The End. /// quartlet.
the end. /// quartlet.
TIME WAS NO FRIEND OF MAN, and nor was the crumbling dark that awaited him in all his worthless folly. so small. so frail. so pitiful. the providence of god need not privy to their innerworkings, not while the weight of a crushing supermassive black hole weighed on His side, antimatter oozing from their lower jaws. what is one singular atom when compared to the impossible shapes the singing of space creates ? paltry offerings made up carcass flesh, so futile and so very postured against a burning black forever. but this one sings of stars, catching them between his teeth before bursting at bloody seams. He has watched them. He knows. all he is … all he shall ever be ; moments wrapped up in seconds, time fluctuates, its shell cracked open for all the cosmos to glare into and snicker.
woe ! woe ! little thing made up of stardust and hope ! echoes His spectral choir, their voices ripped straight from their gluttonous throats, each screaming at a different pitch from another. maddening. all was so very maddening. a sweeping, nebulous substance pours out from below him, they entangle and shimmer like the arms of galaxies cradling against the void of their death. no clouds above. no hells below. there is only He in all His magnificence, His singular bloated eye peering out from the warps and wefts of His billowing hood. His gaze is unblinking but not unmoving, the outer iris of His eye whirls into an unknowable blue while at the center there is a supernova buzzing, singing, laughing.
❛ ShE iS gOnE. ❜ the voice spoke again. not quite the discordant clang of congs but instead there is an unbiting harmony found within those horrendous, deepening notes. this was the rhapsody of a god. the last word is repeated by a spectral chorus, every utterance heightens in pitch until it is bleeding : gone ! gone ! gone ! gone ! blots of darkness recede then, revealing the golden surface in which his eye peers forth from. there are symbols etched into the surface are unknowable and untraceable, but when a wandering sun tilts just right, the shock of light catches the slope of His mask. as soon as it came, the light vanishes, swallowed whole by a sickle claw. He crushes this sun in the palm of His hand. it’s cries of pain rattle out from His fingertips like sand.
no clemency. no warmth. no silence. white noise pervades everything until there is nothing, a warbled, distorted clammer of entropy riding up one’s throat until there are only parched whispers of dead planets ringing around your jaws. from behind rakan there gleams another looming arm, spotted with constellations and translucent. the voice pierces reality, cutting it in two. ❛ yOu StAnD bEfOrE mE nOw, LiTtLe GuArDiAn. ❜ He knows. do not forget. He knows ! The God Without A Throne peels back, eye concentrating upon the tiny shape of a mortal that now stands, shuddering. what was once a chorus now chimes into one singular sound. ❛ whatever shall i do with you … ❜
& ALL AT ONCE, terror's gaping maw became apparent at the cacophony of various voices, they were a choir of death, a choir of chaos, imbrued with disharmony for no other purpose than to unnerve those their voices dare speak to. // ah, how youth was sought for in that moment ———— a time of peace that is a memory of the past, too many bar lines left in the past, too many measures past without repeat, he has been forced to assimilate into this perpetual crescendo where all grows louder, louder. sought for pianissimo, peace's silent reign, is nowhere near, it is an afterthought, the conductor has different plans for him. he is a pawn on this stage, he is a star guardian, last one out, that will never be blessed by light's continued guidance, for his fate has been set. ( to defy fate is to defy these stars, to defy these stars it is an impossibility. alas ... he is nothing in the cosmos' grand battlefield. )
to be promised by whispers of the mind that this was all a dream, conjured up by an overflow of negative emotion that plagues his heart. how could it not ? he has fallen, he has fallen. not by his own hand, but at the hand of others !!! those matters continue an existence of anger & wrath, but his time to strike is not now. his time to strike is when these whispers cease their incessant claims, of these noises being real, of a battered heart to face the cruel reality that awaits him : she's gone. as if the forces of the universe wanted him to realize how futile his efforts were, how such a lofty ambition cannot bear the fruit his being desires ( he doesn't care, he doesn't care !! JUST SHUT UP ! ), he has to wake up.
