"Before I die, chirugeon, I request you give this soul-crystal to my child."
Summers later...
Enough of everyone’s crap, no one gives a damn...
I’ll show em... I’ll be someone that everyone listens to…
Someone who holds their head higher than all the rest!“
Shout out to @meepsthemiqo for giving me some useful advice putting together this big story-screenset. Pretty much the catalyst of it all, Page 1 being brought to life in living color.
The alternative universe of the mafia where you serve as the heir of the infamous 'Solaire'.
Lust Royale is an original NCT series written by prodbymaui. The release dates are scheduled to start by the beginning of July.
Copying, translating, re-posting and rewriting the following works in any form is strictly prohibited unless given permission to do so.
OVERVIEW: In the world of mafia, things would never go according to one's plan. As an heir to the mafia group who had been at the top of the game since the beginning, Solaire's made sure to pull out and use all their assets to protect the rising soon to be kingpin. All guards up to prevent being indifferent to the dangers of what the consequences of their plans may be.
Because unbeknownst to most players; In this game, evil is hidden everywhere-- in plain sight. Driven by greed as they try to conquer everything their eyes gazes at, may it be simple equipments, or a whole organization. People in this area-- they like to be ambitious. A person might be smiling at you genuinely today, but the next thing you know? You will be meeting your downfall in the hands of the exact same person.
TAGLIST: send an ask to be added..
01: MISTIMED
SYNOPSIS: Being an assassin, it was already expected for love to be seen as a weakness in Yuta's field of work. Therefore, if you find yourself falling in love-- might as well dig your lover's and your own grave because no enemy would pass the chance of sabotaging any glimpse of happiness, especially in the mafia world.
Despite first-hand witnessing the outcome of being in love-- The faceless grim reaper finds himself risking the chance of exposing his identity for the sake of catching the sight of this mysterious woman dawned in her blood red dress.
Coming soon..
02: UNMASKED
SYNOPSIS: You should've figured out the man the moment he stepped inside your headquarters. You should've found out he's nothing but a threat to the organization. As he stood before you, not as an ally but as a spy-- you felt stupid for letting your guards down and showing your vulnerable side. You should've known.
Because now, you have to battle with these crumbling, weakening feeling of love. All the while, Haechan is out there, determined to kill you with his bare hands.
Coming soon..
03: LIONHEART
SYNOPSIS: You were cruel, merciless, and ruthless. Unforgiving to those who had wrong you, ensuring to make them pay trice the amount of what they owe. The lack of empathy towards other people was one thing Mark could've used to dislike, or even loathe, you.
However, as he watches you cut the tongues of the men who murdered Song Jaesoo in half-- Mark finds himself grateful to your father for hiring and trusting him to serve as your right hand.
Coming soon..
04: BOUNDARIES
SYNOPSIS: In a midst of chaos and danger, you found yourself stuck between the forbidden love your father had warned you about several times and your responsibilities as the successor of the great Song Jaesoo.
Would you rather focus on your goals of revenging your late father to continue his legacy? Or would you finally give in and taste the freedom of being with someone whom you truly love?
hello all! this has pretty much become a dead account mostly due to the fact that the fandom does not feel like a community that is good for me anymore, but i wanted to respond to my close mutuals who continue to tag me in posts about writing and music
i'm going to be sharing old drafts, forgotten wips, and dead works that will likely never be finished. first up? hindsight, part 1. a fic that i started right after sam and david's phone call and raced to finish, but ran out of time before the next video came out:
“Thank you,” came the voice through the phone, deep and rough.
The line clicked off. Sam stared at his screen for a moment, unsure of his next move. He had agreed to meet David tonight and he felt everything in his body tell him to do the exact opposite. This wasn’t his fight, despite everything he may harbor against Quinn. The vendetta was Darlin’s and now Sam was neck deep in shit he never wanted to be a part of.
