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            xxxxxxxxxxxxx TAKECONTROLOFYOURMINDANDMEDITATE
            ⇣ ⇣ ⇣ you gotta have love just to set it straight
            xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx▇▇ ▇▇ ▇▇ ▇▇ ▇▇ people got me, got me questionin'
            xxxxxxxxxxxxx❛Let your soul gravitate to the love
            xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx❝ tell me where is the love ?
            xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxWhere is the love ? xx Where is the love? xx Where is the love? xx Where is the love?xx Where is the love? xx Where is the love?
            xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxWhere is the love ? xx Where is the love? xx Where is the love? xx Where is the love?xx Where is the love? xx Where is the love?
            xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxWhere is the love ? xx Where is the love? xx Where is the love? xx Where is the love?xx Where is the love? xx Where is the love?

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            xxxxx ↻PAX

                          ( As Pax took his first steps to leave the park, a familiar voice caused him to pause and listen. Unmoving, he stared off into the distance before turning to fully look at Zacchaeus. "Good evening to you as well, Zacchaeus," he greeted foremost to display his good manners before speaking up about his brother's words. "Hm? I prefer to be alone. It gives me time to think and concerning the mortal world... let us just say that at times I can understand the anger our other halves feel towards humans. They can be quite hardheaded, can't they?" he asked with a small smile. Even if humans sometimes annoyed the peace god, he couldn't truly hold an ounce of hate towards any of them. They were prideful just as some of the gods themselves and that was the reason they chose to get into meaningless quarrels. He couldn't completely blame them. Instead he had a tendency to put most of the blame on the gods opposite to his ideology.

                          Feeling in a better mood now that he had Zacchaeus to speak to, he grabbed the other god's hand and gave it a small tug before releasing it to show that he wanted the other to follow him towards the tree he had just gotten down from. "Come sit with me, Zacchaeus? I think I would like to speak to you more. You are giving off a calm aura for the time being and I appreciate it. It is a good break from War's overpowering personality," Pax mumbled the last sentence to himself as he took a seat under the tree's elongated shadow. He was sure that the other had heard it, but he knew that all of the others already knew of the strange relationship the two shared. In fact, many of the gods were in similar relationships themselves.

                          Patting the grass next to him, he flopped back and laid down on the grass. Humming, he gently ran his fingertips over the green blades before speaking up once again. "So what brings you to the mortal world, Zacchaeus? Ah, I would also like to hear your thoughts on the mortal world. I am sure you have noticed that it isn't as pure as it used to be while the humans are handling this conflict in such childish manners. Women having to take up certain "corner jobs" to survive after their homes and families have been torn apart. War really is ruthless and disruptive..." The actions that led women to such activities was what annoyed Pax the most rather than the fact that they were giving away something "special" to complete strangers. "I'm not very sure if I should apologize to you on his behalf since humans choose these paths against peace and purity themselves, reasons why I can understand some of the anger directed at them."

                          Finishing his rambling, Pax just quietly continued to mess with the grass. He had to wonder if Purification was even listening to him at all. If not, he was used to being ignored but that wouldn't stop Peace from getting angry over it.


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        xxxxxx. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . the priest of AIR


        WORDShumanx i’m xtrying xtox come xclean
        SUCH WORDS→ → I w i l l b e a в є т т є я m e ` ` &
        SUCH LITTLE iwillnotdrinkuntili’mdead
        LITTLE WORDS|| I’ll make the most of itx - - - - ||
        SUCH PRETTY WORDSxAM xSO xSCAREDx OFx WHATx WILLx KILLx ME xIN xTHE xEND
        PRETTY LITTLE WORDS for I am ησт prepared

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                                            It was a low whistling sound reminiscent of the wind weaving through a bed of dry reeds, but it was accompanied by deep hum that could only be made from air passing through a large, hollow object. In the center of the spherical room, Romriell sat cross-legged with his back erect, but his muscles were completely unwound. His breaths, heavy and slow, were proof enough that he was still very much alive, but the way nothing else of his body moved would confuse the unknowing. So, while Romriell was the epitome of statuesque peace, the room he was in disarray. Woven along the wall in intricate patterns were meters upon meters of hollowed, sanded wood, holes marring the surfaces of the pipes every so often. An outsider observing looking in would see nothing but this priest’s robes and hair whipping and rustling about, but inside, everything was alive.

                                            Though it couldn’t be seen, it could be felt that this wasn’t just a haphazard storm of sorts. Currents of wind coiled around the room, following the set paths of the pipes like a snake. This was a specialized room for the priests of air, much like how the other elements had their own arenas, and Romriell found that particular location to be very calming. It wasn’t really meditation, because some of his attention was being divvied into feeding the pipes, but it got the work done.

                                            With a large, final exhale through his nose, his robes slowly fell back into to place, and, while a bit tousled, so did the loose strands of his gray hair. Everything stopped. The humming stopped. The whistling stopped. Everything was quiet.

                                            Crack! Crack!

                                            A steady groan rumbled through the room, Romriell’s arms twisted and stretched high above his head at an angle most would consider to be uncomfortable. He huffed in satisfaction as he easily hopped up to his feet and made his way to the door of the room, fixing his sash and robes along the way. This way of calming his mind was something of a daily ritual for him, because even though he was one that was never quick to anger, he wanted it to stay at its minimum at all times. There was nothing worse than letting your anger control you.

                                            As he walked along the sparsely populated hall, he let his attention wander to the sights of the evening. It really was a peaceful day at the temple, but that was only because he was at the temple. Outside of the threshold, everything was fair game against the priests and the Spardihn. That was at least one thing the gray-haired priest could take comfort in. Suddenly, something caught his attention that caused his lips to split apart in a massive grin. Walking a little ways behind the person, Romriell simply raised his arm, and with one fluid flick of his wrist, his send a broad gust of wind to disturb the fire master’s person.

                                            “Well if it isn’t Mister Dante, looking as radiant as ever.” Stepping swiftly until he was side by said with the other male, Romriell offered him a small smile and a gently nudge of his elbow.