this canary, whose flight impaired by fate's meticulous hands, must accept what amber pools perceive : he no longer dons life's hues, her soft, mellow colors have been drained from his person, deprived of it by damn bastard that caused all of this. the whites of his skin eerily creep towards a ghastly white, absence of blood true cause behind it —— & these clothes, they are not bright anymore, he is not the bright & shining rakan of the past, the star guardian whose bright enthusiasm rivaled the stars around him. no. he is the sun crushed by relentless hand, turned to sand, its cause for naught. / is this his destiny ? to shine bright, only to be crushed in the end ? is he to be what gives her the necessary light for purity's renewal inside her, or is he to be a bright sun, a star, that shines brightly above the rest, only to have its light crushed into nothingness. ... does his dream have any success in sight ?
he stares. he stares, he stares, he stares, for he believed a god's form to be benevolent, to be a haven that one could turn to in times of need, he doesn't see that here. there is a mask. there is an eye. there is him, there is the end. if every story must have its finale, then he who controls these stars with ease is it. if starlight is the beginning, then he, who can turn a sun into sand, star to stardust, is the end. he is no pawn of terror, he is terror. the prospect alone, the reality of it all, is confirmation of that. rakan may doubt himself, but he cannot doubt what he knows is fact.
❛ what ... the ... ❜ there's an expectation for him to finish his sentence, to release the last word with all his might, to shout the profane word with shock, but he can't. fear's grasp is tight around his neck ( or has it coagulated at his throat ? ), he's left stupefied at cosmic being before him. albeit it seems he is immobile, he finds strength, courage, to take few steps back, to create ineffectual distance between them, as if that made any difference. perhaps it's simply the illusion of such that provides even the smallest of comforts. ❛ i ... really did not sign up for this. ❜ his being quivers, though he catches himself & stops it, appearing stiff. he fears him, but to at least contain this fear ... may be his key to survival.
More Posts from Feyquil and Others
??? /// herdream.
❛ wh - what are dreams made of, you ask? ❜ the fawn stutters, ❛ why … they are what you make ‘em …! ❜ she giggles — the other is far from wholly human, what an interesting being! but she has listened to his distant dreams, she could hear them in the gentle night. they are warm, filled with love & fun! oh, so much fun! does he remember her, perhaps? in the dream, did he feel her presence listening in? did he notice her watching? ❛ daydreams, mid - morning dreams, night dreams, oh, oh, a - and dusk dreams! do … do you remember … ? i — i, oh how embarrassing — ❜ @feyquil
interesting. a bit unexpected, but interesting nonetheless. dreams, the symbols that offer refuge & hope, they're whatever one wants them to be ? if a dream can be anything, then can a dream be everything ? if a dream could be everything, then perhaps a dream could be tangible ————— if a dream could be tangible, a dream could be edible & by extension, the sweet delicacy humans have named chocolate. what was he talking about again ?
❛ remember ? ❜ attention brought back at her query, cerulean hues fixed on her delicate features, lips pressing against each other tight as he hums. remember, remember ... ❛ sorry, can't say i do ! ❜ chance of knowing one another through dreams alone ? a definite possibility ! for rakan, however, he opts to remember the fleeting moments of euphoria & peace that consistently exist throughout his dreams. ❛ no need to be embarrassed, stranger !! i asked you a question, only fair you get to ask one right back. ❜
“of course! everyone loves me!″
for those rakan lovers out there
Y : YOURS. does your muse get protective easily?
I SOMEHOW ALMOST FORGOT ABOUT THIS SORRY!!
Y : YOURS. does your muse get protective easily?
hmm, i’m going to have to say yes, personally. rakan seems like the type of guy who’d easily be incredibly protective of his lover – this is made a little evident in his interaction with xayah in the in-game voice lines? where he says:
and i think that demonstrates his level of protectiveness when it comes to someone he truly, deeply loves? he’s willing to put his life on the line for that person, no matter the circumstance. it’s very much, indeed, a selfless part of him that’s explored more in his star guardian skin. to summarize, though: he’s protective. very protective to the point he’d die for his lover. but, that’s how i see it!
x / @excria
The Eternal Dancers
goggles. /// yi-dashi.
