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@mydeii
⸺ 𝐌𝐘𝐃𝐄𝐈𝐈 : a priv and slctv story as told by east. currently not spoiler free. canon div, headcanon based and mutuals only. telling the tale of MYDEI from honkai star rail : the immortal and woundless body of a kingslayer, the myth who inflamed the path ahead with fire and ensured the road home would be paved in blood. a crown prince wearing his own curse as a blessing. ( CARRD )
ascending with : @valourbled , tba
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last art for this year. Happy New Year!
❛ i don’t want to have the world’s attention. Yours is enough. ❜ / castorice.
various starters ! / accepting.
it sounds like a confession. not the innocent kind, shared between children, whispered with soft laughter and cheeks flushed with warmth — no, this is something far heavier. it’s the kind of confession that feels restrained by unyielding hands and bound in barbed wire. the kind you’d offer up on your knees, hands clasped tightly, begging for forgiveness with trembling words. mydei knows these things all too well, these moments that taste bittersweet, like pomegranate juice on the tongue, tempting and rich. they appear beautiful, like a field of wildflowers in full bloom — vivid, inviting, alive with color. but beneath their allure, they carry the weight of something fleeting, fragile, like a whispered secret carried by the wind. a secret that comes and goes with one breath of air, leaving behind a hollow uncertainty. did he truly hear it? or was it merely imagined? castorice is real. she is not a fleeting breeze or an intangible dream. she sits just a few feet away, cross-legged on the opposite side of the low table, her cushion perched neatly beneath her. mydei, too, sits still, watching her, and for a moment, he lets himself wonder if she knows how much weight her presence alone carries. how much it lingers in the space between them, tangible and undeniable.
❝ my apologies, i shouldn’t have assumed ... ❞ that she might be longing for something else? it only makes sense to him. even castorice, who has clearly learned over the years how to stand on her own and mask any need for physical affection with an air of ease, cannot be entirely immune to the ache of longing. it’s a feeling that arrives and departs on its own terms, unpredictable and unrelenting. mydei knows it all too well. he knows it in the deep homesickness he carries for a place he believes he himself ruined. he knows it in the quiet desperation to prove himself worthy, even though he doesn’t fully understand what, or whom, he’s trying to be worthy of. and he knows it most painfully in the way he wonders what her touch might feel like — a question that lingers in his thoughts, unanswered. these are selfish thoughts, he tells himself, born of a desire to know her in a way unburdened by caution, to see her as she truly is, without barriers or reservations. it’s a yearning driven by curiosity, a hunger to unravel the mystery of her. yet, in moments like this, mydei cannot help but reflect on how cruel curiosity can be, how it gnaws at him with an intensity that feels both intoxicating when it shouldn't.
but she chooses his attention. out of everyone in okhema, out of all the lives she must have crossed paths with on her journey to find her own place, she chooses him. for a fleeting moment, mydei feels as though he’s been thrust into the heart of an unfamiliar battlefield, scrambling for a weapon his hands cannot seem to grasp. he stands completely unarmed, the ground beneath him trembling with the storm of his thoughts, his pulse racing to match the chaos in his mind. and yet, the faint tug at the corner of his lips betrays him, revealing just how pleased he is with her answer. mydei lets out a low hum of thought, his hand slowly extending forward before stopping short, resting on the table between them — a gesture meant to bridge the gap but without overstepping. it’s a careful offer, a step toward connection while still leaving a safe distance between them. for now, that is all he can bring himself to ask for. nothing more, not yet.
❝ that is a lot of attention to desire, whatever shall you do with all of it, i wonder ? ❞
❛ how terrible it is to love something that death can touch ❜ / castorice
various starters ! / accepting.
❝ hm, speaking from experience ? ❞mydei has no intention of prying, and he fully acknowledges that his question may go unanswered should castorice decide to keep her thoughts to herself. he would not fault her for it. still, he likes to think their relationship is functional, perhaps even leaning toward camaraderie. they are polite, often friendly, and he believes — perhaps optimistically — that he knows her better than just any acquaintance, privy to some pieces of her life and mind that she would not readily share with just anyone. of course, whether this closeness is genuine or merely a calculated effort to secure his standing within okhema remains uncertain. mydei isn’t blind to the possibility that his own motivations might cloud his perceptions. there are times, however fleeting, when he allows himself to wonder if this place, these people, and this chapter of his life are meant to be permanent. or is this merely another brief stop along a much longer, winding journey?
as the former crown prince’s rumor goes, mydei possesses power that few can rival, a force so vast and unique that it defies comparison except to the handful of individuals he sometimes deigns to spar with. yet, for all his abilities, he cannot peer into the threads of his own destiny. and perhaps, he muses, that is for the best. even if he could glimpse what lies ahead, would he truly want to? the idea of knowing, of having the mystery unraveled before him, feels as much a burden as it does a relief. for now, he resigns himself to the uncertainty, navigating the present as best he can while the future remains an unanswered question.
mydei stands with his arms folded firmly across his chest, his posture steady and composed, the same nearly inscrutable expression etched across his face. it isn’t that he is incapable of feeling, far from it. emotion thrums beneath the surface, present in nearly every moment. yet he is a man who rarely lets those feelings rise to the forefront. instead, they manifest in subtle ways, through the smallest shifts in his demeanor: the way his hands move when he speaks or the way they stay close to his body, a quiet defense against discomfort. when he speaks to castorice, however, mydei allows himself to let go of some of those guarded habits. even when the subject at hand is death, a topic that could easily drive him into silence, he does not shy away. death, in this context, feels both transient and blasphemous, a paradox that weighs heavily on him. he wonders silently, does this make him a sinner, a transgressor against natural order? or is he, perhaps, something closer to blessed?
his thoughts swirl as his eyes close briefly, as if searching for clarity in the darkness behind his eyelids. when they open again, the golden irises catch the faint light of the horizon, their gaze distant but focused. mydei remains rooted in his space, as though it were carved out for him alone — a place three measured steps away from castorice, deliberate and precise. in his stillness, he reflects, his emotions shielded yet undeniably present, carried silently within him like an unspoken truth.
❝ death is necessary. what’s truly terrible is if you cannot love something and accept that it will die. ❞
Phainon had curated this sense of careless ease with the diligence of someone who understood its inherent worth. Conversations often reaped benefits that could not be seized by other, less philanthropic means. Having risen from the despondent ashes of his past, his muscles mutinous and his knees buckling pitifully, inferred that this phainon, who differentiated himself from that past by adhering to the path of valour, might not have always been so refined in his gallantry. Once, long ago he had idled amongst those somnolent hours right before dusk and said with utter conviction that he only wanted to ever be a hero for those closest to him. Back then it had only extended to the boundaries of that secluded village now effaced from time itself. Now, however, his purview has expanded, encompassing a path so vast that the past’s significance became dull before it. Their flame-chase was an all encompassing ambition, one they were not fortuitously chosen for but fated to endure, subsuming that purpose into himself had given him the capacity to become somewhat convincing, even when it came to himself.