His eyes drifted away from his phone and towards a sleeping Darlin, who was still peacefully tucked under their sheets. Sam shouldn’t have stayed, really. He only came to make sure Darlin was still breathing and not bleeding out again after the shifter neglected to answer Sam’s calls. The two of them talked for a while, then one thing led to another, and suddenly Darlin’s hand was curling around his wrist asking him to stay. Sam took one look at them and caved.
The newborns were making him soft.
Sam could see the slightest breaks of dawn through Darlin’s bedroom curtains and knew he had to go, or else he’d be trapped here all day. With a soft farewell touch to Darlin’s cheek, Sam pulled on his boots and headed for the door, triple checking the lock and wards before leaving.
He had to speed back to WonderWorld to avoid the sun, which meant the typical hour-long walk from Darlin’s place to the amusement park was completed in a matter of minutes. Sam arrived to see two curious newborns waiting for him, both talking quietly before noticing his arrival.
They both questioned where he had been and Sam politely remindedminded the newborns that he was the Maker here, not them. His locations didn’t need to be closely monitored by someone who wasn’t in the bloodlust phase, theirs did. That fact quickly made Fred’s nervous ramblings come to a halt, but Sam wasn’t so lucky with Bright. The stubborn one always pushed a little more than Sam liked.
“So you’re not gonna tell us why you smell like a wet dog?” Bright questioned, coming to walk backwards in front of Sam in order to keep eye contact with him. “Or why Vincent’s become our babysitter for the past month?”
Sam pointed his finger at them, trying his best to be stern through his exhaustion from speeding to the park. “Vincent owes me, that’s why. The rest isn’t your business, kid.”
Bright huffed and turned away.
Sam was antsy all day. He tried to get work done, but his mind wouldn’t let the thought of meeting David Shaw go. The alpha had a strong reputation in Dahlia and his pact with William went back years. The Solaire clan knew their bounds with the Shaw pack, and yet, Sam was testing them. He had been crossing the line the night Darlin gave him the address to their apartment and he stepped through the threshold to heal them. Under the agreements of the pact, David had every right to rip Sam a new one.
tw : implied torture, mentions of blood // what if…
Quinn had snatched Tank right from under everyone’s noses. It had taken days to find them— even with them all working together. They didn’t give up, though- wouldn’t give up. Couldn’t. Tanker was family. No one could deny that.
So, together they found them. Shaw pack, Keaton pack, the Solaire clan. The second Vincent Solaire came bursting in the room, screaming he’d finally found them, everyone got in their vehicles and floored it.
And even though a lot- if not all - driving laws were being broken, it still took 2 hours to get there. It was a remote place out in the middle of nowhere; the house itself was decrepit, probably as old as Quinn. While the vamps sped around making sure the outside was clear, the wolves busted down the door and cleared the interior.
As a group, they all ran down to the basement and found Tank chained to a wall by their wrists. There was blood everywhere, even if not all of it was theirs- but it was hard to tell where all of their blood was coming from. There were cuts and bruises all over their body.
"Darlin!"
With adrenaline pumping and nerves shot, nobody even noticed at first. It was just shouts and a few tears and 'oh thank fuck, they're breathing'. The Keaton pack searched the room for the chain lock key and maybe a few rags to wipe off all the blood while the rest stood around Tanker; they were breathing, yeah, but they weren't moving.
That's when a gasp tore from David's throat, "Oh god..."
Everyone snapped their heads towards him, half with their hearts dropped even lower and half ready to kill someone if need be, but all they saw was his panicked expression- he'd lost all his color.
"Their aura...it's..."
Silence filled the room as it slowly dawned on everyone. Before anything could be said, however, the chains raddled when Tank twitched. Their eyes fluttered and opened slowly.
