` BELLION. ( Deathburns )

➤ ` BELLION. (  deathburns  )

it dawns on him that perhaps no other race really acts like this. predatory, claws and fangs ( hunters / they learned to fight like this / they learned to feed like this ) — he can tell after a few moments of silence and her soft breath that she’s … well … she’s not used to this. oh, and he must look a sight! blood on his hands, on his clothes and his face — crimson smeared from where he sank his fangs into raw flesh. ( she sits quietly but in shock / he realizes how frightening this must be / the celestials sat for their meals, didn’t they? ) ❛ er … ❜ 

there’s warmth, blue fire wrapping around the meat he’s taken ( roasting was normal, right? it smelled nice, too! ), free hand moving to wipe the blood from his mouth ( but really, it only smudges more / he’s trying, if nothing else ). ❛ sorry, right, you’d rather eat something cooked — ❜ but, it isn’t just that, in the end, is it? it’s a sobering reminder of the differences between them. this must seem horrific to her — and yet, this is how he lived every day of his life. there is still such a divide between the celestials and the demons ( the goddesses even moreso! ), and it is not the first time, now, that bellion wishes the divide would close. 

because he wants to be close to ellatte. for whatever time they have left, he wants to be at her side ( and isn’t that an odd feeling / they come from vastly different worlds / she is all that he can think of, now ). ❛ i … i can clean up. and fetch you something else, if you want — there were some trees with some really delicious looking fruit that i passed by when i went to … well … get this … ❜ 

         As expected, keen eyes caught the celestial red handed. The sight of blue flames jolted her out of her musings. Wide eyes blinked, stupefied, before they're wrenched away from thick blotches of red streaked across his maw, pointedly fixated on the smattering of tall trees off to the side.  ❝ Don't apologize. ❞  A firm retort, interjected as he stumbled over words, the frown playing on pale lips directed not towards him but herself. Hastiness to correct mannerisms, his thoughtful consideration to abate concerns and accommodate her spoke more than enough.  ❝ I should be doing that... It's rude to stare. ❞

         An innocent wayward look, her sole offense, yet a small amount of guilt curled up, sitting heavy in an unsettled stomach as a tinge of pink brushed the apples of her cheeks. The shock, while sudden and unexpected, wasn't meant to accuse or condemn. She's not here to criticize his palate, to inspect the extensive details of his natural diet.

         The offer had her shaking her head, a smile arising to placate his worries,  ❝ You don't need to go out of your way for me like that. I'm not very hungry right now, but thank you. I just... wasn't prepared. ❞

         If he’d asked, Ellatte wouldn’t have minded making him something. The cultivated art of culinary exploits was highly sought after, creating a fine meal to be enjoyed as an experience like none other. This wasn't that, abrupt flash roasting to get some approximation of cooked food. It's... an attempt ?  He’s skilled at great number of various things, often revolving in his expertise in the ways of combat, but this was one he faltered in. Maybe demons lacked the skill in general, absent among their lexicons of curses and magic, only a vague notion of cooking in their peripheral awareness. Hunting's a factor, a survivalist trait borne of carnivores and at the same time they consumed other normal things like fruits and grains, but... souls sat prettily at the top of their list of edibles too. A prize source of replenishment that needed only a bit of extraction. Who would ever find the need to cook a nigh immaterial object, a collection of thoughts, feelings, and memories ?

         Rather than comment on that aspect, sidestepping the pitfall lying in wait for a single misstep, the most pressing issue was brought up. A fitting answer still eluded her, his response from last time never manifesting, brushed over in wake of shortening his hair and his admittance over losing a bet.  ❝ Aren't you going to get sick ? ❞

@deathburns​​ asked; ‘ i am so glad we were born during the same lifetime ’  [ GIVE ME THE GOOD BELLATTE CONTENT ]

►  ❪  POETRY  //  accepting  ❫

         It's quite interesting how life often doesn't go the way you predict and how it chooses instead to fly in the face of plans. The line Ellatte's own life tread was a nostalgic one, diligently followed with points clearly mapped out, marking where it was to head and steered by decisions formed long ago: helping her dearest friend in his responsibility as the Head Warrior of the Celestials. For an age, the best option was tantamount to being the only one in her eyes. A choice easy to accept for she never minded. If she stayed on route that familiar affection born over years of inquisitive pouring over books, speculations and long talks, watching the clouds below, and so much more would await her at the end of it.