He still finds himself preferring this, circling one another with renewed fervor. How could it feel anything but gratifying to know someone as strong and competent as Mydei had chosen him as a rival; witnessing his fortitude and deciding it was equal to his own. Mydei has never tried to exhume the specifics of his past and in return Phainon does not impudently demand he unveil his. For those two it did not matter, so entrenched in the present, committed to the battles they might face and the critical junctures in history they were to form that the present held more importance that what had led them to it. That was how Phainon felt, atleast. Even if it was partially to severe himself from the past and tenaciously seize the ambition fate had chosen for him, claiming accolades by circumventing the calamity their world was hurtling towards. Although — he has yet to banish the thought that the man before him was more deserving of that devastating flame, vowing to govern their ascension. Perhaps it is this which troubles him the most, unable to accept the next development and acknowledge fully that his efforts had not been in vain with the promise of godhood lurking upon the horizon. It was part of that fervent ambition to accomplish this goal so he has yet to comprehend the reluctance that clung to him so stubbornly.
Phainon had once believed he was rather competent when it came to revealing only what he desired but Mydei’s shrewd gaze penetrates deep, unearthing all that was furtively kept with but a cursory glance. It was because he knew where to look, never needing to bother himself with prying in order to discern how his comrade felt, whether he was at ease or plagued by disquiet, it was all the same. He cannot bring himself to abhor it, despite all of the effort he had exhausted in order to become a convincing half-truth he has found that when he finally is allowed to relent that there was relief shrouded within it. These are the moments where he feels profoundly seen by him, divesting him of that veneer of geniality. It felt so aberrant, so beyond his control, that he cannot quite resist the urge to tease in order to disperse it. Only when he was prepared, truly prepared, did he think he might muster the mettle needed to speak it aloud. It was shameful to act so intentionally evasive, especially when Phainon strove to be a steadfast companion, an ally any would be honoured to campaign beside. So he settles for this, leaving this moment unchanged despite his reservations, if Mydei was going to proffer him the oblation of his time it seemed only equitable that he reciprocate with something of equal value. He could feel the insurmountable weight of it settle in his hands, refuting the urge to return to carefully fortifying himself, as if consolidating his defences might rectify that vulnerability. All of his audaciously infectious mirth seems to become malleable when it is contorted by the hands of his most revered rival, a man so dauntless that he knows, without room for uncertainty, that he would not balk before any truth laid before him. In the end there was no other he would rather be upon this journey with, standing before the encroaching catastrophe without feeling even a slither of trepidation. ❝— do you hate that side of me so ? ❞ he teases gently, wanting nothing more than to remain transfixed by his unyielding stare. That molten, aureate gaze serves as a polarity to his own, compelling the placid waters of enigmatic blue to churn under their oppressive intensity. To reveal so much without the necessity of redundant words, accepting this perilous undertaking whilst turning his bare palms to the heavens in offering. It was a silent invitation, asking only the Mydei choose how he wishes to witness him, unimpeded by anything else. Vulnerable not despite but because they are not facing adversity. Vulnerable because they remain side by side like this, intercepting one another with ripostes that came oh so effortlessly. Vulnerable because there seemed to be less of an exigent need to conceal things when they came together.
❝ So, it is also you that shall escort my soul into the afterlife ? ❞ the curvature of his mouth is more genuine now, as if the absurdity of someone was distinguished as Mydei descending to shepherd his soul was terribly amusing. ❝ To be fortunate enough to not only have you as my ally but my guide ? oh, the envy this will invite. ❞ if this was an illustory realm, nothing more than an interlude between the shedding of blood and heaving in breaths of hopeless, arid air, then his gratitude seems only proper before that act of unbridled compassion. Mydei responds in kind, dismissing it whilst ruthlessly brandishing his own intent. The second bite is a commandment, denying him the privilege of repudiation because it was him, them, stubborn and bold and — unspeakably hungry. It is with that imperious undertone that he speaks now, having tasted and savoured the salt of his skin until he was satisfied. Uttering anything feels inane when his lips and tongue convey all that is necessary, his supple skin an unspoken invitation, requesting that his shameless mouth leave evidence of its claim in lurid contusions rather than a mere transient imprint of his teeth. Absently Phainon’s hand drifts down, tentatively grazing the back of his hand before seizing it, not as a deterrent but to become a guide, imploring him to ascend further, to firmly press the swells of his fingers into the irresistible skin separating his touch from the turbulent thrumming of his heart. ❝ If we were dead there is no way I would be so responsive, right ? ❞ he laughs incredulously despite how the other warrior’s teeth are still buried resolutely in his skin. He has tasted death on numerous occasions, stood vigil alongside the tenuous boundary between life and what came after, so he knows this is not quite that, its allure is different, more parlous. He urges him to drag his fingers through that negligible barrier of clothing and to truly feel the thunderous cadence he has elicited with such puerile acts of possessiveness. Phainon was not innocent in this, if anything, he seeks fervently to exacerbate the predacious shadow that paces restlessly behind the prince’s ribs. ❝ have you been shown to your satisfaction ? ❞ he offers with all the graciousness this charged atmosphere could possess, his mouth an impression of amiability as it verged into something sharper, more sincere. ❝ or was his highness hoping for something more specific ? ❞
in truth, there is likely nothing about phainon that mydei could even begin to claim he hates. dramatic as the man might be at times, it is simply an integral part of his charm — a charm so potent it could draw in even the most hardened of warriors before they realize it, though mydei never had any intention of escaping in the first place. he is not one to cower before a challenge, nor does he shy away when intentions are laid bare. if anything, it is his combative spirit that fuels his resolve, a deep-seated competitiveness that seems to awaken most strongly in phainon’s presence. with phainon, every interaction feels like a game, with the stakes raised impossibly high. mydei’s pride is always at risk, and he refuses to let it falter for even an instant, no matter how playful the competition might seem on the surface. that is the peculiar power of phainon, a quality mydei has come to understand over the course of their time together. he has learned that these games, as lighthearted as they may appear, are not merely games. they are battles of wit, charm, and willpower that leave him both exhilarated and infuriated at times, yet always drawn back for more. in the end, perhaps it isn’t about winning or losing at all — but about standing alongside someone who can inspire that kind of fire in him.