                                xxxxx▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄ ⇒ ⇒ ▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄

                                                        [[ location ]] halls of the temple; Dante
                                                        [[ thoughts ]] “I wonder what’s gotten him looking so dour this time around"
                                                        [[ outofcandy ]] yea, I’m totally making them best buds o3o

Absent Operator's avatar

Timid Explorer

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_____________________________________ xx acchaeus
_____________________________________________u o ı ʇ ɐ ɔ ı ɟ ı ᴚ n dxxɟ oxxp o ƃ



Sᴇɴᴛɪɴᴇʟ Hᴀʀʙɪɴɢᴇʀ Eʀᴜᴅɪᴛᴇ


The children in blackxxxxxxxWhat happened to love?xxxxxxxLoving parents and friends
The children in blackxxxxxxxWhat happened to happiness?xxxxxxxWhat happened to innocence?

What happened yesterday happened forever and never.


_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

golden touchᴛʜᴇ ғʟᴇsʜ ɪs ᴡᴇᴀᴋ ᴀɴᴅ ᴡɪᴛʜᴏᴜᴛ interest ᴛʜᴇ ᴛʀᴏᴜʙʟᴇ ɪs brother Pax ᴛʜᴇʏ sᴀʏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡʀᴇᴛᴄʜᴇᴅ ɢᴇᴛ ᴛʜᴇɪʀ Mortal Realm


        The conversation seemed to be growing heavy and Zacchaeus swallowed the lump in his throat, taking his eye away from his brother in some sort of fashion of shame. It seemed with gods was an accompanying feeling of...not shame, but perhaps contradiction? Even with peace came naivety, and with purification vulnerability, where there are vices there are virtues. Zacchaeus thought of Kir and Pax, standing side by side they were very different, but it seemed a perfect balance. Suppose that's the way it was with all of the gods save the Alpha, Wisdom, and Chaos gods.
        Zacchaeus sat beside his brother, although it wasn't really sitting, more like hovering considering his intangible form. For a mere moment he watched his brother play with the grass before considering his answer. There were many things about the mortal world he would rather be rid of, one would be those miserable physical forms, even now he wished he could be back in Seeile for the limits of the mortal world were pushing in on him from all sides.
        "I'm not fond of the mortal world, but it does have its intrigues. Take, for example, the children. I find their minds are much more willing to allow the acceptance of the strange or unusual, they make excellent students, maybe that's why they have such a knack for war? They see it happen right before their eyes and just like that," here Zacchaeus snapped for emphasis although it made no sound, "they are next in line to cause destruction."
        Turning back to his brother, Zacchaeus smiled calmly, despite his brother's dark, but true, words he kept the smile upon his face.
        "At least you know where Kir is. I haven't the least idea where Deimos is...I suppose that's why I came down here to this miserable world, I thought maybe he might be ruining some village's day. I guess not."
        Zacchaeus pouted and pulled his knees up to his chest, setting his chin on his knees in a fed up gesture. He really was at a loss without his partner, it seemed like all the benevolent gods were at a loss without their partners, but the malevolent gods seemed to do just fine without their partners. Suppose that was the price of loyalty.
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Miss Swifteh's avatar

Versatile Lunatic

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a n dxw h e nxy o uxt h i n kxy o u ' v exs i n n e d
d oxy o uxf a l lxu p o nxy o u rxk n e e sx?







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        The sound of marching, the consistent rhythm of heavy boots meeting gravel and stone. He heard the sound before he saw the source, even despite the excitable chatter and squeals of laughter that dominated his ears. Each thud of a heel, each rattle of weaponry rose above the children's din and distracted him from their smiling faces, their innocent questions. A small girl hesitantly tugged at his sleeve until he settled his gaze on her; she lifted her chubby, short arms to his face, struggling. He ducked his head, smiling as he tried to forget the echoing, distant noise that beckoned him. He far preferred the shrill voices of children at any rate. The girl possessed an expression of deep concentration as she rose onto her tiptoes, tucking a small handful of flowers behind his ear, the stalks caught in his hair to stop them slipping. Chuckling a word of thanks, Matthias once again straightened, calloused fingers brushing over the soft petals. An eruption of giggles sounded beside him--
        It was drowned by the ever louder sound of those marching feet, growing closer. Matthias wrinkled his brow for a moment as he looked up; still no sign of the source on the horizon. Around him children played and fought for his attention, chattering about how silly he looked adorned in flowers. The approaching noise was like an opposing world overlapping this sanctuary of peace and youth that he had found - but unfortunately it was the world that he belonged to. The time for innocence and play had passed, even now he was only experiencing it in brief. It was a luxury, nothing more. Reality was calling.

        He rose as a small band of guards came into view, his child companions scattering and hiding behind his legs, pushing him out in front. Matthias ambled forwards at their urging, glancing down at the small bodies clustered around him with a bemused look. His expression cleared, however, when his name was called, followed by an explanation for their presence. Apparently he was needed elsewhere - immediately. He had duties to perform and responsibilities to tend to so he was to abandon whatever else he was doing and report in immediately. The guard shot a glance in the nearest child's direction at that last remark; Matthias shielded the youth with his hand, drawing the other man's gaze back in his direction. He replied with an affirmative, but before he left he turned to face his gaggle of little followers. His hand returned to his ear, plucking the flowers from his hair. He offered them back to the child who had gifted them to him, smiling apologetically.
        " Look after these for me? I'll return for them later, so make sure you do." He instructed. He wouldn't wish for such delicate flowers to be sullied by whatever battlefield he was bound towards.

        In hindsight he would likely find he had made the correct call.

