#* DEATHCREST / here is how to love him : heart like a firebrand and promises unbroken ; the whispered words of ' it was always you. ' | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

emperorcrest-blog · 5 years

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❝ you’re all i ever wanted and worth dying for, too. ❞

richard siken quotes / not accepting.

four years of no war, and you are twenty six and aching. four years of no war, and there’s nothing left for you. four years of peace, and you hurt profoundly and deeply. your bones feel tired, down to your very core. mercenary life suited you well. but there’s just no work anymore. the world is at peace, so utterly still and silent that it feels like there’s nowhere you could possibly exist. you should die, you think. you should fall on your sword here and now. and there would be little stopping you - you are not the fraldarius heir. you are not beloved by the world. you do not belong here.

and yet -

you do not break your promises.

there was one, a small, enourmous promise you made at the age of eight years old, little fingers coiled round each other, and the promise of hey, we’ll always be together, won’t we? we’ll die together, right? passed in the dark of the gautier household, your heart beating fast for something so morbid. you do not break your promises.

you don’t know how to ask for the things you want. you don’t know how to be anything but alone. you have to leave the door open, and let other people walk in. this is how you’ve operated since you were a child. you had to think and live for yourself, for what kind of warrior relies on others? but you feel so cold, down to your bones, and you’d like to not be alone anymore.

parting with your favourite sword feels a little like parting with your own soul, but if you know sylvain - and you think you do, better than anyone - then you won’t be without it for long. you take yourself back to the one place the two have returned to over and over again over the years. you’ve visited the ruins of garreg mach a lot - not to worship, but just to reminise between jobs. nine years since you were a student there, and it holds such a place in your heart still, if just for all the time you spent there both at peace and at war. the people there say he’s visited too, in bright voices - the flirtatious margrave gautier, all smiles and sunshine. you know. so garreg mach is the ideal halfway point. you want to meet him halfway.

you wait in the hallway, under the arch, where the ruined altar sits, that neither of you willingly prayed at. it’s nothing special anymore. it’s just some rubble. it’s not holy, and it’s not beautiful. it is rock.

“felix.” a voice, so full of emotion that it makes your heart skip, and you turn, and there’s sylvain - less armour than you remember, with a soft smile, and something in you breaks. this is what you’ve been wanting all these years, not the battlefield, not the sword, not war, but him. it’s what you’ve always wanted. you just haven’t known how to admit it. you don’t know how to ask for what you want.

you’re hardly too emotional, or you try not to be. but here and now, you turn, twist, trip slightly, and run towards sylvain. you meet each other halfway, crash into each other, and it’s been four years, and he’s as warm as summer and as solid as a tree. “i missed you, felix.” it’s a sigh against your ear, and you shudder.

“let’s get out of here.” you tug his hand, pull him away from the rubble that used to be something, something holy, something ugly, something destructive, and out into the sunlight. and then his hands are on your face, on your shoulders, on your hair, like he can’t believe you’re there. and in all honesty, neither can you. it sets your heart racing against your chest like a drum.

“give me back my sword.” your words are harsh, but the tone playful, and sylvain laughs back as he presses it back into your hands, and you relish the cold steel on your skin. you missed it, even if it was just a short time apart.

“i knew you weren’t dead. everyone said you were dead. but i knew you weren’t.” sylvain’s voice is strained, heavy with something, and he takes your hand. you feel something tighten in your chest.

“i don’t break promises.” you’re saying something else in those words.

sylvain smiles sadly. “i know.” he says back, and he’s saying something else as well. you pull him into the sun, just to watch it set his hair alight like flames. it’s heartstopping. sylvain looks at you, really looks for a long moment, eyes like embers. “you’re all i ever wanted and worth dying for, too.” he says, suddenly, and what are you meant to say back?

you’re twenty six years old, and you don’t know how to say i love you without the words getting stuck in your throat, but you do know how to lean in and catch his face in your hands the way you’ve wanted to since you were eleven years old, and you do know how to push your mouths together like pieces of twin stars.

