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the creator.

@defilebrand / defilebrand.tumblr.com

here lies sealed the workshop of the demon alchemist forneus. forneus of fe15. / written by min.
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42 character development questions!

PHYSICAL PRESENCE AND GESTURE. 1. How do they move and carry themselves? Pace, rhythm, gestures, energy? 2. How much physical space do they use, active and at rest? 3. How do they position themselves in a group? Do they like to be the center of attention, or do they hang back at the edges of a crowd? 4. What is their size and build? How does it influence how they use their body, if it does? 5. How do they dress? What styles, colors, accessories, and other possessions do they favor? Why? 6. What are they like in motion–in different environments, and in different activities? What causes the differences between these? 7. How do they physically engage with other people, inanimate objects, and their environment? What causes the differences between these? 8. Where and when do they seem most and least at ease? Why? How can you tell? 9. How do they manifest energy, exhaustion, tension, or other strong emotions? 10. What energizes and drains them most? 11. How are they vocally expressive? What kind of voice, accent, tones, inflections, volume, phrases and slang, and manner of speaking do they use? 12. How are they bodily expressive? How do they use nonverbal cues such as their posture, stance, eyes, eyebrows, mouths, and hands? DISPOSITION AND TEMPERAMENT. 13. How do they greet the world — what is their typical attitude towards life? How does it differ in different circumstances, or towards different subjects? Why do they take these attitudes, and why do they change? How do these tend to be expressed? 14. What do they care deeply about? What kind of loyalties, commitments, moral codes, life philosophies, passions, callings, or spirituality and faith do they have? How do these tend to be expressed? 15. What kind of inner life do they have — rich and imaginative? Calculating and practical? Full of doubts and fears? Does it find any sort of outlet in their lives? 16. Do they dream? What are those dreams like? 17. Are they more shaped by nature or nurture — who they are, or what has happened to them? How have these shaped who they’ve become as a person? 18. What kind of person could they become in the future? What are some developmental paths that they could take, (best, worst, most likely?) what would cause them to come to pass, and what consequences might they have? What paths would you especially like to see, and why? CONNECTIONS WITH OTHERS. 19. How do they behave within a group? What role(s) do they take? Does this differ if they know and trust the group, versus finding themselves in a group of strangers? Why? 20. What kind of individual relationships do they have with others, and how do they behave in them? How are they different between intimate relationships like friends, family, and lovers versus more impersonal relationships? 21. What kind of relationships do they tend to intentionally seek out versus actually cultivate? What kind of social contact do they prefer, and why? 22. How do people respond to them, and why might these responses differ? 23. How do they respond to difficult social moments? What makes them consider a social situation difficult? 24. How do they present themselves socially? What distinguishes their “persona” from their “true self”, and what causes that difference? 25. What do they need and want out of relationships, and how do they go about getting it? 26. How do they view and feel about relationships, and how might this manifest in how they handle them, if it does? ACTIVITIES AND PREFERENCES. 27. What do they strongly like and dislike, in any category? Why? 28. What are they likely to do if they have the opportunity, resources, and time to accomplish it? Why? 29. What kind of activities, interests, and hobbies do they have? What significance and impact do these have in their lives, both positive and negative? 30. What is their preferred level of activity and stimulation? How do they cope if they get either too little or too much? 31. Is there anything that counts as a “dealbreaker” for them, positively or negatively? What makes things go smoothly, and what spoils an activity or ruins their day? Why? 32. Do they have any “props” that are a significant part of their life, identity, activities, or self-presentation somehow? What are they, how are they used, and why are they so significant? How would these props’ absence impact them, how would they compensate, and why? THINKING AND LEARNING. 33. How do they learn about the world–what is their preferred learning style? Hands-on learning with trial and error? Research, reading, and note-taking? Observation or rote memorization? Inductive or deductive reasoning? Seeking patterns and organization? Taking things apart and putting them back together? Creative processing via discussing, writing about, or dramatizing things? 34. How do they understand the world–what kind of worldview and thought processes do they have? Why? 35. How and why do they internalize knowledge? What effect has that had on them? 36. How much do they rely on their minds and intellect, versus other approaches like relying on instinct, intuition, faith and spirituality, or emotions? What is their opinion on this? 37. Have they had any special education or training that colors their means of learning about or understanding the world? Conversely, do they lack some kind of education considered essential in their world? What kind of impact has this addition or lack had on them? 38. Is there anything they wish they could change about their worldview or thought processes? What, and why? 39. What sort of questions or thoughts recur in their lives, either specifically or as a theme? Why are these never answered, or answered permanently to their satisfaction? 40. What do they wonder about? What sparks their curiosity and imagination, and why? How is this expressed, if it is? FREE FOR ALL. 41. What associations do they bring to mind? Words or phrases, images, metaphors or motifs? Why? 42. I have a question of my own!