        It wasn't that he disliked battlefields but he certainly preferred domestic civilisation. It was warmer for one - not in temperature but in atmosphere. The battlefield was always tense before conflict, the air thick with anxiety and prayers. Or perhaps he was wrong about the latter - after all, what good are your prayers when they're being sent to the enemy?
        Beyond the rank of a mere footsoldier, Matthias was called into a tent to discuss battle tactics. He hung back impatiently as a penpusher reeled off a lengthy explanation of their supplies and troops, suggesting a plan of action that was far too wordy and complicated for his tastes. The scrawny man pored over a wooden table, smoothing a map of the terrain before laying down counters to symbolise each unit. He proceeded to slide them into position on the map, explaining how he wished for them to advance--
        Matthias could see he wasn't the only one in the tent that was disgruntled about the plan. Before the man could finish his theory Matthias stepped up, batting the other's hand aside as he returned the counters to their original position and began to explain what he thought was best. In the other's plans he could see the sacrifice of one unit for the sake of increasing victory for another, a tactic that he didn't approve of. Of course, his own strategy was not met with overwhelming confidence either, leading to raised voices and argument, Matthias' amongst the loudest.

        When he finally emerged from the tent he was still irritable. His strategy had been chosen for use but somehow he didn't feel satisfied. Perhaps the tense atmosphere of the static battlefield had gotten to him? Restless, he ran his hand through his hair, moving away from the tent that had caused him such grief.
        His fingers found something foreign amidst the strands, extracting a single, tiny flower. It was dry and lacking some petals but it still brought a gentle smile to his lips. Matthias twirled the flower in his fingers until it fell away, drifting slowly to the dusty ground. Eyes still resting on the broken mess of stalk and petals, the man rested his hand on the hilt of his sword. Soon the bloodshed would begin; the quicker this battle was finished, the faster he could return home to a much more welcoming sea of faces than the disgruntled expressions of waiting soldiers.
        His fingers twitched. I'll end this. They'll see.


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m a t t h i a sxxt h exw a r r i o rxxs p a r d i h n
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K i r × The Bonesmith
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Kir wove his way through groups of soldiers assembling for battle. As he went, he occasionally reached out a hand, brushing an arm or hip, mock-stumbling to catch himself against a man’s weight. Skin he touched flashed golden, just for a moment, and the soldier’s fingers tightened on his weapon, eyes growing hawkish.

Bloodlust was a gift he tried not to overdo; it was important that most soldiers go into battle clear-headed, fully aware and fully capable (or incapable, whatever the case may be). Otherwise there was no point; otherwise, there was no real choice, no real chance to prove or sacrifice. No chance to be truly alive, sacrificing in that most distinctive of human occupations.

Still, he was a god, and bestowing his mark was a necessity. A compulsion. Even without the compulsion, Kir would have felt the need to impress upon the spardhin the delicate situation they had wrought for themselves. Here was proof, easy proof, that even as they fought to slay him and his family he walked among them. Helped them along. Drank in the only kind of worship he truly needed, the prayer of deliberate action.

Enjoying himself, Kir’s gaze found a small cluster of men marked as officers by the insignia on their chests. They huddled together, murmuring something about a new course. He caught a phrase—”—because he is branded, we must give his words appropriate weight—“. Few phrases could have captured his attention more fully. He padded closer, distractedly sliding one hand across the back of a soldier’s neck on the way, to see who these men were looking at—for they were all looking in the same direction, sour looks suggesting that the object of their conversation was visible.

He managed to step right up to the officers, standing casually at their elbow as he followed their gazes to a single figure. Ah, and this one looked a champion; a proper warrior’s stance, attentive to the scene around him in a way most of those surrounding him were…not. That had to be the one. It would be a waste if it wasn’t…

”You there! Where is your unit?” It took a moment for Kir to realize he was being addressed. The officers had finally noticed the god standing in their space. Unused even to aping servility, Kir spread his hands in a helpless gesture, broad smile suggesting he had lost them somewhere.

”I have a message for that man” he informed, nodding his head casually at the possible majik user’s back.

”Give me his name.” Clearly put off by a private’s lack of respectful attitude, the officers drew themselves up, and one looked close to striking him for insubordination. Kir’s smile widened at the affront there, feral gaze evidence that he would welcome such attention. He hadn’t made a habit of touching officers…but the notion appealed.

Perhaps something of the god lingered about his form, or perhaps it was simply too obvious that there was danger in confronting him. The officer stopped, his expression confused—an intelligent man working through a visage he’d seen before. Somewhere.

”Give Matthias your message and return to your unit” the officer ordered, voice surprisingly soft. Still thinking. Maybe this one would even put it together...not everyone had forgotten his face.

Matthias. Kir noted it, giving an unconvincing parody of a bow as he turned toward the possible user. He made himself take human sized steps, walking over the slow, mortal way, trying to school his expression into something noncommittal, bored even.

”Matthias?” he called, when he was barely a step behind the man. Perhaps a bit too close for a casual messenger.
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            xxxxxxxxxxxxx TAKECONTROLOFYOURMINDANDMEDITATE
            ⇣ ⇣ ⇣ you gotta have love just to set it straight
            xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx▇▇ ▇▇ ▇▇ ▇▇ ▇▇ people got me, got me questionin'
            xxxxxxxxxxxxx❛Let your soul gravitate to the love
            xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx❝ tell me where is the love ?
            xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxWhere is the love ? xx Where is the love? xx Where is the love? xx Where is the love?xx Where is the love? xx Where is the love?
            xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxWhere is the love ? xx Where is the love? xx Where is the love? xx Where is the love?xx Where is the love? xx Where is the love?
            xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxWhere is the love ? xx Where is the love? xx Where is the love? xx Where is the love?xx Where is the love? xx Where is the love?

            xxxxxxxxxxx▰ ▰ ▰ ▰ ▰ ▰ ▰ ▰ ▰ ▰ ▰ ▰ ▰ ▰ ▰ ▰ ▰ ▰ ▰ ▰ ▰ ▰

            xxxxx ↻PAX

                          ( Pax calmly listened to Zacchaeus speak but when children were brought up, the corner of his lips turned downwards in displeasure. Children were not the kind of humans he immediately liked. Far too many of them were trouble makers that cried over everything. He much preferred the older generation closer to death than the ones who had just recently been born. The elders having much more wisdom and having suffered enough in their lives to appreciate him. Adding in what Zacchaeus had said, it just made him wish humans never were babies or toddlers or even teenagers to begin with. Just wishing they were born with the knowledge of their past lives so that they wouldn't be so troublesome. But alas they weren't born that way for reasons he didn't and probably would never know. Those kinds of things were left to the more elite gods and possibly involved Life as well.