❝ oh ? do not make jokes about your soul like that, it will find its place with or without me. ❞ mydei can only hope, though hope has never been his strong suit. silence itself does not bother him, on the contrary, it is a source of comfort, a familiar reprieve amidst the chaos of his life. but the silence that would follow phainon’s departure, that would be unbearable in an entirely different way. mydei knows full well there are paths phainon must walk where he cannot follow. their journeys do not align as a singular, shared road winding through the hardships of war. instead, they diverge across the battlefield, each man holding a position at opposing ends, only crossing paths on rare occasions. moments like these, where duty loosens its grip and circumstance allows them to meet again, feel almost like stolen time. mydei’s steps inevitably lead him back to the man who has crowned himself both ally and rival, and mydei allows himself the indulgence of savoring these brief interludes.
he does not fear death out of self-preservation, but because of the hollowing thought of losing everything and everyone he holds dear. phainon is one of those precious few — a person who has somehow breached the formidable walls mydei has spent years constructing around his innermost self. within those walls, built of unyielding strength and forged through years of hardship, lies a vulnerability mydei rarely acknowledges. and yet, phainon has carved out a place within, where his absence would leave a void too vast to fill. without him, mydei knows it would be an awfully lonely place for a weary heart to keep beating. but the inevitability of that loss looms ever closer, and neither mydei nor phainon can halt its approach. one day, mydei will find himself alone again, left only with the echo of phainon’s presence — an unrelenting ghost haunting the conversations they once shared.
phainon speaks with a boldness that borders on playful mockery, his words carrying that unmistakable air of self-assuredness as he prattles on about how fortunate he is and how envious others must be of the attention mydei grants him. it strikes mydei in a way he doesn’t outwardly acknowledge, landing like a sharp blow between his ribs — a pointed, taunting reminder that no matter how fiercely he tries to maintain the upper hand, phainon always manages to retaliate with something perfectly timed and maddeningly in character. phainon walks that razor-thin line between too much and too little, wielding his playful nature like a weapon, a tool he has honed with precision. he dances so adeptly around mydei’s limits that it almost seems deliberate — a skillful art form he’s mastered. and in a way, mydei can’t begrudge him for it. it feels only fair that he holds phainon in such high regard when it comes to competition, as the man proves himself unmatched time and again.
in many ways, mydei is a paradox. a warrior of incredible skill and a former crown prince, he carries himself through the streets of the city as if he belongs not to palaces or battlefields but to every shadowed alley and sunlit square. his strength extends beyond the physical, manifesting in his defiant spirit and unyielding resolve. this is where phainon comes in and truly shines, where he sets himself apart. whether in the midst of a sparring session or locked in one of their many stubborn competitions, his presence is formidable, his determination unshakable. mydei can’t help but admire it, and he knows phainon is fully aware of the effect he has. either he is entirely confident in his own abilities, a man who believes in himself without hesitation, or he thrives on the knowledge that mydei sees something exceptional in him. perhaps it’s both. either way, that unwavering resolve is something mydei respects deeply. few have ever managed to best him, yet here phainon stands, not just a rival but a force of nature who has carved a place in mydei’s thoughts, refusing to be ignored or underestimated.
❝ your heart is racing. ❞ it feels, in a strange way, like a compliment — a wordless acknowledgment of something unspoken yet profoundly intimate. to be so close to phainon, close enough to sense the steady rhythm of his heartbeat drumming against his chest, feels like an invitation into something sacred. mydei swears he can almost feel it beneath his palm, as though the organ were no longer safely enclosed in phainon’s chest but instead beating within his own hand, pumping life directly through his grip. it is an unsettling thought, but not because of fear — because of the tenderness it evokes. should phainon’s heart ever truly find itself in his grasp, mydei knows there would be no room for malice or harm, only care and protection. his hands, trained in the art of violence, sworn to inflict damage only in the name of safeguarding what matters, would never betray that oath. the mere thought of causing harm to someone he holds so dear, to phainon of all people, feels like a sin so grave it twists uncomfortably in his mind. if such an act were ever to occur, mydei knows he could never forgive himself.
it’s an impossible scenario, of course, but the weight of it lingers regardless, rooted in the vulnerability his actions now betray. his hand remains where it is — steady, yet cautious, refusing to retreat. there is no blood, no scars to mar the moment, just the softness of his skin pressing lightly against fabric, tracing the hidden pulse that beats beneath. it’s a fragile connection, yet it feels so profound, as though the slightest movement could shatter it. phainon, ever gracious, breaks the stillness with a question. he speaks without urgency, leaving the words to hang delicately in the air, granting mydei a chance to respond. but mydei stands motionless, his gaze locked, his mind unwilling to stray from this fleeting, perfect moment. if he dares to blink, to look away for even a second, what guarantee is there that this fragile, glorious connection won’t crumble into ruins? for now, he holds still, savoring what he can, even as his own heartbeat thunders in his ears, drowning out everything but the steady rhythm of phainon’s. ❝ when you fight, does it feel like this ? ❞ mydei can only assume that it does, or that it is similar, but the question easily slips his lips either way. ❝ like it is beating out of your chest to further drive you insane ? ❞
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various things spoken in an adventuring party pt.3
a little assortment of quotes and sayings i've found doom scrolling through pinterest that i think an adventuring party would say during their never ending perilous adventures . please do not copy/repost or add to this list, thank you!
Affectionate ❛ how terrible it is to love something that death can touch ❜ ❛ i never craved attention until i tasted yours ❜ ❛ i don’t want to have the world’s attention. Yours is enough. ❜ ❛ you cant just touch my soul and leave ❜ ❛ your hands are scarred from murder, and yet I trust them completely ❜
Questions ❛ you seem somewhat familiar. have i threatened you before? ❜ ❛ why am I so fascinated by you? ❜ ❛ you risked so much for me. why would you do such a thing? ❜ ❛ it’s time you start talking! what did you do?! ❜ ❛ do you really think they were a tender flower you could trample upon? ❜
Banter ❛ i just like to argue with you cause it’s funny. ❜ ❛ unfortunately for everyone, i will keep doing whatever i want. ❜ ❛ i think god is gonna have to kill me twice. ❜ ❛ the next time i open up to someone is my autopsy ❜ ❛ you walk a fine line between beautifully macabre and uncharacteristically psychotic, you know that? ❜
Tragedy ❛ i thought we’d have more time ❜ ❛ if i disappear, will you look for me? ❜ ❛ let us live, since we must die ❜ ❛ i cant live in a world where you dont exist ❜ ❛ i talk to the gods, but the sky is empty. ❜
Fierce ❛ do not forget what i am. ❜ ❛ this destruction will be your rebirth. ❜ ❛ you are filled with poison but blessed with beauty and rage ❜ ❛ when you are not fed love on a silver spoon, you learn to lick it off knives ❜ ❛ you have no power over me. ❜
Antagonistic ❛ leave them at the bottom of the grave they dug for you. ❜ ❛ and you call me a monster ❜ ❛ being against evil doesn’t make you good. ❜ ❛ so, tell me little one, do you want to punish those that have wronged you? ❜ ❛ i’m the friendliest evil person you will ever meet. ❜
BONUS
FROM THE HERO TO THE VILLAIN ❛ running doesn’t matter. I’ll hunt you down if i have to ❜ ❛ no one wearing a crown comes in the name of peace ❜ ❛ our bones are stained with sin, scorched from fire, broken by betrayal, soaked with blood, and yet we still keep fighting! ❜ ❛ you want to kill me? fine. get in line. ❜
FROM THE VILLAIN TO THE HERO ❛ i’ve met scarecrows with more spine than you ❜ ❛ can you hear the screams of the people? can you hear them serenading me as i ascend? their pain is my pleasure in the heavens. they worship me with their grief. and now so will you. ❜ ❛ if bravery had a face, it certainly wouldn’t look like yours ❜ ❛ my power knows no bounds, and your efforts to defy me are like whispers lost in a hurricane ❜ ❛ oh, look at you, attempting greatness! pity it’s just an attempt. ❜
Mydei! I was surprise he wasn’t fire?
