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zelgiusofbegnion Β· 2 years
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𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒 𝐁𝐀𝐒𝐄𝐃 𝐎𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 β€˜π„π‹π‘πˆπ‚ πŽπ… πŒπ„π‹ππˆππŽππ„β€™ π’π„π‘πˆπ„π’ 𝐁𝐘 πŒπˆπ‚π‡π€π„π‹ πŒπŽπŽπ‘π‚πŽπ‚πŠ.
β€œ man was not born to a world of justice. but he can create such a world! ”
β€œ they offer you so much power. so tempting to take advantage of it. ”
β€œ death is the promise we’re all born with. ”
β€œ we could not bring back the golden age. indeed we were now paying the price of having enjoyed one. ”
β€œ through our sense of identity, we act. we determine our moral judgements. ”
β€œ we create fresh narratives to use in our survival. it is part of what makes us such flawed creatures. creatures of such narrative fiction creating cause and effect. ”
β€œ we rewrite our own memories, of course, all the time. ”
β€œ to compromise with tyranny is always to be destroyed by it. the sanest and most logical choice lay always in resistance. ”
β€œ we are friends to death, but not his servants. ”
β€œ the nearest we ever come to knowing truth is when we are witness to a paradox. ”
β€œ law and chaos? they’re not the same as good and evil, i’m told. ”
β€œ i am a petty god at the moment. you will find me more lordly and benign when i achieve the position of a greater god. ”
β€œ if we are the toys of the gods are not perhaps the gods themselves mere children? ”
β€œ it is fitting that we should be wanderers, for we have no place in this world. ”
β€œ by means of our myths and legends we maintain a sense of what we are within and who we are. without them we should undoubtedly go mad. ”
β€œ it’s history that’s caused all the troubles in the past. ”
β€œ a good death is better than a poor one. ”
β€œ everything may exist for a while β€” even justice. but the true state of the universe is anarchy. it is the mortal’s tragedy that he can never accept this. ”
β€œ i have hated hypocrisy and deception all my life, yet all my life i have been victim to it. that is the terrible irony. ”
β€œ time is the enemy of identity”
β€œ we’re wary of you. even if we allowed you to lead us again you would take your own doomed path and us with you. ”
β€œ memory is the foundation of identity. ”
β€œ i can accept then, that we are more than forsaken, because there was never anything there to forsake us. ”
β€œ i have chosen. i chose chaos. ”
β€œ you spend your lives chasing that which is within you and that which you can find in any other human being. ”
β€œ meaning? do not seek that, for madness lies in such a course. ”
β€œ my mind goes out searching through black barrenness for something β€” anything. ”
β€œ i seek no excuses, for i know what i am and i know what i have done. ”
β€œ but people may do great good accidentally, though with evil intentions β€” conversely people may do great evil though having the best of intentions. ”
β€œ i have brought evil to many places. ”
β€œ if we remain adaptable, we remain strong. if we force others to accept our traditions and values, we ultimately grow weak…”
β€œ who told you that the world was just? ”
β€œ we live in a world where many kinds of regression dignify themselves with the mantle of progress. ”
β€œ thing is, treasures are not won by care and forethought but by swift slaying and reckless attack. ”
β€œ there is no future here for myself and my men. ”
β€œ there are many legends which say the past was perfect or that the future will be perfect. i have seen many pasts and many futures. none of them were perfect, my friend. ”
β€œ that the world forgets me is all i ask,”
β€œ the subtlest lie of all is the full truth. ”
β€œ why should their pain produce such marvellous beauty? ”
β€œ the past is a script we are constantly rewriting. ”
β€œ is the prisoner a prisoner because he lives in a cage or because he knows that he lives in a cage? ”
β€œ we free travellers need no chains of that sort. ”
β€œ people are not alarmed by the unusual Β β€” so long as it is placed in an acceptable context. ”
β€œ despairingly, sometimes, i seek the comfort of a benign god. ”
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zelgiusofbegnion Β· 2 years
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zelgiusofbegnion Β· 2 years
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Legacy of a Bygone Blade
@bluestmoons
"Black Knight Zelgius. You were my father's killer. And my last teacher."
As Zelgius lie in the Tower of Guidance, beaten and bleeding, he could not help the smile that spread across his face. He had been defeated in this final battle, but what a battle it had been! Never in his wildest dreams had he imagined his end would be so exhilarating! Never in his life had he felt so fulfilled, so alive! Perhaps it was appropriate that it was only at the end of his life that he could finally say he had no regrets. He had spent his life living in the shadows, but he had died blazing in the light. Now that his life was spent and that last, greatest struggle finished...perhaps now he could indulge in peace.
As the last life left his body, Zelgius felt no pain or fear. He felt only a strange, comforting calm. He felt all the weight he'd carried all these years fade away into nothing, and an inexplicable feeling of relaxation spread across his being. He lie there, blissful in that serene timeless peace. Perhaps it lasted for but a few seconds, or perhaps it lasted for centuries. Zelgius couldn't tell; he only felt like he was drifting through the most soothing air he had ever known.
