Rapid Sketch From Kratos, Faye And Atreus~

rapid sketch from kratos, faye and atreus~ 💞

❄Faye and Kratos 🔥

It's probably that never upload this finished drawing, you know, because Tumblr does not like these things

Faye x Kratos CH 7: Faith

KRATOS

The traveler unnerved Kratos. In another life, that man could have been him. Weak. Ordinary. Mortal.

Kratos craved the mundanity of the natural order, of death. It came so easily to some, like this traveler. What a blessing it was. In another life, Kratos could have lived out his days in Sparta with his wife and child. He could have grown old beside Lysandra, and maybe lived long enough to see his child grow into the strong woman he knew she could have been. He would have been wholly content with that life. But that was long gone now, buried in the ever-shifting sands of time.  

But there was that other side of Kratos, however small, was at the very least grateful for his godly powers. He was not helpless to the violent whims of others. Did this man watch his family be ripped from him? Did he suffer? Suffering was a condition of man and Kratos knew suffering all too well. He’d suffered for so long that any bit of joy or happiness was always veiled with a layer of thick, terrible dread like it was a all a trick.

He heard Faye as she whispered a prayer over the man’s body. She took the corpse’s hand and crossed it over his chest. Her hands shook terribly.  

“Lo, there do I see my Mother,” she murmured.

And where was her family? It never occurred to Kratos why the hunter lived alone in the woods. He wondered what clan or tribe might have shaped her hands. He wondered what mother and father made her the woman she was – and where they had gone.  

Kratos’ eyes shifted around the dense cluster of trees around them.  

“We should not linger,” Kratos urged her. Faye shot him a glare and spoke louder.  

“Lo, there do I see my Father,” she growled.  

Kratos understood her rage. He understood her helplessness. But as far as Kratos knew, this traveler was no one to her. Just one of the many in the faceless horde struggling to survive above the shit of this world. He was just another man, left to pass and be forgotten.  

“Lo, there do they call to me,” she finished her prayer. A stillness fell over the hunter as she knelt at the man’s body. Faye stood, gripping her hands into tight fists. She offered the body one last glance before trudging away.  

Most of all Kratos wondered why she bothered to pray regardless of the man, stranger or not. This woman had such clear disdain for the gods.  

Kratos followed her, perplexed, as she led the way back to doe.

FAYE

Faye and Kratos ate a meal of stewed venison and unleavened bread that night. Faye was silent and sullen. She stared down at her bowl, troubling thoughts stealing her appetite. If she had not been distracted by the stranger, there was a chance she would have been able to save the traveler. Her purpose in this realm was to protect those who could not protect themselves. Faye tightened her fist as the image of the dead traveler flashed in her mind. Eyes cloudy and mouth open mid-scream. She had failed him.  

Faye considered giving up the blades and letting the stranger go. It was a fleeting thought. No, she had to maintain her bargain with him. How many more innocent lives were at risk if she didn’t investigate whether he was a threat or not? He had to prove himself worthy. That was the only way she could be sure his existence in the realm wouldn’t upset the natural balance. The only other option would be killing him, and she realized she was in no position to grapple with him again. She was too close and too weak, and he had been very watchful of her since their hesitant deal. Every move she made was under the gaze of those golden eyes. He even waited until she made the first bite of the stew, probably suspecting poison.  

In the meantime, there was another equally great risk lurking in the woods. Faye was familiar with reavers. Their numbers had continued to grow every winter over the 90 years at her watch. Each season they grew bolder, and their tactics more desperate. And Faye knew all too well that a desperate animal was perhaps the most dangerous kind of creature. Like a wolf with its paw in a trap.  

Faye stole a glance at Kratos. Was he any different? Faye wasn’t sure exactly what the god could be capable of but the blades at least were testament to his ability for violence. If she gave up the blades in order to squash the reaver threat, would she not be leaving the realm in the clutches of a worse enemy? She chewed the inside of her lip. He couldn’t have come at a worse time.  

Now that she had become injured, Faye knew she would not be able to make her patrols of the forest and neighboring regions. The reavers would grow emboldened by her absence. The traveler on the road was proof enough of that. Faye ground her teeth. Soon she would remind them why they should be wary of the woods.  

With her appetite fully soured, Faye pushed her bowl to Kratos and sauntered to her bed in silence. He spoke without looking up from his meal.  

“You should eat,” He grunted.  

“I’m not hungry.”  

Kratos didn’t bother arguing. Faye kicked off her boots and settled restlessly into the furs. With her injury, it would be nearly impossible to drive out reavers. Without help, that is. She glanced over at Farbauti and was surprised to see that he was already looking at her.  

“Do you have faith in your gods?” Kratos asked.

“I have no gods,” Faye said.  

“Why?”  

Faye sucked in a tired breath. She knew that not all gods were cruel. Tyr was the only one that came to mind. A god of war who had been an instrument of peace. He was the god who tried to save her people. In the end, he along with her kin fell to Odin’s sons. That small flicker of goodness had died with Tyr. There were no such things as peaceable gods, not anymore.  

“My business with the god’s isn’t a concern of yours, Farbauti,” Faye snapped, “Why does it matter to you?”  

“It doesn’t,” Kratos admitted.  

“Don’t take this personally, but you’re a shit conversationalist,” Faye said, eyeing him from the bed.

"If you have no gods, then why did you pray for the traveler?” Kratos raised a brow. Waiting.  

“I offer prayer to my ancestors,” Faye said with a sigh, “Those whom I will join at the time of my death.”

“Afterlife.” Kratos thought for a moment as he finished his supper. “It is foolish to believe in such things,” he said.

“See this is why I don’t like talking to you.”  

