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dxrlingluv · 3 days ago

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So uhhhhhh

Apollo with siren!reader who's mad at him because he agreed to release Odysseus so easily?👉👈

(maybe the reader can grow human legs like ariel too, but too traumatized to swim in the ocean again for sometimes lol)

Not so sunny now, is it?

A/N : I have been feeling very sad lately so Angst for everyone. Apollo art is from Gigi.

WARNING : Fem!Siren!Reader, Angst with no comfort.

Word Count : 2.7k

The salt spray felt like a cruel mockery against your skin, each droplet a phantom echo of the waves that had once carried your sisters' laughter. Now, those waves only whispered of their screams, their terror, their silence. Odysseus. The name was a venomous serpent coiling in your heart, its fangs dripping with the ichor of your stolen family. He was miles away, trapped on Calypso's isle, yet his shadow stretched even here, to the gleaming halls of Olympus.

You had come seeking solace, a sliver of justice, your grief a tempestuous sea crashing against the shores of divine indifference. And Apollo... oh, Apollo. Your Apollo. His light had once been a beacon, a warmth that promised understanding, a shared passion, a love that transcended the boundaries of god and siren. You had clung to that hope, a drowning mariner to a piece of driftwood, because he was your driftwood, your guiding star.

Then came the moment that shattered everything.

Athena, her voice echoing with the authority of wisdom and the weight of a long-held alliance, stood before the assembled gods. Odysseus was not present, a prisoner of a different kind on a distant shore, but his fate was being debated nonetheless. Athena, ever his champion, spoke as if he were there, her words a shield around him. "He was trying to escape a terrible fate himself," she reasoned, her gaze sweeping across the divine council, finally settling with particular weight on Apollo. "They were trying to do him worse, all he did was reimburse them. Now they thread with caution first, to live another day and sing another verse."

Your breath hitched. Sing another verse? Your sisters, whose songs were the very essence of their souls, whose melodies could lure gods and mortals alike, would never sing another note. Their verses were brutally, irrevocably silenced. And this... this was their justice? To be a cautionary tale for a butcher, a man whose freedom was being argued for by a goddess while he remained leagues away, oblivious to the pain his actions had sown here?

Your gaze flew to Apollo, pleading, desperate. Your Apollo. Surely, he, the god of music, of poetry, of truth, would see the obscenity of it. Surely, his light would pierce through Athena's cold, calculated defense of her absent favorite. He knew your song. He knew them.

But then he spoke, his voice, usually so resonant with passion for you, now carrying a detached finality that chilled you to the bone. "If that's true," he declared, his eyes not meeting yours, seemingly looking past you to some distant horizon where Odysseus's plight perhaps seemed more pressing than the fresh graves of your kin, "release him." The words were a decree, a divine judgment that sealed your despair.

The words struck you with the force of a physical blow. The golden light of his presence seemed to dim, to curdle into something suffocating. Betrayal, cold and sharp, pierced through the already gaping wound of your grief. It was a pain so profound it stole your voice, the very tool of your power and your lament, the voice he claimed to cherish above all others.

He hadn't even looked at you. He hadn't seen the devastation in your eyes, or perhaps he had, and it simply hadn't mattered. Your sisters, your kin, your loss, your song... dismissed. Weighed against the convenience of a mortal hero—a hero not even present to account for his deeds—and found wanting. By him.

The world tilted. The marble floors of Olympus felt like sinking sand beneath your feet. You wanted to scream, to unleash a torrent of sound so potent it would crack the very foundations of this place, force them to acknowledge the sacrilege. But all that emerged was a choked gasp, a sound more broken than any dirge.

He had ordered Odysseus's release, a pardon granted in absentia. The man who had slaughtered your family, who had stolen their voices, would eventually walk free, his path smoothed by the gods themselves, orchestrated by Athena's unwavering advocacy and sealed by Apollo's decree. And Apollo, your Apollo, the sun god who you had foolishly, naively, believed loved you, might understand the sanctity of a song, had been the one to effectively unlock his chains from afar.

The warmth you once felt in his presence was gone, replaced by an icy desolation. His light no longer offered comfort; it burned, searing your already raw wounds, illuminating the depths of his betrayal. How could he, who cherished music above all, condone the silencing of such unique, irreplaceable songs? How could he, who had held you in his arms, who had whispered promises of forever, stand by as the murderer of your sisters was exonerated through such a detached, impersonal judgment?

The word "love" felt like ash in your mouth. Had any of it been real? Or were you just another fleeting amusement, your siren nature a curiosity, easily discarded when it became inconvenient, or when the pleas of a more favored goddess held more sway? You remembered the stolen moments, the secret trysts in hidden coves, the way his golden eyes had seemed to devour you whole. Lies? All lies?

You turned, stumbling away from the golden hall, from the gods, from him. The vibrant colors of Olympus seemed garish, offensive to your mourning. Each step was an agony, not just for the loss of your sisters, but for the death of a trust you hadn't realized you'd so completely given. You had given him your heart, your soul, your voice. And he had thrown it away.

A strange, aching magic had bloomed within you amidst the chaos of your grief – the ability to walk on land, your powerful tail traded for unsteady human legs. It was a cruel irony. You had gained a world, yet lost your own. The ocean, once your sanctuary, your home, the very blood in your veins, now felt like a vast, watery grave. The thought of submerging yourself, of feeling those currents that once cradled you, now brought only a fresh wave of terror, the phantom sensation of your sisters' final struggles. You were a creature of the deep, marooned on the shore, your true form a reminder of all you had lost, your new one a constant, aching vulnerability. And he knew what you sacrificed.

This new, fragile body only amplified the sting of Apollo's betrayal. When you were a siren, powerful and feared, his indifference might have been a slight. But now, as this... thing, this half-formed creature caught between two worlds and belonging to neither, his dismissal felt like a condemnation. He had not only abandoned your grief, but he had abandoned you, in this strange, terrifying new existence, an existence you embraced for him.

The sea called to you, its voice a mournful echo of your own silenced song. But you couldn't answer. The waves that once promised freedom now whispered of drowning, of loss, of the cold, dark depths where your sisters lay. You were trapped on the land, with legs that felt alien and a heart shattered by a god's careless words. His betrayal was not just a wound; it was a chain, binding you to this dry, desolate earth, far from the solace of your true home, a home you were now too terrified to reclaim. And the sun, his sun, beat down relentlessly, a constant, burning reminder of the light that had failed you.

The days bled into a monotonous cycle of grief and fear. You haunted the edges of the land, your new, clumsy legs a constant reminder of your stolen home and your profound loss. The sun, his sun, felt like a personal affront, each ray a golden barb picking at your wounds. You avoided places where his influence was strongest, where his worshipers gathered, but Olympus was vast, and the gods, infuriatingly, were everywhere.

It was on a desolate stretch of coastline, where jagged rocks wept into a turbulent sea – a sea you could no longer bear to touch – that you saw him. Apollo, radiant and serene, was observing the crash of waves against the shore, a lyre held loosely in his hand, as if contemplating a new melody. The sight of him, so peaceful while your world was a maelstrom of agony, ignited a fury so potent it momentarily eclipsed your fear. He looked as if he hadn't a care in the world.