Redacted ASMR but I assign each boi* a song by one of my favorite bands (The Oh Hellos)
*and a listener
Staring off with everyone’s beloved shifters, The Shaw Pack:
David is Hello My Old Heart
For Asher, I chose to go with Like the Dawn
Mr. Milo Greer gets Notos
(Bonus: Darlin’s song is Thus Always to Tyrants)
Up next are the Solaire vampires we all know and love:
The song that I think fits Vincent is In Memoriam
Our very special cowboy, Sam, gets to have Exeunt
The song for William, who deserves so much more attention than I’ve given him so far, is Caesar
My personal favorite, the D.A.M.N crew:
Huxley’s I knew before any of the others, and it’s Grow
The song that I think fits Damien is Boreas (one of the ones I love most)
For Lasko, I chose Hieroglyphs
Gavin gets Glowing, because I think it suits him even though I can’t say exactly why. (It’s a favorite too.)
Some others:
Avior’s song is Cold is the Night
Caelum gets A Convocation of Fauns (A Faunvocation, If You Will) just because I think it’s happy and fun and he would like the title. (It’s also one of the best interludes.)
anyways, here’s a scene that i’ll never make into a full fic.
you can also read here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/46119334
wc: 740
The two men gripped the wooden dining table. The dark oak groaned under the strain of the strength in their fingertips. Their chests heaved out of sync as Adam laughed that awful laugh.
His vicious gaze met the steel that lived in Vincent’s iris’s. “Go on, Vincent, tell them. tell them about the Inversion and their mortal, life ending wound” Adam sneered, a harsh smile bared his unnaturally sharp fangs.
Lovely’s brows furrowed, their eyes flicked uneasily and frantically between the two men. Their breathing was uneven, and if their heart did beat, they were sure it’d be in thrumming in their throat.
“Tell me what?” The silence that followed for a brief moment pounded in their ears. They fixed their gaze on their love. He wouldn’t meet their eyes, instead, choosing to keep his eyes on Adam. The lack of a response made the hair on their arm stand up.
Their tone rippled, taking on an almost desperate tone. “Tell me what Vincent?” They repeated once more.
He moved his gaze down to the table, noting a slight dent from one of the first dinners he attended. His own heart would have also hammered in his chest. Vincent sighed, knowing exactly what was going to happen once he admitted it. “The wound.”
He cringed internally, the words losing the grit he wanted them to have. His eyes flicked up to the ceiling, but not before taking note of the smug look on the antagonistic vampire’s face. Said vampire crossed his arms over his chest, a triumphant look on his face that made Vincent really want to beat the shit out of.
“Vincent,” Sam began quietly, the cold familiar dread seeping into his bones, “What about the wound?” As he examined a man he considered his brother, Sam Collins got the distinct and horrible feeling that what Vincent was going to admit would completely alter the course of part of the Solaire Clan dynamic, as well as completely ruin the relationships he had with his partner, and Sam himself.
Vincent took a sharp breath, chest shuddering slightly. His voice failed him as he spoke in a low volume. No need to say it loudly when they could all hear a pin drop from a mile away. “When the Shade, when they…” He struggled and the dawning horror that overtook the formal dining room was palpable. “Your chest,” he motioned to the faint scar that had made a snug home on his love’s chest, “It wasn’t actually fatal like we thought.” The words were bitter, but it was all his fault anyways.
The tension threatened to smother the three as Adam watched, his face taut with an ever wider, crueler, triumphant grin. Silence blanketed the room, and he strolled over to Vincent, who refused to look at Lovely. Placing a faux sympathetic hand on the vamp’s shoulder, he whispered into his ear.
“Oh so sorry to hear that you lied. Good luck with the aftershocks.” The three heard his laughter ringing in their ears for a solid minute.
Lovely blinked, their lashes fluttering rapidly as their mind raced to digest the chalky confession from their lover. He lied. The man they chose to bypass death for, the man they suffered through a hellish newborn phase, the man they lost their power for, lied. Hot tears welled up into their eyes, their chest spluttering and heaving. Quiet sobs turned to full wailing as they sunk onto the plush velvety carpet.