                          And although Pax wanted to express this opinion, he instead just kept it to himself and replied to Zacchaeus' pouting instead. "You almost sound like you are upset that he's not," he tsked with a shake of his head and he raised himself up into a seated position. "It is not good to wish such things on humans just to find your lover, Zacchaeus," he said in a warning tone. Why Zacchaeus even wanted to find his other half piqued Pax's curiosity. In fact, anytime his benevolent brothers looked for their other halves made him curious mainly over the fact that Pax himself hardly ever sought out Kir. It was only when the other was going overboard that Pax actually sought out War. Sure there were other times that he sought him out for other earthly pleasures, but those occasions were few and far between. Thinking of this, Pax went back to the question that always caused his thoughts to run around in circles. Was his low libido one of the reasons Kir was always so unfaithful or was he just a disgusting dog because he was created as such?

                          Mulling over this, he decided to ask Zacchaeus for his opinion. Perhaps another view point could aid him in coming to a full conclusion. "Zacchaeus, why do you think they commit infidelity? Our other halves, I mean. Not the humans. Although... I am now curious if humans are unfaithful because the gods are as well." Pax's mind was too clouded with his own theories and thoughts. His crowded mind was one of the reasons he preferred being alone. It allowed him the time to fully divulge into his stream of consciousness. Although he didn't mind having someone to talk to every now and then. It was a welcomed change from his talks with Kir where Pax always felt there wasn't a care in the world over his emotions.
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Pup

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                                Sweet peace at last...walking aimlessly around the temple hallways, Dante glanced out the large windows at the setting sun. Hopefully in the next hour or so, he'd be able to return to the observatory and stargaze. A vein throbbed as he remembered what had happened there...stupid god...Huffing to himself, he wished that Gael had chosen to bother him when he wasn't in that particular room. It was supposed to be the once place where he could relax without having to listen to the annoying chatter of others. A place to himself. But now, the stupid life god had ruined it for him and every time he thought of the room, he would remember their encounter. A small noise of anger escaped his lips before Dante stopped walking to figure out his bearings. Glancing around, most of the priests had headed off to bed by now so he hadn't had the misfortune of running into any one who he considered irksome.

                                A small smile of satisfaction danced across his face before he felt a gust of wind hit him from behind. In a split second, his smile turned into a dark scowl and he whipped around to face the pest. Growling, he recognized the mess of grey hair and narrowed his eyes. Romriell, the air priest. Or as Dante liked to call him, the airhead. Sighing, Dante stood there as the other male walked over. Giving Romriell a slight nod of acknowledgement, before catching the male's elbow before it came in contact with him, "Hey airhead. What do you want?" Dante's grip on the man's elbow tightened slightly before he pushed it away from him, "I'd refrain from touching me if I were you," he said smirking. "Or I might just roast you alive," he said in an almost teasing voice. Almost. By now, Dante had made it clear to all the priests not to get too close to him because he would 'accidentally' burn them.

                                Taking a few steps back to put some space between them, Dante surveyed the other male. Wonder where he's been...but knowing Romriell, probably meditating...how boring. A small grin crept onto his face and he started, "You know, there's this g-" and stopped himself. Frowning, Dante remembered what Gael had asked of him and tsked in annoyance, "Never mind..." With a small wave of his hand, he turned away and began walking again, not turning to see if Romriell was following. But knowing the other male, he'd probably tag along. Out of the four priests, Dante felt the most relaxed around the air priest, probably because he never bothered Dante much and if he did, Romriell knew when to back off. He was also easy to get along with and they never seemed to argue much. On occasion yes, but when compared to the others...especially his water counterpart...it seemed like they never argued.


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                                ooc::: ohohoho Romriell's gonna have to work for it *u* hehehe~
                                location::: temple halls
                                thoughts/feelings::: meh...
                                anger level::: 5%
                                who's bugging me::: the airhead aka Romriell
Excessus Theseus Raze

xxxxx"Rules without exceptions last eternally. Every move you make creates your destiny..."
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx"I've come to soak my sorrow in halo black."
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx"As black as the seal on my soul, 'cause When the lights are down..."
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                                War was close to breaking out again. Oh, the joy of hearing all that squealing and crying. It was even better to have those sounds gurgled and stopped up by clotting blood in a dying warrior's throat. Excessus could barely contain his excitement, even though that cold, blank stare remained on his face. He sat on top of a tent, that had been sturdily built on the battlefield. He was light anyway, it would hold him easily. He sat at the pointed top, his bare feet pressed against two of the steel support beams that ran down the length of the tent to keep himself stable. He stared out across the mass of other tents and soldiers, his black clothing whipping lightly in the wind. Excessus' hair was pitch black, and his eyes were an eerie purple, not of this world. He had pale skin, and wore all black clothing. Not much of it at that. Just a simple black silk robe, that hung down to his ankles. It had a hood that was pulled over his head, protecting him from any sand that might whip up into his face. Those purple eyes gleamed from under the shade of the hood. "A fine day for blood shed... Don't you think so?" He'd question softly, staring at the ground away from the tent. He should've been counted as crazy, but he was actually talking to the dead corpses that already rested beneath the ground. This place was famous for wars... The male reached one cloaked hand up (The sleeves were much too long for him) and yawned against the silk, closing his eyes and burying his head against his crossed arms. He was so tired. He wished the battle would just hurry up and start so he could go ahead and kill someone. He wanted nothing more then to send forth an army of Spartus Skeletons. Undead warriors ripped straight from the barren Earth to do his bidding. It was amazing what a platoon of shambling, rotted corpses could do to a live army. Excessus would glance quietly over the side of the tent as a figure emerged. He had silken brown hair, and a battle weary expression implanted across his face. Yep, that was Matthias. Excessus had grown used to seeing the other around the field. Ever since he'd join the Spardihns, he'd grown very used to all of the other members really.