         But Ellatte's not in the Sky Temple. She's not by Solaad's side.

         Her path once clear and narrow, slowly branched from the given story meant for her, spiraling into new possibilities. The discovery of other races still inhabiting the earth below an incredible shock to the Clan, calling into question much of the knowledge they knew, and so she volunteered to descend to the mortal realm of Brittannia.

         (  ❝ Ellatte, no ! ❞  Lady Vaness' protests ring through the room, already she can see the frowns of disapproval and disappointed shakes of the head from other council members to her bid.  ❝ This is foolishness ! You cannot do this so suddenly and without knowing the level of danger. Another can take on this task. You must to honor the traditions ! ❞

         It's a first, the age old tradition  ( the Head Warrior and his new wife accepting their new duty, taking custody over the sacred Winged Sword and protecting the clan )  broken with a rite of succession carried out in the most harrowing of times, but the situation has led them all here. If she leaves, she can no longer be considered Solaad's fiancee.

        ❝ I have to refuse. ❞  A cool tone cuts through the chaotic din. Her resolve is not so brittle as to bend and crack under the pressure from detractors.  ❝ Traditions are something to heed the wisdom of, but you know as I do that they also would have been the reason we all died. Meliodas helped us, and everyone chose to brush it aside because he was a demon. What a backwards sense of convenience !  We are Celestials, members of the great Goddess clan, but none of us could have stood up to a monster like the Indura, much less the high rank demons that escaped before that thing !  It's a fact we barely escaped complete destruction, and it's thanks to a demon and his companions that Solaad brought back ! ❞

         Most wrote him off as running away from his duties but Solaad braved this trial – despite needles of skepticism / doubt pricking the softer outer shell, his own fears and misgivings, and the weighty expectations foisted upon his shoulders – and saved his people. This was the least she could do.

         ❝ And now we know that the other clans survived the holy war this whole time ?  I will go to Brittannia and see with my own eyes. I will learn what the world is like now. ❞

         There's other avenues to assist Solaad beyond the ties of marriage and getting a clearer picture of what the world had become over 3000 years would be a good start. Sure, it'd take time but she's only in her 200s, and Solaad was managing fine on his own. She already garnered his approval long before she stepped foot in this room. ( a sunny smile, tittered with slight nerves but accepting of her decision, and she's reminded again of why this must be done. ❝ just be safe, okay ellatte ?  that's all i can ask of you. ❞ ) Her telling them this was really just a courtesy. If it ever became more than she could handle, she could seek out the Seven Deadly Sins for assistance.

         When her mission was complete, it'd be fine if things resumed. A place - her best friend - would be waiting for her. She'd be happy with that. )

         Again, life has trouble adhering to plans. Now she's down here, and much has changed. The dramatic pivot can largely be traced back to one simple connection. The last she ever thought could be made.

         Bellion.

         Her Bellion.

         And it remains a wonder, even after all the time that passed since that became a reality, to be able to say that, to have the confidence to allow it to fall from parted lips so that others may know who her affection has been bestowed upon, to know he let her. Her Bellion. Four syllables fizzing on the tip of her tongue, drawing forth a special kind of warmth–- hers. he's hers and she's his, to love and be loved.

