@rexdivinus / rexdivinus.tumblr.com
You talk about it like it’s beyond even your control. Like you haven’t been pulling the strings this whole time.
“Fate is not the ilk of mortals to comprehend. Only thy submission is required. It is by the Bladekeeper’s guidance thou are given the path to thread.” And in their eternal quest to keep order does Bahamut proclaim his prophecies. The words of which reach across the ages etches themselves as fate into the hearts and souls of men.
{voluntatem} Darkness falls over Solheim, and overhead, the beat of a dragon’s wings. Only the Infernian’s brazier remains lit as the screams of the dying arise to the heavens. Ifrit turns from the Eternal Flame. They have expected this visit sooner or later.
From on high Bahamut comes. Beckoned by the ripple in the calm waters of fate. Hidden away the Draconian dwells, but this? This transgression goes against the order imposed. That for which his very being stands; the foundations of their divine soul. An instinct like those of mortals to continue breath and struggle against death. This is no different to them. “O’ Ifrit, fellow child of stars. Now is not the appointed hour. Submit and cease. Defy and perish by our blade.” For it is they alone who punish the immortals who disturb the order. No being above the Draconian’s law.
Her "brother" terrifies her.
He senses her. Unlike the guise of mortals it is not so easy to see into the hearts of immortal like his sister. He can not instinctively divine her emotions as he does with mortals. Thus he must take the cues to devise her demeanor. “Mistress of Ice, our blades are not turned upon thee.” He does not comprehend why she hesitates. She has committed no sin against the order of the universe nor the fate he decrees.
Thou mortals show sympathy for what shall be. Futile it is. The Accursed was always meant to be. A fate he ordained. A fate none can escape. For his word, his visions are law to be followed and obeyed.
*smooch for her baby*
They would much prefer a hug, but this shall suffice for now. It has been many eons since her last visit.
“Maybe they would,” says Ifrit, a young behemoth’s tongue flicking from their mouth to lap at their own maw, a thoughtless gesture. “We should like to push them around also, and see if any of them are ticklish, so, there!”
An innumerable stretch of days, insignificant a trickle of Time. Ifrit and Bahamut are preoccupied with their own business in Etro’s garden, and it is Ifrit who first comes to notice that the air is different somehow in their corner of the cosmos. The behemoth rises on their legs, sniffs the air. Their great fiery tail swishing in wide arcs.
Turning their head this way and that, Ifrit tries to look for Bahamut, but can find no trace of their draconic brother. Pacing in the garden, he comes upon a most odd sight. A furry creature with long ears, miniscule compared to their size, with a dot of a ruby on the forehead.
What is this, Ifrit thinks.
Sinking onto their forelegs the behemoth sniffs at the new Astral. And then promptly tries to eat their sibling, opening their large maw. Carbuncle, thank Etro, yips and flees!
Time does not grace them. Time not a construct to which they are bound so the endless days of bright light and picturesque landscapes continue onward. A shift alerted the wyrm to a development in the world their mother created for them. Inquisitive they floated on tiny wings and encounter another dragon like creature to much interest. Shining blue, but wings were in an odd shape like fins as it slithered and bobbed through the ephemeral mist surrounding this world. Swimming? So strange.
It disappeared into the distance wishing little to do with Bahamut. Only then did the young Astral seek out the familiarity of their sibling to discuss this find. Senses spread outward into the ether until at last they transversed in the direction noted in their mind’s eye.
“Thou art here. We came seen another frolicking in our midst. Another like us which swims through mist like water. It escaped before we could draw close.” Though the dragon noted the equally curious glance in Ifrit’s eye as though they too spotted something strange in their world.
{H.A} The Seventh floats in the void of the cosmos, surveying the nebulae surrounding him, where new stars even now are being breathed life by his will. For a moment creation trembles at the approach of another Astral, and the Divinian only slowly turns to face the uninvited guest. What now, is the Draconian's purpose? More useless threat-slinging?
A calculation gone awry. How had the third eye used so readily failed them so completely? The tethering of this sinful soul who foiled their plot so long ago now ascended into divinity. Though steel be their heart, it raged in injustice wishing to correct the imbalance and regain the reigns of leadership from a fellow deity. Regardless, rage brought the dragon not to the doorstep, but rather a reluctance for a conference to be gathered. For another added among their number who had yet to appear to any of the divine brethren say for this usurper.
“We are to gather in the nexus. Thou art sent forth to invite the eighth.”
Blue mist by Kou Takano
Gods hear not the prayers of humans. They’re only interested in the power they have over them. Gods are selfish and cruel, they’re self-serving creatures. Ignis bitterly throws away the teachings of the Cosmogony he’s learned from a young age. Lies spewed by the foolishly pious.
Ignis stands his ground at the Draconian’s words. His fingers twitch and flex, ready to summon his weapons to defend against any incoming attacks. He has no delusions of grandeur to be able to best a God, to bring the Blademaster to its knees. To defy one’s fate. To change what is written in the stars. Heroes are the ones who are capable of such feats, ones that bring about bards with lyres ready to write legends.
No, he isn’t the hero of this story. He isn’t the one who defeats impossible foes. His battle against Ardyn Izunia was proof of that. But if it’s for Noctis, he would do anything to save him. In this lifetime and the next.
“Judge as you wish but I will not let you have Noct.” He will keep trying until he’s exhausted all options, even then, he has to keep trying. Noctis is Ignis’ world and no matter what the Astral says, nothing would change that.
“I will do anything in order to save him.”
“Thou’s efforts are futile and for not. Punishment rains from the heavens onto those whom defy the will of the Divine.” Fight they might against the tides that swept all mortals in their wake, but none shall succeed. At least that was the ’truth’ to the Draconian. Only two ever had resisted his will successfully. So many cycles ago which the pair and those associated with them were punished accordingly. Even now they suffered as it was his will. One of them this insignificant man attempted to liberate from his destiny.