#suicide idealisation /#long post /#deathcrest #this is based on the non blue lions endings #bcs they fucking suck ! this is better.#IUDSHUIHDISFS #* DEATHCREST / here is how to love him : heart like a firebrand and promises unbroken ; the whispered words of ' it was always you. '

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emperorcrest-blog · 5 years

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@deathcrest asked: “it means kiss me.”

poetry starters / not accepting.

here’s the thing: you are both impossibly cautious and impossibly reckless. you are both wild and chained, teeth both dull and shining in the cold moonlight. steel and satin go hand in hand. you’ve never been stupid - perhaps a little dense, perhaps slightly unaware of the ins and outs of language, but you’re not stupid. you know - you’ve seen the look in sylvain’s eyes, seen the hunger in them. sometimes, he looks like he wants to eat you whole. you know, because you’ve caught yourself staring with the same look in your eyes. you’re more willfully ignorant than anything.

there’s been a sort of mutual understanding between the two of you, without words and without talking. you love him, and for whatever goddess forsaken reason, he loves you. it’s so much easier to leave things unsaid, to leave things understood but not discussed. it’s so much easier to keep the line in the sand between you.

but still - the two of you act almost like lovers sometimes. you sit next to each other at the mealtable, press into each other after the battlefield, covered in dirt and blood like dust, spar together and feel the whisper of something, something, something in the air. there is a line in the sand. you shan’t cross it. for all your courage, you are a coward.

you sit together, and even through sylvain’s armour, you can feel his body heat burning like a tiny sun. sometimes you feel like the moon, simply shining his light back onto the earth at night, always a step away. this is okay ; it’s not so much a feeling of inferiority as a feeling of being one step behind. you love him, but it hurts, sometimes, the intensity of it. looking into the sun will rob you of your eyesight, but oh - would it not be worth it? you line up the positives and negatives before you, but they don’t seem to add up.

you’ve prided yourself on your reasoning for years now, but it’s always become skewed when sylvain comes into the picture. it’s been this way since you were children, when you were in the academy, now, five years later. nothing has changed, in a time where everything has changed. that is to say: everything is new to you, except sylvain.

and yet he still manages to surprise you. the world feels like it’s crumbling and he’s here, he’s here, solid and warm and gentle despite everything. and you love him.

you don’t even know what he says, because you’re thining about all this, all these thoughts obscuring your ears, muffling yourself with lyrics waxed poetic. he does this to you, you think both incredibly fond and exasperated in equal measure.

“what does that mean?” you can play this off as your usual grumpiness, your carefully constructed mask that has carefully become your self.

you hear the huff, don’t look at him ( the sunlight burns your eyes, it burns. ) and then hear it.

“it means kiss me.”

the words rock your world open, see the line the two of you drew together broken ( you can press your finger into the sand and remake it again, if you wanted. you won’t do that. ) and your heartrate trying to jump through your throat.

you look into his eyes now, bright like the sun, and full of nothing but fondness and warmth, and that same hunger stirring beneath. you’re both starving beasts, the pair of you : not in the way the boar is, but like a pair of animals who have never known food their whole lives.

you don’t answer verbally. you move, clamber over his knees to frame his face with your hands, pull one glove off between your teeth, and then the other, scarred and marked with angry red snowflakes. you want to feel his skin. you brush your thumbs over his cheekbones, tilt your head, and press your mouth against his with a soft exhale. it feels like a sigh of relief.

and oh, the skies open, and something opens heavy wings inside you, the way his mouth moves against yours like some kind of prayer. you’re not a religious man, but the hot and heavy press, the warmth and the darkness of your eyes as they slide shut feel like prayer. perhaps you’re sinning with that comparison, but when sylvain’s hands come to your waist, pressed against your hipbones, and then upwards, trailing over your shoulders like you’re worth something to him, like you’re something beautiful, like a false idol or something equally as bad, you can’t bring yourself to care.

you slide yourself to the side, press yourself into the dirt and slink your arms around his neck, opening your mouth and pulling him forwards as you lean yourself backwards, feeling his mouth move against your own in words you can’t hear, feel the heavy weight of his body push into your own, and the metal of his armour press into your ribs.

the line in the sand is washed away by the tide.

#long post /#deathcrest #* DEATHCREST / here is how to love him : heart like a firebrand and promises unbroken ; the whispered words of ' it was always you. '#OUHG......... G . GAY #my fuccking Boys #this took all evening but its worth it

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