         Perhaps her attentions originally ( strictly ! ) stemmed from an abundance of caution / ill-placed fascination over what instilled the jarring absence of the unrelenting, terror inducing rage presented to her prior - but it to underwent a change. More malleable, adaptable, it had grown into something – no, many things more, the flourish of fondness not the least among them. It’s still strange to think, for a variety of reasons, that a simple happenstance led to these smiles, this laughter, the company / comfort of another, but Ellatte knows she wouldn't give it up. Yes, she loves Solaad, a feeling as sure as the rising of the sun, a care for her friend she always has and will continue to cherish, an irreplaceable bond held close to her heart, but it's different type of intimate love.

         Maybe it's only now she's falling in love for the first time.

         Charmed as she was, Ellatte's normally averse to interrupting his duties. Well, what bits and pieces she has seen of it. After all, she catches him stealing plentiful moments of rest more than actual work. Honestly, it's a wonder the village is still standing  ( she knows, how hard he tries now, to make things better, to move forward from the darkness of his past, vigilant against threats encroaching on his newfound life ). She had just returned from visiting villages to the east, making a beeline straight for the unsuspecting demon. It'd surely be fine to steal him for a night, right ?

         She hadn't announced their destination, simply coaxed him to follow her through the skies until they reached here. A little meadow once privy to only her, now known to them. A steady stream of water falls over the rocky crag into a basin, a swift stream flowing from the natural depression and cutting through the grassy field speckled with a number of varying flowers. Rather difficult for those earthbound, all manners of peril impeding traversal, but when the ease of flight was available such deterrents meant little to those who could simply float far above over them.

         The ground beside her after she seats herself near the river is patted in invitation. And so they rest, lounging on their backs watching the sun close its eyes for another night, cool evening air slowly replacing it. Sunset paints the sky and the curves of their shoulders & jaws, the full of their cheeks in shades of reds, oranges, and pinked purples. The moments in-between are small and quiet, conversation filling the comfortable silence. News of events in the village exchanged for recollections of the places she's traveled to since. Their time together was peppered with occurences like these. Introspective, reflection, an exercise in understanding. Learning, she's always learning new things about him, the world.

         And occasionally, during these stolen moments, where tiredness thrums through their bones, every touch is a soft, gentle thing meant to warm, soothe, comfort. Bellion’s nuzzles have gotten no less surprising, in some ways. Even in the ways they have, they don’t lose how they simply endear her heart - an tension unbeknownst to her drains from her body, shoulders slouching as Ellatte leans into the gesture, warm breath feathering the curve of his collarbone, a giggle slipping free as the edges of his hair tickles her cheek.

         But alas, pretty as dusk was, it was not the event she brought him for. Celestials, and perhaps their ancestors before them, always had a knack for sensing changes in the celestial bodies, the shift of the light within the endless dark above. Pinpricks of distant lights soon begin to dot the vault of sky high above them, an array of streaked light for the people of Brittannia to cast their wishes, their hopes, and dreams upon. It's not the same spectacle as the star shower that graced the land's skies some time before the Egg Rock cracked open, a bewildering show of crisscrossing patterns across the night sky, but watching stars shoot by always carried a certain magic, sparkling trails on the cusp of night and day.

         They're fewer in number now, stars falling one or two at a time, and she’s lost track of how long she’s had her eyes closed now, the chirp of cicadas used to measure the passage of time - but even that’s given way to silence since, leaving her only the falling water to count his slow, deep breaths to.

         It’s then she hears him. The first instance is quiet, a  ❛ thank you ❜  buoyed by the content silence. There’s a minute furrow of brows, a purse of sun loved lips before they smooth out, something reminiscent of a smile dancing over them - gentle and soft, as rain is after an endless summer.