This was it. The dam of your carefully contained anguish finally broke.

"You!" The word tore from your throat, raw and hoarse, no longer the melodious call of a siren, but the jagged cry of a wounded animal.

Apollo turned, his golden eyes, usually so warm when he looked at you, widening slightly in surprise before settling into a look of placid inquiry. "An unexpected encounter," he said, his voice as smooth and unmarred as polished marble. "What troubles you, little siren?"

Little siren? The casual endearment, once a spark of your affection, now felt like a diminutive insult, a dismissal of the enormity of your pain.

"What troubles me?" you echoed, a hysterical laugh bubbling in your chest. You stalked towards him, your steps uneven on the rocky terrain, each movement a testament to your unnatural state. "My sisters are dead! Slaughtered! Their songs silenced forever by the man you deemed fit to release!"

His brow furrowed, a flicker of something – annoyance? Pity? – crossing his perfect features. "The judgment concerning Odysseus was complex. Athena presented a compelling case. Justice, in the eyes of the gods, is not always simple vengeance."

"Justice?" you shrieked, the sound sharp enough to make the gulls startled into flight. "You call that justice? He butchered them! He ripped their voices from the world! And you, the god of music, of song, my Apollo, you nodded and agreed! Were their lives, their art, so worthless to you? Was I so worthless to you?" Your voice began to tremble, not just with rage, but with the burgeoning power that grief had twisted within you. The air around you grew heavy, charged with an unseen energy.

"Their loss is regrettable," Apollo stated, his tone still maddeningly calm, though a sliver of divine power now underscored his words, a subtle warning. "But mortal lives are fleeting. Odysseus acted to preserve his own, and the lives of his men. It was a harsh necessity of their world."

"A harsh necessity?" Tears streamed down your face, hot and furious. "They were not warriors, Apollo! They were singers! They were my family! Your family, if you had truly cared for me!" You gestured wildly towards the churning ocean. "That sea, the one you gaze at so placidly, it's their grave! And I... I can't even return to it! I walk this cursed land on legs I never asked for, terrified of the only home I've ever known, because of him! Because of you! Because I loved you!"

A low thrum began to emanate from you, the air vibrating with unsung, grief-stricken notes. It wasn't a song of luring, but of pure, unadulterated pain, a sound that could shatter stone and soul. "Did you ever care? Was any of it real? Or was I just another melody to you, easily forgotten when a more powerful voice, like Athena's, called your attention? Was I just a pretty song, a fleeting fancy, a siren to be used and discarded?"

Apollo's golden aura intensified, a defensive shimmer against the rising tide of your anguish. "You presume too much, Y/N. My decisions are not made on whims or fleeting affections. There are balances to maintain, cosmic scales you cannot comprehend. You were...more than that."

"Balances?" you spat, the word tasting like poison. "Is that what my sisters were? Weights on a scale? Easily tipped and discarded? Is that what I was? A balance? A cosmic thing?" The grief-fueled power surged. Small pebbles around your feet began to tremble. The waves behind Apollo seemed to recoil slightly, their roar momentarily subdued by the dissonant chord of your despair. "You speak of comprehension, but you comprehend nothing of this! This pain! This betrayal! You spoke of love, of forever! What was that? Another fleeting balance?"

You raised a trembling hand, pointing it at him. "You, who claims to cherish every note, every verse! You let their symphony be silenced and then sanctioned their murderer's freedom! You are a hypocrite, Apollo! A false god of a stolen art! A liar! You are my liar."

For the first time, a true fissure appeared in his divine composure. His eyes narrowed, and the golden light around him blazed, no longer just defensive, but radiating a dangerous heat. "Be wary of your words, Y/N. Grief does not grant you license to insult the divine. Especially not after everything we shared." His voice was no longer smooth; it held the rumble of distant thunder, the promise of a storm. The lyre in his hand seemed to hum with suppressed power.

"Or what?" you challenged, reckless in your agony. "Will you strike me down too? Add another silenced voice to your tally? Is that your divine justice? Is that how you repay love?"

The air crackled between you, your raw, untamed siren grief clashing against his controlled, immense divine power. It wasn't a physical fight, but a battle of wills, of sorrow against detachment, of mortal agony against immortal decree. His light pressed against you, heavy and suffocating, trying to quell the storm of your emotions. Your pain pushed back, a tidal wave of despair threatening to engulf everything.

But you knew, even as you raged, that this was a fight you couldn't win. He was a god. You were... broken. And he was the one who broke you.

The energy receded from you, leaving you gasping, trembling, and utterly spent. The brief, furious strength drained away, replaced by a desolation so profound it felt like the bottom of the coldest, darkest ocean trench.

Apollo's light softened, the harsh edges of his anger fading, replaced by a complex mix of emotions. He saw you standing there, broken and trembling, the raw grief etched on your face, and a pang of regret pierced through his divine composure. He realized, with a sickening lurch, the full weight of his words, the casual cruelty with which he had dismissed your pain.

He wanted to reach out to you, to pull you close and offer comfort, to whisper apologies and try to mend the shattered pieces of your heart. He wanted to explain, to justify, to make you understand the impossible choices he faced, the cosmic forces that bound him. He wanted to tell you that you were more than a song, more than a fleeting fancy, that his feelings for you were real, and deep, and enduring.

But pride, that ancient, unyielding pride that defined him as a god, held him captive. He couldn't bring himself to fully retract his words, to admit he was wrong, to show such vulnerability before a creature of the sea. He feared that any attempt at comfort would be misconstrued, that it would diminish his authority, his divine image. He was a god, and gods did not grovel, did not beg for forgiveness.

And so, he settled for a hollow, distant tone. "Your grief is a tempest, siren. But it blinds you. You are being irrational. There is nothing more to be said."

He turned his back on you, the golden radiance of his form a stark contrast to the gray desolation of the shore, and your heart. He began to walk away, leaving you there, on your unsteady legs, with the ghosts of your sisters and the fresh, gaping wound of his final, dismissive words. He left, and a part of him, the part that truly loved you, wept.

The fight was over. And you had lost more than you thought possible. He hadn't just let Odysseus go. He had, in that moment, let you go too. The chasm between you was no longer just a matter of differing perspectives; it was an unbridgeable abyss, carved by his indifference and your shattered heart. The angst wasn't just a feeling anymore; it was the very air you breathed, cold, sharp, and unending. The love you thought you had was dead, and he, in his pride, had killed it.

#epic the musical #epic x reader #epic fanfic #fluff #epic apollo #dxrlingluv #apollo x reader smut #apollo x reader #apollo #epic athena #epic odysseus #epic fanart

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blackstoneprime · 9 months ago

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Greek Poem- I

Sing to me, O Muse, of the tale profound,

Of Odysseus, the hero renowned,

Who sailed the seas, in war and woe,

On a journey home, through trials unknown.

