` MELIODAS. ( Rathfel )

➤ ` MELIODAS. (  rathfel  )

     a  long  awaited  greeting,  words  ran  across  the  space  between  them  like  a  newly  sharpened  blade.  except  the  tip  was  pointed  directly  into  his  chest,  and  meliodas  pressed  further  into  it.  teasing  to  break  the  skin,  to  break  the  tension  that  accumulated  to  allow  for  an  easier  movement.  not  expecting  anything  less  from  him,  his  voice  dripped  with  disappointment.  a  feeling  he’d  grown  used  to.

     a  traitor  he  was  hailed  as,  in  another  time,  a  hero.  brow  pinched  near  the  bridge  of  his  nose,  blonde  hair  falling  before  his  eyes.  a  brief  pause  as  he  brought  arms  up,  hands  smoothing  behind  his  head  and  fingers  interlocking.  a  foot  casually  kicked  at  a  rock,   ❝  well,  don’t  speak  then.  just  listen,  i’ve  not  come  to  beg  for  forgiveness.  ❞

         How far one had fallen, a pale shade of what once was, a waning moon. The dichotomy rendered this demon that held the title of brother once long ago barely recognizable. A portrait bearing the same frame, but painted over again and again, an obscure artwork left in it’s wake. Had it not been for the uncountable number of years spent in his company, the undeniable twinge inside signalling the arrival of one formerly admired so, he would've thought this being before him as some imposter.

         ❝ So you've crawled out of hiding for that. ❞ Daring to show his face, careless of heeded warnings others may have given him, for a worthless endeavor. That much, at least, aligned with the past. A speck of familiarity on that foreign painting.

         Zeldris hesitated to give him even that much. How many opportunities for that very act had been granted to Meliodas, only for them to be trod upon without a second thought ? Years later now he expected his words to be heard ? Surely an elaborate vile joke, being weaved with such lackadaisical confidence. A ploy to incite violence – if not to serve to dig into old ( fresh ) wounds he himself inflicted. Teeth grind, eyes narrowed further. ❝ You made your intentions clear a long time ago. ❞ He's deserving of scorn, nothing more, nothing less. ❝ There's nothing left to discuss. ❞

it’s a test post !

-`.  @madestars \\ random starter.

         Instinct borne from countless years of waging battle gifted a certain type of intuition. One that in times past meant the difference between a scar and a wound she wouldn’t have walked away from. It quivered along her spines, sense perked the moment eyes rested on them.

         There ! Alert, the black stained dragon caught it first, a razor thin sliver of dull light glinting off scales before it vanished back into the dense underbrush. Lips curled, nostrils flared, slit pupils a stark contrast against green irises piercing the darkness, willing it to part / reveal what it hid. A shift in the air drew the attention of her companion, the purple dragon shooting a quizzical look her way, the odd behavior mentally catalogued before his own head turned to and fro, straining to see what she saw through the twisting mass of trees.

         ❝ Whoever you are, you may as well show yourself. ❞ Wings fluttered, flared at her sides before settling, pressed flat against her body. Ambushes were commonplace enough. She’d rather not, but reducing the greenery to a pile of ash would prove an equally efficient second option.  ❝ I already know you’re there. Blending isn’t going to do you much good now. ❞

@rathfel​ asked: “ i can't stop. it's what i am. “ / for merlin!

​►  ❪   VILLAIN  /  HERO  //  accepting  ❫  

         Chin resting upon slender digits, a gaze turned upon the other with near unreadable intent. Unmoving in stature, one could swear her figure carved of stone.

         Suffice to say, when presented with a succinct summary of self, brimming with steadfast belief, there’s no initial inclination to offer a response. It's a truth the mage was well aware of, probably more so than anyone else. Time and time Merlin bore witness. Every crack widening in the chipped outer shell, emotions ( wrath ) spilling forth. Every attempt to bandage old, nursed wounds, a stitched patchwork to stem the stained tide. He felt too much / too hard / it could barely be contained. She wouldn’t deny him his path. Not when part of it may have bloomed from inherent nature, not when she herself bore the same brand of guilty offense.