                                Excessus noticed another man though, a burly male with a big frame and a rough beard. He had long dark hair, and a stony expression that held both an unnerving calm and an unwieldy blood lust etched into it like a brand. Excessus almost immediately recognized him. A wide, pearly white grin of sharp teeth instantly spread across his face. He chuckled softly and kicked off of the top of the tent. He went flying into the air over the side of the tent, and landed with a somersault to spread out the impact, making the land much softer. He stood up straight as the tent collapsed on the other soldiers, agitated yelling and scrambling audible within the confines of the cloth tarp. They'd get to yell at him later when he was feeling better. Excessus got low, wispy little movements and steps taking him closer to them. He stood up straight finally, arms spread out wide, that shark toothed grin still planted on his features. "Hello there Matthias." He said in that venomous, sickly amused tone of his. He stepped right by the war god, deciding not to interrupt the fun. ******** if he cared, it'd be fun to have an enemy within their ranks. They'd figure it out eventually. Excessus slipped around so that he was in front of the warrior, his imp like grin glaring evilly at the brunette. "A little birdie told me you just came up with a new plan of action. Care to share it with your old buddy, old pal Excessus? I wouldn't want to be going in the wrong direction and catch a spear to the face due to a lack of preparation." He mused happily, the hood having fallen off during his tumble off the tent. One of the soldiers came out finally after navigating through the fallen walls of the tent, glaring angrily at the little black haired boy. He went to yell something, however Excessus did a full on spinal arch backwards. His hands against the ground, face upside down as he smiled at the man. "Do you need something sir?" He asked, some of the tattoos on his neck visible due to his position. The man gawked at him and finally just turned, going to help fix the tent up. The flexible boy stood back up straight, walking around Matthias, casting a hazy grin at Kir.

                                He knew who he was, or at least he had a good hunch who he was. He'd seen most of the gods before, just never actually killed any of them. It was a bore... Excessus placed his hands over a top one another in front of himself against his lap as he stood, the black silk making him look like some sort of Satanic monk. Most of his icy gaze was hidden behind his long jet black bangs, protecting mostly everyone from his demon like optics. He was feared by most of the soldiers, who had given him a wide area for breathing room as soon as he landed and they recognized him. He wanted to see what Matthias was up to, he was always doing something interesting. Or at least something to keep Excessus from killing off someone and playing with their dead body like a puppet. The only two that didn't back away from him were Matthias and Kir... Odd. He leaned on one foot, almost as if he was going to fall over and tilted his head. He looked straight at Kir, his black bangs falling to the side due to the tilt to reveal his orchid hues. "I don't believe I've seen you before soldier... Is there a reason you're bothering this already stressed superior of yours?" He questioned, practically taunting the god to take a strike at him. He'd rather he reveal himself for what he was on his own, than to be called out on it. He wasn't even sure that he was the war god... He had the same eyes, the same grin. The same burly appearance that practically screamed blood thirsty and chaotic. However, some soldiers just had that malevolent look to them. It could've been coincidence and nothing more. Something was suspicious about him though... Excessus couldn't exactly figure out what it was to be sure. He simply stood back straight again, like an acrobat just showing off for no reason. He rather did like to be nimble and able to move. It helped out when you were being chased down by armed soldiers. The bare feet of his helped with the running too. He didn't feel weighed down like they did, with all that armor and what not. Excessus started drawing in the dirt with his right foot's toe, suddenly bored of waiting for answers.


                                ╚══════════════╝

                                `These Issues`

                                ((Out Of Curry: ))


                                "There's no more to say. Love is the real pain, an internal revolution in my mind..."
                                "And when the lights are down, you're so far away. Tell me your real name."xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
                                " 'What can protect me from the past and all the things that I have done?' She told me and then she was gone."x
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_____________________________________ xx acchaeus
_____________________________________________u o ı ʇ ɐ ɔ ı ɟ ı ᴚ n dxxɟ oxxp o ƃ



Sᴇɴᴛɪɴᴇʟ Hᴀʀʙɪɴɢᴇʀ Eʀᴜᴅɪᴛᴇ


The children in blackxxxxxxxWhat happened to love?xxxxxxxLoving parents and friends
The children in blackxxxxxxxWhat happened to happiness?xxxxxxxWhat happened to innocence?

What happened yesterday happened forever and never.


_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

golden touchᴛʜᴇ ғʟᴇsʜ ɪs ᴡᴇᴀᴋ ᴀɴᴅ ᴡɪᴛʜᴏᴜᴛ interest ᴛʜᴇ ᴛʀᴏᴜʙʟᴇ ɪs brother Pax ᴛʜᴇʏ sᴀʏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡʀᴇᴛᴄʜᴇᴅ ɢᴇᴛ ᴛʜᴇɪʀ Mortal Realm


