𝕚𝕟𝕥𝕠 𝕠𝕓𝕝𝕚𝕧𝕚𝕠𝕟.

@nightslain​ said: [  coated  ] nonverbal meme prompts [  coated  ]  receiver  finds  sender  covered  in  blood

“...Foolish, indeed, to think that the hubris of mortals would cease upon your act of kindness.”

He found the Lord after the carnage. Standing amongst the array of corpses, men and women, mercenaries and hunters. All who sought glory in defeating the new King, never mind the sacrifice made for them. Never mind the years of darkness and bloodshed disappearing before the gaze of the Oracles. For their greed, they were lain down and sent to the deepest depths of his abode, leaving behind a sullen man dressed in their slaughter.

“Do not mourn for them, sweet knight. They are not souls that burned with devotion nor benevolence. They are undeserving of your anxiety nor your sorrow.” It was in a more human form that he appeared before Leon. One that was not of a beast made of fear and nightmares. Perhaps it was an act of kindness of his own, or an act of pity for a man who had done so much -- but was rewarded so little, that his fingers sifted through the crimson dyed hair and he pulled the man forward. Pressed his face against his own shoulder. Not quite an embrace. At least, not unless Leon wished it to be so.

“Better than most–at least as we as mere men understand Gods. They are written often as notoriously unpleasant creatures…you are by contrast only a pleasure to deal with.” Different indeed to the heinous tongues of folklore, fantasy and myth; though Trevor has come to understand only too many things are (and only too many of them are worth looking at more than once, more than even twice.) The pleasure of dealing with one such thing so misunderstood today is immediate, unyielding, found in the chill of taloned hands turning his blood both to ice as much as to flame as they fondle over the designs of stone and skin alike. A hiss seethes as the king’s touch blooms like frost upon skin that crimsons in protest.

Though nothing else of Trevor protests so much as provokes. Invites. “Don’t you?” is his first, smirking answer, “Surely a little gratitude would be among them. Perhaps a worship you haven’t met with since the matriarch–” And an answer not without consequence. Those once gentled hands turn cruel, twisting the choker sat at his throat to a squeeze tight enough to wrest out a snarling gasp from the hunter’s lips as that dark head of his throws heavily back upon Hades’ shoulder.

“Mm–” His voice strains with the force of gold and silver biting at his throat and pulse alike. “Neglected to discipline me properly, daresay. If you’re hoping after an apology still, perhaps you can firstly begin to set your own errors to rights.”

“Men do often tend to project unto others... Tales of grandeur or acts of violence may very well be their own desires. How glad I am, however, that the reality of me was beyond your expectations.” And in kind, Trevor was much more than a simple man. A soul that burned so bright and ambitiously, surely were the God unworthy of it he would have found himself scorched. As though he were sweet Icarus himself, he sought to covet the sunlight that laid so willingly in his hands, rested his hand against his shoulder.

“Ah, but what would I gain from a tamed beast when I find him much more endearing wild and ravaged.” Lips pulled back into a snarl, the sharpness of each monstrous teeth playing along linked chains. Hooking and tugging, running across the reddened skin that peeked between the indents. A growl, deep and guttural. It was a sound not found in the world mortals knew, not from any creature nor animal they would know. A reverberation that purred dark into Trevor’s skin, an abyss calling to the light. “My first error -- allowing you to run your mouth as you please.”

@forgedwill​ said: [ hearth ] sender lights a fire nonverbal meme prompts

His gaze wandered to the Forger’s back, now outlined by the glow of newly born fire. Perhaps there would be a chill in these early hours of the morning, where all was grey and the mist had set in like a veil. The God, himself, were cold -- perhaps even more so than the promise of rain or snow, thus he hardly recognized the drop in temperature as the night became early day.

“Little Forger.” He bid. Disappearing from one place, only to take shape at Hector’s side. Very little else was said, but where words were absent, action took place. A right wing unfurled, raised and wrapped around the Forgemaster’s shoulders, draping like a cloak.

@cursefelled​​ said: [ fashion show ] nonverbal meme prompts

“Enjoying yourself, are you.”

A needless question, as he saw it in the glimmer of his eyes. In how he smiled, stepping back to get a clear view of the ‘man’, to nod in appreciation of his work. It was in such clear enjoyment that Hades had not the thought to put a stop to this little endeavor. After all, it was not everyday that the God was to be lavished in material things such as wardrobe and ornaments. Such display of adoration would typically befall on Trevor -- laughably, so much so it was like a man that doted a bit too much on his newly-wedded wife.

This, too, could be an act of adoration. How the God, in mortal flesh, so easily allowed another to direct his body as they wished. Opening his arms to accept the silken coat, tilting up his chin so that Trevor may loop and tie the white scarf. It was quite the docile scene, and he was more than content with it.

           Again, again and again, he feels himself fall to a sensation that is as new as his own undeath: reverence. Bone and soul deep, trusting to an extent that were never truly existing in him with his former Lord. The God chides, soft in a way that does not suit his prior expectations of Death. Least, the Death he once knew, and worked with. So that Hector would bow his head a margin, making himself patient and quiet.