The only chance she had of seeing her people, her family again, would be in the realms of the dead. If she gave up that glimmer of hope, then what would she have? Who would she have to fight for? Why should she carry on?  

“Tell me god ,” Fay growled, “Who waits for you in the afterlife?”  

Kratos flinched.  

She knew it was a cruel thing to say. But it felt so good to say something that would hurt him that Faye convinced herself it must be true. Gods could not feel, could not love. This god was no different. Nothing but darkness waited for him in the afterlife. There would be no comfort for him, no reprieve from the agony, and his screams would only be met with silence.

Kratos’ breath grew heavy for a moment, and his eyes were glassy in the firelight. Faye could see the veins in his neck pulse with hot blood. He stood so hard that the stool clattered to the floor. Faye’s heart leapt up in her throat and for a moment she thought he might retaliate against her.  

He only gripped his fists tight and without a word, he lumbered toward the door and left. No violence, no blows, just silence. Faye laid back down and listened to his heavy steps on the dried foliage grow farther and farther away.  

Good , she seethed inwardly,  maybe now I can finally sleep without your midnight mumblings.  

Faye settled in her furs with a huff, but sleep did not come no matter how much she tossed and turned. She wished he had at least slapped her for insolence, called her a coward, or thrown any number of insults. Faye felt a deep, terrible gnawing sensation in her gut. It was the silence that bothered her the most.  

Only when the embers died in the hearth did Faye’s anger cool. Hours past and when Farbauti had not returned she couldn’t help the pang of concern in her chest. He was a god, but he was still weak. The odds would be against him if he came upon a pack of reavers. Shadows darted off the thatch roof with the flickering flames. Faye’s imagination spun up a hundred different monsters but none were worse than that damned feeling inside her that asked: What if you’re wrong?  

Faye stayed awake until finally the embers died, and she drifted off. There were no dreams or visions, no memories of her kin, nor songs to lull her. Only the deepness. Only silence.  

-

Faye woke to the sound of cloth tearing. It was just past dawn, too early for the birds to sing. There was only the long moan of the winds outside.  

Kratos was at the table. His back was to her and she watched as the snake-like tattoo wrapped around his chest moved as he worked. Something else caught her eye, another scar. It was a long gruesome slit of gnarred skin that fell just to the left of his spinal column. When he turned, she noticed it matched the scar on his abdomen. A wound like that should have been mortal. It seemed like the more Faye realized, the less she actually knew about the god.  

Kratos turned and Faye closed her eyes, just peeking through the lashes. He stood rigid, binding his wrists and forearms with linen. With a blank, mechanical look, Kratos slowly wrapped a roll of linen around and around. While his hands worked, his mind was elsewhere.  

Where had he gone all night? Wherever it was, he found no rest there. Deep circles were under his gold eyes. A few times his grip on the linen faltered and he dropped the cloth to the floor. He was exhausted.  

Kratos didn’t look up when Faye eased herself from the bed. Closer now, Faye could see his hands were shaking. He dropped the roll of linen again, but Faye snatched it up from the floor. Faye reached for his hand but Kratos jerked it away with a tired grunt.  

“Let me see,” Faye said, beckoning for the arm. The muscles in his jaw shifted and with a heavy sigh, Kratos offered his arm.  

Faye inspected the wounds. It was curious. While his other wounds were mending fairly quickly, those chain-linked burns had still not healed. There were red and inflamed and still bleeding in some places. Faye traced a finder lightly over the marks. The skin was feverish. She could sense their magic, their curse. She shook her head knowing that this kind of magic went far beyond her expertise. This was god-magic.  

Faye turned his hand over and inspected fresh wounds over his knuckles. The skin was nearly scraped to the bone in places.  

“What have you done here,” she murmured. There were splinters in his skin. She was sure that there were some trees with fist-sized holes in them out in the forest. Kratos shifted the longer she looked. Faye took up the linen and began wrapping. She carefully took the linen in between his fingers and around his knuckles. She wound it securely but loose enough for free-movement.  

Faye glanced up as she worked. Those gold eyes that once burned with rage had grown heavy with sorrow and pain. Hand over hand, Faye bound his skin with wrappings all to the way up his forearms.  

As Faye moved for the other arm, Kratos took her wrist. Faye waited for him to speak but the words were slow to come. His eyes searched Faye’s face, jaw gripped tight.

“What is it?” Faye asked. She could feel his grip on her wrist soften. His eyes fell low to the ground.  

“I too pray to my ancestors.” Kratos said. “I…hope,” he ground out the word hope like it was a curse. “I hope that they find rest.”

“I thought you didn’t believe in the afterlife,” Faye said, taking her wrist from his grip.  

“I said it was foolish,” Kratos said, “I never said I didn’t believe.”  

Faye nodded, and took up wrapping his other arm.  

“It isn’t foolish to have hope,” she said, “In the end, hope is all we have.”  

“Hm,” Kratos grunted, a sad smile on his face.  

“What?”  

“It is nothing,” Kratos said. Faye wasn’t convinced but she was pleased at least that he was capable of an emotion other than rage or silent judgement. He flexed both hands, testing the bindings. Seemingly satisfied, Kratos gave Faye a curt nod as a small gesture of thanks.

“Good,” Faye said, brushing past him to the larder. She filled a rucksack with various supplies and bobbles: venison jersey, unleavened bread, seeds, pelts, beads.

“Come along, Farbauti,” She said at the door, “We’re going to see a friend.”

How do you conquer a Spartano? being as strong as the he ... or more ~

My beautiful Faye, I always change something in her design, so irresponsible ~

Speedpaint: https://youtu.be/eFIrJQKXEzQ

Mi hermosa Faye, siempre le cambio algo en su diseño, tan irresponsable~

knowing Angrboda <3

The amazing art of Vance Kovacs

The Art of God of War