The tears that spilled from their eyes burned their cheeks. The heaving sobs that left their chest haunted Vincent. The full weight of his confession slammed into them, pulling them into the riptide. They gasped for air, grief choking their lungs and for a brief moment, they wished it was their own blood. On the floor, they curled in on themselves, a hand around their abdomen and one over their mouth in a pitiful attempt to stifle the sounds that echoed in the men’s ears.
Sam stood there frozen, eyes wide and he’s not sure about the last time he took a breath over the previous hour. Every nerve in his body screamed at him, his muscles felt fatigued from the tension that overtook him. He felt sick, and briefly wondered how sick Lovely was feeling. He looked at the wailing vampire on the floor, then back up at Vincent, who still wasn’t looking at them. What was he supposed to do?
The Cam/William meet cute... because they both need happiness and I can’t resist a rare pair!
Cam has been going to the same spot to stargaze. It just happens to be the rooftop of one of William Solaire’s buildings where he also likes to stargaze.
tags: light angst, mostly cute as shit
Stargazing
Camelopardalis had found the best spot in Dahlia. It was a corner on the rooftop of the highest building. At night the stars were so bright he could almost feel their warmth and at dawn, he could see all the way across Dahlia, to the east where the sun rose up over the mountains and treetops out there. It was beautiful and sometimes, particularly after long days, he needed something beautiful.
The only problem with his spot, was that it wasn’t really his. It wasn’t public. Humans had a thing about public spaces versus private spaces. They liked to own things and weren’t always big on sharing. It made it particularly lovely when they did share with each other, but he wasn’t sure he wanted to risk losing the spot by officially asking. So he didn’t ask.
He didn’t really materialize either, so it was okay, right? It’s not like he was trespassing if he stayed veiled. Even if the other man was there sometimes. As long as he didn’t know—as long as he wasn’t bothering anyone—it was okay to visit sometimes, right?
The other man never stayed until dawn—he couldn’t. But he came sometimes to look at the stars. He even had a bench there where he sat every time. Lately he’d been visiting more and more often.
Cam worried he was having a rough time, because that was why Cam visited sometimes, but when he reached out to take a peek at the stranger’s aura, he found nothing out of sorts. In fact, it was so calm and so peaceful that Cam forgot the stars for a long while. It wasn’t until he rose to leave before dawn that Cam realized he’d been staring.
He might have blushed and definitely would have apologized if the vampire could have seen him staring. So rude. He was grateful for the veil. But when he watched the sun rise that morning, he was still thinking about that aura and the similarities to sunlight in those threads.
-
William used to come to this spot to watch the stars.
It was the best view in the city and it was all his. He owned the building and had had the bench placed just there so that he could stargaze…and sometimes see those first rays of day. It was his private little spot. He had it all to himself.
And then he didn’t have it all to himself and he started going just to see the daemon. There was only an hour at most that their time on the rooftop overlapped before William had to leave. Every time, he hoped the other man enjoyed the sunrise.
He knew the daemon did not realize he could sense him through the veil. It wasn’t a common gift among his kind and had developed with age. The magical world had a feel to it. He could not have missed this daemon standing on his rooftop, leaning against the concrete lip and sometimes even sitting on it.
One night, when the daemon stared at him, William almost gave up the polite ruse of not noticing—almost looked back.
He wondered all day about why he hadn’t. Why not tell the daemon he could see him? He could make it clear that he was welcome to visit the sight as he pleased. But there was still the chance he would stop. As long as they did not see one another, they had the illusion of privacy. They each had the spot to themselves. William hesitated to risk that for this daemon.
And then one night when he was sitting on his bench, watching the stars glimmer and glint, his daemon arrived. His shoulders sagged and his body slumped against the wall, still veiled and visible like ripples of light to his eye. The daemon dragged a breath and slumped down the wall, knees to his chest.
He was crying.
William looked directly at him for long seconds before forcing his gaze back to the sky. He wanted to say something. He needed to comfort this man. But if he confronted him now, he might leave and never come back.