           And again, he is made to see this Ruler in sharper, clearer contrast. What was once a massive terror and vague, shapeless threat had gradually walked into the design of a half man, half creature, but entirely astounding to the Forger. The feather bestowed murmurs with a language so familiar in its antiquity, itself resounding more clearer, more comprehensible the longer he is to hold it, listen to it. Awestruck, speechless to have a say himself until the moment He speaks of cycles and rebirths - a portion of Hector once more wondering if Hades would have preferred him to pay his dues in a humane manner. “That you assure me at all, that you gift me something so profound is difficult still to comprehend, I am certain you know…” his fingers cradle the feather, allows the shadows of it to coil and waltz about his hands. “I were.. not expecting any salve for the feeling, let alone aid for the troubling, however I accept your gift wholeheartedly, gladly, for no matter my determination to teach my devils and familiars a different demeanor, without me asides them they become anxious and uncertain. They indeed are not suited for differentiating the good, mortal human from those that practice wickedness openly…”

             A bow, slowed and proper as thoughts attempt for cultivating the proper words. “It would be an honor. I will gladly work with them, and I thank you kindly for aiding me so tremendously in better serving my Lord.”

He watches, and waits. So fearful this little one used to be, but now he bows his head to his elder and speaks in docile demeanor. Ah, how new purpose changes a mortal. It was a tale he has seen again and again, across countless days, but it always never stopped to intrigue him.

“I need not tell you what should happen were you to someday take this gift and use it for your own. You have seen it, I am sure, in the eyes of man. How holding the essence of life and death drive them to selfish ambitions and madness.” He settles himself upon the window, looking out to the vast world that was like so many others, but different. Much like himself. To dear Hector, he now appeared more as he truly was. Yet, to another certain someone... Well, he had demons to quell before he saw Death as a companion and not a condemnation. His words continued, fingers idly playing with feathers. “Cultists. Necromancers. Many names they call themselves, and many devils they say they worship. In truth, they worship none but they’re own desires. They have no respect for the dead, thusly they have no respect for me.”

@mortemcrowned​ said: [ jewelry  ]  your muse clasping a piece of jewelry for mine , such as a necklace , or earrings . (y'know just reminding everyone that he’s also the god of riches–) || ACTS   OF   DOMINANCE .

“You spoil me any further, Hades, and I will begin to believe you savour the doing of it even more than I do.” Needless words. Hades is never a stranger to making the pleasure of lavishing known to Trevor himself–nor Trevor a stranger to announcing his pleasure in being the lavished. There is eager, smirking compliance merely as the Lord moves to bedizen him with his latest gift. The Belmont tilts his head askew, hair swept in hand over to one side across his shoulder as, between the God’s hands, something cool and heavy and shining is drawn around the front of his throat. It clicks to a close at his nape, holds snug to the curve of his neck. A passing glanced is lowered to admire the picture of emeralds falling like tears on their golden chains along his collar and breast, gleaming and stark on the pallor of the hunter’s skin. Trevor is grinning with pride as careful fingers reach to tilt one large drop of cold, smooth green between his fingers.

“Rather the extravagant piece this time, even to the standards of your generosity.” A sneer cuts through his voice, head bent to brush a kiss upon the king’s jaw–all bite in its teasing affection as its wandering path carries him to a purr in the man’s ear. “I wonder already the gravity of the favours I owe you in exchange.”

“Of course. What sort of God would I be if I did not lavish the pretty little things I keep?” And there would be more to come with the years that would pass. Of metals finely crafted, encrusted with jewels and gemstones that would bring the stars to tears in envy of their luster. The sort of riches that even his brothers and sisters would grovel for, were they not so deterred by a visitation to their dear elder brother’s abode. Black night claws would dance across each emerald, its shine glimmering off the sheen of his nails, the tips dipping between loops and chain to briefly peck the skin they decorated. Truly, only beautiful when in the possession of true beauty.

“Merely to an extent…” A throaty growl answers the chill of the other’s fingers wandering his nape. “Journeys as long as this are only ever worth so much.”

“Ah.”

@cursefelled​ said: [ bare ] but like in a hot way i guess violent muse reaction prompts

“Oh, how endearing.” A soft bout of laughter tumbled from the God, eyes falling upon lips pulled back and teeth all but glimmering with challenge. The Belmont always had a way with provoking others, just to get what he wanted. A hand cradled Trevor’s cheek, before a thumb hooked itself at the corner of that snarling mouth and tugged. “Shall I give it a try?”

He did not wait for an answer. The corners of his mouth pulled back the same way, then further, and further still... until it broke the limits of human understanding. A maw full of teeth, waiting to bite, grip and tear at whatever was unfortunate enough to be capture between their grasp. And such unfortunate thing may very well be his sweet Hunter...

@forgedwill​​ said: [ bite ] your muse biting mine. (like he's still getting used to his vampirism and didn't mean to lose his head) violent muse reaction prompts

Ahh, so this is the form their hunger took the shape of. That of a ravenous animal, starved and wild. A curse that their Devils had laid upon them under the guise of prayers fulfilled and wishes granted. It was pitiable, and he could only wonder why Gods similar to himself would see that their children suffer for a once innocent wish.

“Hush,” An order made soft by the deep melody of his voice, a hand not gripped by savage teeth and fang laid rest atop a crown of moonlit strands. Even as the mortal flesh of his vessel was torn and opened, the sweet scent of pomegranate filling the air rather than the sharpness of copper, he did not strain neither in movement nor in tone.

Following along the lore of the manga, Hades’ appearance differs for each person. Although, I wished to expand on the reason that may be.

Essentially, it varies depending on the individual’s view of death. Were one to fear the concept of death, abhor it or see it as an overall threat, then he would appear to them in more beastly forms. Takes the shape of a amalgamation of their fears and the animals that represent him.

Yet, if one were accepting of death. If they saw it as a natural part of the cycle -- as there is no life without death -- no matter what sort of events had led to their end, then he will appear more as himself.

“I can remember times that I have enjoyed more.”