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            ` ah,’ forneus said curtly, his smile souring at the edges. ` i figured as much.’

his tone went flat and his face relaxed into an unsettling cold, a buried vexation layered beneath frosty amber eyes. his fingers folded between each other and sat beneath his chin, gaze turned away from the woman. there was no sort of resentment or ire in his tone, his countenance a mere product of exhausted frustrations piling atop another, threatening to crack the delicate glass of his perfect composure. of all the things he had wished for in his haughty little blackened heart, of crawling corpses and dead dreams rising again, never did he ask for immortality. living was too hard, a human life was long enough as it was. for his work to last -- perhaps that was of interest. but he had outlasted his days, outlived his years, clawed back up to the surface of the breathing after centuries of living and dying and living again. what a burdensome existence, of a fragmented pseudo life. it felt like a constant state of cold, a hunger that could never be satiated, a rest that never came. forneus’s shoulders slumped and he suddenly looked very old, worn from centuries of an existence that barely was.

            ` but i can still hope, can’t i?’ he said, and his eyebrows furrowed as a forced laugh tore from his throat, as if he had remembered a bitter inside joke. ` ah, but it couldn’t have been so easy! if you were my other half, then naga would never let me cross paths with you. that’s how she is, that wretched beast. still, meeting the mother of my quasi - spirit is nothing short of a miracle in itself. should i thank her for these little blessings?’ forneus laughed sardonically, finally turning to her with a withering smile. 

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            ` … maybe not, since it seems she is afraid of me, poor creature. and perhaps rightfully so. i’ll be out of your way shortly, dearest. with any luck, you’ll never see or hear of this terrible forneus ever again. i’ll even send your child to you when i’m done with my part in this world. please, just tell me what to search for.’

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since forneus is pretty much wading in oc territory, i want to clarify some things about how i characterize him!

  • forneus is incredibly haughty
  • having come from a background where he was no one, being given all this praise and all these titles really made him believe he could do anything and get away with it.
  • as a result, he tends to ignore or try and forget his history before the fame and glory, so to speak. he flatly pretends he never came from poverty or was a servant.
  • forneus is absolutely ashamed of his upbringing and all the unsavory things he did (read: murder) to get away from it and will generally refuse to admit to it if he can help it. 
  • since he knows (but kind of refuses to acknowledge) that he isn't a good person, he knows other people aren't good either and always assumes the worst in people. 
  • within minutes of interacting, he's already formed an opinion of your muse and it'll generally be kind of mean. he's already decided whether your muse is a pushover or not, whether they think too highly of themselves, etc etc.
  • but he is incredibly good at pretending he’s an amicable, nonjudgmental person because he knows being outright rude won't get him anywhere. while he also hides how highly he thinks of himself, it sometimes slips and shows in his mannerisms, and since theyre such subtle ways, people who like him generally won't notice.
  • he's so proud that he never guessed that anyone would dare and try to use him the way he ended up using others.
  • of course, this kind of pride is the exact type of shit that leads you to think 'wow you know whats a good idea that i could definitely pull off? raising the dead and creating god'
  • even though he hates living in thabes and hates how black and white the class system is in the country, he comes to genuinely like the place when he's in a position of power. 
  • while he did initially want to leave for his own selfish reasons, he also came to actually like the populace and the people and wanted them to come with him outside of the country. that desire was genuine.
  • he ends up going up and down on his opinion on thabes. he didnt care for it as a kid. he didn't mind it so much when he became the innkeeper. he became interested in its well being as a mage. he loved it genuinely as its head alchemist. and he ended up hating it when he got stuck in the labyrinth with grima, because he felt like the country abandoned him again.
  • when he died, his last memory was a mix between hate and love for thabes; he was genuinely upset at having destroyed it but part of him felt like they deserved it. it was really confusing and he never really got to resolve that feeling since he .. y'know .. died.
  • while he initially clawed his way out of the bottom of the social class barrel because he wanted to be friends w the guy who ended up the first exalt (who, in a way, metaphorically symbolizes thabes for him), he wasn't entirely obsessed with him as it might seem. he felt incredibly grateful to him and is the one person he genuinely likes without any sort of negative afterthought. but forneus's relationship to the country is also critical to his characterization. 
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aesthetics.