         Fingertips brush against the inside of his hand - the callouses make themselves known immediately, spots of hardened skin betraying the years of ache and punishment they've undergone  ( she has her own, a product of working on her skill with the sword, burnished by the unusual heat of her harsh light, accumulated during the years preparing for the next onslaught, but they aren’t nearly as pronounced ). An easy sigh escapes her, rosy cheeks coloring her features,  ❝ You don't need to give any thanks. I wanted to show you something nice, and I just like spending time with you. ❞

         But he continues. The second instance a small murmur, a confession lingering through the stillness of the air:

‘ i am so glad we were born during the same lifetime ’

         Teal eyes flicker upward, a steady gaze awaiting her. One that’s unreadable in some areas, but softer still in others, wisps of affection curling in those gold depths. It settles deep within her chest, both the words and the look, the weight they carry mixing and weaving with all the things she feels for the man resting in the grass, tucked against her side. It warms her soul, blossoming out, flowing through starlit veins.

         The celestial shifts, a brief rustle of clothes against stalks of crumpled grass, wings falling flat against her shoulders as she turns so she rises off the grass, leaning against an elbow. Hand moving to tuck silver strands behind an ear, she smiles down at the one calls friend, lover, hers.  ❝ ...Same lifetime ? ❞

         It'd be more accurate to say they came across one another in the same lifetime. A chance experience that never should have come to pass. He was born many years ago, sealed away then and freed now. He is depicted in all his fierce intensity upon the murals of her temples, should have expired along with the rest of his kind. But he persists.

         Celestials themselves are no longer so long lived. There is no Supreme Deity, magic decaying over the years and with it their extended longevity.  If she was a Celestial  ( a goddess, your true birthright; celestial is but a different label to the same brand )  of old, her years spanning millennia instead of the few centuries, then she could make that proper claim.

         Their very first impossible, never meant to occur meeting still stands stark amongst her recent memories. The time of ruin, a dizzying cacophony of confrontations. Steel blades clashing, hellish retribution conflicting against valiant deterrence.  ( failed vessel for something more divine, you were never designed to last / is that why the light of your spirited anger burns so fiercely [...] so brightly ? )  The suspicion that followed, seeing him on earth thereafter in the middle of her assignment, spotting him again in the Sky Temple. A series of the unlikeliest of encounters.

         A palm smoothes down the length of his jaw — the movement leading her forward until she’s able to grant a careful nuzzle to his cheek, and then another to his jaw, until finally landing a light peck up upon his temple and then simply pressing her forehead to his. Inner light buzzing at the proximity of his darkness, her movements are careful. They carry the grace of battle in them --- but also the tender care of someone who treasures what she holds. It’s accidental when their noses brush, the sensation enough to draw a light sound of amusement; still, the hand on his cheek seeks out one of his, fingers interlocking with ease, like they belonged nowhere else.

         ❝ I am too. ❞  For a moment she breathes, taking in him, soaking in the heat he radiates, green fixated on gold.  ❝ Thank you for finding your way to me. Despite everything, I’m glad I get to be here with you. ❞ 

          Rumours and tales of demons hail them cold, dead creatures, darkbloods with too many hearts that beat naught but cruelty, only existing to feast on the souls of the pure and righteous, and to sew chaos and destruction. It’s a sin to spare them. By all accounts they should be foes, not sweetly indulging in each other's time without a care in the world. 

          She, a smitten Celestial maiden, cradling he, a demonic warrior borne of the dark, ever closer and dares the world to cast judgement for her actions.

         (  it's alright now icarus, you may rest now / i will be the wings that withstand the sun, that will catch you when you fall  )

always fighting, he is always fighting — even now, the holy war rages & bellion fights ( born for war, named for war / it feels like a lifetime ago when they praised him / a lifetime ago, icarus fell ). he is too young for these battles even though he does not look it — pain & sorrow have aged him, stolen his childhood, his family, his home. & at war, he carries great rage, although over time its target has shifted. of course, because he’s … 

           he’s young, isn’t he? 

( ❛ bellion, it’s time. ❜ three days ago, he celebrated his 150th birthday at the training camp, although he did get the surprise visit from his father & the chance to rest — everyone had to rest when aranak the repose was around. three days ago, he laughed with his friends & talked about the future. in three days, so much had happened. 

they came unannounced, the other commanders. there was fraudrin, baruja, & others he did not recognize. they asked the young warriors to show what they learned. they left without a word — 

until now. 