“ Ah, caught me. ” the words tumble almost sheepishly from her painted lips. It's not as if she'd meant to stay awake and merely watch the way the other man's chest rose and fell. Not like she'd meant to memorize every line of red that etch his body. Or the way that color tinged through golden locks of hair. She'd barely realized he had fallen asleep, truly. So lost in studying his very form as she was. Then fact that they'd been so close felt near criminal. As if it were meant for anyone but her to enjoy, truly. Like there was meant to be someone else within this very room- feeling the soft comforts of the sheets. And yet it was Eros.
Suppose she hadn't even expected for them to be like this at all. Some tired promise to get him into bed given how much he'd imbibed during the night prior. And then she'd been all but pulled into the bed- or more he'd fallen onto her, and then the bed. It had taken what felt like forever to wiggle her way out from under him, even the sight then was… well, it had been priceless.
Eros finds herself lucky that her arrival with the Express meant also getting to know Lord Mydei. That even what felt like brief interactions had felt – meaningful, really. To trek through his home for even a moment, even as it had been. But, then what she appreciates most is that he'd opened himself up to her, even if it was just a little bit. Even if she is an outsider, one who has no real place on this world, one who longs for home as she does. The company makes up for the homesickness. That it is enough to bring her mind at ease occasionally, if not distract it entirely from that longing for the snow that she feels. And during these quiet nights? She certainly needed that distraction more than she realized.
To be lying even just a bit away from him, watching as he moves and stretches. The way that his body tenses and then seems to relax. Her features are red as she tries to bury herself against one of the pillows. As if attempting to pretend she had never been staring in the first place, even he was, perhaps, all too aware that she had been.
“ Truth be told? ‘m still not sure how t’ tell compared t' back home, so I couldn't tell ya. Late – though… real late. ”
@mydeii || c.
the yawn that threatens to stretch his jaw wide open is not exactly the kind he can hold back, though mydei does his best to at least hide it behind the palm of his hand. since the arrival of the people from the express, at least phainon seems to have been eased by their presence, as though they were awaited by him. other worlds existing isn’t a concept that is hard to understand, the former crown prince wasn’t born cynical and rather a dreamer that enjoyed the idea of venturing to other lands even if he knows it is a dream for others and not himself. mydei knows his place, the place he has carved out for himself not only in the remnants of castrum kremnos but also in okhema. he belongs here.
❝ have you slept at all ? ❞ the question is mostly out of courtesy and he slowly rises to his feet, continuing to stretch as he stands. it can’t be too late, more like early morning, or he would not have woken up already. after so many years, he is now used to being up before the rest of the city, the buzz on the street completely silent until a few hours later when it begins with shuffling footsteps and a lively ambience. though mydei is rarely seen in public, a choice made by him as he prefers to stay in the back of things, he is ever the cautious observant of everything that goes on. sometimes scouting from his own window, the rooftops that burn under the sun by lunchtime or wherever he decides to venture off for the day. a good amount of training lies before him, exercise that keeps him busy for at least a few hours before duty calls or someone like tribbie, aglaea or phainon requests his aid with something. most of the time he is happy to comply, at least it gives him something to do, and he does not have to find ways to keep busy alone. this morning, eros becomes his focus, as one would expect though mydei is not used to take care of guests.
❝ i have training to do later, it is still rather early though so if you’re hungry we could grab a bite ? i understand if you would rather sleep. i won’t disturb you. ❞
Hieu Minh Nguyen, from “Staying Quiet"
@mydeii / continued.
― silence extends a moment longer, an unhurried hush punctuated by the melodious sound of a hum soft as snowfall. agreement is tucked into that sound : indeed, she has seen mydei in far worse states than this and she imagines that, beyond her view and within the heat of battle, he has experienced wounds yet more lethal. the discomfort he exhibits now, present in the rigidity of movements and the transient tightening of expression, seems to be something he'd sooner disregard in favour of offering reassurance. it is always this way with him. there is, castorice has found, comfort in his ceaselessness.
she, envoy of demise, has known little of constants. the lives of those around her are precious but fragile things, spun sugar crumbling beneath a solitary touch never to re-assemble. mydei, though great and fierce, is no less breakable but uniquely capable of return from death's cold shores, as if they simply could never contain him. mydei can tell her that he will always be fine, that he will not part from this world, and she can feel it in her very soul to be true. comforting. endlessly comforting, but still not a reason not to worry for him. even the deathless suffer.
❝ mm. as you always say. ❞ fondness warms that tone. his reassurance has done its job : a smile blooms upon castorice's face, not entirely enough to dissolve the worry that lingers but sufficient to partially thaw it. he is fine. she has seen now, with her own eyes, that he is fine. there is, castorice thinks, a bond as tangible as aglaea's golden threads between those who fight together. not because they are golden-blooded chrysos heirs, but because they have recognised one another as comrades. there is the ever-present instinct to protect, to ensure safety, to seek one another's company. it clashes strangely with her customarily solitary existence and she's yet to know if she's doing this right : lingering as she does in the corners of the others' lives and fretting over them. mydei, at least, seems not to mind.
she brightens subtly, posture easing and smile returning, as he requests a walk. it is difficult to conceal her delight, so she does not try to. ❝ it ... has been too long since we walked together. i have been unable to take the picture i'd hoped for. did i tell you? there is a new child among the dromas. a sweet little thing, just hatched. i did not wish to get close enough for a picture the last time i visited, since so many people were around. ❞
he beckons her to his side - she does not miss the gesture. her breath stills. after all their time together, she does not need to remind him to keep his distance : he knows well enough to remain wary, even should she fall into step by his side. castorice wonders, sometimes, how the demise of her touch would clash with mydei's curse. she has feared the answer too much to find out. his ability to return from death is no reason to inflict it upon him.
carefully, she closes the distance. one step, two, three, four. a pause. this should be near enough, she thinks : they can walk side by side now.
