Apr 16, 2017
Sometimes I remember Vetur has two mums (+1 queen mum) and somewhere out there in an au Sumar has two mums and it makes my little bitter heart happy
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Sometimes I remember Vetur has two mums (+1 queen mum) and somewhere out there in an au Sumar has two mums and it makes my little bitter heart happy
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The thing about Sumar tho, is that I’ve created this divine, gloriously beautiful black God, who’s 1,98m tall and is all lean muscle, has glowing golden eyes and fabulous long brown hair, and this person completely melts at the sight of cats. Any kind of feline.
Also Vetur, but that goes without saying
The Gods (Death of Kings)
They have been fathers, kings, they have lived and suffered for it.
Sumar
He is the eldest, all-seeing, all-knowing. Lawful good, a good heart, he has lived ages upon ages, and spent some of it alone. He has loved and lost, loved again. He is a force, and although he knows many things, he does not always speak of them. He knows he is feared, but does not use this; fear is not a useful tool for him. He loves, oh, does he love.
Vetur
Mischievous, reckless, audacious. He has seen and lived, loved more than he thought he could. He is heartbroken, but it's filled with other things... guilt. Guilt for what he's done, guilt for his children, but it all eats away at him because he does not dare speak of those secrets. All that sass, but he won't be able to walk away from the destruction his negligence causes. He loves and is loved, but he would have to forgive himself.
Lauthe
He too is heartbroken, drunk. Spiteful, chaotic neutral. Spits venom and anger, leaves the darkness in his heart to fester until it boils over and spills on everything. He loves too much, and fears too little of the consequences of his actions. He both loves and loathes sweet things, unless they remind him of those lips he can no longer taste. He's not aware that he still holds the heart he craves.
Haust.
Romantic, he is a poet. He has had his heart torn from his chest (figuratively), has had it drowned. But what to do with all that pain? Not speak of it. He writes and writes but it does not ease anything, and all those words leave him with a dull ache in his fingers. He's left that heart of his somewhere, he knows it too, but he can't ask for it back because he loves the hands that hold it.