The daemon dragged a deep breath, eyes closed and mouth moving. William couldn’t hear him through the veil, couldn’t even see him in more than whisps of light.
William couldn’t take it. “My friend?” he spoke gently, hoping not to startle him into rifting away. He rose slowly. Could the daemon hear him? He wasn’t entirely sure how veils worked on their end. He took a tentative step closer, offering his hand. He saw the moment the daemon realized he was moving toward him—that he saw him. His head snapped up and body turned fully to face William. He saw him much more clearly in that moment, still whisps of lights but he could finally look directly at him. Surprise, confusion, and humiliation flared across the daemon’s features in succession.
William smiled gently and offered his hand, hoping the other man would step out of the veil he’d protected himself in and take it.
His gaze flicked down to the hand and then back to William’s face. He reached out slowly, the veil sliding back so that he could be fully in this place with him, unshielded from the human world, and place his hand in William’s.
“Forgive me,” they both began.
William smiled at that, keeping hold of his hand and walking him to the bench. “Sit, please.”
The daemon sighed but sat, not seeming to mind leaving his hand in William’s even when he was seated beside him. “How did you see me?”
William sighed. “Ah. Well, you see, I have been in this world for some time now and become aware of its many layers. Even if you are not entirely materialized, you are still here when you are veiled…”
The daemon seemed to think about that before his eyes widened. “You could always see me here?”
William winced. “I apologize. I should have said something, but it seemed impolite, and I did not think you would come if you knew. I never meant to intrude on your time here, only tonight you were…”
The daemon sighed, nodding and scrubbing the stray tears from his face. “Yes. I’m sorry. I know how humans feel about trespassing. I never meant to be so rude, especially not to…” he waved a hand at himself. “And ruin your evening. This is truly embarrassing.”
William shook his head, gently squeezing the hand he was holding. “Not at all. I have enjoyed your quiet company and knowing that someone was appreciating the sunrise here. It is my favorite spot to stargaze from.”
The daemon sighed and nodded, rubbing another tear away and glancing up toward the stars.
“My name is William,” he offered.
The daemon jumped a little, turning toward him. His lovely inhuman eyes widened. “My apologies. My name is Camelopardalis, but humans often call me Cam.”
William smiled. “Camelopardalis is a beautiful name.”
The daemon squeezed his hand reflexively.
“You are a serenity daemon?”
Cam looked pleasantly surprised, some of that wonder finally pressing away the sadness. “I am.” He huffed a thin laugh. “Not that anyone would guess it tonight…”
William inclined his head—it was as close to a shrug as he could muster. “From what I understand, being a serenity daemon does not mean you feel nothing but serene. Life hurts us all sometimes.”
Cam stared at him curiously, took a deep breath and let it go with a nod. “Life hurts,” he agreed.
William wished very much that it hadn’t hurt this particular daemon though. “Would you like to talk about it?”
“Oh, I can’t impose any more than I already have. Thank you for your kindness but I should leave you to your evening—”
“Please,” William smiled. “As I said, I have a long life and many nights to look at the stars. Tonight, I would be happy to speak with some.” They were still holding hands, both turned sideways on the bench to face one another, Cam’s knee brushing William’s thigh. “Some things can not be changed, but sometimes it helps to tell someone about them.”
Cam exhaled another thin laugh, tears shimmering in his eyes though he was smiling now. “You know, I’ve said that to people so many times but I’ve never had anyone say it to me…”
William gently urged him on and was rewarded with Camelopardalis’s story. He worked for the department as well as tending to his own charges. He had been on Elegy for almost as long as William had been alive and though he was happy with his work, with his choices to help, it weighed on him sometimes—on days like this one where things just seemed too painful. The whole time he was explaining his feelings, he was also reassuring William it would be fine, that it always was, he just needed to take a moment and see it again.
