ISHMAEL'S WILL

     YOU KNOW BETTER than to indulge the ADD that speaks to you. Namely because of what was spoken. You have a feeling, a DEEP ROOTED feeling that there is a trap hidden within those words and it causes your shoulders to square when you tense. You know better and yet it takes every ounce of your STRENGTH to keep yourself from SHAKING as you bite your tongue.

     YOU CANNOT.

     YOU WILL NOT.

     YET YOU FIND that cannot stave off any longer from remaining SILENT. Your teeth grit together and your fingers curl hard against your palms, so much so that the gloves you wear PROTEST from the strain. A scowl writes itself upon your lips.

     “ WHY ARE you smelling me? Distance yourself, NOW, ” is what first leaves your lips in raw irritation, a GROWL growing in your throat before you are forced to clear it. Your eyes are squinted, a glare cast to Doom Bringer as you feel the corner of your lip lift slightly.

     “ AND WHAT, pray tell, is a henway? Whatever that is, I do not smell like it. ”

     THEY ACHE. They burn. You continue your writhing, struggling hard against your restraints. But it is for naught. No matter how hard you fight against the bonds that hold you, they do not give. You are effectively TRAPPED and you curse under your breath at your CAPTOR as Herrscher makes his way towards you.

     THE DISTANCE BETWEEN the two of you is enough yet not. You want him to be closer so you can ATTEMPT to lash out once more. You desire a lucky chance to pull one of your arms free, to materialize your sword betwixt your finger tips and STRIKE at the necessary moment. But try as you may, you are not getting free any time soon and your finger tips twitch and grasp frantically against the shadowy binds.

     THE WORDS HE utters capture your attention, your body growing rigid at the implication. Cease fighting? Time to rest? Your existence BE DAMNED if you even conjured the thought of giving up, of abandoning what you were sent – created to do. Those words further fuel the fire in your veins, your attempts at struggling against the shadows stirring up once more from the ire that taints the very ichor in your being.

     YOU WILL NOT REST.

     " DO NOT touch me! " Your voice raises above its usual level when those threaded fingers dare touch against your chest. You try to arch backwards, to curve away from the hand, a hiss between your teeth as your mouth pulls into a vicious snarl.

”No thanks.”

     “Ah… Poor Arme.      Well, well. It’s good to see you,      I’ll say at least.”

          ‘ BIG BROTHER ’? You can feel your skin prickle at the mere notion of being ANYTHING of the sort – especially for someone like Paradox. Yet despite how you want to spit that you ARE NOT his big brother, you decide to bite your tongue and swallow such a statement. You’d rather not deal with WHATEVER WRATH may be waiting for upsetting someone feigning such CHILDLIKE INNOCENCE. Even if such a matter means so little to you.

          YOU ALSO FIND it incredibly difficult to keep further silent. The butchering of the HOLY TEXT is enough to make the ichor in your veins run hot, yet you cannot allow yourself to lose your temper. At least, that is what you tell yourself as you let blue eyes fix upon the YOUNG appearance that this ADD wishes upon himself. Your fingers dig against your palms when you curl them in, gripping hard at your hands before you choose to exhale – an awful attempt to alleviate the aggravation that grinds your bones.

          “ WRONG, IT is pronounced bible, ” You try to teach, doing your best to enunciate the syllables of the word, “ Repeat after me: BI - BLE. ”

°･ﾟ*✦。» Why did I think it was a good idea to write at 1am - I’ll try to answer the ask that Abel sent before I head offline to get some rest at least. I will admit, however, being my first day writing something here, I am enjoying myself so far! It is fun and I hope it continues to be this way. I hope you all enjoy having me with you as well as my portrayal of Arme - despite how finicky their muse may end up. But portrayals grow and change, so I’m excited to see how they grow!

          “ YOU DARE question the word of the Almighty QUEEN? ” The corner of your eye gives a twitch at such DESECRATION of your Goddess and her creed. It sickens you, causing the corner of your lip to pull upwards in a sneer, and it stops you little from materializing a sword within your gloved palm, grip tightening when you feel the pommel in your grasp. There’s composure you struggle to keep in your ANGER, a feral snarl threatening to escape that you bite back in your throat, strangling the sound as your teeth catch and grind with your jaw.

          NEEDLESS TO SAY, you are not PLEASED.

@goddesscreation

“ah… you.”

paradox mumbles as he noticed that the angel was around the vicinity. he’s never experienced this version of ain before and tended to want to avoid that extremely. bluhen and herrscher were often the ones that he tended to get along with – mostly because they weren’t judging towards him and treated him like he treats them. 

briefly, he is on edge.  did the will of the goddess herself come to eradicate him because of what he was? if so he would prepare himself to be on the defensive or just leave. so he’ll remove fingertips from the purple screens before him, letting them disappear as he crosses arms over his chest and shifts a leg of his over the other.

“…what is it you want? there shouldn’t be any reason for you to be here…” he wasn’t hostile like his other alternates but… he surely always was on guard. 

          THE TERM OF address made to you is enough to make your shoulders stiffen. It's quite clear, to you at least, the tension with which Paradox possesses. You cannot help but narrow your eyes, tongue clicking against your teeth with DISDAIN. A feeling of which you hope isn’t too obvious but your entire being is nothing but BITTER RESENTMENT; it would be difficult to look past your misanthropy. You have to bite your tongue to keep from snipping back.

          “ YOUR TONE is unnecessary, ” You speak up, eyes briefly taking note of the screens when they disappear and the further action of the crossing of Paradox’s arms, “ Accusatory ... should I need a reason to simply be? ” A scoff finds its way from your throat, words dripping with venom when you respond. But Paradox proves a point: You have no reason to be here. You’ve given up on the search party. You’ve abandoned those you once thought would help you and grew far too jaded from the SETBACKS you’ve faced through your mission – so much so that you decided to gain more power for to accomplish the mission ON YOUR OWN.

          THOUGH, PERHAPS part of the nature you threw away still lingers on you – and it takes form in that accursed CURIOSITY.