Vengearrow - Blog Posts
varus. /// vengearrow.
So the Darkin have been lost to time, recorded in the annals of history as demons; debauched beasts that haunt the past, their presence in the present ever fading. The mortals say the Darkin are monstrous, when so many monsters and heroes, even wretched gods, are all cut from the same cloth. Oh, so many monsters lauded as great men. It makes Varus sneer with contempt, his eyes smoldering balefully. He has lived in the sore absence of such ignorance for so long, after all, festering with burning resentment in the repressive darkness of that damned cage. After all of his years in damnation, he has thought: it was a great mistake to seal him and his kin away instead of destroying them all, to think that they could bury their ghosts.
“My name is Varus. I am the arrow of retribution, and I will pierce you for forgetting your kind’s sins.” He spares not an inkling of intrigue for Rakan’s charms; there is only that cold, familiar anger, and it sings to him with renewed vigor. His corrupted hand clenches around his crystalline bow, and vermillion flickers around its limbs, coursing like lightning around the center, until the shape of an arrow is formed and howling with energy. Varus raises the bow, aiming right for the heart. With this arrow, he would teach this carefree Vastayan terror and silence. “I gift you this pain to remember me by. Savor it.”
TO LIVE IS TO SIN. to live a life without sin is to not have live at all, for sins come in variations, one's sin could be simple lie to lovely maiden in attempt to charm & seduce her, yet another's sin could be the blood on their hands, reliving each grotesque, vivid memory over & over, praying for deliverance from this grief that burdens them. ah, the many faces he's seen, albeit this one's unique ( bonny, even. every part ), lusting for revenge. how amusing the thought. to fall for temptation of revenge to don bravado of a false justice for the darkin, whatever that was. how utterly wicked man can be, how each is so interwoven with sin itself. in his long years alive, the cycle of sin shall endlessly repeat, & that only bestows more responsibility on others ————— it is not his problem. he is candidate free from responsibility's task, one to laugh at free entertainment. for once, he is the audience. this is no different.
❛ oh, wow, that's really cool. the arrow looks pretty nice. ❜ insouciant in his approach, hand is placed atop own hip, digits curling ever so slightly, adopting collected posture with that sneer. face him, darkin, watch as the corners of his lips curve upward, high up, how he truly does not show a smidgen of concern over this endeavor !! varus is a new source of entertainment, the gift not pain, but the forthcoming laughs he is to thoroughly enjoy from each missed arrow. a dancer must be swift to survive in his craft. ❛ i'm into pain, don't get me wrong, buuuut ... ❜ pleasant hum, simply stepping to the side, showing his defiance with ease. ❛ i think i'll pass on the gift right now ! but thanks for the offer, varus. rakan's still got to show off his dance moves to everyone in ionia, you understand ? ❜
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.
downtime is not a rarity. living without care in the world is a motto he's since subscribed to, adhering to such hedonistic law for no other reason than to gain pleasure ——— a lack of care for trivial matters that humans fret over allowed gates of new possibilities to be opened, surpassed as all continue to wallow & drown in pools of responsibility. though he is one to quell these worries with song & dance, it is ephemeral, contained within the space he's intruded graced with his presence. rakan is free ——— to remain collective & silent, gazing upon nature's finest work, the trees that stretch towards the azure sky above, the relaxing grass he considers comfortable enough to be a bed, the foreboding man whose primal voice pierces through the tranquil silence of the moment. wait, what ?
❛ huh, not even going to give me your name first or anything ? at least a compliment on my good looks ? ❜ it's not a deliberate remark to avoid the question, he just takes offense to those that fail to be captivated by his charms. possibly because no such magic is being used. perchance because this new individual isn't an average human. lips curve upward with every intent, finding new source of entertainment before him. who was this guy ? ❛ darkin, darkin ... ❜ feigns being lost within own thought process, circling around varus, hand rubbing at own chin, humming to further accentuate elaborate lie. soft chuckle, he shrugs. ❛ nope, sorry. don't think i know anything about the darkin. ❜
The patience of a hunter bridles even the superlative of lust that is his primal instinct to kill — not yet, he chides himself. The quiver of his accursed bow is only half-way drawn, the faintest glimpses of vermilion flickering where the string is at its tensest, but the bow is not aimed. What he seeks is answers, not the heart of the airy Vastayan that he stalks.
He finally approaches close enough to where Varus hides. The soft grass rustles in his wake, and Varus rounds the corner, approaching deliberately, like a snake. His voice is a foreign growl in his ears, primitive and guttural.
“You. Tell me, what do you know about the Darkin?”
@feyquil / sc.