William held his hand in both of his, stroking his thumb against the back of the daemon’s knuckles gently. He relaxed as he spoke, sharing his burden with someone. And William was happy to listen. Camelopardalis was fascinating and kind, and he suspected he could listen to him for hours on end. Unfortunately, he could feel the sun nearing the horizon even though the sky had yet to begin to shift from darkness into those first lighter shades of dawn.
Cam’s hand moved in his and suddenly the daemon was holding his rather than the other way around. “I am so sorry to have taken up your whole evening, but thank you so much for listening.”
William smiled. “I hope you will come again, my friend. If you decide to veil yourself, I will respect that as you wishing to spend your time here alone, but know that you are certainly welcome to sit beside him next time too.” He did not want to go. For the first time in a very long time, he was tempted to see the sunrise.
Camelopardalis rose to walk him to the door, as if he too knew the sun was coming and would not chance it. “Do you have far to go, William?”
He liked the sound of his name in the daemon’s mouth. “Not at all. Enjoy the sunrise.”
Cam nodded, looking down at their hands and smiling curiously, like he too was loath to let go and surprised by it. “Thank you,” he said again, finally letting go.
Reference ~ Chapter One ~ ♪ "Violet" ♪
Heavy downpour of rain cascaded down below weeping skies, trembling with aches roaring amongst Othard city-scape. This story is gray, from time; before…
When they first met.
Softly a footstep rippled against a puddle left in aftermath. Until arriving indoors to an inner-sanctum, where native magpies chirped happily. Eastern-garbed Seeker blindfolded, but not senseless as one of the swarming envoy magpie flew above dropped a contract that would forever change the course of history, his hands-skillfully swiped.
This particular individual served within an elite-group of assassins known as Black Miracles, underground where secrets are bred in a shadow organization. Specially-lethally designed to exterminate or hunt; mankind. Often they solved-plights that Doma citizens sought fortune with mere whispers, a jar was created in the space-and-void thought barren of nothing; and sometimes remedy and salvation was granted as alternative fortune.
Duzan-tai-gachi, a foretelling katana, rumors said it could cut-through-anything; was stolen by treacherous pirates stowing near a coast in Ruby Seas, a crucial weapon for arms, The Far East would need to further utilize in their efforts against the Imperial-noose in this period.
Fingers-done tracing the braille, understood. Vanishing like fellow-air, his excelling reflexes, heard and moved gracefully not even droplets of rain stood a chance to drench him or deter his pace. Overlooking a cliff where the treacherous sea-vessel took station under canopies of tree-shade; leafs blown taken from creaking branches.
A small-pixie companion peeked her-eyes out of his sleeve and gave a yawn! Awakening, Flicker, who acted as his ‘Sight’ for bound-style.
His-motionless tone and verbiage simplistically gave volume, “How many signatures do you detect below?” Commanding an estimate.
She peered-forth and squinted, her eyes-zooming inward, aether dancing-around them, creating a distinct aura. As she began counting them… Something odd-occurred, never happening prior that frightened, even the magical-being.
The fluttering pixie had eyes-dart back at her of powerful brilliant-violets orbs. “T-t-there’s someone unique in there! They perceived my snooping! I counted a hundred-thirty-nine; before seen Master!” It could be worrying that his own outline was seen back. Most would derail from this mission, dangerous to advance.
Emotionless discarded and donning a mask. “Very well. I’ll just have to slaughter them before they anticipate further thoughts.” There wasn’t any maliciousness in conveying, killing was nothing more than breathing.
He pricked a thumb and swiped it across a scroll quickly, and a Hingashi Kite appeared. Gale-winds of the storm, tempest were felt in not only the perception of his incredible-Miqo'te genes, but analyzing when to act with timing and trajectory.
Laughing drunk freebooters on the deck were festively continuing their putrid vices. Descending and atop them with a shadow-drop, they saw a kite above. Before their eyes-caught up, the lights dimmed out, he let himself go from the kite’s handles, and was on their table, kunai-knives, needles and strong-tempered wire linked to those projectiles, swept underneath his sleeves from various directions, piercing their throats, jugulars, every vital and alongside, severing them.