❝ shall we? perhaps you'd agree to pose for a picture or two when we arrive. i've so few of you. ❞ that she intends to walk slowly to avoid aggravating his wounds, all the while claiming to merely desire a nice steady pace, is her business.
those who lack the warmth of companionship are burdened with a void that mydei has been fortunate to avoid for much of his life. whether through the enduring bonds formed with a select few from his former city or the new connections forged with those who have entered his life despite his initial resistance, mydei acknowledges the value they bring. to label such isolation a mere curse may understate its severity, as even curses can sometimes be repurposed for good — something mydei understands but chooses to keep largely to himself, even among those he holds dear.
castorice is among the trusted few, her vitality undiminished by the physical condition that enforces their separation. their bond, unyielding to physical distance, is a testament to its strength. for mydei, distance is a concept all too familiar, one he often imposes on others. this self-imposed barrier, a shield against external interference, ensures his focus on the path he believes he must follow. yet, this separation does not eliminate his curiosity. mydei has often wondered about the nature of castorice’s touch — whether her hands would carry a soft warmth or a cold, unyielding chill. whether or not he would survive it long enough to feel it. if she would even let him. these musings, while unspoken, must remain his own for now. they have a home in his mind, nowhere else, lest he impose on the boundaries she has set.
❝ you did not tell me, nor did i hear it from anyone else. then again, aren’t you my go-to when it comes to droma news ? ah, just hatched ? it must have been an exciting thing to experience. ❞ the tenderness in his voice softens the rigid tension in his body, a lingering remnant of the battlefield rather than anything she has done. as she falls into step beside him, maintaining a deliberate, respectful gap between them, mydei silently treasures the gift of her presence. he cares little for the rumors or whispers that might circulate about her, and if they exist, he has no interest in hearing them. what is clear to him, however, is her quiet insistence on keeping others at arm’s length. even with the unspoken barrier she upholds, her composed demeanor, and the invisible circle of space she guards so carefully, mydei cannot help but admire the fleeting spark of emotion that softens her otherwise serious expression. perhaps it is a touch of excitement, or better yet: some understated joy of sharing her time with him — being in his company. no, that must be wishful thinking.
the thought makes his steps quicken, ever so slightly, though the briskness of his stride is nothing compared to the racing beat of his heart. it pounds away in his chest, an undeniable rhythm that betrays his outward calm. could she hear it, he would be no more than one beat away from fleeing the scene. his eyes remain on the path ahead for the most part, though he steals glances in her direction every now and then, showing little effort to hide it at all as it is merely an attempt to make it obvious that his attention is now dedicated to her. and still, it is not an entirely selfless act. mydei drinks in the sound of her voice, breathes with ease as the comfort of her presence settles like a blanket around his shoulders.
❝ if the little one doesn't mind, perhaps you can capture a picture of us together. they are usually not too shy, hm ? i could bribe them with a snack while no one is looking. though i am certain they would not mind posing for you. who does not try their best to impress lady castorice ? ❞
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“The war took you away. What came back wears your skin. (Sometimes, it still has your eyes.)”
— lost childhood (c.n.s) // 6.4.17 (via joypendants)
📏
"lord mydei." castorice halts a carefully measured distance away : one, two, three, four, five steps. her countenance, when she regards him, is gentle and - in spite of her deathly pallor - warm. "are your wounds healing well?"
how many times has this very question been posed to her allies, now? countless. though castorice maintains a wary separation, ever-cautious of stepping too near to another and therefore unwilling to expect any particular attachment from them in return, she has always - after every battle, after every parting - taken care to check on them. mydei, who cannot be claimed by death, who has known the pain of parting far too many times, tends to stir a strange and not-quite-sorrowful feeling in her.
"if there is anything you require, please let me know."
❝ as well as always, i’ve been worse. ❞ mydei’s attempt to sound lighthearted falls flat, poorly executed as his shoulders tense and his posture stiffens. unfolding his arms from across his chest, his expression betrays a flicker of discomfort — nothing major, or so he tells himself, and certainly nothing worth her concern. yet, it’s never that simple. castorice may keep her distance after each battle, but her presence is always palpable, as consistent as the question she never fails to ask, though her tone varies from time to time. mydei understands her, or at least he thinks he does. he recognizes the need behind her actions, the urge to confirm, to ensure. he imagines it mirrors his own instincts, though with her, it’s harder to decipher. still, regardless of her reasons, he will continue to offer the same answer, over and over again, like a mantra or a broken record if that’s what it takes to put her at ease. he is fine. he’s always been fine. he’ll always be fine.
his gaze settles on her, taking in the features that have stared death in the face more times than he can count, yet somehow still manage to radiate a quiet warmth. there’s a riddle in her expression, a glow that seems to defy the chill of mortality itself. even from five feet away, a distance more than sufficient to maintain a sense of safe detachment, he can almost feel it, an energy that hums like static electricity dancing over his skin. his lips press into a thin line, a quiet hum escaping him as if caught between thought and action. though his feet remain firmly planted, making no move to close the gap between them, his hand lifts, gesturing to his side in a silent indication.
❝ walk with me ? i have not seen you in a while. did you ever manage to get a good photo of the dromas or should we head there together ? ❞
[ WATCH ] for your muse to watch my muse sleep [but reverse i think cuz she'd do that shit east.]
[ WATCH ] for your muse to watch my muse sleep.
❝ what’s the matter ? can’t sleep ? ❞ waking up to someone staring at you might unsettle most, but mydei is far from startled when he stirs this time. the soft glow of light filtering in through the wide, open windows eases the transition from sleep to wakefulness. he remains still, his movements minimal even as his mind registers that she is awake and watching him. there is no sudden jolt, no sharp intake of breath to question the unusual behavior of the vidyadhara. instead, he stays on his side, one arm tucked beneath the pillow supporting his head and the other stretched lazily across the soft sheets.
he doesn’t recall falling asleep, a common occurrence for him, but judging by the way the night has deepened around them, it must have been hours ago. mydei briefly debates whether to inquire about her wakefulness, contemplating silence as a more comfortable alternative. yet, curiosity wins out, compelling him to break the quiet.
allowing someone near him while he sleeps is an exception, not the rule. mydei rarely permits such proximity during rest, a time when his guard is supposed to be lowered, leaving him vulnerable. he chalks this unusual situation up to hospitality, though he suspects the real culprit is the drink he indulged in earlier — just a bit too much after a long day of training, leaving him too tired to object to her presence. not that he minds it overly much, they have already gotten to know each other somewhat well so she does not count as a stranger at least. besides, lately, he has grown more receptive to the idea that not all outsiders come with malicious intent, even if his protective instincts still bristle at the notion. the constant need to guard what matters to him remains a thorn in his side, but it’s one he accepts.
finally sitting up, mydei stretches until his neck emits a satisfying pop, the motion loosening some of the tension that clings to him like the lingering haze of sleep. the exhaustion etched into his features casts a shadow of weariness across his face, a stark reminder of how deeply the demands of the night have weighed on him.