From Troy he sailed, with his warriors bold,

Bound for Ithaca, his kingdom of old,

Through storms and strife, his courage shone,

Guided by Athena, goddess alone.

But Poseidon, god of sea and storm,

With wrathful fury, to the hero sworn,

Sent tempests fierce to thwart his way,

And test his will, day by day.

On Circe's isle, with her enchanting song,

Odysseus found himself trapped, for long,

Her magic potions, turned his men to swine,

But with Hermes' aid, he broke the spell divine.

Next came the deadly sirens' lure,

Their enchanting voices, oh so pure,

But Odysseus, with ears of wax,

Sailed past unharmed, through their attacks.

Then Scylla and Charybdis, the monsters dire,

One a beast, the other a maelstrom sire,

Through their deadly straits, the hero sailed,

His crew decimated, but victory prevailed.

At last, to the land of the Phaeacians he came,

Where he told his tale, his heart in flame,

Of his long journey, of his trials and pain,

Till at last, to Ithaca, home he'd regain.

But upon his return, more challenges arose,

His beloved wife besieged, by unwelcome foes,

With cunning mind and loyal heart,

Odysseus devised a plan, to play his part.

Disguised as a beggar, he bided his time,

Testing the suitors, their sins and crime,

Till the moment came, for vengeance pure,

With bow and arrow, his aim sure.

With a swift shot, he struck them down,

The suitors fell, in Ithaca's town,

And once more, Odysseus reigned as king,

His loyal wife by his side, in joy they sing.

Thus ends the tale of brave Odysseus,

His journey long, but victorious,

Through trials and tribulations, he did endure,

A hero's heart, brave and pure.

#greek mythology #poetry #the oddyssey

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silvercaptain24 · 1 year ago

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Congrats on your graduation. As promised: Telemachus. Based on the two short clips of Legendary.

It's just me, myself, and I

Stuck in my bedroom, living in this world you left behind

There were three symbols common around Ithaca. The first was the Wolf. The cunning hunter, a pack with a strong leader capable of taking down even great beasts. The second was the owl. The emblem of the goddess Athena. The goddess of wisdom and of tactics in war. Telemachus had a trinket from before the Great King Odyssesus had left for war in the shape of an owl. Mother had said she always favored his family. The third symbol was the sign of their favor. The boar. It was shown in pottery, in mosaic all around the palace. The story of his father's triumph over the magic beast was one of the stories he'd been raised on.

Dreaming of all these monsters that I'll never get to fight

But boy, I wish I could, so I could bring this world some light

He was the child of one of the last of the “great heroes.” The monsters had been slain before he was a baby. Some part of him ached to have some encounter like the Boar his father had taken down because it would prove to his mother, the household, the suitors that he was blessed like his father. His father...

Cause I'm stuck with your stories

But no clue who you are

And no idea if you're dead or just too far

He'd heard the stories of his father at his mother's knee, from the nurse maid who'd also helped raise his father. His only image of the man he knew of was a mosaic outside his mothers (his parents) room. What was the Great King of Ithica actually like? Was he anything like the stories?

Somebody tell me, come and give me a sign

If I fight those monsters, is it you I'll find?

He'd spent his childhood, and his teenage years with that same prayer.

If so, then:

Give me sirens and a cyclops

Give me giants and a hydra

I know life and fate are scary

But I wanna be legendary

I'll fight the harpies and chimeras

The minotaurs, even Cerberus

I know life and fate are scary

But I wanna be legendary

He'd go on an adventure like the stories if that was what it took. He'd take on the twelve labors of Hercules or sail with the Argonauts or... he'd even take a trip to the underworld and face Hades the Guide of the Fates and Dread Persephone herself if that's what it took.

There are strangers in our halls

Trying to win the heart of my mom

But she is standing tall

His father had been gone for so long the others on the isle had begun to insist his mother should remarry. They'd taken up residence in the palace to eat and drink and jockey and fight for his mother's favor. They abused the rights of hospitality and Telemachus often wondered if Zeus himself would fault him for wanting these men out.

108 old faces of men who call me small

They keep taking space and it's not much longer we can stall

Mom insisted she could not marry another until she'd properly mourned his father. Her final act was finishing the tapestry that was also intended to be a burial shroud for his father. His mother was a skilled weaver, almost to the skill of Arachne herself, but she'd spend the day weaving but there was seemingly no progress come morning. He'd seen his mother carefully undoing her progress by candlelight in the late hours the night. The suitors were luckily too stupid and unobservant to notice.

Cause they're getting impatient, dangerous too

The suitors had begun to put pressure on his grandfather that he should force his daughter-in-law to remarry. There had been more than a few threats of what they'd do if they had to wait much longer. Dark oaths spoken while deep in their cups in the evenings.

And I would fight them if I was half as strong as you

“What are you going to do about it, Little Wolf?” Antonius was the worst of the bunch. A foul man with a foul temper who abused friend and foe alike. He was also twice Telemachus’ size. He couldn't win in a physical fight. It would come down to cunning. But Antonius had his own beasts, his own pack of wolves at his back of all the young men of the island who had been too young for Troy but had been allowed to train and grow strong in the meantime.

Somebody help me, come and give me the strength

Can I do whatever it takes to keep my mom safe?

His mother was a daughter of a Spartan king. Her birth nation’s reputation for the strength it produced in even its women did a lot to dissuade even Antonius from doing what he wanted quite yet. But Telemacus was her son. He was the son of Great Odyssesus. What cunning could he pull to overcome them? What did he need to do to prove his worthiness to Athena? To any of the gods?

If so, then:

Give me sirens and a cyclops

Give me giants and a hydra

I know life and fate are scary

But I wanna be legendary

I'll fight the harpies and chimeras

The minotaurs, even Cerberus

I know life and fate are scary

But I wanna be legendary

He'd go. He'd find answers about his father once and for all.

“Prince Telemachus.” An old man stood at the door to the hall where the suitors were starting to stir, all of them hung over and already ill-tempred.

“Greetings and blessings, Traveler. Who do I have the pleasure of welcoming to our home?”

“Call me Mentor.” The old man said, eyes glittering gray and appearing for just a moment to have a spark of something more than just an old man. Something Divine. “Thank you for your hospitality, Son of Odyssesus.”

#asks and answers #Ori’vod!!!#Not you about to make me cry #THIS IS SO COOL

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potamos-guest-house · 4 days ago

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treeckothegeecko · 1 month ago

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Aura April 12 - Melody

Artemis walked off the path, heading towards her favorite spot to sit down and look over the ruins of the floating City of Nyhm. Ever since her adoptive parents had rescued her from the sea, they’d bring her here with them as they explored the ruins. She enjoyed the view, and the flow of aether in the air relaxed her.

