@echobled​ // magnai

The frost seeps – a slow crackle the begins at the skin and settles into the bones; he knows he has succumbed to the chill when he breathes it out in vapor trails, spilling past his lips. Jahliqai’s jaw clenches tight, but his teeth never chatter. Rather, he continues to whet his lance’s blade atop one of the many crates, thawing himself with the idle motion.

      “ ...I was never fond of the cold, “ he says in a quiet hum to the only other besides. His stone strikes in even strokes along the cutting edge of his weapon, “ but I would imagine my distaste holds no candle to your disdain. “

@fatewalkers​​

      “ . . . “

There’s a brief pause -- a look of acknowledgement that lingers for a moment, before settling upon the bustle of the city itself. The others have long since scattered -- most nostalgic and few bright-eyed. Jahliqai thinks to make himself invisible. Well, that is... he’d like to. 

      “ I don’t... quite intend to sight-see, “ he turns slowly -- to watch the ocean, and listen to the waters splash against the docks, “ if that’s what you’re wondering... “

@flowerwept​ // hermes

The furrow of his brow deepens and deepens – threatening his mien with permanence as each passing night slowly begins to whittle at his rest. It was disorienting enough, at first, to see old adversaries and allies awash in blurs – coherent in their tongue yet muffled all the same with the ethereality only dreams could give you. But now, he dreams of unknowns. Now, he dreams of an ally who stands at his side – who seeks for things in the same manner as the man in his dreams. The more he sees him, the more he cannot gaze upon him. And now, Jahliqai cannot bear the ache he feels – one he knows is not simply his own.

     “ ...I see you there, Hermes “ comes the strain – a confession muddled with confusion, “ in a utopia– in... “ paradise, Jahliqai wants to say, but he is unsure.

tag drop! some are still placeholders bc i’m bald and can’t think anymore (:

@theswell​ said:  ❛  if  we  could  stay  this  way  forever ,  would  it  ever  be  enough ?  ❜

sugar water // ACCEPTING

Blood is a thing that flares between them – a constant spill from veins that opened to the spark of battle, and their wills clash in an eternal contradiction of what defined the idea of ‘self’. Zenos is the embodiment of passion thrummed on that spark – gorging on the remnants of emotion’s ghost and staving off the hunger of what he considered a true feast. Jahliqai, however, would bury these ghosts in search of the sincere – to abandon the hollow he once had, and take, and take, and take. This could be a greed of it’s own kind, but it is born out of the need to let fill love’s contradictions – the love he held for the world, for those dear to him. A constant parallel, they shared, but never would those lines meet – never could Jahliqai bear to hold that reflection and find a kindred in him. 

Thus, the clash – the need to peer in, where Jahliqai rejects. Where blade meets blade, and the world dies in the wake of vices coming together to battle. Zenos claims this as something prophetic. Jahliqai claims this a nuisance.

They part, once they clash, and the beast bellows a laugh deep from the well of his empty belly. 

     ‘ if we could stay this way forever, would it ever be enough, my friend? ‘

Jahliqai can see it: the spark of excitement – the thrill that only came with battle. One could mistake this for joy, but Jahliqai was never sure – never wanted to delve into something deeper than that animalistic instinct that Zenos honed into. Jahliqai, too, was always unsure if these moments sparked any joy in him – adrenaline always a nuisance of a feeling when it muddled with so much. 

There was thrill (battle was a long cultivated love he had to grapple to understand for many long years). There was anticipation (the nick of steel dipping too close to his skin – the short breaths that suggested a hint of excitement). Then, there was dread (apathy – emptiness... the wallow of nothing. the mirror, the mirror, his mirror––). Jahliqai stops there, and wrings the tenseness from his arm as he bears his fangs in the form of a greatsword wedged in the space between him and Zenos.

     “ ...You will be the one left wanting, “ comes the cold refusal – the rejection of avarice, “ because I have had enough of you. “

Once more, they clash. Once more, they spark.

Once more, they feed into the baser of themselves, and battle time and time again.

@abystal​ said: 🎁  » a surprise for jelly

The macabre image of Midgardsormr’s corpse was the backdrop for the two warriors bound by his essence. Shivali had brought Jahliqai to the place of her ‘resurrection’-- the diamantine shores of Silvertear Lake-- crouching onto one knee and sifting silt between amethyst fingers.

❛  My sword is forged from the crystals here as well. Most came from Midgardsormr’s aether reacting with the ceruleum in the Empire’s ships. How much I scorn what my parents did to me that day, and yet I still find myself relying upon Midgardsormr’s strength, time and time again. ❜  Not often did Shivali pour her heart out-- and despite being comfortable doing so before the person she now deemed a brother-- honesty felt foreign on her tongue.