repost, don’t reblog!

[ COLOURS ] red. brown. orange. yellow. green. blue. purple. pink. black. white. teal. silver. gold. grey. lilac. metallic. matte. royal blue. strawberry red. charcoal grey. forest green. apple red. violet. navy blue. crimson. cream. mint green. bubblegum pink. sky blue. pale jade.

[ ELEMENTS ] fire. ice. water. air. earth. rain. snow. wind. moon. stars. sun. heat. cold. steam. frost. lightning. sunlight. moonlight. dawn. dusk. twilight. midnight. sunrise. sunset. dewdrops.

[ BODY ] claws. long fingers. fangs. teeth. wings. tails. lips. bare feet. neck. shoulders. legs. freckles. bruises. canine. scars. scratches. wounds. burns. fingernails. spikes. feathers. webs. eyes. hands. sweat. tears. feline. chubby. curvy. short. tall. normal height. muscular. piercing. tattoos. athletic. hair. fur. tentacles. horns.

[ WEAPONS ] fists. legs. sword. dagger. spear. bow & arrow. hammer. shield. poison. guns. shotguns. baseball bats. axes. throwing axes. whips. knives. throwing knives. pepper sprays. tasers. machine guns. slingshots. katanas. maces. staffs. wands. powers. magical items. magic. rocks. mud balls. claws. teeth. stealth. strategy. antlers.

[ MATERIALS ] gold. silver. copper. platinum. titanium. rose gold. diamonds. pearls. rubies. sapphires. emeralds. amethyst. metal. iron. rust. steel. glass. wood. porcelain. paper. wool. fur. lace. leather. silk. velvet. denim. linen. chiffon. cotton. charcoal. clay. stone. asphalt. brick. marble. dust. glitter. blood. dirt. mud. smoke. ash. shadow. carbonate. rubber. synthetics. ribbon.

[ NATURE ] grass. leaves. trees. bark. roses. daisies. sunflowers. tulips. lavender. petals. thorns. seeds. hay. sand. rocks. roots. flowers. fungi. ocean. river. frozen lake. meadow. valley. forest. desert. tundra. savanna. rain forest. caves. underwater. coral reef. beach. waves. space. clouds. mountains. snow. mist. pond.

[ ANIMALS ] lions. wolves. foxes. eagles. owls. falcons. hawks. swans. snakes. turtles. ducks. bugs. spiders. birds. whales. dolphins. fish. sharks. horses. cats. dogs. bunnies. penguins. praying mantises. crows. ravens. mice. lizards. werewolves. unicorns. pegasus. dragons. squirrels. cows.

[ FOODS/DRINKS ] sugar. salt. candy. bubblegum. wine. champagne. hard liquor. vodka. beer. coffee. tea. spices. herbs. apple. orange. lemon. cherry. strawberry. watermelon. vegetables. fruits. meat. fish. pies. desserts. chocolate. cream. caramel. berries. nuts. cinnamon. burgers. burritos. pizza. ambrosia. eggs. milk.