She let her legs dangle over the edge of the cliff as she gazed up into the night sky above her. Thankfully, there wasn’t a cloud in sight so she was able to view the stars in all their glory, just like she remembered. It had been many months since she lasted visited this and many moons since she was able to view the stars she knew so well. With everything happening on the first, she has started to wonder if she was ever going to make it out alive. She reached up and pulled the hair tie keeping it up, letting it fall down, framing her face. She held the ends of her end and looked at them. They were still mostly white from her exposure to the aether of the lightwardens but she was glad to see the blue of her natural hair creep in slowly. Hopefully with time, it would fade completely. Though she couldn’t see them, she knew her eyes still bore the change from the exposure and unlike her hair, she doubted the rings around her irises would dull with time.

She sighed and laid down with her back on the ground, just letting herself relax for once. It had been so long since she was given ample time to do so and she intended to make good use of it before papers were finalized for the trip to Sharlyan.

Tataru had asked her for her last name and parents names per Sharlyan requirements. And though she knew the Mol on the steppe were her true family, she kept the name Kuldeep from her adoptive parents out of respect for everything they did to her, and for their memory after they died during the Calamity, protecting her.

Tears began to form in her eyes as she reached up and removed a daisy corsage from her hair. Originally a gift from her mother, she replaced with fresh ones when she could as another way to honor their memories. Holding it close to her chest she breathed in and out before sitting up after a while. She reached for her bag and pulled out a small lyre, quietly plucking at the strings, making sure they were in tune with each other. Once she was satisfied they were, she closed her eyes again and took a deep breath before plucking the strings, joining her voice in melody with their tone. In a low, lullaby like whisper, she sang.

Travel far, travel wide Let the stars be your guide No matter how far away you’ll be You’ll always find your way back to me

People talk, people dance Where you’ll go, they will glance Help them all, they shall see They shall see you back to me

Warm desert east or mountain north Find a space filled with warmth Over land, over sea All the way back to me

When your close, or far apart Trust in friends, trust in heart I’m with you, you’re with me Eternal in the Aertherial Sea

With the final note, she let the string vibrate, letting the sound float across the isles. A song her parents would sing to her, she always tried to sing it here on the cliffs of Nyhm in remembrance of them. She held out the flowers in her hand. Concentrating on controlling the aether around her, she blew on her hand.

A shower of daisies fluttered from her hand, drifting over the cliff, dancing in the breeze, moonlight bouncing off their petals. A slight smell of the ocean permeated the air around her. She smiled before standing up to leave.

“I’m telling yuse cappn I heard the Siren! It was close! The ocean’s scent followed it up ‘ere I swear!” A new recruit was frantically trying to get the Storm Captain at Camp Overlook to believe him. “‘at’s just a myth son. The ether up ‘ere is thin enough to make yuse go mad sometimes. E’ve looked for this Siren. And we ain’t ever seen fin ‘or ‘air of ‘em. Besides, been ‘ears since we ‘ast eard the voices. Now ‘et back to yer guard or else”

#auraapril #ffxiv #my wol #artemis mol

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thegildedlady · 7 months ago

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Olive Branch

Being in the Depths for weeks on end was nothing like being at sea. For starters, there were no gusts of wind to carry their ship, no breezes to feel against one’s face. The air down here was stagnant and damp. There were no waves to rock them, no sunlight to warm the wooden deck or moonlight to guide them through the night. The closest equivalent was the ‘star’ of the Arathi, a giant crystal stalactite the locals called Beledar, which switched between light and shadow with little warning and made it hard to feel truly rested. More than once on this trip, Jack had been rudely awakened by the sound of sirens blaring and people shouting orders to take up arms against monsters from the dark. It was less than ideal.

His lack of sleep certainly didn’t help his foul mood, but there were other factors in play that were making it hard for him to function. Back above ground on Scarabs Landing, Jack found solace and stress relief in the boxing ring and in his journaling, but there was no one to spar with here, and little time for solitary musing.

While his back had grown stronger laboring under the Scarabs, he had neglected exercise and entertainment between all his work duties, and he could feel his sharp edge dulling. Sometimes, when he thought about how far he’d managed to fall- from a Lieutenant of the Royal Navy to barely more than a strong set of arms for a bunch of smugglers- it made his temper bubble up like acid in his throat; burning and hard to ignore.

As he finished up his work of repairing a rigging that had been torn on the journey down, he grumbled to himself about his misfortunes. His quiet seething made him jerk the rope with more force than was really necessary. Whoever came behind him to untie the knots he made would have a hell of a time with them. It wasn’t until he turned to stomp off that he noticed someone watching him on the upper deck. It was Captain Pavlov- leaning back in a wooden chair, her boots kicked up on the railing separating them. She had her signature cigarette balanced between two fingers and a pair of half-moon spectacles with darkened lenses hanging on the bridge of her nose. When their eyes met, her head tilted to the side and she took a drag of her smoke. How long had she been there?

Jack didn't stick around to find out. He sulked towards the galley doors to attend to his other tasks and get out from under her gaze. The last time he’d spoken with the Captain was just after his escape from the Dragon Isles, when she convinced him to make his deal with the Scarabs more official; Five years of steady work, of protection, of anonymity. All he had to do was sign on the dotted line, “So I know you’re actually serious,” she’d explained to him while he lay in his infirmary bed.

It wasn’t like he had many other options now. He was a dead man in the eyes of the Alliance, and to return would only mark him as a deserter. Deep down, he was glad for the chance to start over as someone else. Being Jacques Abernathy had become far too complicated. Running away from it all with Sorae was the first choice he’d made in a long time that felt like the right one. Still, the Captain’s lingering looks didn’t exactly make him feel welcome. There was still quite a history between himself and his new employer.

When she looked at him, Jack wondered if Kordya remembered the trouble he’d caused last time he was in her territory, or the faces of those he had inadvertently gotten arrested and hauled off by the Alliance in the raid on Scarabs’ Landing. He certainly never made it easy for them. She must despise him for it, and Jack couldn’t blame her, either. He himself was slow to forgive, and had their positions been reversed, he didn’t think he could stand to be in the same room as her. If Kordya did hate him, it came out in cold stares as an icy disgust– nothing at all like the violent envy of his previous captain. He considered that an improvement, at least.

As he stood under the covered entrance leading inside the galley, Jack went to pull the two halves of the pocket doors apart but was struggling to get them to open. He pulled and pulled, but neither seemed to budge. After a few more tries he managed to tug the left door open, but only by a few inches. Why the hell won’t it open?! He thought to himself. The doors were of Goblin design, made of metal, and inset on some kind of track. They were also stuck, and he was getting madder by the second.

With a loud CLANG, Jack finally forced the doors apart and accidentally lodged one of them inside the wall pocket. Regardless, the entrance was clear and he could go inside the galley now– which he did in a hurry, hoping that no one would be lingering around to laugh at his struggle. He got his wish. There was no one in the kitchen, so he found a seat at an empty table and rested his head in his hands for a moment. A door had gotten the best of him, and it was really just not his day today. A brief respite was all he could afford, but he would savor it. He needed to breathe, to cool down.

The last thing he wanted to hear was a low whistle coming from the open exit.

