#flowerwept

PERMIAN: THE GREAT DYING ☼

"Oh dear..."

It makes no difference where Hythlodaeus 'walks' here, however souls can walk. Distance contracts, becomes instant and clear as water. As glass. The Aetherial Sea is rarely fickle, it ebbs to allow some souls in, some out, it freezes others, like himself, when they so wish to hold on. Finally being funneled back into its stream let him breathe again, millennia upon millennia of prayers heard to their end at last. The fear of it left so many others as bare traces of themselves and let them become one with the flow upon entry. Hythlodaeus could only watch and walk on, search for what few he knew, and hold the remains to his chest.

This is different. Unlike the peace and tepidity of the place he found Hades, the place he was called from to the end of the universe, the souls here dim and wither to nothing. For the first time in twelve-thousand years, Hythlodaeus can feel night fall, its pace unnatural, and he breathes air that should not exist, burning and dry as leaning over a mage's fire. He feels both, but they do not touch him; Perhaps following the trail of a phantom has led him further than his bounds, and yet he remains. His aether does not dissipate and his conjured form stays tangible. An aetherial storm hot as the sun within the vast ocean, that soul at its center— That they should be two of the ones who have not been reborn is ever so curious.

The figure is wrong, but he knows, sees:

"I fear it's been too long since I last stood next to you, Fandaniel." He tilts his head to the side, eyes aglow in the inky deluge. It's simple enough to will away the space between them once he's sure. Even here the Sea seems agreeable to his whims, though it does not offer the same courtesy to the soul in front of him. "I hardly thought you'd avoid me so long, even if you don't remember. Forcing me to traipse through oblivion, are we, my ghostly friend?"

           𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐚𝐬 𝐚 𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐚𝐜𝐫𝐨𝐬𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐝,  a  construction  of  twisted  and  serrated  metal  piercing  through  the  firmament.  For  how  it  reaches  through  the  very  skies  to  heights  greater  than  aught  that  he  has  traversed  save  for  on  the  backs  of  dragons,  still  he  could  yet  shake  the  impression  of  peering  through  a  yawning  pit.  A  festering  wound  spilling  its  black  and  putrid  essence  forth.  His  very  stomach  roils  at  being  so  near,  every  mote  of  his  being  recoiling  at  the  very  sight  of  it.  For  what  he  senses  is  just  as  vile  and  he  can  ill  deny  the  fear  that  sits  sharp  and  heavy  as  a  stone  within  his  belly  for  what  might  become  of  him  if  he  were  to  remain  overlong.  

                    Any  animal  with  better  sense  would  attend  to  its  most  base  instinct  to  keep  away,  what  then  did  that  make  him  as  he  lingers  at  the  entrance.  The  great  wide  doors  swung  open  as  if  in  silent  invitation  for  all  those  fool  enough  to  wander  near  to  enter.  And  fool  is  he  for  stepping  across  the  threshold,  lance  held  tight  in  hand.  For  it  was  on  the  behest  of  the  dragons  that  he’d  come  to  investigate  the  tower.  To  fight  for  man  and  dragon  both,  to  do  his  level  best  to  make  amends  for  sins  that  now  taint  his  soul.  What  then  is  but  a  single  tower  when  so  rarely  would  they  beseech  the  aid  of  man?  

“  What you want is selfish.   ”  The weakness in their voice paired with the confidence in their words creates a strange mixture to take in. By all accounts they should be withering away, cowering in the wake of one with so much conviction & nothing left to lose. Yet here they stand, poised & pristine, completely unafraid.  “  I won’t help you.  ” 

The furrow of his brow deepens and deepens – threatening his mien with permanence as each passing night slowly begins to whittle at his rest. It was disorienting enough, at first, to see old adversaries and allies awash in blurs – coherent in their tongue yet muffled all the same with the ethereality only dreams could give you. But now, he dreams of unknowns. Now, he dreams of an ally who stands at his side – who seeks for things in the same manner as the man in his dreams. The more he sees him, the more he cannot gaze upon him. And now, Jahliqai cannot bear the ache he feels – one he knows is not simply his own.

“ only you greeted me warmly ”

                                                   𝐫𝐮𝐥𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐫𝐨𝐬𝐞 / 𝒂𝒄𝒄𝒆𝒑𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈

A realm prosperous in life and all things free of strife — how one of an apprehensive heart nearly found it disquieting, all things considered, with how often treachery and the unexpected found way in each shadow and unsuspecting corner throughout his adventures. Worrisome still have he now know of what this place truly is, in which whom resides here, and how the future has already been foretold for this place. Were his soul more tangible here he’d feel more heavy with emotion — instead he feels... strange, or maybe that was how he felt about it all. Or perhaps somber was a better way to put it, for what could’ve been, for what could be, or maybe he was simply too empathetic now that he stands here in face of it all. Or maybe ‘twas only natural to feel this way.

Still, he smiles, just as he had learned how to, for the sake of himself.

━━ ❥❥❥  @flowerwept​  feat. hermes  :   i’ve wasted so much time becoming nothing.                TRAGIC AESTHETIC STARTERS ━━ accepting !!

      FINGERS IDLY TRACE THE DARKENED PETALS of the elpis flowers before them — a sign of the shared pain && sadness that resides within. oh, as if a lover, she knows loss && pain && sadness so intimately wrapping up her entire body in ribbons laced with thorns piercing && staying stuck so thoroughly. nothing is what she once thought herself, long before becoming a hero && a fable — even still do they believe themself unworthy of the title at moments; moments trapped in the recesses of their mind lest they show cracks of weakness before those they must protect. the duality of worthiness versus the depersonalisation they suffer at the hands of a title; are they still nothing behind that persona ?

      ❝   && what is something to you ? nothing in the eyes of someone else may be something greater. i may not know you well or for very long, but you do not strike me as nothing. you, who fights for the lives of your creations when no one else will. that is not nothing. that is kindness.   ❞

       gaze travels from the shimmering petals over to hermes himself, glancing over him for a moment in contemplation.