[ HOBBIES ] music. art. watercolors. gardening. smithing. sculpting. painting. sketching. fighting. writing. composing. cooking. baking. sewing. training. dancing. acting. singing. martial arts. self-defense. war tactics. electronics. technology. cameras. video cameras. video games. computer. phone. movies. theater. libraries. books. magazines. cd’s. records. vinyls. cassettes. piano. strings. violin. guitar. electronic guitar. bass guitar. harmonica. harp. woodwinds. brass. flute. bells. exploring. playing cards. poker chips. chess. dice. motorcycle riding. eating. sleeping. climbing. running. jogging. parkour. studying.

[ STYLE ] lingerie. armor. cape. dress. tunic. vest. shirt. boots. ankle boots. heels. leggings. trousers. jeans. skirt. jewelry. earrings. necklace. bracelet. ring. pendant. hat. beanie hat. crown. circlet. helmet. scarf. brocade. cloaks. corsets. doublet. chest plate. gorget. bracers. belt. sash. coat. jacket. hood. gloves. socks. masks. mittens. cowls. braces. watches. glasses. sun glasses. straw hat. visor. eye contacts. makeup. ribbons. hoodie. sweater. converses. tennis shoes. boxers. briefs. boxer briefs. shorts. cargo. cropped pants. crop top. cuffed pants.

[ MISC ] balloons. bubbles. cityscape. light. dark. candles. growth. decay. war. peace. money. power. percussion. clocks. photos. mirrors. pets. diary. journal. fairy lights. sadness. happiness. optimism. pessimism. loneliness. family. friends. clan. assistants. co-workers. enemies. loyalty. smoking. drugs. kindness. love. hugs. kisses. cuddles. spring. summer. autumn. winter. farmland. countryside. suburban. village. badlands. wasteland. teams.

tagged by: we r the phantom blgos and ive come to take your posts!!!!!!!1 tagging: @unwaken. / @warstep get online. / @royacia. / @celestince. / @unwaever. / @solisbrace. / whomst else wanna steal this

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oak23
COUNT IPPOLITOV How can I desert you How to tell you why Coachmen hold the horses Stay, I pray you Let me have a moment Let me say goodbye To bridge and river Forest and waterfall Orchard, sea, and sky Harsh and sweet And bitter to leave it all ENSEMBLE I’ll bless my homeland Till I die How to break the tide We have shed our tears And shared our sorrows Though the scars remain And tears will never dry I’ll bless my homeland Till I die ANYA Never to return DMITRY Finally breaking free ANYA, DMITRY You are all I know You have raised me VLAD How to turn away How to close the door ANYA, DMITRY, VLAD How to go where I have Never gone before ENSEMBLE How can I desert you How to tell you why ALL Coachmen hold the horses Stay, I pray you Let me have a moment Let me say goodbye Harsh and sweet And bitter to leave it all I’ll bless my homeland Till I die ANYA, DMITRY, VLAD I’ll bless my homeland ANYA, DMITRY I’ll bless my homeland ANYA I’ll bless my homeland Till I die
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(i get out of bed and open my third eye) good afternight

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say-woof
“God turned his back on you. Heaven gates are shut. And now you’re knocking on the Devil’s door.”