Dance was notunknown to Yi, which was perhaps why he’d been drawn to the performance in the first place.Plenty of his people had been dancers, and in Rakan he found some form of nostalgia. When the people of Wuju could not apply their sword-crafts to battle or contests, their grace became art. To the beat of drums, a curated form of swordplay hadcome alive in performance. Back then, Yihad ignored any mentors of the arts, preferring swords for their edges ratherthan aesthetics. There were many more important things to be done, he told them all. Whywould he need to remember every single Wuju play?
That thinkinghad got him to the present, standing before the other with flurries of compliments. Butthe nostalgia grew bitter the longer he pondered it. How much had he forgotten?
“… What isnew?” He offered, after shaking off his simmering malaise. The other’s bravado was much more captivating than thoughts of the past, “Acknowledgement of workwell done? Surely, I would hope you are given more credit for the performance youprovide? You speak as if you are aware of your own skill, and I suppose they would not host you here if not for the skill of it. Thepractice is apparent, and I am hope you are not the only one telling yourself this.”
Stroking athis beard, the Bladesman’s lenses clunked back into theircasings suddenly. Behind them, the man found himself wincing as hebecame aware of a missed introduction. That, and the name ‘Goggles,’ which seemed to slap him for his missed formality. Not very palatable to his ears certainly, and his first instinct was to scold the Vastayan for it. But be polite, Yi. Thatwas the least he could offer. Let it go once, and make sure he has no reason to call you it again.
He steadiedhis expression, and his goggles along with it, as he continued with his measured tone, “Ah, I think I have gotten ahead of myself. Please forgive me Rakan, I have not thought to announce myself. It is not Goggles, as yousay. I am known as Master Yi. I travel widely, and I was not expecting to spendmy time here this day. So, if you have things you must attend to, please do notlet this man keep you. If you would tell me more of your dances however, I would surely be interested in hearing it.”
At least that gave him an exit, if he’d truly managed to offend.
such a new song to settle upon his ears, appealing to some base desire that yearns for praise & attention ( oh, how it dwells in his heart ! ), rekindling the passionate fire of his heart that continuously reminds him of this skill's benefits : the endless praise from others, their attention, & their inevitable admiration held for none but rakan, rakan, rakan. hah, to stroke massive ego could be considered folly to some, albeit rakan feels differently. this praise is divine, it is a pleasure he indulges himself in, caring not for the scorn directed towards him through malevolent gazes ——— envy, repulsive sentiment he understands all too well ——— but beauty's irresistible grace allows him to persevere, to continue his performance without worry of what others thought.
❛ you'd be surprised, goggles ! ❜ again with the nickname, escaping past lips naturally, at a smooth ease the world could not compete with. coolness itself, is rakan in that moment. 'till he recognizes own blunder / stranger had been naught but kind to him ( but within lies an expectation of kindness from all !! ) hah, only a fool would believe that. it is only luck that he's not being chased down by yet another angry guard with hopes of capturing for his feathers, or perhaps his head. ❛ sorry, sorry, that was my bad. master yi, right ? ❜ took a moment, certainly, but he's quick to correct himself, purely out of courtesy ( that, & he'd like to try to remember this guy's name. ) ❛ i just don't get that sort of praise often, really. lot of clapping, cheering, & staring, but who can blame 'em ? either way, it feels nice to have someone know i work pretty damn hard on each dance ! ❜
oh, but don't let him speak of those countless nights where spirit of song & dance resonate within him, indulging himself in that selfish pleasure of dance, song !! the true passion that feels like his calling, that feels right down to every sweet melody. it matters not if it's from dusk to dawn, it is the happiness conjured from each second that mattered !
❛ aaaaaaaanyway, ❜ after brief pause, voice fills the air again, waiting's too boring & leaving honored guest without answer to query is way too rude. abandoning the routinely, rather lonesome evening after a festival sounds pleasing. a taste of something new surely was needed, even if it wasn't a sweet, chocolatey delicacy. ❛ if you wanna hear all about my dancing, then i could tell you all about 'em ! maybe even show you some, too. consider yourself my guest of honor !! err, though i don't exactly have a place. i just wander around. ❜
( * VALENTINE’S DAY ALPHABET !
send some letters to find out more about my muse !
