#revik

You Taste Like New Flesh

He wasn’t raised to be a predator. But he was prey that fought back. Zeffeero wasn’t helpless. If anything, he considers himself the opposite. The former Empress raised him well to defend himself along with her own daughters.

A gesture she did not have to make, to take in a young boy deprived of his birth mother and a god of a father that wouldn’t even bless him enough with the presence. Yet, he learned not to care.

His sisters were kind. They always tried to reach him. But almost every time, Zeffeero would crawl away before they could get any closer. Deep down, he felt something burning in his chest, against the current of his cold heart. A ripple in a still lake. A desire for more than he had.

And he took the risk without thinking of consequence. And his mother no longer called him son. And his sisters no longer call him brother. He didn’t think she would die, it was not his intention. But it didn’t change what he had done. After all that was provided to him, in his efforts to obtain more, he just lost all he had in the process of trying.

Zeffeero refuses defeat. If he lost a family then he will get the power he damn well deserved for his selfish actions and sacrifice. Forever will he refuse that it was the wrong choice, or admit to wrong. And his eldest sister cast him out, no longer Prince, and no longer safe from the jaws of predators.

Reiko was brought up a predator. Never falling to become prey. Havik learned to parry those who prayed on him and learned to bite back. The hunted became the hunter. And the two intertwined, sickly devouring each other. Couldn’t get enough. Hurt and tore at flesh, never close enough. Between their bared fangs and sharp claws, nothing was gentle, love was violent. But they were violent creatures, and that’s how they loved.

Zeffeero didn’t love like a predator. Not initially. An elk in the clearing, grazing peacefully. No herd in sight. Left alone, abandoned, vulnerable. But no elk was without his antlers. Yet, it wouldn’t stop the wolves from coming.

Two wolves, bloodied with the fluids of each other. They left their pack, and found within where they wandered together, tearing each other apart, a warm body. Dangerous yet alone. Prey to devour.

And the wolves circled the elk. Their maws agape and their tongues lolling between cracked fangs.

And then, Zeffeero learned how to use his antlers. Instead of soft nuzzles and the loving embrace of a mother, he felt teeth sink into his flesh, nails gripping his chest, hands around his throat and rough wrestling between sheets. Soft touches limited. All he felt was stinging pain as the two wolves devoured him. And he grew fangs to bite back.

One would be sick to call it love. Zeffeero wanted to refuse it. It had hurt, his body scarred and mauled. But it felt nice. A contrast to what he was given. And it was something. Havik and Reiko had no intentions of releasing their elk.

The three became possessive. Just because it was rare doesn’t mean it never happened. A night alone where they hid in a rough abode. Planning their uprising. Among the bed they shared, all three heavily gasping for breath, and no longer had the strength to tear or bite. And it was dormant.

Havik had laid himself against Zeffeero’s left shoulder, his arm over his chest. A scarred face against his skin accompanied with faint rugged breaths. The mage had his head against Reiko’s lap, he felt usually bloody nails and rough hands run through his hair, not gripping, no pulling. A gentle touch, as if handling something delicate. No one spoke, there was no need. There will be no violence tonight. Their jaws ached, there will be no biting.

The mage felt his muscles loosen, a hand slipped up against the back of Havik’s head, a light pull to press their bodies impossibly closer and a slight arch in his back for the hand against his own scalp, almost yearning for more contact. This was the love he knew. It was gentle. He didn’t exactly miss it, but it was familiar. Confusing, even. That all mutually agreed they were tired of tearing, tired of being bitten. Ripping each other open had no front here right now. Later it might, down the lane the cycle will continue. But once every rare moment, by themselves, all were quiet. All was bliss.

Zeffeero let his eyes close, inhaling slowly. Havik was slowly becoming more slack against his chest. Reiko’s free hand moved and his fingertips traced the rough scarring and bone of a burned face, his hair down and over his eyes as he leaned over, watching his own hand traverse softly across the features of the two men. Eyes wide but expression unreadable. As if confused by his own actions but made no motion to try and stop himself. Observing outside of his body. All such unfamiliar territory. Gestures such as these were never commonly shared, if not at all for the soldier. Even as a boy, he was strictly disciplined, his only reward for success was keeping his life.

But there was no consequence in the moment. There was no fear of one of them or both of them leaving, because Reiko wouldn’t allow it. Just as Havik would cage him like a bird if he flew too far, or how Zeffeero would pull him under the current if he tried swimming the other direction. Reiko’s hands trailed down from the hydromancer’s face to the base of his neck and the span of his bare chest, his other hand against Havik rubbing against his back in the space between his shoulders, knowing which scars were inflicted by him on their bodies and running over them once more in a practiced motion, but not to reopen this time.