        "Mmm~"
        Even while the mortal world was unbearably filthy, the weather (as Zacchaeus had to admit) was rather nice. Despite the many clouds in the sky it was warm and just the right amount of humidity that made Sieele's weather seem mild and even-tempered. Not at all to Zacchaeus' liking, he rather enjoyed the often changes in weather that presented themselves on the mortal plane.
        The young god listened quietly to his brother as he rolled onto his belly on the grass, accumulating a more physical form, as it came over him the sudden smell of wet grass infiltrated his nostrils and he sighed with pleasure. The voice of his brother was also just as soothing, a calm and even tone that hinted at slight displeasure.
        Zacchaeus turned his gaze to his brother and opened his eyes to mere slits, taking in little of the form of his brother as a coy smile crossed over his face.
        "I suppose you're right, that's why those mortals hate our equals anyways."
        The Spardihn were a rather detestable group who sought the ultimate demise of their brother and partner gods, however they had yet to discover a true means of ridding the world of them. A good thing perhaps, but their determination to do so was what frightened Zacchaeus the most. The human spirit, after all, has accomplished much in its pursuit for personal gain. So maybe that's why while he disregarded the group so blatantly he still understood the looming threat.
        Pax's question surprised him, while it certainly was a good question posed, he couldn't think of a proper response for quite some time. So he lay there staring out across the grassy notch while he contemplated a response that he could believe and stand behind.
        "Humans are unfaithful because they are mortal," here Zacchaeus lay face down in the grass, "they seek the pleasure of one another in their limited lifetime, after all marriage is such a cruel thing to bind two people together for the rest of their short lives, but...don't you think it is even more miserable to live eternity with the same person by your side?" Zacchaeus turned his face to his brother and sat back up, a small grunt escaped his lips before he continued on, "I suppose I can understand why they would, the more time you spend with someone the more you learn about them and sometimes you don't learn good things, but here's my question for you; why do we continue to stay loyal to them when they are not to us? Should we not go out and breed like wild beasts with the humans around us, certainly we could find humans suiting to our taste?"
        Zacchaeus made a disgusted face but finished his question. There was no human in this world he could even consider touching, even the thought of being touched by one made bile rise in his throat. It wasn't a mere hatred for humanity, he rather enjoyed their innocence, but it seemed more like the idea of committing such an act as...how did Pax put it? Infidelity? It seemed that to Zacchaeus, committing the act of infidelity itself was much more disgusting than being with a human.
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Miss Swifteh's avatar

Versatile Lunatic

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a n dxw h e nxy o uxt h i n kxy o u ' v exs i n n e d
d oxy o uxf a l lxu p o nxy o u rxk n e e sx?







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        He turned to the sound of his name, alarmed by the proximity of the speaker. He began to change his stance, his right arm crossing his body as he prepared to draw his sword, instinct taking over. It was unusual for someone to approach so closely without him noticing; Matthias half-expected to see the glint of a dagger or similar weapon, an ambush. However, he was disciplined enough not to strike without reason. Although the private did not seem completely harmless - there was a slightly...menacing feel to him that he couldn't place. It was a gut feeling, an intuition, but considering his current company it was fairly normal. He was surrounded by soldiers, men who were trained for battle and prepared to kill. To be a little wary of them was normal.
        Realising that he was merely startled by the other's silent approach, Matthias tried to make his movements into a casual stretch to hide the fact that he'd been ready to cut the private down. The effect was almost comical, his long limbs stretching about him in a very poor attempt at acting. He took the opportunity to step back slightly, placing a little distance between himself and the stranger.
        " Yes...private? " He said after a short pause to identify the other's rank.

        He was in the dark about the supposed soldier's identity. Of course he knew what the god of war looked like - or rather, he knew of the Bonesmith's image. He'd always imagined that, should he come face to face with Kir, he would be gazing up at a huge, surly figure practically covered head to toe in regalia carved from bone. There would be thunder and lightning, a darkened sky, wind lashing at his hair and clothes-- alright, so he was taking a little poetic license there. Matthias knew that not everything the gods did was dramatic. Who knew what the War God would look like? One thing was for certain: he wasn't going to be taking a casual stroll through the enemy encampment, that much Matthias was certain of.

        Obviously he was popular today, for another voice called out his name. This one he recognised, much to his dismay.
        " Excessus...ha. " He tried to force a smile, faux laughter dying in his throat. Given the mood he was in, Matthias didn't want to deal with the necromancer. He found the man hard to fathom, both in a professional and personal sense. He couldn't understand the joy of necromancy; the idea of raising the dead made his skin crawl. It was disrespectful. It was wrong.
        Yet it was also undoubtedly useful. Matthias wasn't an expert in psychological warfare but he knew that if an enemy is faced with the reanimated corpses of their comrades they'll be a little more than unnerved. Or perhaps worse still, the reanimated corpses of the men they already felled. The troops that can't be stopped, even by death...it was a scary thought.
        Unfortunately he found it hard to accept the benefits of necromancy over his intial unease because the necromancer in question was so unbearable. Excessus was as creepy as his craft and frustratingly unpredictable. Back home, the children were terrified of him. Matthias couldn't blame them; he knew what Excessus did when left to his own devices.
        Yet he wasn't scared of him. Wary, yes, but not frightened as such. They were in a similar boat, Excessus and he - both under the thrall of a majik pact. For all that he disliked the man, they were still comrades. The least he could do was be civil...and shout at him for time to time when he took things too far.

        Excessus' comment to the other soldier ruffled Matthias' feathers a little.
        " I'm not stressed..." He mumbled, turning away from them both as he kicked at the ground, his poor acting skills betraying him yet again. He sighed, peering back at the two of them in turn.
        " What is it you want? Both of you. " He asked, the added emphasis slightly sour.


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m a t t h i a sxxt h exw a r r i o rxxs p a r d i h n
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Desirable Man-Lover

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      XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

            Life enjoyed the succulent bearings of his own tree. And Yes is the answer if you were wondering that the name of the tree was that famous one. The Tree of Life was the very one Gael was leaning against at the moment. The sought after tree that many had died looking for and no one had ever found. Now, one may wonder why it had never been found when Gael was having it grow with no intention of particularly hiding it. It was simple; the tree would wither away when ever Gael walked away from it, or when ever Death approached, whichever came first. Plus, it didn't look particularly different from any other tree. And Yes once again, indeed did the fruits contain a remedy for life. Though the bearing did not offer immortality, it could double a mortal’s life span, safe them from the grasp of death and cure any illness and wound. Consuming it was as if having life breathed anew into a being.