❛ the demon king has requested your presence. ❜ the words are shocking, but baruja has arrived with galand, & so it must be true — although incredibly surreal. he feels numb during the flight to the castle. 

before the demon king, bellion feels for the first time, utterly insignificant. overwhelmed by a power he can barely comprehend, he stumbles over his words, but at least bows without falling over. the demon king tells him that he has done well. he has potential & power much like his father. bellion thinks that this is it — he’s going to be one of the ten commandments. but, he doesn’t receive a commandment that day. there are already ten members. but … he’s to lead another elite team. one with power just like the commandments. his world spins when he sees the condensed power. when he wakes up, he feels different. he’s back at the barracks; baruja stands over him & smiles ( albeit, almost sadly ) ❛ congratulations, captain bellion. ❜ )

it was easy to forget his youth during that time. it was easy to forget when he led the siege on the sky temple. it was easy to forget when he broke free, when he battled again, when he … he fled, then. an act of self preservation & absolute cowardice — & without his team, he was left to wander confused & hurt & feeling anything but young. 

( he looks different without the crest that he had grown used to. he feels different, but certainly not like the starry-eyed boy he’d been when it was granted to him. bellion finds himself staring at his reflection in the water. the demon staring back is someone he barely recognizes. this demon has his long blue hair, wears the blue coat he’d worn the day he was sealed. this demon has gold eyes. he’s grown up, hasn’t he. 

he imagines his mother saying something like “oh, you’ve grown up so handsome,” or his father’s: “you don’t have to over-work yourself to reach your dreams.” & laughs. a melancholy sound, because what was there to laugh about? he survived when no one else did. he should’ve stayed. 

so, he finds another place to stay & he makes another promise. to do better, to be better, & he finds that his past is still there to haunt him. or to serve as his parole. )

❛ your past does not have to dictate your future. you’re still young, the world shouldn’t rest in your hands. ❜ @asteriskheart 

meliodas has continued to check in on the village & on bellion, like some overbearing parent, but worse. because meliodas was the reason bellion’s father was gone ( his mother followed soon after out of grief / he’d been told that love could kill / another bittersweet ending for soulmates ). meliodas was the one who crushed bellion’s pride. meliodas was … uncharacteristically nice about things, wasn’t he? 

❛ … i’m … ❜ he’s about to say: i’m pretty sure i might be older than you, but he realizes quickly how wrong he is. meliodas was adult enough to have fallen in love when bellion was given his crest. he was adult enough to know how to handle the battlefield, something that came from experience & experience took years. despite how they looked, meliodas … well, meliodas had been living all this time, too. one more on the list of things that bellion realized he was very, very wrong about. 

❛ … it doesn’t feel like it. war makes everyone feel old, doesn’t it? i missed out on 3000 years, i spent most of my life before that as a warrior. even as a kid. or, what should’ve been me as a kid. & then, i spent all that time being wrong & not understanding & i just … i guess … it’s scary. there, i admit it — i’m terrified — ! ❜ he can’t bring himself to look back at meliodas, so he stares at the ground. he doesn’t want to look back, because it’s hard to really reconcile those green eyes with the ones black as night. the eyes that never looked back. 

❛ you’re right, i have a track record & you say my past doesn’t have to dictate my future & i don’t want it to … but i’m terrified of being that person. i’m terrified of falling back on old habits & mindsets … & it’s been easier to take on everything else … because sometimes … sometimes i almost believe that i can be better. being here … being able to help these people … ❜ being in love, but he leaves that part out for now, ❛ i almost can believe that you’re right. that my future doesn’t have to be the same mistakes as the past. so i … carry things. i guess that’s how i’m trying to cope. it must sound stupid, you know. it sounded better in my head & maybe that’s why … i’m just some erratic kid, right? not fit for the commandments & not worthy of the loyalty my own team gave me, but i’m trying — i just want to do something right. for once in my life, i want to do right. ❜ 