This bond was a rush of adrenaline or an influx of fatigue. Even if pain were afflicted, it was enjoyable when muscles tensed and relaxed after every bite and relishing in the sores after. It was usually Reiko and Havik that stayed behind with each other in a bed. Zeffeero would usually be the first to slip away and relish in his own sores on his own, but was never far. It was a matter of preference, but that didn’t mean when the mage did stay they took it for granted. Even when half asleep, Havik was over half way on top of Zeffeero, an arm wrapped under his arm and gripping from under his shoulder with his chest against the other. Reiko silently watched as he saw the scarred man drift and his head fell lower against Zeffeero’s shoulder and the crook of it, feeling a slight arch of his back into his hand, Reiko responding in kind, as his breaths slowed. When the soldier looked back at Zeffero on his lap, his eyes were closed, but only in light sleep. Reiko trailed his hand back up from the mage’s chest from where it came back to his face, running against the side of his face and lightly pulling his head closer, turning it to the side against him. And Zeffeero didn’t stop it, if anything he leaned into it, shifting ever so slightly as much as he could with Havik and his tight embrace against him.

Their names are Anruna, Anliten, Revik, and Tirrow, and I am NOT going to rant about the etymology rn because i only have so much space but let it suffice to say that their names follow the general pattern of "sun or sky at the time of day they were born" + "quality you'd want a child to have" + (optional) "suffix affecting the quality".

Important worldbuilding: These are my bug guys bc their horns are sorta stag-beetle like and the world they live in has creatures that are all weird combination mammalian/insect. Also, time of day and what the sky looked like when they were born affects their skin tone!

... I lied I AM gonna tell you about the construction of their names. Since I have more about the characters than the story itself, (had to scrap the og storyline because younger me was. an interesting author), i'll put it in the section for each character!

Anruna:

Please ignore that I don't have colors for anything but her skin & hair, I'm still struggling with that (and taking color suggestions, please). Anyway, she's the Main Character! She's the eldest daughter of a very traditional (/neg) noble family, and constantly unsure of how much she believes in their views, values, and beliefs. She can do magic, because supposedly, it's a Gift From The Gods, and oooh she has SO many feelings about that, because she doesn't believe in the gods. Everything that's supposedly holy, she has found other explanations for, and she doesn't trust ANY of it. To make matters worse, the Religious Institution is of course enforcing traditions that she hates. Also, they killed her sister!

Directly from the google doc, these are my notes on her!

life is a balance. be the perfect child, be strong and bold and greater than, don’t be too much, don’t be better than those who raised you, who do you think you are? 

all your power, your wisdom, this is a blessing from the gods, this is something given to you, this is not your achievement, who do you think you are? 

and it’s hard. because you know none of it is true. but there’s nothing you can do. you are powerless, you are beholden to your family no matter how near to adulthood you may be. 

and you try to explain, to say, look, look at this proof that Revik and i have collected, we have figured it out, and they say, you are certainly mistaken, and we should have known that such a cursed man would be a heretic as well

As for her name, it's 3-part! "An" refers to the sun at dawn, "run" means glory, although more directly glory achieved by strength, and the suffix "a" or "ah" increases the strength of the word it's attached to. She was born just as dawn broke, so she gets the purple from the way the clouds look like then, her hair coloring from the sky, and her eye color from the sun! Her horns are sharp, tall, and angular, and don't stretch too far from past the width of her head.

Now, On to the next guy! Revik:

The second image is mostly there for color palette reasons, because ooh has this guy been through a lot of redesigning. I actually don't have any drawings rn of his most recent iteration, but let it suffice to say he is more injured than that! ALSO HE'S NOT THAT YOUNG! He's in his late 30s. I only recently improved at drawing older faces and my old sketches of him have him in his 20s and that's bad.

Anyway, this child of mine is a Scientist! He's studying what makes the world works the way it does, and while he does still believe in the gods, he thinks of them more as powerful mages that existed, once, than actual gods. Mostly because he's figured out why things happen! Fun fact: eclipses are a natural thing, not a curse from the gods!

Revik was born during an eclipse. That's what his name means, essentially! "Re" refers to the sun at noonish, and "vik" means absence, or without. This is a Bad Name. "Without" is not a quality, emptiness is not something one would want a child to posses.

He works for Anruna's family for a time as Anruna's tutor, after The Accident, because he doesn't have a lab anymore after The Accident. That's how they met!

The Accident: when Revik's life's work blew up on him and his apprentice, breaking his horns and injuring him severely.

Straight from the google doc, my terrible character notes:

woagh this baby is cursed :0 let's give him a short name that will immediately signal how little we think of him when he introduces himself <3

he does science! and sometimes science blows up in your face and gives you life-changing injuries because the first blast got your upper right (your right) chest and some of your lower arm joint stuff and then while you’re unconscious in the rubble of your laboratory that you spent years building the fire gets your leg and whoops! haha! you’re not okay! you can barely use that arm anymore! you need a cane now! (or that’s what you tell yourself, when you pretend it’s not worse, when you pretend you’re fine standing, because you need to be strong, you need to be more than what they think of you) and you have chronic pain! 