❝ what time is it ? ❞
@mydeii: " do you ever feel at times as if you were not a person? " / for aven
being viewed as a person was a luxury in his history, he came to discover that very quickly. the mark on his neck, to many is just an awful tattoo on a drunk night, but aventurine knew it was just a deep mark on his worthiness as a person amongst humanity. but to him, it became a bargaining chip he was shamelessly willing to throw into any gambit and win it back and lots more.
but the question posed by the native of this land did make aventurine pause in thought. perhaps the perception and unique view this world clings to pushed these various thoughts into its inhabitants that other worlds would simply ignore or not find interesting enough. their gaze on mydei dropped and they focused on the chip in their hand, studying it despite the familiarity.
"all the time. you see the mark on my neck, i bet that is what spurred this on." he admits before looking back at the resident with a smirk. "no matter, i think it just means you got more worth than the people who don't push their luck in life." turning it into a bet would be the best way to ignore the emotion, but he knew not everyone enjoyed the gamble
"so then, how do you stand on feeling like not being a person?"
it would be dishonest to suggest that mydei failed to notice the mark on the other man’s neck. though he doesn’t recognize it as belonging to anything from this world, he understands better than to ask a stranger about the significance of markings on their body. mydei is not one to pry into someone’s personal matters in such a direct way. that isn’t how he prefers to initiate a conversation. instead, he chooses a seemingly random question — one that, in hindsight, might lean more philosophical than he’d usually go for. the response he receives, however, is far from what he expected, catching him off guard.
most of his initial observations were focused on simpler, more tangible details: the stranger’s clothing, the striking shade of his eyes, and the way he navigates this unfamiliar land. these are the subtleties mydei is accustomed to reading, and they often tell him more than words ever could. although mydei himself is not a native of this particular city, his familiarity with its nuances allows him to easily discern when someone doesn’t belong here. the stranger’s movements, his posture, and even the way he seems to take in his surroundings speak volumes — enough to confirm to mydei that this man is an outsider, much like himself, though perhaps in a very different way.
❝ people have all kinds of tattoos and marks, i do not believe yours stands out enough to warrant prying questions from a stranger. ❞ after clarifying that, his eyes are drawn to the chip in aventurine’s hand, only observing it for a faction of a second. he seems to be used to handling items like that, and mydei is once again not going to question it. ❝ oh, i was simply curious. i overheard a conversation earlier regarding the topic. one of the people said none of us are human, or at least we lack the humanity we boast about. ❞
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@mydeii. They are driven to vigilance for this world of theirs is tumultuous even when quelled to silence, phainon has grown accustomed to filling the apertures of it with the mirthful quarrelling of friends, lest it grow to become cavernous — insatiable. It’s an inferred kindness that requires no true explanation, mydei knows him intimately enough to recognize the way his ambling words carry themselves, even if he is only to tersely intervene should he become too insolent for his own good. It is a disparate tension that simmers between them now, an indistinct whisper that refuses to be silenced. His smile has yet to show reluctance, balking before ally or adversary merely wasn’t tolerated, the imperviousness mydei adorned for battle comparable to his geniality, unmoved by outside influence. Yet it does not go unnoticed, for as astute as the other’s gaze was when sweeping across the battlefield, detecting weakness, formulating strategies, is he just as discerning when it comes to phainon’s inscrutable expression. Well, he had thought it inscrutable, now he was not quite as certain. “ Ah, nothing goes undetected before you, does it ?” the unyielding grip of his gauntlet is not unkind, if anything, this was the only sort of generosity mydei could offer him. The fabric contorts around the impression of his fingers, pressing divots into the pliant skin beneath, knowing the restraint required for such a feat — for his strength was indeed formidable, is enough to urge him to take a step away from his own troubled thoughts. to be so profoundly known was a vulnerability he did not think himself entirely prepared for, perhaps that is why his mouth curls at the corners into an apologetic smile. nothing was owed and there was no imperious demand for candour only this moment, where the weight of his commentary is so immense that it could tear all things before it asunder. yet he doesn’t, it is a choice to remain poised, an incarnation of violence that inflicts not even the shallowest of wounds.
Each footstep is measured, from the proud breadth of his shoulders that nurture a similar burden to the way he seemingly relies on instinct, moving to reclaim some distance between them. It is a contradiction of things, he thinks, to be so calculated yet seem governed by impulse, it is because he knows him, recognizes what dwells within him, that he understands how all of these can coexist in harmony. The tacit invitation comes as he is allowed to stand behind him, a hand idly falling from his shoulder and then retreating. because a warrior knows not to allow just anyone to remain outside of their line of sight, there was so much vulnerability imbued in what should have been a relatively standard interaction. he hasn’t, however, moved beyond his purview. there’s an alleviation that comes from basking in his presence and somehow, inexplicably, he is less conflicted than when he arrived. Yet they still decide it is better to remain on the periphery of that conversation, that the precarious depths of what could be cultivated between them were only to be acknowledged through cursory glances. Phainon, having long since become familiar with the nuances of the battlefield, knows that despite their valour there will always be some things that are even beyond the capabilities of even the most competent warrior. He does not resent it for what it is, unable to be felled by the precise downward arch of a blade, nor dispelled with the confidence that was infused with each of their strides forward, chasing those elusive flames. He cannot help but wonder what sort of injuries would either sport should they become so brazen as to tread those perilous paths, meeting each other’s gaze and refusing to be the first to blink. It doesn’t prevent the disquiet, knowing that there was something yearning to be spoken aloud that was being repressed, because he cannot truly banish it, the envisioned likeness of that immortal body bleeding from a wound he had inflicted. As they have both faced adversity head-on for so long he doesn’t fear it, not the sanguinary sprays of blood, nor the ghostly pallor of death, only that it might be his visage accompanying it. So he settles on the boundary between straying precariously close and preserving a respectable distance, depending on banter they have long since memorized and the terse utterances that often come fervently, as if they had grown sick of the waiting.