attitudes towards displays of affection had lapsed from the olden days of when members of the goddess clan roamed the earth, celestials included. the uptight rigid ( near draconian, if you asked her ) rules governing social interactions had loosened over the years and no longer was contact so frowned upon, at least among her race. preening wings, simple gestures like hugs, pats and holding hands, a kiss between loved ones. things like that were the norm, and physical intimacy typically didn’t stray far from that. low contact culture, some might claim. so consider the jolt of surprise that came the first time he leaned down, face nudged gently against hers as a low rumble sounded at the back of his throat. a nuzzle he called it afterwards while she’s left reeling in the ensuing cloud of confusion. but today… today’s the day, she promised herself. there’s no announcement of her intentions, no fanfare. butterflies abound in her chest ( ah, what a newfound feeling, it still heats cheeks whenever she thinks too much on it ), almost weightless as she presses her nose to his cheek, her first nuzzle cautious but heartfelt. as swift as wings carried her close, they draw her back, eyes trained on the ground between them as she resists the urge to cover her burning face, hands instead occupied with fiddling the gold hem of her shirt. ❝ um, did i… do it right ? ❞ [ ellatte ] , @asteriskheart​ 

𝐢𝐭 𝐢𝐬 𝐝𝐢𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐧 𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐧, made of steadfast warriors who have continued to fight without end ( & so many of them have forgotten what they fought for — he, too, once forgot ). their society has never been gentle, but it has always been physical. everything is contact; rough & tumble between children, claws & fangs & darkness digging into an enemy, or the quiet intimacy of nuzzling against a loved one— in this, they continue to be the polar opposite of the goddess clan & from the celestials. 

three thousand years ago, demon culture was called animalistic, another reason the goddess clan used to wipe them out— as if they were nothing but lowly animals; pigs to the slaughter. but, bellion always found the culture open. contact was a form of vulnerability, be it in love or war. to be so close to another person was not so animalistic, but deeper & more soulful than anything he could have thought the goddess clan capable of ( although, loving ellatte had certainly made him change his mind ). while her culture had changed, his had not— & so of course he had to explain it. 

after all, ellatte had never encountered any member of the demon clan like this before. the ones who had broken free before were the ones who had forgotten their reason to fight. & she had told him of the mural in the temple painted so long ago. he was a relic of that time, he had been painted, too— with his armies & with baruja. he remembered the guilt & how she took his hand & reminded him that he was no longer that person filled with rage. that was the day he had learned properly of kisses. soon after, he’d given his own display of affection. 

she gives no warning, but when was warning ever given in affectionate touches between lovers ( & every time he thinks of it, his hearts flutter. lover, his to love ), & while he knows she’s no expert on it, even the fact that she chose to show him affection the demon way meant the world. she pulls away & asks if she’d done that right. & he gives a warm smile— ❛ of course you did, ❜ tender, loving, for he adores her. his brave celestial, willing to try things his way, breaking away more & more of his assumptions about how closed the goddesses & celestials had been. because here, they lay their souls bare in soft acts of love. he purrs, musters his courage, & returns her affection with a soft but heartfelt kiss ( he’s seen humans do this, too, so maybe he has the upper hand? but still, it’s unfamiliar. thrilling & unfamiliar ). the celestial way.

he knows now that for all that happened those three thousand years ago, he can learn to let go of that pain. he knows she will be there every step of the way.