AND ISN’T THIS JUST PROOF THAT YOU’RE CURSED? you worthless bitch <3

also fun fact! he had an assistant with him at the time! While overall less deeply injured, the assistant lost an eye and their scars are more disfiguring. As a Result, Revik thinks of them as More Hurt and blames himself! And I mean, it is sort of his fault, to a degree?

On to the next of my children (wow this is getting long I am SO sorry) Anliten!

Heyy notice how she has the same prefix as Anruna? Well, that's because she's Anruna's (not actually) dead twin! Crazily enough, I have NO color drawings of her, so just imagine Anruna's color palette on her. Also, this is an older sketch!! Sorry it looks Like That. If you've noticed that these characters so far have all been thin and you're like hmmm.... :/ seems unhealthy... that's because I love drawing my blorbos at their worst! That IS unhealthy! They're not eating enough! Anruna has Religious Obligations and various other issues, Revik has no money, and Anliten has even less than no money!

I almost want to blur out the face on my sketch of her... ough... just imagine Anruna's face but angrier on there please.

She's wearing a lot of layers! That might seem expensive, but it's necessary because it gets cold where they live! Thats why so much of the fashion involves layering up.

Anyway, I am ashamed to admit that there's a gaping hole in the plot in between the stages of Anliten's life that are "she's Anruna's sister" and "she ends up on the streets", but I'm thinking she got disowned for heresy. The idea was, for her "family", that she was a spare and it was okay to disown her for that since it set a) it example for Anruna and b) having a heretic child Looks Bad (jokes on them in a few years). I don't have a lot on her childhood mainly because that's not the Main Focus of her character. The Main Focus of her character is her attempts to become a god!

So remember when I said that Revik believed the gods to be closer to incredibly (magically) powerful historical figures? HE'S RIGHT. Remember when I mentioned that his life's work blew up? He was trying to recreate similar levels of power. And it's technically possible! Enter Anliten, freshly disowned, seething with rage, and willing to do whatever she can to become as powerful as she can possibly be!

Straight from my other notes on her, rambling thoughts on her situation!

Living on the streets at a young age with no way to get a job means one turns to crime! Turning to crime can be hard at first! You can get caught! And what happens when you get caught? They cut off your horns to mark you as a criminal forever and now you’ll never be able to freaking GET a job because you’re forever marked a crook and wouldn’t you know it that means you have no choice but to keep doing crime!

And this place is All That You Are, All That You Will Ever Be

She’s going to show them. When she is the embodiment of all that they worship, she’ll show them.

Her name, Anliten, is three parts! "An" is the same as her twin's name, means "sun at dawn", "lit" means wisdom, and "en" is a suffix making the previous word holy, or marking it as a blessing of some kind. Her name could be translated as "blessed wisdom" or "blessing of wisdom".

Anyway, is this getting long? So sorry. JUST ONE MORE GUY, I PROMISE.

Tirrow:

Okay so this is where my art of these guys gets really embarrassing, (which is tbh why i've been saving him for last) because I don't draw this guy a lot and so my sketches of him are straight from my "draw everyone young & skinny" era, and I need you to know. HE IS NOT BUILT LIKE THAT. NOR DOES HE SMILE LIKE THAT. AUGH. HE'S NOT A TWINK I PROMISE. He's strong and actually looks like it!

The pencil sketch is the more recent one, and he retains the wide horns and relative lack of ornamentation from there, the only thing he's keeping from the second pic is skin tone.

Okay I know I just said but I cannot emphasize enough: these drawings are NOT currently accurate. They're him 2 steps to the left. Maybe it's him from when he was younger and didn't have any fat or muscle. The guy in the drawings looks 20 and that's because at the time, my idea of Tirrow was around that age. THAT IS NOT THE CASE NOW. He's around Revik's age (late 30s-early 40s).

So this guy. He's... not really a great person. When he was young, he took a job in the military, and through a series of increasingly unlikely "coincidences" in which his whole squad dies but him, people start to say he's lucky to survive! Blesssed, even! And he goes along with it because otherwise, it means he's cursed. Cursed to get those he loves killed, cursed to be the only one left to bear witness, cursed to suffer.

Other than that, he also goes with it because he needs to be someone. Without this, he's no one and nothing. Without this, his father is just some faceless nobody who abandoned his child out of cowardice, and the ring he left is just some petty trinket and not a mark of blessing. But at the same time, wouldn't a god have been able to come back? Or are he and his mother just not good enough for that?

Now, here's what Tirrow doesn't know. The "token" his father left does have magic in it! His piece of shit father did leave out of cowardice though, and had no idea the ring was magic. Powerful magic, too! The kind of magic that will, say, deflect blades away from the wearer. Make the fire burn just a little less hot against their skin. Clear just a little smoke from their lungs. Not a lot, but enough to save a life! Enough to save a life over and over and over, until people start to notice.

His name is less fancy, only two parts! It's from "Tie", meaning "sky at noon" and "row" for strength.