A curvaceous courtesan who was getting rowdy sea-dog drinks walked upon poor time, she saw crimson ichor being washed away, the rain was frighteningly his accomplice, the puddle-of-red reflected his true murder-design. She couldn’t bellow aloud, a death-palm wrapped around her mouth, another callous-leather-gloved hand squeezing around her throat, tight-too-much-so. Expression's fear wrinkled her facially… Then… absence, null, but silent-peace, strangled and manhandled.
He was just a loyal-bound blade of servitude, no attachments anchored him. Who molded him into such a proficient-weapon, broke, rebuilt, and then broke him again until he was forged; meant to horrifically slash, he-zoned away from his identity. Becoming Doma’s hidden blade, The Black Miracle; resident night-fright, his-assassin moniker; Shadow Father.
Before disappearing from his deed, fire erupted from below the floorboards, he barely dodged unscathed, his tail-singed and soles alongside garb, strand hairs engulfed to embers. Instinct kept him solid.
Quick-but-not fast enough to slaughter-everyone as intended. That presence aboard who peered back, unthinkably walked up above, her aroma drove him wildly in familiarity and attempted to evoke; tranquility, and even open to possibilities of allure. Beyond all that emotionless, senses were being drawn-back for the memory, he wore so many masks and bore many scars, to forget, manipulatively disciplined.
You are nothing but steel…
You will execute for peace. You are formless, stainless.
You’re too sharp and have no delicate edges.
You slaughter in one-blow decisively.
You hold no-weights, your identity-matters not.
For you are The-Blade!
Remembering this poisonous teaching, he was whipped, brutalized, his body-soul-mind-spirit forged, conducted in a method, to become strictly something conditioned, for War. A thing; the technology, advancements of all of Garlemald would be fearful to know; as an enemy not even precious machinery could stay guarded.
Flicker pried out of his sleeve gaining some distance but telepathically linking to him, “Careful, Master! She’s got spirits! They’re… they’re everywhere… even the ones-you-slew.” Silencing and restoring composure from his flash-back once again being his own bane of emotion, blinding himself.
Her bare-feet walked on the dock, connected with nature’s blessing, life to death, in the fullest. A totem-hanging on her waist. “I’m so sorry. This is my fault, I should’ve figured they’d bring someone to retrieve that blade! I’v-” Before she could explain; that reasoning beyond their thievery was to remove the Voidal curse placed on that blade! If anyone unsheathed it, they would’ve gone on a mad killing-spree and struck all allies.
She was round-kicked in the gut-sent reeling back and upchucking saliva, her breathing labored and consciousness staggered. The assassin lunged-forth with a piercing-charge but was blocked by an earth-spirit who defended her, conditionally and lovingly. The fire-element sent another blast towards him that caused his tail-senses to react with a bolted dodge.
The-pirated angry spirits that were slain became malevolent and wicked, to the point they were manifesting pure-hatred toward their executor. He took punches and blows, from-the-unseen in-between worlds as-if air-was fighting back. Visibly-soundless blows cracked ribs heard, his teeth-gritted, palms grabbing the hilt of his true-sheathed Hingashi-forged, blade, aether exuding out of him before pulling out with a spinning slash, true-compact steel like he wielded, neutralizes spirits-demons, once again he slew and their heads dissipated, as so-did their forms, but they would manifest again, in time.
This occurrence wasn’t normal. Most often people vanquished will dissolve to the life-stream typically, but not always. Some spirits-souls, become lost or fragments! And as-such, become damned, malevolent-incarnates, they curse, and will-sink into where they often were slain with irritation if not given proper guidance or closure. By a-proper mender.
That woman was responsible, that strange-totem on her waist, strange-aura emitted from it. Flicker shouted out at him.You’ll have to kill her or destroy that thing on her buckle!