Yet that blissful void could not last. All too soon, Zelgius found weight return to him. The ache of muscle and tension of tendons dragged him from his serene stupor back into the inconvenient world of sensation. He struggled to keep still in this strange, ethereal dream he'd found himself; he'd spent all he had, after all. There was nothing left for him in the land of the living. There was no point in returning, and it would aid no one if he did so.
Yet whatever force was responsible for his current state would not be denied.
He suddenly felt himself lying upon some sort of grassy surface. He very much was not thrilled at this, and he almost considered just laying there and letting nature take its course. Yet, he was roused from his self-pity by something wooden poking his right cheek. He let out a light grown before slowly sitting up, regretfully opening his weary eyes.
He was...in a forest? Certainly surrounded by a bunch of trees, if nothing else. They lacked the ethereal vibrancy of Serenes, so there was at least one place he was sure he wasn't. Even so, that didn't exactly help him in figuring out where he was. He brought one hand up to soothe his aching head, but gave a start when he noticed something that made this situation even stranger: he was still wearing his armor, but it was the wrong armor. Rather than the black armor of Sephiran's Knight, he was instead wearing the red plate of the Apostle's General. His left hand quickly moved to his side, and it found his blade, but it was the General's blade, not Alondite.
Before he could begin to puzzle out what in the seven hells was going on, he noticed something moving to his right. He turned his head quickly, ready to strike at a moment's notice, only to find a little girl looking back at him. Given her clothing, she didn't appear to be a peasant, but in his situation, he couldn't be sure of anything. Slowly, he began to speak as he allowed his hands to leave his sword. "My apologies. You startled me, my lady. May I have the honor of your name?"
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zelgiusofbegnion Β· 2 years
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By the Sword
@txnichtgut
Rumor mills formed in any place where people gathered, and that was as true within the hollowed halls of Garreg Mach as it was within the slummiest pub. People would always crave entertainment no matter how high or lowly born they were, and among the rich and elite of Fodlan, there was no shortage of juicy news to gossip about. Such talk was difficult to avoid even for those with no interest in it; news had a way of spreading itself throughout the monastery proper and the academy both, even when one actively resisted learning anything. Sometimes information spread like a wildfire, instant and vicious, and sometimes it spread slowly and insidiously as it slithered through the dark crevices of Fodlan's center, yet it spread all the same.
So when it was announced quite suddenly that Lady Rhea herself had appointed not one, but two new instructors for Fodlan's most prestigious education center, everyone who was anyone knew about it within the day. The first, a young mercenary named Byleth, had been appointed as a full time instructor despite being a youth not even 20 years of age. They were, naturally, the centerpiece of the current round of rumors circling the monastery, but they were not the only point of interest. Along with Professor Byleth, there had appeared another warrior, a man named Zelgius.
If Byleth were an enigma, then Zelgius was a walking mystery. It was easy enough to come by information concerning Byleth; her father, the (in)famous Jeralt was forthcoming enough. But Zelgius? Here was a man no one had ever heard of, wearing strange crimson armor and wielding a sword of a make no one recognized and that no commoner could afford, who had (if the hearsay were to be believed) shown such prodigious skill with that bizarrely well-made blade that Lady Rhea had made him a probationary swordsmanship instructor despite the giant gaping blank spot that was the man's past. It was unheard of. Unprecedented. Something so ripe for speculation could never fail to catch the interests of those drained from prayer and schooling.
Thus the atmosphere of that first class with this new man of mystery was one of excitement and anticipation rarely felt within a schooling environment. When he arrived at the training field, still clad in that red plate armor, the class almost immediately fell silent. The man examined each student there, carefully allowing his gaze to fall on each one individually before he spoke. "My name is Zelgius. For the time being, I shall be acting as your instructor in swordsmanship." He raised high a dull practice blade before continuing. "I warn you now: a sword is not as kind a mistress as an axe or a lance. It does not have the weight of the axe, nor the reach of the lance, and it is not as easy to use as either. Learning to wield this weapon properly will demand more from you than its alternatives; you must have precision and speed, as well as the perception, timing, and wisdom to make its strengths matter while not falling prey to its weaknesses. My instruction shall reflect this."
He allowed the practice blade to return to his side as he began to pace slowly in front of the gathered students, making sure to maintain eye contact with them as he did so. "I shall not be a gentle teacher, but I shall be a fair one. I shall demand much from you, but never that which you cannot give. Not everyone learns in the same way, nor at the same rate, and I shall do my utmost to accommodate these differences. However, one way or another, you will learn or you will fail. The path of a swordsman is not one for the indecisive. You will commit yourself to your studies here, or you will not be passing this class. If you give your all to my instruction, then I swear that I will aid you in becoming a true master."