A : AFFECTION. how does your muse show affection?
B : BOUQUET. does your muse like flowers? which ones are their favourite?
C : CHOCOLATE. does your muse like chocolate? which one is their favourite?
D : DATE. what is your muse’s ideal date? where / who with / etc?
E : EMBRACE. does your muse like hugs? what are their hugs like?
F : FLIRT. is your muse good at flirting? how do they flirt?
G : GIFT. is your muse good at gift - giving or do they struggle to get it right?
H : HEART. is your muse quick or slow to give their heart away?
I : I LOVE YOU. does your muse find ‘i love you’ easy or hard to say?
J : JEALOUSY. does your muse get jealous in a relationship?
K : KISS. is your muse a good kisser? why / why not?
L : LOVE. who does your muse love?
M : MOONLIGHT. what is your muse’s ideal date? where / who with / etc?
N : NAUGHTY. what is your muse like in bed?
O : ODE. does your muse have a way with words?
P : PARTNER. what does your muse look for in a partner? looks / personality?
Q : QUESTION. would your muse ask the big question or expect their partner to?
R : ROMANCE. is your muse a romantic or a cynic?
S : SWEETHEART. did your muse have a childhood sweetheart?
T : TRUE LOVE. does your muse believe in true love?
U : UNREQUITED. has your muse had their heart broken?
V : VALENTINE. how does your muse feel about valentine’s day?
W : WEDDING. would your muse get married? why / why not?
X : XOXO. does your muse use / like pet names?
Y : YOURS. does your muse get protective easily?
Z : ZZZ. how many people has your muse slept with?
i liked for this. / always accepting !!
@vengearrow said : "Rakan... hold still for a second." Varus reaches for the back of his scarf, lifting the amulet out from underneath, and places it around Rakan's neck. The red jewel shimmers brilliantly in the sun on his chest, and Varus hums in approval. "As I thought... it looks good on you. Keep it."
this warmth shall not go unnoticed. to avert his gaze from it would be a betrayal of the heart's desires, to silence an enlightened song of passion a deadly move that must not be executed ——— pessimistic perceptions may insist on silencing it, all in attempt to facilitate darkness's entrance to his heart, its only motivation to deter rakan from chosen path // to stray from what heart deems right is to betray his beliefs, to forsake what his heart beats for !! despite how convoluted the matters in his heart are, to reject them is to reject himself. growing sense of camaraderie between them nurtured through meticulous hands that cared for blooming flower, growing, living at base of his heart. travel has only strengthened its resolve, invoked muse to experience breath of life, longed for after times of pure peril, times where life itself had nearly been taken from rakan. ( oh, what's life without a little danger ? )
beyond such delicate flora its seeds, budding feeling of romance masked beneath guise of friendship, very one he dared not break yet. how peculiar such love came to be, how unnaturally natural did it feel to fight at his side, for their fates to be bounded to one another, walking along same path, shoulder to shoulder, initially perceived impossibility becoming their reality. through each conversation, through each battle, through each smile they offered one another at night's silence, where naught but the stars are their witness ... through it all, it became natural. natural to be at his side, where he belongs. not for the warmth he provides —— said warmth a virtue, albeit afterthought to the true prize : varus himself. very man that gifts him amulet, that accepts perceived reality of intertwined fates. in this together 'till bitter end.
❛ thanks ... i think it looks good on me, too !! ❜ he jests, it's natural, praise for himself, bonafide chuckle emitting from his throat. he hums, observes the amulet for moment, considering its color, its significance, how great it looked on varus, how good it looks on him. eventually, he decides. screw subtlety. ❛ 'course, it looks just as nice on you. then again ... there's never been a moment where you look bad at all. you're pretty easy on the eyes. ❜ see the grin forming on his lips ? see the rise of his brows, the evident gaze that neared longing every passing second. this road's destination ... shall it be cut short, or shall it prove fruitful ? lady luck, smile down on him.
after discussing with @4senna how rakan would use his charm to flirt with the starbucks barista and lower the price ( and mistakenly forget he’s actually at a subway ), i wanna show y’all the highlight of the conversation
🏆
how do u feel abt my rakan?
AAAAA THANK U!!!
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