Phainon welcomes his chin as it settles beside his pauldron, indolence etched into the lineaments of his countenance, his resolute gaze intensified by the lowering of gilded lashes, seeking and extracting the most reasonable question. “ Hm, you still won’t consider it ? I cannot compensate for what you lack if you continue to evade me.” he answers with a cordial smile, dispersing some of the tension that had been mounting between them in that tangible silence. Because he knows he won’t willingly impart his weakness, it would be so utterly incongruous to the pride he harbored to be so cooperative. despite how some might view those attributes it was something that he respected. It was his earnest pursuit of his ambitions that delineated him as a worthy rival and someone who phainon only ever glimpsed with quiet reverence. The bite comes suddenly, without forewarning, banishing all of the restless anticipation that had seethed between them. Phainon’s expelled breath verges upon incredulity, to find himself seized by the jaws of a lion and yet not entirely devoured, it’s an unprecedented act of unyielding self-control. “ resorting to biting ? ” amusement loosely wreathes through his inquiry, it could have become reprimand were it not for the unbridled mirth that glittered in his gaze. “ I had never thought I would live to see such a sight.”
from.
if mydei were so easily deceived, he would not have survived as long as he has. it’s an amusing notion, considering his immortality should make him impervious to death’s reach. yet, mydei’s belief in his own survival stems not from the blessing of eternal life but from his unwavering confidence in his abilities — his strength, his resolve, and the sheer force of will that has carried him through countless trials. intelligence plays no small role in this equation either, and mydei is far from ignorant when it comes to the finer points of survival and strategy. to operate as effectively as he does, he must possess sharp critical thinking, the patience to strategize and wait for the perfect moment, and the discipline to immerse himself entirely in his goals. observing, studying, and adapting are second nature to him. phainon, on the other hand, can appear almost careless in comparison, especially when he puts on that all-knowing smile to veil what is hidden.
of course, mydei notices when something is amiss. he doesn’t need anything to be overtly wrong, even the faintest sense of imbalance or unease in the air is enough to set off his instincts. phainon might attempt to conceal his feelings, but mydei is too perceptive sometimes, too attuned to the nuances of their bond, to overlook such things. yet, for all his insight, prying does not come naturally to him. he struggles with asking the right questions, with peeling back the layers of another’s thoughts and feelings. it’s not his nature to push, to dig when the answers aren’t freely offered. unless, of course, he is forcing the words out of another's mouth. still, he resolves to try gentler. perhaps later, if the unsettled flicker in phainon’s gaze remains, mydei will find the right moment to ask again. for now, he observes, silent and watchful, waiting for the threads of the moment to unravel just enough to reveal the truth beneath.
over the years, many have crossed mydei’s path — warriors hardened by battle, gods shrouded in power, and kings burdened with crowns. they were formidable adversaries, fleeting allies, and, on occasion, companions worthy of trust. yet, none of them hold a candle to what phainon has become. phainon is different, singular in a way that defies easy explanation. he carries himself with an air of unbothered ease, the persona of a man who seems effortlessly carefree. he never hesitates to lift the spirits of those around him, his presence as light as it is infectious. phainon breathes life into every room he enters, every conversation he touches, like a gust of warm wind in an otherwise cold expanse.
for all his guardedness, mydei willingly gives phainon something he withholds from almost everyone else: his time. time is precious, and mydei, who guards it with the ferocity of a warrior protecting his strongest weapon, finds himself offering it freely when it’s phainon who asks. why give it to others when he could save it for this? for the fleeting hours in which he can exist beside phainon without the weight of the world pressing so heavily against him. phainon’s body is a refuge, a sanctuary where mydei discovers moments of respite. a shelter and a safehouse far away from the battlefield. temporary though it may be, its significance is far from diminished. it is a rare and quiet solace, the closest he has ever come to feeling truly comfortable. and yet, for all the safety phainon provides, it is never an anchor. it cannot be. mydei knows that their time together, however good, is destined to be brief. they will separate, as they always do. it is inevitable. they will drift to their respective paths, their lives divided by space and duty, reduced to no more than a call away yet feeling as though they inhabit entirely different worlds. even this, even phainon, is something he cannot hold onto forever.
❝ have i been evading you ? oh, how dramatic you are. ❞ mydei has always prided himself on being good at keeping others at arm’s length, at maintaining a carefully curated distance. or so he thought, until phainon came along. phainon, who apparently refuses to let go when others would have turned away long ago. it’s not something mydei resents. in fact, he couldn’t be ungrateful even if he tried. there’s a kind of undeniable comfort in being truly seen, in having someone persistently push past the barriers and still choose to stay. to be known, even in fragments, is a feeling mydei hadn’t realized he needed until phainon offered it in his way. the connection doesn’t demand perfection or complete understanding. mydei doesn’t pretend to know every facet of phainon’s being, nor does he expect phainon to claim the same about him. there’s an unspoken agreement between them, an acceptance of the mysteries they each hold close. mydei often finds himself drawn to the enigma that is phainon, the depths of those lake-blue eyes concealing a thousand secrets he may never fully uncover. yet he doesn’t feel the need to dive headlong into those alluring, blue depths — not yet, anyway. instead, he chooses to remain beside phainon, embarking on a journey that will surely take time, one step and one discovery at a time. and perhaps that journey doesn’t have to begin with grand revelations or profound exchanges. maybe it starts with something simpler, something playful — a bite here, a claiming nip there. because with phainon, even the smallest gestures feel like an invitation to something deeper.
❝ perhaps you are already dead and this is not real. tell me, phainon, how do we know that we are alive ? ❞ this could all be a dream — a fleeting illusion from another realm where even lifeless souls are not spared the capacity to dream. mydei allows the thought to linger only briefly before dismissing it, already leaning in with purpose. he shifts to claim more space, his movements deliberate, as he goes in for a second bite. this one lands on phainon’s shoulder, bolder and more stubborn in its aim to elicit a stronger reaction. an arm slides around phainon’s waist, though the gesture is loose and fleeting, a transient embrace meant either to draw him closer or to prevent him from retreating. mydei isn’t entirely sure which it is — perhaps a bit of both. with phainon held within reach, he takes another taste, this time sinking his teeth into the firmness of his bicep. the pressure is enough to leave another mark, an unmistakable imprint of mydei’s presence, as though each bite is a quiet declaration of intent. he doesn’t need words when actions speak louder, and for now, this is how he claims his space, his closeness, his understanding of phainon. ❝ better yet, show me. ❞
some wip headcanons and thoughts about mydei. important to note : this is a canon divergent interpretation of mydei, the way i have chosen to write him comes from my own view of the character and this is not me analyzing him to claim that any of this is canon. this is simply my own headcanons based off how i personally have chosen to interpret what we have seen so far. additional information will be added later.
castrum kremnos, nikador and mydei's origins : nikador, the strife titan, was once revered by mydei’s people. mydei himself hails from castrum kremnos, a place he called home until he chose to leave and dedicate himself to the prophecy of okhema. when he made the decision to abandon his homeland, a group of countrymen followed him, forming what became known as the kremnoan detachment. though exiles, mydei asserts that their determination surpassed that of kremnos’ own soldiers. their reputation grew, and they eventually forged an alliance with okhema, lending their strength to the flame chase. during one expedition, they returned to their former city and defeated the previous king.