“Shitfire, son…” Captain Kordya drawled out as she inspected the now-even-more-jammed door. “What’s wrong with you?”

Jack’s defenses were up immediately. “Nothing,” he lied, “That was an accident.”

“I can understand wantin’ to take it out on the Mogu, but this ship never did anything to you, so lay off beatin’ on her too much, aye?”

“Apologies, Captain. The doors were stuck.”

“It’s automatic. Try pushing the button next time.”

Now Jack really did feel like a dumb brute. He ran a hand over his face and sighed into his palm, accepting the reality that there may actually be something wrong with him. It’s not that he didn’t already know, on some level, that the scars Everett left on him were more than skin deep. He had hoped that he might carry his new burdens a little less conspicuously, though.

“Don’t be so hard on yourself, eh? I know things ain’t been easy since… Well, you know. And besides, this place is enough to put anybody on edge.”

He watched her fill up a metal tankard with frothy ale from a mini keg atop the bar as she spoke. “Is that how you take the edge off?” he muttered in her direction.

“It helps,” she replied. “Most of the time. Other times, not so much. But you never know until you try, do you?”

Saying this, she filled a second tankard and walked it over to him, then sat down across from him at the little wooden table he occupied. They shared a drink with no words exchanged. Jack shied away from her prolonged eye-contact on multiple occasions, but that didn’t discourage Kordya from looking. She was definitely sizing him up– trying to read into his expression and agitated exhaustion. What did she want from him? Was he in trouble or not?

“Am I in trouble or not?” he inquired out loud, immediately regretting how infantile it sounded.

The question made her blink a few times, then smirk. “You ain’t in any more trouble here than you’re used to bein’ in. Just talk to maintenance about fixin’ that door, learn you a thing or two about Goblin technology. You’re lucky it didn’t blow up in your face.”

Jack didn’t know what to say. From their previous dealings, he only ever saw Captain Pavlov acting generously when she had something to gain in return. He was hesitant to open up to her, and rightly so.

“Well,” she began, “if it helps, we won’t be down here much longer. Storm convinced me to come trade with these Arathi weirdos. Now we’ve done traded with ‘em. The First Mate can be real convincing, but you already know that, aye? We’ll hit Dornogal on the way out, resupply, see if we can make a quick buck in the city, then it’s back to the Landing. Hopefully the Earthen have more valuables to trade than the Arathi did.”

Cutting off her rambling, Jack suddenly looked up from where he’d been staring into his drink. “Why are you trying to comfort me, Captain? I thought you hated me.”

Kordya cocked an eyebrow as she was interrupted by him. “Hated you? Oh, come on now. You’re not so bad, Jack. A pain in the ass, sure, and a bit of a hot head, maybe, but not hate-worthy.”

He didn’t seem convinced of her backhanded reassurance. They sat in tense silence for a few beats more, before Kordya finally sighed and shrugged him off.

“If you think I hate you because you used to be a sailor, well, I don’t. You were doin’ what you were supposed to do, followin’ orders… but it takes guts to put your foot down and say no, I won’t do this. Trust me, I’ve been there. I think I understand how you’re feelin’.”

“Like hell you do,” he snapped back. “You can’t possibly know what I’m going through, and I don’t need your sympathy, nor do I want it.”

The Captain didn’t entertain his attitude long. One harsh reply was enough for her to call it there. Finishing off her drink, she rolled her eyes at the ex-Lieutenant’s dramatics and stood to leave him to his sulking. “You’ll come around. Fix your face, fix the fuckin’ door, and we’ll be topside before you know it.”

Without much more of a farewell, Kordya turned and left out the same way she’d entered in– through the half-open door he’d broken. Embarrassed, Jack was left alone to think about her assessment of him, and her attempts to connect confused him even more. Was he such a broken thing that he couldn’t accept an olive branch when one was smacking him in the face?

That same acidic self-loathing returned at the back of his throat. He waited for a while to give Kordya a headstart before he rose to leave after her. There was only one person he felt he could relate to on this mission, and it wasn’t the Captain. He was overwhelmed with a desperate desire to talk to them, and so Jack descended into the bowels of the Scarabs’ airship to find Sorae Storm. Perhaps their company would improve his mood.

_______ @stormandozone for character mention

#a scene #jack abernathy #sorae storm

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cfaugust · 1 year ago

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❛❛ eden teach . ❜❜ ― ⚔️ ― entering the multiverse…

verse : descendants (main) [default is arc 003, others by request only]

arc 001 : pre film on the isle. set before the events of the first descendants film. ⌜thieves and beggars⌟.

arc 002 : during films. set at any point during the film series and taking place strictly on the isle of the lost. ⌜hoist the colours⌟.

arc 003 : post descendants 3. set after the events of the series. after the new barrier spell is cast, eden moves her ship to an auradon port. while wary of what this new future may hold, she encourages her crew to make their own choices in their new home. she wants what’s best for all of them, and truly believes the opportunities in auradon may be the way to help them achieve their happy endings. ⌜the seas be ours⌟.

au 001 : villains win au. a decree is made to give four children of the isle a chance, and with it a wicked plan put in place. a wand successfully stolen from the museum. villains freed to take revenge on those who had wronged them. heroes take what they can and run, hiding out for fear of being locked away on the isle of the lost if caught. the children of auradon are spared a life of imprisonment, though are left little more than scraps unless they manage to win favor with the villains and the vks. it is a new dark age for auradon, and one that has no end in sight. ⌜never shall we die⌟.

au 002 : auradon raised au. adopted in infancy by elizabeth and will turner, eden is brought up outside of the barrier in auradon. she’s granted the title of princess of the pirates, as elizabeth is their king, and is a bit softer around the edges than she would’ve been if raised on the isle. which isn’t to say she’s not dangerous. after all, she still carries the blood of the most vicious breed of mermaid known to man, and no one raised by pirates is ever truly soft. ⌜on stranger tides⌟.

verse 002 : fandomless

arc 001 : raised by her mother after a messy divorce in her early childhood, eden has spent most of her life in the water. training religiously to be at the top of her class, she’s an olympic swimmer with more than a couple of medals to her name. ⌜moonlight serenade⌟.

verse 003 : pirates of the caribbean

arc 001 : eden was raised by her mother and the mermaids of whitecap bay, and never once thought to seek out her father. because honestly, fuck that bastard for abandoning her. that said, she does harbor a curiosity towards the world of man. a curiosity rivaled only by her distrust of humans. likely what has led to her strike first and as questions later. but hey, at least that ensures she’ll keep you alive long enough to get the answers. not a common trait amongst the devil fish of whitecap bay. perhaps one day she’ll make her way to land and finally fulfill her need for exploration, but she knows that’ll have to wait until she’s found just the right guide. ⌜power of the sea⌟.

verse 004 : supernatural

arc 001 : a survivalist at heart, eden is a vicious mermaid who will siren song you off a short pier without a second thought. she’s done a fantastic job of flying under the hunter radar so far, only resorting to using her abilities to kill when absolutely necessary. she has no intention of going down easy if ever confronted, so it might just be best to avoid this fish. ⌜hello beastie⌟.

verse : tba

arc/au : tba

verse : tba

arc/au : tba

verse : tba

arc/au : tba

verse : tba

arc/au : tba

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fogaminghub · 5 months ago

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🚀✨ Siren Isle has arrived! From electrifying new mounts to powerful treasures, our ultimate guide will prepare you for your journey in The War Within™. Unravel mysteries, complete quests, and discover all the amazing features that await! 🌊💎

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chaoticrebels · 2 years ago

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Name: Yoichi Asakawa

Alias: Yoi-Chan

Birthday: March 8, 1990

Age: 27 when taken by the entity

Sexuality: Bisexual

Location: The Entity’s Realm, Tokyo

Species: Human

Occupation: Marine Biologist

Height: 5′8″

Weight: 141 lbs

Eye Color: Dark brown

Hair color: Black, sometimes dyed.