-The Thespian (Alesana)

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       Sore, wounded skin ached against his harsh, petrified grip. He could manage little in the way of words or logic between his muted whimpers and a mind that was frantic with thoughts that twisted so clumsily together that he could barely tell his own from Grima’s. And the sensation of sharp canine’s digging trenches into his fleshy lip was only a small comfort when he could barely feel the pain that throbbed through his entire body; winding down and down until it made his toes curl inwards towards the blistered pads of his stiff feet. And even Grima felt like a stranger to him; a distant friend he had only met in passing or a piece of himself he had left on behind on some road years ago, but even as the Fell Dragon’s screams became hoarse, the beast didn’t stop (like it had never hated or feared something so much at the same time before).       
          Someone was speaking, and it wasn’t Grima (wasn’t the voice he had almost allowed himself to find a home in despite how it roared). Bright, red eyes rolled upwards from the concert, unblinking and wide as they watched the man’s lips move. Fingers easing against what remained of the thick fabric of his cloak, and mind slowly filtering out the Fell Dragon’s rage to focus. Focus. Breathe. But his breathes come out in gags and the stranger’s mouth is blurry at best. And his voice sounds like a nail being hammered into Robin’s ears and the former tactician wants nothing more than to wrap his arms around his head; to pretend he wasn’t here; to let Grima take control just to ease the pain. But there’s a face in the back of his mind that won’t leave him no matter how hard he tries to shut it out, and he knows he can’t because of it (he can’t endanger the people he still loves). So he breathes again, and tries to quell the rattling of his bones and the heat of Grima’s thoughts as they course through him like a lifeline. 
                                                                    Waiting. 
           The word is louder than Grima’s screams; more violent than his thoughts and clearer than the liquid that digs at the corners of his strained eyes. Waiting for what? Grima, snarls, ‘nothing’, and for a moment, Robin accepts that answer. But as his chest heaves with effort and his heart pounds with what scarce little will he has left to live, he dismisses it. He’s been waiting for so long. Waiting for an answer to where he had gone wrong; waiting for something to end his misery; waiting for death, and wanting nothing more than for it to be a swift end (so the sound of Grima’s rage as the Fell Dragon perishes beside him wouldn’t overwhelm him). He was sick of waiting. 
          Tattered boots slipped back against the hard earth, drawing trembling knees to his chest as quaking fingers wrapped about his legs with the meager, lopsided strength of a newborn. The more he focused on this man, the softer Grima’s voice became, and the closer he came to wondering back into reality, but it wasn’t enough. It couldn’t stop how the ugly scales that marred his body burned until they scorched abused flesh and sliced through flimsy skin, or how the crowded chambers of his mind felt like an inferno with fire enough to consume the entire world. It wasn’t even enough to quell the knocking of his knees or the sting of tears as they bit into the very corners of his eyes.
              Then fingers reached out to settle against his jaw, and everything stopped. How long as it been since someone had touched him? Years. Dry, cracked eyelids slowly slid shut. And the heat melts away from his bones; the sharp, hot touch of his scales eases until they feel cold against the lukewarm sensation of his own skin. Unhinged rage fizzles until it’s replaced with a nothingness that washes over him like the first snow of the season, and his body stills until the only thing shaking is his own heart (he’d almost forgotten it was there). Grima’s screams fade and fade until they’re gone, and it’s the first time he hasn’t shared his mind with the Fell Dragon in what felt like centuries. He swallows, just to see if his throat tastes like ash and blood and rot, but it’s bland at best. 
           When his eyelids peel back, only his own eyes open; a pale pink compared to their usual crimson and he can’t feel the familiar agony that grips his chest when he inhales. Caution is forgotten for the first time in his life, and fear is nothing more than a dying ember within the marrow of his bones (even if his own voice echoes, ‘if he’s capable of this much, he could do so much more’). Instead, they’re replaced with curiosity (oh long as it been since he’s felt something so childish) and gratitude.  
            “What-” His mouth clamps shut at the sound of his voice; no longer raspy and harsh with Grima’s touch, but rather smooth and natural (and it sounded foreign to him; like he was a stranger in his own skin). He swallows, and hesitates before he works up the strength to speak again. “What did you do to me? How did you-” he cuts off his own endless stream of questions with a forced sigh; afraid that if he pushes too hard he’ll begin to hear the scrape of the Fell Dragon’s claws against his bones again. So he eases himself against the ground, and fishes a calloused palm from around his knee to settle it, unsteady and uncertain, against the back of the stranger’s hand.
                                                                   “Thank you.” 
      ‘I had forgotten what it was like’, remains an unspoken prayer upon his timid tongue.            