            As Gael then finished off tasting the last bit of sweetness from his peach he saw all that was around him withdraw, and he knew the reason why. He smiled to himself conscious of his loved one nearing, yet the words the other spoke made it fade away. It figures he did not visit because he simply missed him, but because he had so quickly caught onto his activity of the day. “Must I tell you everything I do. I am sure you have been up to things that don’t make Me happy. It goes both ways, it is our nature.” His words where defensive, yet his eyes remained gentle as he gazed at his beloved; A tinge of crimson upon his cheeks showed his affection as the other came in contact with his skin. “Why must you make it sound as if I was guilty of my nature…?” The crimson orbs dropped as Gael became dejected with the others confrontation. He hated whenever Thanatos did such things. He hated feeling guilt for no good reason, the only reason he was ever given that had any value was that Death clearly did not feel pleased and was clearly bother by his actions. Sadly he knew, and to a point accepted, that this was one of the ways the other showed his love and affection, through jealousy.

            A hand was then entangled on the raven locks as the other rested against him. A small breath filled the god’s lunges with Death as his other hands trailed down the broad back. “It is not my fault if you define ‘me hurting you’ as me being who I am.” Thanatos was controlling and possessive, his words of manipulation sweet and gentle, and he was always the victim in the story. This was not a novelty, and far too long ago had Gael stopped saying sorry for loving the mortal as Thanatos would never ask for forgiveness – not honestly at least, after bringing death upon so many whenever he simply felt like it. “It is no a secret I mean to keep hidden. I wished to meet with the Priests chosen by Ralkaham. And I will continue to pay visits to the Temple. If you consider that as ‘me hurting you’, I am sorry you feel that way my love, but I am not sorry for my actions.” Gentle hands then had the other slowly withdraw so he could catch a glimpse of the profile which words spoken could not match. This of course was not to his surprise.

            The soft rosy lips then curled into a smile as he though the other a child that was sure to get back at him for not getting everything his way. Crimson orbs focusing on the matching pair then caused a sad expression to show. “You are not allowed to get back at me because you are simply displeased with my actions. So don’t even consider it. I know you have done enough already and Kir is about to spoil you… So just don’t….” Saying Gael knew Thanatos well was probably one of the greatest understatements in existence. Because Life knew Death was capable of everything he wasn’t he spoke clearly and hid nothing. As a small breath then escaped the parted lips Gael moved away, his slender digits playfully brushing themselves against Thanatos' hand and just as quickly being pulled away as he moved towards the soft water current and soaked his feet. “So, I hope you didn’t come to simply interrogate me about what mortals I was becoming acquainted with. At the very least I hope you missed me... You’re not mad, are you?” He then turned and offered a sly smirk followed by a pout as his wings slowly fanned out calling for attention. He was a bit childish. But then again, Thanatos wasn’t the most mature of the bunch – no one really was. All gods were to a certain extreme, they had no balance within. It was such relations that they all shared that kept things from tipping over to one side. His little teasing moment could either have two possible simple outcomes: (1) anger Thanatos further and fuel him for revenge after his jealous attempt to manipulate and fail; (2) or him try to act seemingly mature and play along for now and hopefully forget, for his emotions came as they went most of the time. Whatever it was, they both simply had to just deal with one another. For now Life would seduce Death in his presence, for there was nothing more seductive in existence than Life, once had, no one had ever really wanted to let go of it.


            █████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████
            OOC: > w > So yeah, he keeps taking form, bear with me. Im just making sure he doesnt become an Emo victim of his lovers abuse... XD
            Company:Thanatos
            Location:Abandoned Temple
            Mood:Hoping Death will not make a big deal... and teasing.


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        xxxxxx. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . the priest of AIR


        WORDShumanx i’m xtrying xtox come xclean
        SUCH WORDS→ → I w i l l b e a в є т т є я m e ` ` &
        SUCH LITTLE iwillnotdrinkuntili’mdead
        LITTLE WORDS|| I’ll make the most of itx - - - - ||
        SUCH PRETTY WORDSxAM xSO xSCAREDx OFx WHATx WILLx KILLx ME xIN xTHE xEND
        PRETTY LITTLE WORDS for I am ησт prepared

        xxxxx▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄ ⇒ ⇒ ▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄


                                            omriell was admittedly discomfited at being called “airhead,” this much being obvious when his carefree smile flew off his face in that instant. He hadn’t even humored him for his little threat. He hated the nickname. It was insulting, a jab to the intellect he was so proud of having expanded thus far. He knew the fire priest didn’t honestly mean harm by it, but it still hurt as much as being fiercely with a very blunt object. Still, Romriell felt he could let it go. Dante was one of only a handful of people who didn’t look at him with expectations. Not expectations of hope and promise of a fine protector and comrade, mind you, but more of an apprehension. The air priest saw the weariness hardly kept in some of the other priests’ eyes, as if they were just waiting for him to go berserk and ravage the temple in a fit of unadulterated, unprovoked rage. Along with a select few, Dante wasn’t like that. Even more so, the man seemed like he had his own demons to battle.

                                            Honestly, Romriell was appreciative of his acquaintance.

                                            “I was wondering if you’d heard any news from the Head Priest in regards to Spardihn movement, or if there was anything that was needed of us,” he started, a hint of brevity creeping into his tone, but the small quirk of his lips and the light shrug of his head he offered threw that out of kilter. “I think the Head Priest would have alerted us by now if any such thing was occurring, though. I might be getting just a bit antsy after not hearing of any significant matter for a while.” The last bit of news he’d heard had been about a supposed Spardihn raiding in a nearby town, but any involvement of their enemy was, of course, supposed. They hadn’t dared to attack the temple itself in years.

                                            Dante began speaking and moving once again, and, unwittingly, Romriell was right at his heels. As soon as he’d started talking, however, he had already dismissed it. Odd. The gray-haired male gave him a moment or three to see if he’d say anything else, to see if he maybe needed to gather his thoughts, but nothing else came after and that seemed to be the end of that.

                                            “Where are you coming from?” he questioned offhandedly, but that previous moment was nowhere near forgotten. He couldn’t just blatantly bother the man for his words, but he somehow had to work the conversation back in that direction. Dante didn’t seem like the chatty type, but the fact that it was interesting enough that he felt the need to share it with Romriell had the air priest’s curiosity more than piqued.