Piercings: None

Tattoos: None

Scars: None

Faceclaim: Ryan Potter

Biography

As a child, Yoichi gained an interest in the supernatural from his father and mother when an inexplicable curse claimed both their lives. As an adult, Yoichi graduated with top honors in marine biology from a university in Tokyo, and, following in his father’s footsteps, became the youngest professor in the school’s history. But his career began to unravel when two of his students disappeared while doing research in Izu Oshima. The mere mention of Izu Oshima triggered painful memories from his past. Deep, hidden memories bubbled up from the murky, black depths of his subconscious. Blurred faces on images, twisted mouths, inexplicable deaths suddenly filled his mind. The shouts of people calling him a monster. And then… the monster… Sadako rose from the abyss to let him know the curse was not over. It would never be over.

With a cry, Yoichi shut his eyes and slowly released his fear. When he opened his eyes again, Sadako was gone, but something had returned. Something ominous and otherworldly. He could feel an unnerving presence near him, breathing deeply like the heaving sea. Was Sadako tormenting him? Was a spirit trying to warn him? Or was it something else? Something that consumed people. Something that made people disappear. Yoichi wasn’t sure. He had spent his life trying to understand his psychic abilities and the supernatural. His instincts told him the answers somehow lay with water. He had, after all, dedicated his life to studying intelligent life and unexplored realms within the ocean. Perhaps he needed to readjust his definition of intelligent. Or his definition of life.

Thirsting for truth, Yoichi entered a frenzy of research into the fringes of parapsychology, cryptozoology, theology, folk history. The more he expanded his field of expertise, the more he was ridiculed and ostracized. Once viewed as a brilliant young mind, Yoichi was now considered an eccentric and a liability. In mere months, the university terminated his position. Undeterred, Yoichi sought professorships at other schools, but no reputable college in Japan would take him. As a last resort he approached media outlets, and by some twist of fate, the company where his mother had worked at as a journalist offered to fund his research in exchange for articles and first publishing rights to his story.

During this difficult time, Yoichi's father returned to him—his spirit silently goading him to continue the course he had chosen. And so, working around the clock in his tiny Tokyo apartment, he allied himself with other researchers in the paranormal field. Within months, he came across a story that mirrored the disappearances of his students: four vloggers had mysteriously disappeared near a lighthouse in Scotland. With a great sense of urgency, Yoichi took the first flight he could to Glasgow. A professor at a local university had come to many of the same conclusions as he had nearly seventy years earlier when a film crew disappeared near the very same lighthouse. There was some kind of intelligence in the water—some kind of darkness calling from the sea like an ancient siren. As Yoichi examined the research, his father suddenly appeared to let him know he was on the right path.

Guided by his father, Yoichi chartered a fishing boat and headed toward a small cluster of islands known as the Seven Hunters. Darkness fell as they approached the isles. The lighthouse, now automated and controlled remotely, sputtered and winked out of existence like a dying star. The ocean began to stir violently, lightning flashed, and the fisherman begged Yoichi to turn back, but Yoichi refused. He was too close and would not be deterred. As they argued the ocean raged and tossed the ship high and low. Then one giant wave lifted the boat as high as a house and dashed it to pieces against dark, jagged rocks.

Yoichi didn’t remember much after that. He remembered falling into the water. He remembered swimming to the landing where he saw his father standing on the gallery of the lighthouse beckoning him. He remembered staggering through thick black fog as he climbed the stairs. He remembered the water level rising with every step until the frothing mouth of the raging ocean swallowed him whole.

Perks

Parental Guidance: You have inherited the ability to hear the dead — and now the dead warn you of danger. After stunning the Killer by any means, Parental Guidance suppresses your Scratch Marks, Pools of Blood, and Grunts of Pain for the next 5/6/7 seconds.

Empathic Connection: Your presence psychically projects itself to those in danger. Whenever another survivor is injured, they can see your aura when within 32/64/96 meters of your location. You heal other Survivors 10 % faster.

Boon: Dark Theory: Your obsessive study of the paranormal has given you unprecedented knowledge of other Realms and planes of existence. Press and hold the Active Ability button on a Dull or Hex Totem to bless it and create a Boon Totem. Soft chimes ring out in a radius of 24 meters. All Survivors benefit from the following effects when inside the Boon Totem's radius: 2 % Haste Status Effect. This effect lingers for 2/3/4 seconds after leaving the Boon Totem's range. Only one Totem can be blessed by your Boon Perks at a time and all of their effects are active on the same Boon Totem.

#☯ 。゜ ⠀ ☆ ⠀ 。゜ ⠀ ★ 𝙁𝙄𝙇𝙀𝘿 𝙐𝙉𝘿𝙀𝙍 ﹕Yoichi

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leading-with-the-heart · 5 months ago

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[Greet the world with open arms: a motto not his, but one that he followed as one would a guiding light at the darkest corners of the sky. Flickering and fading at times, but never extinguished. It was all he could do to hold on to those moments of peace, the calm before the storm, before the drop of morals and absence. He wonders what it might have been like had he survived. Would things be much different? He would have been as torn as the one who now held his former title, guiding his former crew back home]

"What's your name, friend?" [Odysseus asks, taking the initiative to sit across the cloaked figure, taking note of the blindfold and guessing a few times what may be hidden underneath the cloth. They were somewhat spooky, different from the rest in a way Odysseus couldn't quite place. His own voice is familiar to the peophet, but it lacks the melodic undertone of a certain siren that often sat at the isle]

[Wandering few underworld was... an experience. Fron the tortured souls of friend and foe, to the fleeting image of a winged messenger guiding spirits, the rivers he dared not drink from. It was all so different than the war and bloodshed, yet so similar at the same time. Like the chaos to peace; intertwined in definition, yet never together]

[When he stumbled across the island, seeing the still figure atop it, he didn't know what to think. Wading through the Lethe to reach the shore, his sandals met the sand with a nearly inaudible notification of his presence. The former captain debated turning back as not all souls were friendly: but this one was quiet, unlike the screams and sobs of others. They didn't carry the same detering presence]