➤ ` BARD. (  bransles  )

somehow,  somehow,  this is not the first time octavo finds himself being stared down by a child  —  truly,  what was becoming of the world for kids to be so bold and disrespectful?  although,  the stare she was giving him was different than the children who scampered around the island.  perhaps because while,  at the end of the day,  they ended up back home in their beds,  knew nothing other than playing with dolls,  she apparently ran with a pack of bilge rats.  the daggers were sharper behind those eyes,  sizing him up,  as it were.

however,  she was quick to correct his presumption  —  she claimed herself as the captain of the motley crew before him.  octavo honestly wouldn’t have believed her,  except the way she proclaimed it so confidently was met with no resistance from her group.  evidently,  either she was well - respected despite her age,  or these men truly had no dignity to allow a child to declare leadership over them.

well,  fine.  so she was the captain of a pirate crew.  so she seemed a little … young,  to have an accomplishment  ( if one considered being a pirate really an accomplishment,  he supposed )  like that under her belt.  and?  he was not the type to think children could never do anything of importance  ( once again,  the importance of pirates would be debatable ).

it was surprising,  nonetheless.

“ my mistake then,  miss captain, ”    he conceded.  although,  the flat tone of his voice might have suggested it was far from sincere.

ah,  he was being scolded on the ways of the sea.  looking so down at her while being spoke to in such a manner was almost humiliating,  to be frank.  not that she was wrong.  he didn’t know much about sailing or anything of that sort.  but,  his roots begged to branch out!

“ well,  i do imagine it isn’t easy  —  no profession truly is  —  yet,  i feel my mind may crumble under the weight of stagnation if i do not leave this terribly dull island, ”    he sighed,  heaving a heavy breath,    “ … i don’t suppose we started off on too wrong of a foot for me to hinder you for advice? ”

          ❝ Hmph. ❞  A huff was all the acknowledgement he received for referring to her as she rightfully should have been from the start. She’d let him off easy this time, and only because of the earlier pity that watching those island kids almost run circles around a grown man could instill in someone.

         As she continued listening, that distant sense of pity only grew, marginally she might add. Tetra couldn't say she related to the feeling of being tied down, rooted in one place, unable to cross the vast expanse stretching to the horizons. The sea had always been her home, the taste of sea salt tinging her first breath. Being landlocked for any extended amount of time, any period spanning longer than the few weeks sometimes required to resupply or carry out a job, was downright unfathomable.

         However, this wasn’t the first time someone’s spun this story for her. The captain had long lost count, the amount of times she'd seen those drunk on ignorant ideals, fantastical illusions of childish grandeur shattered as the world strapped up to backhand them with a sobering dose of reality.

         The life out on the sea wasn’t for everyone, sad as the fact may be.

         Navy eyes rolled at the question, but her mind still mulled on it for a lingering moment. Hm, she supposed she was nice enough to hand out the info ( it’s not like it held enough value to sell it off, too common to be worth more than a few coins that could be swiped off someone ), and let the bard do what he would with it from there.

         ❝ You either commission your own vessel or commandeer one from someone who has one. It’s as simple as that. You can also call in a favor and get a pal to pull a few strings for you to gain a safe passage that way. ❞

         Given that he was asking advice from a pirate, people of questionable reputation and not exactly seen with the highest standing amongst commoners  (  she could see it in him too, the same look directed towards her every time she made her profession known  ), she doubted those avenues of access were available to him.  

         ❝ If you're too broke and have no connections, then you may as well look to the life of a stowaway or join another's crew. There are usually merchant ships willing to take on passengers, so they’d probably be your best bet. Most of the other seafaring sort... you better hope you're good at endearing them to your plight and that they are feeling mighty charitable that day. ❞

@asterites​ asked; plots please c:

►  ❪  PLOTS  //  always accepting  ❫

Plot 1. First and foremost has to be Kairi. A while ago I put more thought into the culture on Destiny Islands and Radiant Garden, and ended up churning out a bunch of traditions, festivals, carnivals and holidays. These two can attend one of these! A fun event for the two of them to spend time, where Kairi can introduce Stella to a number of things or, in the case of RG, they can both discover more of the world's intricacies together. Plot 2. So I have an au for Kairi where she wandered into Castle Oblivion instead of Sora, and uh, let's just say Namine didn't restore her memories and as a result this Kairi is... more susceptible. She lives in the castle with Namine after Organization 13 is taken out by her, Riku, and the Replica, but they could leave and meet Stella or Stella could somehow wind up there. While Namine comes first, she'd grow attached to Stella. It's likely to turn into a different dynamic compared to the one in the main verse though. Plot 3. Classic myth verse interactions with Sora, or as you also know, Aether. He could come across Stella and find her familiar, eventually continuing to see her could lead to some of his memories slowly start to come back. He'd have to come to reconcile what happened all the way back during the Titanomachy and the resulting fallout that affected everyone involved. Plot 4. Normal things with Sora !  Tease him, chat with him, give off those big sis vibes !  They can hang out at the beach. He can let her try the dishes he’s made with Remy as an official taste tester. It's been a while since Sora participated in the sport, and Tidus always had the edge over him, but he could show off his skills in blitzball. They can have a very chill relationship, though if he ever heard of Stella's ideas to villanize to he'd heavily disapprove of it. The knife of that kind of betrayal stings a lot to him. Plot 5. So my Zack isn't from the ff7 remake or compilation, he's the kh version you see from bbs. After realizing RG was destroyed while he was off training, he essentially became a wandering mercenary across worlds, expanding his goal of becoming a hero and is working towards preventing events like that from happening again. There's different points during his timeline where he can run into her and it's pretty easy to start with something simple like having him fall into a bodyguard role of some type for Stella during his travels.

Plot 6. Like Zack, my Tifa is the kh counterpart and honestly these two can be just good friends, you know ?  She's constantly on the lookout for Cloud but she wouldn't mind stopping by to check on Stella to see how she's doing. Just don't tell her about any plans to destroy the world or something, it brings back bad memories of what happened to RG. Plot 7. Touching on gen.pact, I'd offer my verse for Meliodas. I've established in it that he's a known adventurer, but one who's rebuffed any recruitment attempts of the regular Fatui. While he doesn't explicitly detest archons  ( as he's had no direct contact with any to his knowledge )  he is disinterested in them and any god in general thanks to past experiences, so he holds a rather irreverent attitude towards them. As in, he'd sooner laugh in their faces before he'd ever kneel before one. Meeting the Tsaritsa wouldn't change that. Here's the kicker though. Stella and Meliodas have many similarities. Both are former representatives of 'love', fallen from grace so to speak after having done things that earned the ire of their people. Both have lost lovers, something that set them on their current paths. Both have a definite bone to pick with divinity. They have the capacity to relate to one another. Meliodas isn't looking for revenge yet  ( he's too busy trying to accomplish something else that has priority )  but there is an opportunity for a working relationship of sorts between them. Maybe even an expression of empathy towards each other's plights, if either ever bothered to divulge any of their past. Plot 8. Another gen.pact contender, the first shogun Makoto. Currently, she's living in a hairpin that's supposed to be in the care of a young girl, but for all I know through some stroke of sheer luck it could have made it's way to the Tsaritsa's hands. Makoto was never close to the cryo archon before her own death, but she could be curious enough about the abrupt shift in ideals to reveal herself. Needless to say, Makoto has doubts about Stella's plans and methods, and is a little saddened to see how she turned out after she showed promise when taking over the role of archon. Plot 9. Eclipsa is the opposite of Stella, firmly on the far end of the darkness end of the spectrum to Stella on the light end, and she is known as an evil queen  ( complete with a forbidden chapter of dark spells ), but she's not a bad person at all. Both pretty much look out for themselves, and are rather eccentric figures. Eclipsa is someone who makes guitars out of skeletons so she's not going to bat an eye at Stella's more occult fascinations, and may even make suggestions here and there. Plus she's got a lot of time on her hands after escaping her imprisonment in crystal which happened thanks her kingdom condemning her for falling in love with a monster and subsequently getting rid of him and their child. Why not spend it making some new friends ?