“ a hero of yore, now a traitor to kremnos, the patricidal crown prince. ”
although mydei adopts a seemingly indifferent demeanor when discussing castrum kremnos, it’s clear that he still deeply cares for his former home. he refrains from speaking ill of the city and does not approach the topic with overt negativity. castrum kremnos once carried a sense of glory, and its history is not solely defined by bloodshed and war. even when addressing nikador being the god of war, the god of fear and the god of glory, he remarks:
“ there are those that see him as foolish and violent. they call him mad king. it does make sense. to a flock of sheep, even a yawn from a wolf is enough to send them into hysteria. ” “ i do hope that you will understand that nikador has gifted more than just suffering and fear to amphoreus. before they fell into madness, they served as the guardian of amphoreus. ”
mydei also claims on several occasions to not miss his past home.
“ i bear no affection for that kingdom. ” “ as for my kin... the kremnoans show how much they miss their home by fighting without restraint. when i see them on the battlefield, blood-stained and raising a cry of "valorous death before glorious return," i knew... that okhema could never be their true home. ”
this leads me to reflect on the concept of home and what it means to mydei. castrum kremnos will always be his home, even if he consciously avoids acknowledging it or claiming his place there. despite this, it’s been suggested several times that he doesn’t truly feel at home in okhema. at one point, even phainon remarks to the trailblazer, “ did you see the look in his eyes ? he’s wracked by homesickness and doesn’t want to show it to anyone else. ” this moment occurs during a quest where the group splits up — phainon and the trailblazer head in one direction, while mydei takes another route to fight enemies on two fronts. they turn it into a competition to see who can defeat the most foes. once again, this connects to mydei’s claim that kremnoans show how much they miss their home by fighting without restraint. rather than openly expressing his emotions about being back in castrum kremnos, mydei directs his focus toward the mission, channeling his “homesickness” into eliminating adversaries along the way. all in all, fighting is a way for him to blow off steam and handle his emotions.
trust and relationships : while mydei might initially come across as distrustful, that’s not entirely accurate. he isn’t someone who easily opens up or extends trust, particularly to strangers and even more so to outlanders. when we first meet him, it’s not that he doubts the existence of other worlds but that he’s cautious around those who come from them. earning his trust requires time and effort. he values actions far more than words. simply trying to convince him through conversation won’t work. he needs to see how you follow through on your promises before placing his faith in you. once you’ve earned his trust, however, mydei proves to be a loyal companion. depending on the depth of his trust, he may even extend it to others by association. this is evident when he becomes more welcoming toward dan heng and the trailblazer. at one point, mydei even mentions phainon’s high regard for them and, as a result, helps the two nameless address a rumor causing trouble for them in the city.
trust (cont.) and personality : after assisting the nameless, dan heng observes that mydei is somewhat eccentric, a description that fits him in his own way. while mydei is highly introverted and prefers to keep much about himself private, he isn’t deliberately mysterious or withholding information for its own sake. his reticence stems from his approach to trust and the level of openness he feels is warranted based on that trust. despite frequently bickering with phainon, the two are noted to share a close bond. mydei isn’t the type to keep someone around unless he genuinely enjoys their company. though he often responds to phainon’s antics with stoic eye rolls or lighthearted insults, he clearly values their friendship and places significant trust in him. phainon’s energy provides a balance to mydei’s demeanor, and while mydei maintains a stubborn facade, especially in group settings, his one-on-one interactions reveal his more sincere side. during the same quest where mydei helps the nameless and justifies his actions by mentioning phainon’s high regard for them, he later reappears alongside phainon. upon seeing the nameless again, his first comment is directed at phainon: “ hmph, entrusting our fates to two strangers, is this madness or folly ? ” this quip, despite mydei being the one who had earlier intervened on their behalf to prevent trouble with the rumor in the city, is not a sign of inconsistency or him changing his mind on a whim. instead, it reflects his more “playful” personality, as he enjoys sparking lighthearted bickering with phainon while still demonstrating the trust he has in both his friend and the nameless. ultimately, mydei’s relaxed and easygoing side isn’t immediately apparent, but once it emerges, it becomes clear why some might find him eccentric. his mix of stoicism, loyalty, and subtle humor adds layers to his character that are revealed gradually as trust is earned.
personality (cont.) : mydei embodies a strong desire for independence, self-reliance, and control over his own life. known as a man of few words, this trait aligns with his introverted nature and his belief that trust must be earned through actions rather than empty promises. mydei himself exemplifies this principle, consistently demonstrating his own intentions through what he does rather than what he says. although he is predominantly serious, mydei is not averse to moments of humor or playful competition. he possesses a strong determination to help where he can, channeling the burden of his immortality into purposeful actions. his willpower is unwavering, and while he may occasionally appear pessimistic, he is better described as a realist. mydei resists complacency, always seeking ways to improve situations when possible. his ultimate goal is to achieve peace, for both his people and himself, by putting an end to the war that threatens it.
on independence and determination : “ i will not allow my decision to be shaken by your (good) intentions, you may save your breath. ” on war and peace : “only when the true purpose of war is eradicated can peace descend.”
combat and fighting : mydei’s preferred combat style revolves around his fists rather than traditional weapons like spears, swords, or bows. this doesn’t imply he lacks proficiency with such arms — on the contrary, he is skilled in various weapons, with a history as a renowned warrior to back it up. his fighting style is aptly summarized by phainon in one of the quests: “mydei and i are both better at offense.” for mydei, combat is not inherently negative but rather a practical and efficient means of solving problems. while he doesn’t seek out fights for enjoyment, he isn’t hesitant to resort to violence or even use threats to expedite a situation. though not all of these threats should be taken at face value, it’s important to note that he is fully capable of and willing to act on them if the need arises.
curse and blessing : as for his immortality and his “body that withstood trials and faced death innumerable times but bore not a single mark” : mydei harbors no extreme self-hatred for the immortal existence he is bound to. while he often reflects on the purpose behind his unending life, he accepts that he is meant to play a significant role in something greater. despite enduring countless swords, blades, and spears, his body remains unscarred, a testament to his condition. though he holds life in the highest regard and strives to eliminate the causes of war to bring about peace, he can be surprisingly reckless with his own life. as the calculating warrior he has become, mydei wields his immortality as both a shield and a weapon, turning his curse into a tool to protect and fight for his ideals. though his ideals and morals may make him seem like a hero, he does not happily call himself that. he is righteous and he his seeking redemption.
“ only in the heat of battle does this curse of immortality turn into a blessing. ”
control and rest : mydei prefers solitude or the company of a select few individuals. he has a strong need to maintain control over situations or, at the very least, to feel fully aware of what is happening and what actions he needs to take. a strategic thinker by nature, he values being in control and staying attuned to his surroundings. even during moments of rest, mydei seeks peaceful environments where he can be alone without entirely shutting himself off from the outside world. he finds solace in observing the city from rooftops, often spending hours there to recharge, watch the bustling streets below, and relish the quiet. when he desires solitude, he dislikes being interrupted or disturbed unless there is a compelling reason — or if the person approaching him is someone he is already close to.
“ the reason people spend time alone is to enjoy peace and quiet. you must understand such a simple logic, surely ? ”
more tba.