"Hey there!" [Odysseus calls to the cloak-clad figure, briefly letting his eyes linger on their staff]

ooc: hm...I wonder who runs this blog? /silly

[ it had been too long since the first note of the prophecy, and it had been far too numerous that the same notes were changed, one after the other, slaving away to build a new story for the men who were destined never to return home. It had been too long since they were brought into the company of the Moirai, and it had been far too numerous that they had been brought forth again many times after. It had been far too long since they bothered to watch their faltering journey, and it had been far too numerous times of bloodshed and mournful anger that they had stumbled into. It had been far too long, and there was more of everything they hadn’t wished to know than they could count, and time was starting to take its toll ]

[ they knew of many souls who wandered down wearily to the depths of the underworld, forsaken and tortured, destined and doomed. Every moment of every life was clear and open, awaiting their fate to bound their soul. Sometimes it was tied to a prophecy, often times it led alone. No matter how they ended up down here, nearly all were the same. They were lucky to have been torn away from the wretched shades’ screams, many would pay to be long far gone away from that, but a part of them missed it, for it was many who they had known and loved who resided there, whose screams and sobs they wished to soothe. Still, even in death they had a duty to fulfill, and one such calling of a voice tugged them back to the realm of the land they worked so deeply to forget ]

“Γεια.”

#ooc: I knew I might know who runs this blog simply from the intro post layout and the mood board /silly /gen #Is it you? /silly /ref #<- *takes mask off* I am not the mer you fell in love with /silly /ref #It is just-a-mer's mod :D /gen #sarang; lost soul

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aroaessidhe · 3 years ago

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Queerplatonic book recs, that actually have QPRs, inspired by me seeing someone listing qpr books that were literally just queer people being friends 🤦‍♀️

These all have the main characters in queerplatonic relationships, explicitly/unambiguously in a lot of cases - though actually I have added a few more that are more vague/word of god. but still more qpr-ish than anything else

The Thread That Binds

solarpunk-fantasy about queer bookbinding witches, 2/3 MCs are an aroace & an ace in a QPR

Baker Thief

superhero fantasy with a bigender aromantic superhero / demisexual woman QPR

Not Even Bones

YA supernatural trilogy where the main characters initially seem to be developing a romantic relationship, but eventually realise in the final book neither actually feel that way, and settle into more or less a QPR (without labels, but it’s pretty clear). There’s a webtoon adaptation of this, and while it still doesn’t label them in the dialogue it does in the author’s note of the relevant episodes

Two Dark Moons

YA fantasy where an arospec girl & ace lizard kid accidentally get fantasy-married & develop a friendship/qpr

The Wolf Among The Wild Hunt

dark fantasy novella with an aroace wolfman & nonbinary knight qpr

Our Bloody Pearl

NA fantasy with a siren & ace pirate, originally marketed as a romance, but it is pretty much a qpr and that’s what the author intended!

The Reckless Kind

historical YA with an aspec girl becoming a family with her best friend and his boyfriend

Fire Becomes Her

YA, 1920s inspired fantasy world, demiro girl breaks free of her relationship and instead ends up in a QPR with a nonbinary transmasc ace.

If It Makes You Happy

YA contemporary about a girl navigating her queerplatonic relationship with her best friend, and a possible new romantic relationship.

Royal Rescue

high fantasy with an amatonormative royal marriage system, where the aroace MC has had enough, rescues himself, and starts to dismantle the system, finding a QPR on the way

The Heretic’s Guide To Homecoming (duology)

slow introspective high fantasy following two characters on a journey, doesn’t explicitly have them define their relationship in a QPR-like way, but undeniably focuses on complex platonic relationships and narratives & I think it’s satisfying if you’re looking for that

Natural Outlaws and Fractured Sovereignty

NA dark fantasy/heist-ish story, Aro bi & allo MCs who become a QPR

Until The Last Petal Falls

fantasy novella, Nigerian beauty & the beast retelling with two aroace MCs who form a QPR

Lays of the Hearth-Fire (Hands of the Emperor, At The Feet of the Sun)

slow character-focused high fantasy duology (so far) about a . in book two their relationship develops into something akin to a QPR - there’s an in-universe name for it. it’s discussed and defined a lot.

Lord of the Empty Isles

scifi/fantasy adventure centering platonic relationships with no romance - the central relationship is marketed as a QPR though to me personally it reads as a platonic relationship with nothing specifically or explicitly QPR about it. but maybe others feel differently

Compound Fracture

YA thriller/horror, the MC has a light subplot of figuring out he’s aromanticism, and in the epilogue it’s mentioned that he might potentially be interested in a QPR with another character he became closer to in the book (so, adjacent)

The Spider and her Demons

YA paranormal. another one that’s not explicit, but the MC is pretty heavily aroacespec coded, and the main relationship develops in a very is-this-platonic-is-it-romantic-sapphic-aspec way. the author is aroace and says they consider it a QPR

D.I.Y

short story, the author labels them as a QPR though it’s not explicitly discussed

By Your Side

short story about a bi girl discussing and entering a QPR with her aromantic friend.

In The Jaws of an Oak

horror/erotica novella - I haven’t seen this called a QPR but I kinda interpret it as such? it’s romantic on one side, but one MC is aromantic and it’s made clear she doesn’t feel romantic feelings, just sex+companionship.

Archivist Wasp / Firebreak

honorable mention because i love them - all of the nicole kornher-stace’s works focus on platonic m/f relationships in a very aspec way, and have absolutely no romance anywhere. one of the central relationships is very much platonic soulmates/ qpr vibes (postapoc ghosty sci-fi/fantasy YA & dystopian anticapitalism)

#queerplatonic books #aromantic books #aromantic #ace week #laya talks

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grasswrym · 2 years ago

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pale white horse + where is your rider is about limited life martyn from scott's pov

AKA, I go insane and assign lyrics to block game and probably stretch the meaning too far lmao

"down they fell like the tower as the land relinquished her ghost"? totally about how they spawned in and the boogeyman mechanic kicked into play.

"Heed the sirens, take shelter", "flee the fire that devours", "but the sight held me fixed"? the sirens are the countdown to boogeyman that both scott and martyn succumbed to on day 1.

"neither plague nor famine temper my courage" i mean, martyn and scott stood together in the face of everything. Scott was target #1 for like two sessions and yet only went down to martyn at his request. they did not falter at any point.

"a pale white horse with a crooked smile, and I knew it was my time" martyn's skin was pale from being red, but he was still a silly goofy guy through it. Scott probably didn't know martyn would kill him for the win, but time and limited life go hand in hand.

"a raging storm of a foreign war, a face i'd seen before" Martyn literally wore the banner of Dogwarts, a war fought 3 seasons ago. Scott would've seen the Hand fighting on the opposite side of the battlefield.

(other song under the cut because this is long and i dont want to clog the tag)

"Was it you 'mid the fire and the ember? Were you there to bedevil and beguile?" Scott died to lava and a traitor, having literally been tricked into removing his armor by Martyn.

