Forty two sweeps was a bad time for the royal. As this was when his matesprit has freshly ended his own life without a single warning. He felt... Alone without his Sollux. Equius tried to console him, offering fighting classes, humming, cuddling, even so far as an honest to gods smile. But nothing worked.
All he did was slave away. Back burning from being hunched over all day. Wrist cracking and snapping from writing or fire a gun all day.Â
He wanted to hurt. Because he couldn’t save him. He wanted to feel the agony. But the rage never really died. The rage of being left without so much a word. Without so much as a note, or a reason. And he took it out on others. For an assassin for hire, and a legal lusus killer, let him get away with a lot. And he used it.
He worked double. Killed double. Triple. Quadruple--so long as it kept his mind busy.
He doesn’t think about his life before he turned 100. Cause he hates the man he use to be.
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Blinking more so in surprise at the smack to his rump then anything else, the royal turns around and glances for who might have been responsible for it. Though, with no one in sight, he dropped it rather quickly and kept walking.Â
=> Smirking with a raised brow as the lazy troll floated up, Sistan only rolled his eyes as he got a kiss. To which he happily returned it. Why not? He enjoyed the others company!
((wHY WOULD,,,,,,, wOULD YOU HURT HIM LIKE THIS….. hIS WEAK,,,,,,, LITTLE HEART,,,,, [He does have a crush on Cas but he doesn’t even know it cause I protect him,,,,,]))
=> Sistan wasn’t ready for the giant troll to bend down and kiss him. His freckles shining a bright pink and yellow of surprise, but joy and admiration. And it took a lot of self control to not get to happy when he briefly returned it.
=> IT WAS ONLY POLITE…
Oh wwhy, em, AHEM wwell that is surely a wway to say hello
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đź’Ś- A memory about an important event in my muse's life & đź’Ž- A precious memory they hold dear
Peer into my muse’s memories: Part 2
💌- A memory about an important event in my muse’s life
Sistan gasps as he looks up. Eyes watering as blood trickles from the side of his mouth. The tears were not of pain–he had lost the ability to feel much external caused pain ages ago.–no. These tears formed due to the broken trust.Â
He was never a good man. He knows this. He has killed thousands, disobeyed her highness on purpose. Suggested things that could be considered like treachery. But he still trusted her. Even when she hurt him in ways she probably doesn’t know she did. He trusted her. She was his first friend.Â
She was his only friend.For so long.
So he cried as she pierced him with her trident. They were only suppose to be training. Play sparring like they always to to help each other relax and unwind. They are to never hurt each other unless they say they needed it.
She promised she wouldn’t hurt him today.She promised to make it honest just play fighting.She promised to be mindful of how much he’s emotionally hurting right now.
His face contorted with anger, and he finally just moves forward, letting the weapon bury deeper inside him before grabbing her face and headbutting her, breaking her nose. With her dazed for just a second, he threw her to the side and pulled the weapon out before leaving. Arms wrapped around his middle and cough ever present. He could only snarl as she called out to him that she was just playing.
Just playing his ass maybe.He’ll make sure to never trust a word out of her mouth again.
đź’Ž- A precious memory they hold dear
Why did he do that?Â
That’s his only thought as he sits on the small ship he calls home and laughs loudly at Vriska. The spider, luck gifted girl then turns to him and yells for him to stop being so unclassy! To act like his blood color! Only for him to laugh harder.
The color darkened on her face. The two had been in a paler kismetude for a while. Neither having enough trust to actually ask their pale crushes out. Er, well for him he got asked out, but that doesn’t mean he goes her. But, he for once, didn’t think of his failing moirailiegence, as he was too busy grinning ear to ear at the Serket.
He rarely laughed. And when he did, he was rarely ever as wholesome as whenever Vriska makes a fool of herself. It was his favorite passtime–other then mass murder and striking fear into the hearts of people.
“ERIDWEE8! Stop LAUGHING! It’s not thaaaaaaaat funny!”“Sorry VVissy it really is. Ye’re covvered in wwhale jizz. Ah TOLD ye not ta go t’ere t’is time a year!”“You COULD have told me whyyyyyyyy!!!”“Nay, t’en ye nevver wwould’a learned t’ere. But really? Go wwash off ye smell like a dork.”“… I H8 you…”“Lovve ye too VVrissy swweety~.”
M!A: Alive for two days, in the physical state you held precisely five sweeps before your death.
SC R EAMS?
=> Sistan wasn’t ready to suddenly flop directly onto Feferi’s head. Even he had to apologize for that as he stands and helps her up. The two might not get along but they understand when something strange happens.
=> So with a look around he feels at his face. The stitches forcing his mouth shut? Gone. Chainsaw wounds? Gone! … Sliced in two? … G o n e? He was surprisingly beaming when he went and felt at his pulse. Did he HAVE one? … Oh sweet gl’bgolyb of the holy angels he DID!
=> Sistan, don’t start dancing holy hell do not start dancing.
=> Too late. The sea dweller was happily jumping and spinning around as he found himself with bright blue hair, a few inches shorter, and style that could kill a man with how out dated it was. But never the less…. HE WAS ALIVE!! Time to cause havoc cause one way or another….. He was gonna be dead.