            ` i’ve kept you waiting for far too long.’

he let out a strangled sigh, his voice hitching as if he were on the verge of tears, as his shoulders finally relaxed into a somber slouch. the cupid's bow of his lips thinned into a line as forneus grimaced, as if nursing an old headache, and he stood back up, the hand on robin's jaw twisting to hold his hand instead. his cloak fluttered about him as he rose to an awkward crouch, a silver lock gently falling across his face and ever so slightly disheveling his neat hair. he made no motion to push it back, instead urging him to stand up.

            ` forgive me. to be left behind is such a painful experience.'

the fell dragon's influence had outlasted him, it seemed, a concept that was an equal blow to his moral compass as it was to his ego. the experiment he had created out of his own pride and desperation had succeeded him in every way possible, using him as a stepping stone for his own means, as did everyone else before him. using him! his creator! what a slap in the face! he could almost laugh at the irony.

still, he had fallen on his own sword and had embarrassingly lived to tell the tale. rodents were so hard to kill, the clever little things. how was he any different? his time in the clouds had fooled him into thinking he was anything but, as he danced about in fine fabrics, masquerading as someone of inflated importance, an irreplaceable jewel in the crown of thabes. idiot boy, he was, for fool's gold was all he would be, and all the books in the world would never have prepared him for the fall.

he remembered his fists bleeding as he slammed on the doors over and over, begging to be released, his nails chipping as he dug into the stone and cried aloud, despair feeding into the creation that would be his undoing. he remembered feeling everything at once, regret and hatred and bitterness and desperation and betrayal swirling inside him and set to boil by the fire of the fell dragon, and that terrifying feeling of losing control over something he had made, consuming him all at once, chewing at his flesh, and spitting out his bones.

he wondered whose woes weighed heavier -- his or his descendant's.

                         ( ah, but misfortunes were not meant to be weighed. )

forneus felt a bit faint, his thoughts fuzzing up as he gripped robin's hand tighter. he was not whole, and he was not meant to be whole. it had taken a tremendous effort to even crawl out of his miserable grave and return to the half - life to which he had resigned himself. he had grown stamina since then, yes, but quelling his own creation proved to be even more exhausting than he had imagined. his eyes clamped shut and a bead of cold sweat dripped down his face as he swallowed.

            ` we should leave. the dark is his territory.'

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            ` perhaps an inn would do ... i'm afraid i'm not feeling well, little bird.'

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@defilebrand
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       ❝ r-robin?! what’re you doing here? weren’t you with chrom, just a while ago? i could’ve sworn i saw you two walking to the tent to join frederick to discuss our next move… ❞ her arms cross to ponder, unaware the being that stands before her is not the tactician she knows but a mere stranger— someone who should be considered an enemy with his prior actions. “hm… did you guys finish talking already…? talk about a short strategy meeting!

            ` oh no, i’m sorry ... that’s not ...’

he smiled apologetically, fingers rubbing his collarbone out of bad habit. it had been the third time today, since walking into camp, that he had been referred by a name that was not his own. forneus wondered of this ‘robin’ with whom he supposedly shared his face. he must be famous, he thought, because the second in command was generally prone to be known by name and reputation than by face.

            ` my name is forneus. i’ve only just joined your merry band of freedom fighters! i’m afraid i’m not quite at nearly a high enough ranking here to be joining in on strategy meetings any time soon, but i’ll be trying my best.’

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            ` i’ll be under your care, milady.’

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you find yourself trying to adjust the arms of your chair, trying to move them this way and that, but they can never hug you tight enough. you find yourself falling apart in the hands of a clock at midnight but these hands keep moving and you can never catch up. you find yourself on your knees at the mouth of a river, gulping handfuls of dirty water as if this is your oasis. and you cannot stop drinking. you tell yourself that you’re not lonely. and yet.                                                                                      AND YET.

forneus. / the fire emblem series. / written by min.

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