"See, your face wasn't quite as I remember, but I know that wicked shape to your smile" similar to above, Scott is used to seeing Mean Gill, pirate martyn, but the banner and the bloodshed would have reminded him of the Hand. One can assume he was making a similar facial expression during battle.

"So bury me as it pleases you, lover, at sea, or deep within the catacomb" I feel like being buried at sea is self-explanatory for a dying Mean Gill

"But these bones never rested while living, so how can they stand to languish in repose?" Scott, having been the target of a hunt more than a few times, would not have gotten much in the way of downtime.

"He has thrown down the cavalry as gravel sinks and as the stone founders underneath the sundered sea of red and reed" Primarily focused on the later half here, the isle was decimated by the time Martyn killed Scott. Several people died in those waters- Scott killed pearl not long before. It was certainly red.

"The shadow of Hades is fading for he has cast down Leviathan, the tyrant, and the horse and rider" Martyn was a force this season. I believe he is tied for most kills. He was a force of nature, much like Leviathan. This one is a stretch lmao

"Where is your rider? Where is your rider?" Listen. Hear me out. This is Scott asking why Martyn snapped at the end. Martyn is an unguided hand, a explosion of fury, an untamed horse. His rider, who had in the past seasons been his ally both secret and not, was not present this go of things. Ren was not there. Scott was never going to be able to exact the loyalty Ren had.

"He will hold with all of his might the armies of night still as boulders laid to the side 'til we pass by" Ren was able to hold back Martyn. He could restrain him, guide him. Scott couldn't.

"He has hoisted out of the mire every child so lift your voice with timbrel and lyre" As Scott died, he would have heard Martyn yelling his speech about it being a death game. Toward the end, his voice had gotten quite loud.

"We will abide, we will abide, we will abide" At the end, Scott accepted what Martyn did. He was glad his Mean Gill won. He will abide.

look i know im insane ok but this has been on my mind literally since the final episode dropped i needed to get this out to the public

#scott smajor #inthelittlewood #limited life #trafficblr #LOOK. I KNOW I AM ILL. LET ME HAVE THIS

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thrpr0phetuseek · 6 months ago

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“Of course friend, thank you. And if you ever request a familiar face or are in need of a home to come back to at the end of the day, you are always welcome at my isle; the rivers will guide you and I will meet you at the rocky shores if you ever so please.”

[*he pauses, pulling out a little shell charm and working quickly to braid it into the siren’s hair, pulling back with a warm smile*]

“A gift from my grandson, before he left. I never got to return it to him before my— ₚₐₛₛᵢₙg —but I believe he would’ve wanted you to have it. He always was so fond of the sea, and the stories I told him of you.”

“Wily siren, I wanted to speak with you. If you do not mind, of course. But first, would it be too much of an ask for a hug? Although not the real king, the sight of him and your heartfelt actions reminds me greatly of a young boy I once knew.”

— (@thrpr0phetuseek

Odysseus is silent for a moment, scanning the prophet's face. He knows of the siren, and he knows of the oracle, yet this interaction is different than the first. "I don't see why not, though I am unable to join you on land." Odysseus opens his arms, offering Tiresias an embrace.

Something urges him to inquire about the prophet's statement of him not being the real king, but he decides against it, waiting instead for Tiresias to speak.

#ooc: aw I wanna hug Tiresias so bad 🫂#<- I wanna hug siren!ody he’s so sweet!!! 🥹#epic rp #tiresias rp #their friendship is the best thing ever #so here for this #Tir Needs some friend fs #a home 🥹 for the siren 🥹😭

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annoying-probably · 3 years ago

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"Ah? You're not familiar with the deities? I thought every house taught em.. Ah, well each to their own. You wanna know? Well, I only gotta bit of knowledge so listen close, little one..

For those who chose to believe, or those who chose to not, here are myths of those who control this land.

As some would call them...

Your Gods..."

Lady of the Fire and Passion, MEIKO.

(image from the song cover of 'Wintry Winds' by hinayukki@shigotoshite P)

Lady MEIKO is one who reaches out to very few people, on account only those who has either needed more courage or to praise those with mountains of it. She is that of a guiding deity, wishing to bring those into knowledge of their true passion and power. She appears to those within the form of dance flames, testing their courage before giving them her presence. Nobody speaks of what occurs after seeing the 'Figure of the Fire.'

KAITO, Sir of Ice, Snow and Journeys.

(Art is from 'Snowman' by halyosy.)

Kaito only seems to appear to people within the far, snowy north regions. Most who tend to venture into the north areas like Kuyi, The Jikan Northland's, the Isle of Dian and the Island of Marn. While appearing commonly, he seems to have a habit to appear before those on some form of quest. From accounts, he tries to help them along as much as he can. Some describe him like a caring parent. KAITO is said to materialize in the middle of snow storms, with him being within the eye of the storm. The snow will blow into the centre, before forming into the shape of the Sir of Snow himself. Many accounts back these claims.

Mistress of the Sirens and the Deep Dark, Megurine Luka.

(art about 'The Little Mermaid' by 4124 and 紅月満.)

The Mistress of the the sea is just that, a sea spirit. While she is most commonly viewed as a ruler of the waters, she is seen occasionally to the land folk. Her title is used usually to play into the water and the unknown, however, Luka is known to appear to people locking away their own emotions. She is a caring yet cold spirit, tending to appear to a person multiple times until she feels her goal has been achieved. Those who have won the favour of her usually walk away with some gift, usually to call upon her in a time of great need.

Trickster of the Night, Kagamine Len, of Trickery and Foolishness.

(art from the 'Dream Eating Monochrome Baku' by Nem.)

Compared to other deity's, Len seems to be a strange case. Len tends to only be accounted to appearing within dreams of others. He draws people into dreams about the deepest desires, even if they're unknown to the dreamer, urging them to act it out, to see it in action. Nobody truly knows if he means malice by this, it could be for his enjoyment or for true benefit of the people he toys with.

The Pixie of Moonlight and Joy, Kagamine Rin.

Much like her other nightly counterpart, Rin is a God fueled by impulsiveness and fun. She appears to those on bright nights filled with moonlight, some describing it like a shooting star falling to their window. She is able to tap into a normal persons impulsiveness and need for joy and humour. She will help anyone she wants to the best of her abilities, usually only ending in fulfilled dreams or mild felonies.

The Overseer, Hatsune Miku, The Sound of the Future.

(art from 'The Creation Myth of Hatsune Miku.' by cosMo@BousouP)

While all the creators are known for giving something to the world, Miku is known for the gift of the first song which brought life to the deadlands. She hasn't been seen this performance with her friends, yet her image is preserved the ages. Some speculate she walks the mortal realm in other Unknown forms.

Among small circles, scholars of the divine speak whispers that perhaps the deities of the land are searching for divine disciples, ot they already walk among us.

#prsk #project sekai #project sekai colorful stage #home;prsk fantasy au #prsk fantasy au #hatsune miku #kagamine rin #kagamine len #luka megurine #kaito vocaloid #meiko vocaloid

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