]

halloween arme and executor comm i did for a friend <3 <3

[otokeneko]

Elsword Sketch Vol 3

Elsword Wedding Theme + Random L:E