Shaking her head, the Warrior of Light instead shifted her sincerity towards Jahliqai himself.  ❛  I know this isn’t much, and it may not work the same for you, but. I hope you can find strength in him too. ❜  Thus did Shivali dig deep into her pockets, unearthing a sharp, obsidian shard attached to a silver chain. Indeed, it was a carving from the dragon king’s bones: and even in Jahliqai’s hand, was the shard still warm to the touch.

prompted // ALWAYS ACCEPTING ♡

Where the heart pours, hands come to a rise – cupping the spilling blood, lest it strain the ground beneath them. Jahliqai is careful to heed to words he knows not to forsake – to hold close the confessions Shivali makes. Jahliqai knows that what Shivali tells him with sincerity, he would most like not hear again. He knows – he knows of their hardships, and of what she deemed a curse, but he does not know the gentled way amethyst wade through the water’s surface. He does not know the lidded gaze that recalls the memory burning in her eyes. This is a silent testament to trust, and Jahliqai has long since learned not to break it.

He is silent, throughout – up until the very moment their words cease with an implication he did not understand... not until they presented unto him a remnant of Midgardsormr’s memory. Jahliqai’s eye widens – frost whittled into a thaw he could not stop. The warmth of Shivali’s actions, followed by the warmth of the shard... it bleeds into him, too. So helpless, is Jahliqai, to that warmth – to the ties of their souls that sung to the ancient dragon’s now-faded murmurs. Long since, has Midgardsormr’s presence dwindled into that faintness – slumbering in the nest of eternity. And yet, when Jahliqai brings the necklace close, he can feel the phantom of his tongue that cooed his chosen – born of his life and soul.  

The warmth spills in a drip straight into Jahliqai’s heart, and it’s slow pulse beats with gentled thrums as he melts under the weight of Shivali’s love. It turns the corners of his lips, and he cannot help the smile that blooms, nor the twinge of tenderness in his quiet voice.

      “ That strength, “ he hums as his chin bows, “ has always been an extension of your own. “ He unclasps the chain, and closes his eye. “ Just as his blood courses through me, does his aether envelope you – a part of us, but never defining our worth. “ Jahliqai separates both ends of the chain, and gingerly has them meet behind his neck as hands reach back to connect them once more. When he re-clasps the necklace, he lowers his hands – opening his eye to gaze upon the obsidian that rested against his chest. “ ...Though those are his words, rather than my own. “ Still, he remembers the low subdued hiss in perfect clarity: Strong art thou.

When his gaze finally lifts, Jahliqai’s eye finds Shivali’s – sincerity swimming in the frost. 

      “ Just as I treasure that strength, I would treasure your gift all the same. “ A silent testament: Shivali was wrong – it meant everything to him. She – his soulkin – meant everything to him. “ Thank you, Shivali. “

@theswell​

The air is flame-licked – a torrent of hellfire in the wake of finality. The bellows of lives long lost are incessant – a constant, unified cry of agony as aether is whetted away into nothingness. Jahliqai’s lance is heavy – weighted by the cycle of loss, and threatening to dull into a hollowed apathy once more (it doesn’t stop, it never stops, when will it stop––). But his grip is steadfast – certain in his faith he knows isn’t misplaced. And where faith remains strong...

     “ ...Incessant. “ The beast returns – continuing to gorge upon these agonies. Jahliqai keeps his back turned – head bowed as a loud thud behind him suggests the temporary satiation of that salivating maw. There is only an exhale, and Jahliqai speaks no more.

@continuatn​

The nation bustles with life – serenity an all-encompassing assurance, in contrast to the turmoil that occurred just beyond the haven’s shores. Sharlayan was secluding – a hiss to all outsiders, and wary of those who are heedless to them. Thus, Jahliqai takes to keeping to himself as the others wander off to tour the city – arms crossed as he leans against a secluded pillar. Here, he watches the sea – eye following the rhythmic pull and push of those waves crashing against the pier. 

When he hears grass crunch under footfalls, he doesn’t signal his acknowledgement with a subtle turn of his head (as he is wont to do), but instead hums to himself – welcome to the company.

     “ ...’Tis cold, “ the subtle fall of light snow brushed off from his sleeve, “ and busy. “ The shake of his head – suggesting distaste. 

@unwaken

Jahliqai’s stare is a caustic thing – iced over as intention makes itself known with crude words and a cruder stare that hides nothing. In the midst of copper filling the air, and the lull in betwee, Jahliqai only scoffs – the edge of his knuckles wiping off the remnants of a felled beast whose blood was now cold. “ ...Tactless, “ comes the murmur that’s spat with a tinge of disgust, “ and hardly the time. “ A glance away now, as silver digs into the earth – the howls of the end echoing in a resounding cacophony under the reddened sky. 

     “ . . . “ Jahliqai’s frown is taut as he glances of the chaos beneath the cliffside where they stood, and he curses under his breath. “ ––They’re everywhere. “