Rathfel - Tumblr Posts
@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. ❞
➤ ` 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. ❞
@rathfel asked: “ you think i don’t want to run to you. “ / @ zeldris!
► ❪ SHOWMAN // accepting ❫
The ❛ of course ❜ goes unspoken, settling into a heavy silence that hangs between them / like a porous bone threatening fracture under a slowly – increasing pressure – and wasn’t that an apt comparison to make ?
Meliodas always did have a knack for inciting undue amounts of hatred, a particular skill of his finely interwoven with the expert use of his past Commandment, often to devastating effects for the opposing parties. Yet that sliver of the king's power remained absent, long since striped bare, leaving one half of the equation to function. He's far from fond of this new resulting persona Meliodas crafted for himself from cracked shards. Some facsimile pieced together from the fragments of the old ( a poor substitute if a replacement at all ) though remnants occasionally rose to the surface of that desolate sea, such as said ability of stirring hatred, though he leaned into a propensity towards annoying taunts / jokes now.
( do you suffer still / was your agony worth it ? )
But Zeldris was nothing if a good student, surrounded all his life by such great exemplars to draw inspiration from. Already boiling emotions were tapering down, disconnecting even as arms crossed and a poignant / blank stare was leveled. His own scathing remarks, rooted in truth, soon cut the tense air as smoothly as he would draw his own blade. Simple, understated, yet effective.
❝ You left. ❞
A moment’s allowed to let the two little words to settle home, to dredge up crystalline reminders of what fate the blonde had chosen to inflict upon him. This sense of brotherhood, a desire for closeness had only ever been one sided. A whimsical fantasy of his own concoction. That well of shed blood / tears long since dried up, abandoned. Just as he’d been.
Father had been correct all along. He didn’t know who to curse more.
❝ The only thing you've ever done is run the opposite direction. ❞ A white lie, the sole rebuttal to this newfound truth itched at the back of his mind, budding voracity in the manner it attempted to claw free.
( he remembers oh so vividly, vision seared into half mast coronas, pallid skies, fields caked with scars, rivers upon rivers of bleeding gold and crimson intertwined. a never before seen sight to behold, his brother steeped in crippling black FURY / devoid of hatred, a walking contradiction )
A wry smile formed, an effervescent wisp vacant / hollow. His real brother died a long time ago. This shell would be put out of its misery before long. ❝ Keep it up, Meliodas. Run back to your goddess. ❞
@rathfel asked: “ i had forgotten how charmingly ethereal you can be ” / @merlin!
► ❪ THREE HOUSES // accepting ❫
A passing remark, one deserving of an bemused exhale. The puff of air danced on the smudged rim before the stained wine glass withdrew from quirked lips and set down with a delicate clink. Could he feel it, the weight of her gaze assessing, prying, judging ?
Flattery; far from a new phenomenon, hardly receiving more than a bat of the eyes and demure thanks, but it's not every day Meliodas himself bothers to comment on anything separate from her questionable nature and the studies carried out. ❝ ...I suppose it's only natural you would. We've not seen each other in many years. ❞
Alas, what meaning could be held in such acclaims ? When inflections often don't necessarily reflect the intent of the beholder at hand, were the words themselves as empty as the hollow shell that breathed them to life ?
Greedy as Merlin was, ever craving for more knowledge, she's not keen on picking his thoughts on this regard, learning of what thought sparked it, and thus there's no reason to derive the joy / satisfaction expected of them. For once she's at ease to not know. Echoes of a want from a bygone era tempt the mage not as gold eyes stared back from the still crimson, providing all the clarity she needs. She's content.
It’s bothersome. This sentiment reverberating in her chest alongside the chiseled heart of stone nestled safely inside, a hand reaching into unwanted depths, to squeeze forth blood. Could it be the sour tang of acrimony, reduced to a muted sting ? Perhaps. An entrenched bitterness waned over the years, steadfast rock long since eroded from the persistent crashing of dismal waves over it. All too easily were any inklings of the instinctive desire to search for underlying truths sanded down in the face of it. There's no point to seek / hope for something that simply didn't exist.
Only here she's allowed her mind to accept it as is, to let it go astray, to not grant it a lingering thought of her own. Let the acknowledgement wither and decay, pass into dust carried away on a distant wind.
Fingers grasped the glass handle, the remaining wine consumed a few stilted heartbeats later. The rich flavor no longer carried it's sweet aftertaste.
She's content.