He stopped pacing as he stood before the center of the gathered class and impaled the tip of his practice sword into the ground. He looked from one student to the next, making note of each's expression at his little introductory speech before concluding it. "Are there any questions before we begin?"
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zelgiusofbegnion Β· 2 years
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* QUOTES ABOUT DEATH PROMPTS ,
i'm not afraid of death; i just don't want to be there when it happens.
i'm the one that's got to die when it's time for me to die, so let me live my life the way i want to.
don't be afraid of death; be afraid of an unlived life.
what is there in this world that truly makes living worthwhile?
someone who lives fully is prepared to die at any time.
i don't want to die without any scars.
death is so terribly final, while life is full of possibilities.
i had been dead for billions and billions of years before i was born, and had not suffered the slightest inconvenience from it.
even death has a heart.
death is not the opposite of life, but a part of it.
paris is the only city in the world where starving to death is still considered an art.
it is a curious thing, the death of a loved one.
no one really knows why they are alive until they know what they'd die for.
everybody is going to be dead one day, just give them time.
we all know that our time in this world is limited, and that eventually all of us will end up underneath some sheet, never to wake up.
delaying death is one of my favourite hobbies
life isn't fair, it's just fairer than death, that's all.
we're born, we live a little while, we die.
the first time you meet someone special, you can count on them one day being dead and in the ground.
i was always holding onto people, and they were always leaving.
life is pleasant, death is peaceful: it's the transition that's troublesome.
if there are no dogs in heaven, then when i die i want to go where they went.
we are going to die, and that makes us the lucky ones.
a thing is not necessarily true because someone dies for it.
i do not fear death.
when i look at my life and its secret colours, i feel like bursting into tears.
don't feel bad, i'm usually about to die.
they died that day because their body had served its purpose.
many that live deserve death, and some that die deserve life.
why do people want to pretend that death is sleep? it isn't.
no one here gets out alive.
promise to give me a kiss on my brow when i am dead, i shall feel it.
the dead can survive as part of the lives of those that still live.
one lives in the hope of becoming a memory.
when he died, all things soft and beautiful and bright would be buried with him.
kill me, if you’ve ever been my friend, kill me.
to me, the thing that is worse than death is betrayal.
i like grit, i like love and death, i'm tired of irony.
how shall we comfort ourselves, the murderers of all murderers?
fear not death for the sooner we die, the longer we shall be immortal.
love is how you stay alive, even after you are gone.
if by my life or death i can protect you, i will.
i know nothing of life but despair, death, fear, and fatuous superficiality cast over an abyss of sorrow.
much of what was said did not matter, and that much of what mattered could not be said.
people living deeply have no fear of death.
if you live each day as it was your last, someday you'll most certainly be right
we who think we are about to die will laugh at anything.
belief is the death of intelligence.
what could i become if i stopped worrying about death, about pain, about anything?
you never got used to it, the idea of someone being gone.
if i die, i will wait for you.
if you gave someone your heart and they died, did they take it with them?
grief can destroy you, or it can focus you.
death is a strange thing.
cowards die many times before their deaths; the valiant never taste of death but once.
older men declare war, but it is youth that must fight and die.
i could die for you, but i couldn't, and wouldn't, live for you.
whoever said that loss gets easier with time was a liar.
personally, i'm trying to avoid lots of death, but you guys have fun!
the funny thing about facing imminent death is that it really snaps everything else into perspective.
the truth is, once you learn how to die, you learn how to live.
yeah, all things live forever, though at times they sleep and are forgotten.
it is not death that you should fear, but you should fear never beginning to live.
you can not die of grief, though it feels as if you can.
people leave strange little memories of themselves behind when they die.
death is a stripping away of all that is not you.
we may not get to choose how we die, but we can chose how we live.
it doesn't make a damned bit of difference who wins the war to someone who's dead.
enjoy life, there's plenty of time to be dead.
death is the only god who comes when you call.
to live every day as if it had been stolen from death, that is how i would like to live.
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zelgiusofbegnion Β· 2 years
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Send a symbol to hear my muse talk about their
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zelgiusofbegnion Β· 2 years
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send β€œπŸ“”β€ to read an entry from my muse’s diary about your muse
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zelgiusofbegnion Β· 2 years
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Introduction
He marched.
Ever onward he marched.
Every step a little closer.
Every breath a little better.
Every swing a little sharper.
Yet that back was no closer than before.
Was it because of the sudden parting?
Was there some doubt, some hidden fear?
He did not know. It did not matter.
No matter what the reason, he kept pressing onward.
He marched a restless march.
At the end, an ideal whose beauty was beyond compare.
Martial perfection merely a plateau yet unreached.
Now and forever, he knew exactly who it was his blade seeked.
He marched ever onwards towards that distant back.
Ever striving to surpass that shadow.
And one day, he would climb into the sun.
And then?
Then he would march beyond the sun.
He would march beyond the stars.
He would march beyond even the Goddess.
He marched an endless march.
He would not have it any other way.
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