Regaining her stature a little wobble in her legs and shaking, she spat out blood, giving a look at her palm of her condition; feeling it; embracing, “I don’t like to hurt others, but I’ve no choice! You’re too dangerous!” Taking a fighting-pose, her lips pursed apart.
“Soul-Integration: Earth"
He took a sword-stance, which his blade-charged lightning swirled around him, in blinding-speed he would-take once again another plunge forth, it didn’t matter if any of her element-spirits were blocking him. He’d blitz and take that damned-head!
The accomplice of the assassin, the rainstorm taking place, struck lightning and fed into his aetherial charge!
Blowing-through, uprooting and tearing the-deck of the ship, lightning-set-ablaze and struck the sail, burning it; rain-weather sought to quell. His powerful-strike was rooted and grabbed-shockingly, by her hand that was earthly-attuned and imbued, startling to him, the soles-of-her feet had become-gravel clad-boots to absorb electricity and nullify it, entirely and reinforce her physical-strengths ten-fold. She delivered a counter-punch uppercut that shattered his mask and broke into his face, following with her long and powerful legs, thighs credibly known of the Seeker and kicked him in the ribs if they were-cracked from earlier onslaught, it broke just now!
His air-gone and wheezing lungs took placement, sanguine-drenched down from his nose-broke, he realigned with a snap.
She fused herself with the Earth spirit? What-was this woman?!
“MASTER, I’VE HEARD OF THIS!”
“SHE’S A SHAMAN!!!”
Coughing and hacking up internal-injury, the Black Miracle, blindfolded visage revealed mask-shattered, but some of his tribal-marks showing his distinguished face.
They knew another.
Gasp of realization came from her, tackled off her feet the Integration breaking, detecting her stance-wavered showing signs of weakness to exploit, falling back on the wood below crashing with him over-top her, he aligned his blade up to the skies and was going to pierce it-downward into her heart, in that instantaneous moment fire-erupted, his-blindfold, was extinguished purposely, her delicate hands grabbed his cheek; comfortably, an ilm-away from puncture, her composure didn’t waver, his unyielding and dazzling golden eyes-open and the world unraveled to truth.
Time felt removed.
With all that was ingrained, emotionless, nothingness.
How could he forget the one-person who combated him many, years ago, strangers that passed by in their moments-in-life, and for some reason, she conveyed something out of him and extracted it to make him; change his destiny and create a dynasty to live for a greater-good.
He was Shadow, mysterious and deadly, but unbiased-slaughtered he sacrificed his identity without even being born from the Nationality to make amends for the atrocities of a Nunh formerly, he became emotionless not trusting his raging ire of old; transforming to cold steel; removing former color until it was midnight-black.
She was Light, warm, non-discriminating, embraced notions, exhibiting pure heat. Just her presence-alone, felt like you were able to confide-in, she sacrificially served as a heroine ahead-of-time and threw herself at the task of any troubled-spirit, soul, and brought eternal-heaven before them.
Exiled and Freed from their Tribe Sept-branches they entangled on fate-paths long-ago and had but a simple conversation, but there was something that felt-so intimate between them and joy-easiness, that type of feeling; you cannot conceive, can’t put currency on it and try determining the value, or place-why, it just exists!
Love meant to be.
When gaze met; constellations opened, peering futures, hearts awoke, hers longingly and that blade himself, alongside wielded, surrendered clanging against the planks.
“I know you.”
"Yeah, and I know you.”
Her smile sheathed his steel-composure.
For the first-time again… his heart-beat thrummed.
Reminded his identity-of-former, beyond obligated masks wore.
How problematic after a succession-rate of 100%
Mission,
Contract,
Failed...
This. Was probably one of the funniest commissions I was asked to draw. Ever. :'3 A pic for my friend Mathes who asked for Helis from Horizon Zero Dawn and Solaire from Dark Souls. I giggled the whole time while drawing that. :')))