         And yet she recalled more.

         Every unrestrained act of kindness. His capacity for mercy upon those who've wronged him. The powerful devotion stored for his friends. The affection bestowed upon every iteration of the goddess to cross his wayward path. Saving a young, resentful runaway, fleeing her shackled life.

         ❝ I believe everything is a matter of... perspective, captain. ❞ Such a careful, fine line to balance, the need to point out yet not entirely contradict. ❝ Perhaps things aren’t as set as we think they are. ❞

@spatrot​​​ asked: ❛  i’ll  get  over  it  ,  i  just  gotta  be  dramatic  first  .  ❜  18 -> gohan

​►  ❪   VEHEMENT  //  accepting  ❫ 

          ❝ I'm sure they didn't mean it, 18. They just... ❞

         Thoughts tapered, mouth found at a loss for words. ( what exactly did ❛ dramatic ❜ entail ? ) A bit too lost, a touch too nervous to question further. His skill at navigating perceived ire always had been rather lackluster. The lack thereof only amplified while idling in her company.

         He'd grown accustomed to her presence— or at least the idea of it. Time taken to reconcile the image of her now, and the image of a future diverted. No longer a harbinger of destruction, sole purpose to rend the earth / sow seeds of havoc. An android still, though not some ambiguous, evil being incomprehensible to the mind, but a person capable of thoughts, feelings, emotions. Something ( distinctly ) more human.

          And like all humans, frustration / annoyance eventually peaked.

         ❝ So, um, do what you need to ? As long as you get it out of your system. ❞ A hand raised, meeting the back of his head — scritch scritch — a moment spent to ponder on said words longer, proposal mulled with careful consideration before offered. ❝ Actually, I can help you blow some steam off if.... you need to. If you want. ❞

@madestars​ asked: “ they hate what they cannot control. ” / brick @ boomer

​►  ❪   VILLAIN  /  HERO  //  accepting  ❫ 

         It's not lost on even him– the obvious. Brick may as well just pointed out the color painting the sky. And yet some nebulous piece deep inside – existing in tandem on his brothers' wavelength – stirs. An urge to continue wells up, a scattered mind picks up where the sentence hangs, running along the same train of thought.

         ❝ No shit, Rick. But who cares what they think ? ❞ Words more akin to a curse than a statement. ❝ Sounds more like a ‘ them ’ problem, not ours. ❞ Normal people lacking the ability control everything meant little when they were busy sitting on their asses doing nothing as the Powerpuffs cleaned all their messes. Incompetent. Small wonder why they hadn't all fallen in a ditch somewhere and gotten themselves killed.

         Tenuous line of concentration snaps, blue pops and sparks arcing around glowing fingers before fading, nascent power fizzling out as quick as it came. Breath escapes in a soft exhale, annoyance evident in its wisps, etched into his features. Boomer allows himself another exhale for a moment, before rolling out of his easy reclining position onto his side ( nevermind he's perched mid-air / floating several feet off the ground ) with all the grace of a lazing cat. Head propped on the makeshift pillow of his folded arms, cobalt eyes linger on him. Searching– for what ? He’s not sure.

         ❝ ...That's how I see it, Mr. ❛ They'll all be groveling at my feet when I one day run this city ❜. Butch... well y’know Butch’d just laugh his ass off. ❞ 

         Hatred. Fear of what they can not fathom. The unknown, a terror steeped in some dark corner of every human's weak willed heart / inborn instinct of self preservation, survival. Too simple to trip over a hidden factor, cutting short lives shorter. The only thing that kept these pathetic sheep alive for as long as they have anyway. Understanding is present, tenable, but no love lost. The same principles failed to be applicable to him or his brothers, not in the same sense at any rate. No one controlled them. No one controlled him – not even Brick.

         A light laugh did nothing to bury the unrepentant scorn, to stem the derision seeping out of it. ❝ If they hate us then I say we're just living up to what we were created to do or whatever, right ? ❞

         The Rowdyruffs didn’t need them. Let them hate.