                                xxxxx▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄ ⇒ ⇒ ▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄

                                                        [[ location ]] halls of the temple; Dante
                                                        [[ thoughts ]] “‘G’?"
                                                        [[ outofcandy ]] I was actually planning to call him Master Priest if there wasn’t an official title for him. Get it? Master Priest? Master Chief? No? Okay…

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K i r × The Bonesmith
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Kir had already half extended his hand as the warrior turned to meet him, ready to offer a hand in introduction. The world shrank, in his focus, to simply him and the man before him. There was a fond smile on his face by the time the man turned, as Kir noticed the other’s first instinct when confronted on his own lines was to reach for his weapon.

The words he'd offer didn’t matter, so much; he’d give some truism about the need for even the lowliest foot soldier to fit into the scheme of things, offer the name that had been written at the bottom of the tin mirror—Eryx—and near-reflexively, the mortal would take it. If this one was indeed one of the few…Kir was curious; could he even bestow his mark in such tainted flesh? How far did the majik’s degradation go? Would his favor react badly, would it do nothing at all?

The touch of his hand against anything bare would be enough to find out. The calloused flesh of his palm lightened, giving off that same golden glow…he wanted it to work, he wanted to watch what one of the spardhin’s champions could do under his influence. Surely it would be gorgeous…

His little experiment was brought short as a figure intruded, forcing Kir’s world open again and capturing his target’s attention. Kir forced his hand closed, golden light quenched around his fist and fading quickly. This one was no warrior; not in build or mannerism. His presence on a battlefield plumb for war was an anomaly, and Kir watched his movements with vague incredulity. The fluttering robe, the pale skin, the bare feet…the man bent with a contortionist’s grace and one eyebrow rose minutely, the god coming to his own crude conclusions. There were reasons to favor a pale, flexible youth, reasons that extended to every battlefield, but it was best to wait for such satiation until after the fighting. Didn’t these mortals follow any of his precepts anymore? They were to go into battle lusting; frightened and powerful, all of their senses forced to their limit. Camp strumpets should know better than to walk around freely in such a key preparatory moment. When he had reigned on all battlefields, he had ordered all whores to remain in their beds, shivering and prepared for his return, the entirety of the first day of battle.

He met the youth’s gaze impassively, hefting Thanatos’s gift to rest on his shoulder with all the effort of a child lifting a toy sword. Part of him wanted to beat the youth—the soldiers had obviously been pampering him, allowing him to put on airs. It was inappropriate; the balance was so delicate, even one like this could destroy the beauty of it. It was worth protecting. Perhaps he would take the time to draw this one aside…later. He dismissed the youth with a look, one that raked intimately across his frame and away, ignoring the question posed to him. He didn't answer to whores.

His gaze flicked back to Matthias, who looked understandably put-upon. At least this one understood when such attentions were to be welcomed. ”I have a message for you, warrior. For all those marked as spardhin.” He leaned forward slightly, the words breathing out of him with the air of a pronouncement.

”War has noticed you. You will all be marked as his, within the week.” It had once been a great honor…

”Congratulations.” He stepped back, primary goal achieved, ready to leave for the moment. There was nothing more to say.


((I think Kir forgets necromancy is a thing…humans don’t do it much, and they really often keep camp whores. His memory is—odd.))
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Dangerous Shapeshifter

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Ƀarquiel ¤ Ƞaamah ¤Ѵadiel
˟✕ ˟✕ ˟✕ ˟✕ ˟✕ ˟✕ ˟✕ ˟✕˟

" Karma is a b***h ain't it?"


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The seemly empty halls of this temple carried a heavy atmosphere that hung around Barquiel as he walked slowly, and silently like a cat in the night, keeping his presence almost invisible. But karma always leaves its trail no matter how invisible it may seem. Keeping his wings folded onto his back, and his hands to his side, his knuckles bled down staining the carpet, leaving a trail as he walked. Enjoying the silence that hung in the air, Karma concentrated on his other senses to leave his way, the same way he always did when there where no living beings around, emitting energy he could see trough the eyes of his soul, considering he lost his physical eyes to his brother many millenia ago. But like everything good in the world, it never lasted long. The voices off two males seemed to be approaching in his direction. He could not make out exactly what they where saying, but blood started to drip down his cheeks once again, which could only mean one thing. It was time to work.


A twisted smile ran down Barquiel's lips as he could barely wait to cause problems once again. After all that was all he lived for. Walking a bit faster, and drawing his hands into his pockets, he seemed to walk between the shadows in the hall, like a spectrum in the night. Finally standing only a few meters from the human priests he gave a twisted smile as his lips began to move" Good evening my dear apes, fancy meeting you here...so happy to see that my brother Death hasn't taken you yet"he said as a devious expression took over his features, blood dripping from his sockets making his features look a bit diabolic, his bandages now soaked in blood.


Concentrating he could perceive both males standing in front of him, taking in with all his senses what he could, to make out for his lack of sight.Taking a deep breath he noticed a familiar scent in the air. " My my my...what is this that i smell" he said in a deep tone as he twisted his head on Dante's direction"seems like someone does not loose anytime...tell me mortal do you have a death wish?"he said as his tone slowly turned into a evil laugh. " And with Brother Life as well...hitting in the most innocent are we ...i cannot wait and see what Brother Death will do when he hears you where hanging around his little sweetheart". Barquiel's worlds sounded mean, and everything he said usually sounded like he was picking a fight with humans, even Gods, but he could not help it. That was always karma's way of being. Shifting his attention to the other male he twisted his lips a bit making a smiled " you should be careful, hanging out with a mortal that carries the scent of a god could be a little dangerous, heck i would know...most of the time punishing those types of people is my job".




˟✕ ˟✕ ˟✕ ˟✕ ˟✕ ˟✕ ˟✕ ˟✕˟

Oh goody i just seem to find myself with:The priest Dante and Rowriell // Fealing: Devious & Dying to cause trouble // In: Human Temple

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