How ironic. Lips shifted to form a sneer. Their eyes which reflected a sea of magic dared not to deter from the human before him. “Be not the thorn which pricks the gods. The Chosen’s fate sealed. Defiance to the contrary not tolerated.” Now they grew tired of this conversation dissolving into a thousand tiny pinpricks of light withdrawing into the abyss. Allow the mortal to try futilely as he might. In the end the gods always get what they wanted. The Draconian’s visions and prophecies fulfilled.
Drogon vs The Lannister army - requested by @anonymous
Bahamut’s messenger have not been seen since the end of the Astral war choosing to remain as silent as the god in vigilance. On occasion they walk among mortals often mistaken as beasts more than the divine beings in which they are.
Siren. Taken the form of a mortal woman ever youthful, radiant, and beautiful. Her voice angelic in nature and many a lure for unsuspecting men. She rarely leaves the shores of Angelgard. Once her voice acted as a beacon for sailors to find the isle.
Unicorn. A horse with a singular horn upon its head renowned for its healing properties. A wild, untamed creature whom once freely roamed the deserts of Solheim and traveled the world with little rest. In ancient times a single touch of its horn would cure diseases and heal the most grievous wounds.
Kirin. The most combative of all the Draconian’s messengers taking the form similiar to a Qilin. Protective of the priests of Bahamut, but often the entity sent to punish those Bahamut deems as ‘sinners’.
Aelia. A black chocobo and the one most often to be seen mingling with humanity. Her gift is of black magic rarely used except in the most extreme of circumstances. Her last sighting was alongside the first ‘Chosen’ before killed alongside him.
{voluntatem} It is rare to find their brother visiting the Atheneum. The sight surely to awe the mortals residing in the city of Alexandria, whose heart was this very structure. Ifrit smiles and turns down their flames as their brother approaches nigh. "We daresay a surprise. To what do we owe this pleasure, brother?"
His armor and form made lesser to facilitate his presence at the top of the tower. Were they to dawn the form more known their size would dwarf the manmade structure causing its collapse. So in helm removed and the eerily human face exposed the Draconian approached their first sibling affectionately known as brother. They were the first in Etro’s creations of the gods. The All-Mother whom sheltered and protected them in her realm growing and learning until they were powerful enough to take up their destined mantle of her first children.
“We come concerned of thine influence on humanity.” Bahamut’s language foreign to mortal ears speaking in the tongue only known to their kind and their messengers. They dare not give mortals leeway into the conversation. “A sin thou commit pushing the flock further astray. Further from our reign.” The contention since the introduction of fire. The unsolicited compassion held for their experiments. The barely constrained contempt held as an echo in the dragon’s heart. “Cease thine interference. This does not breed order.”
@amplectormors replied to your post “According to @cookignis Bahamut calls their dick, Divine Justice. That...”
Cast ultima blade directly inside my ass
Mortals are indeed strange creatures. No. Mors appears to like the notion too much.
According to @cookignis Bahamut calls their dick, Divine Justice. That is all.
It isn’t malice he feels. No, it’s much colder, more indifferent yet it still stings with distaste. The gods are cruel and uncaring, so he’s come to learn. It isn’t as the Divine teaches; where are the kind and merciful beings that look after humans? Where were they when the world was in disarray? Now they expect the chosen to clean up the plague they had wrought. Sacrifice himself for something that got out of hand.
They are cruel, selfish, prideful creatures.
Ignis grits his teeth at the words, remaining silent as Bahamut speaks. He isn’t enough. What he has offered is not enough. He couldn’t help Noctis before, but certainly so long as their chances aren’t zero, he’ll keep trying. There has to be another way.
“Because a world without Noct isn’t one worth saving,” he conveys with confidence, steadfast in his words. His mind runs through his life together with his prince, his beloved friend. Ignis’ world is Noctis. He isn’t chained to this duty, it’s his conviction. His truth. Everything that he is, is due to Noctis. This Ignis Stupeo Scientia exists because Noctis Lucis Caelum exists. It’s a fact. And Ignis would destroy anything that would make it otherwise.
“The prophecy maybe known but it isn’t set in stone. A future that is born from Noct’s sacrifice isn’t one I will accept. I will tear this fate and prophecy apart.” Breaths fall even as he lifts his head towards the Astral. He knows now that negotiations are pointless. Bahamut won’t listen; the gods never have.
“If you will not accept my bargain then I will find another way to save him.”
He would do it or die trying.
Tales mortals wove of their kind partially based on fabrication. Gods whom dare not speak to the common man nor woman are left shrouded in mystery. The scholars and pious twist the original tales for a more pleasant narrative so they are not feared. The Draconian moved not a claw to change their minds. Worship came all the same— the only thing that mattered. The fealty of humanity to their creators without a speck of resistance to their divine plan. All things in order without the chaos injected by their resting sibling, Ifrit. The only one among their kind whom truly loved their children.
Momentarily eyes flash beneath the helm of steel. Ire? Hard to distinguish what little emotions the gods possessed when Bahamut’s face be hidden from view. Regardless he took not kindly to those whom defied his will going against his prophetic visions of the future.
“One man makes not the world. It is we whom are the world. We whom decide the fates. To defy the divine will is a sin.” One that required correction through punishment. A curse were the dragon’s favorite mode of sentencing. Souls dared to rise up or muddy the hands of fate.
Once many cycles ago Noctis created such an aberrations in their plans. Now he along with the Accursed and many whom made their acquaintance too were stuck in this loop. How foolish of the Scientia to attempt to rebel against what is writ in the star. “Sin shall not go unanswered.”
@cookignis replied to your post “Places a dozen glazed donuts at his altar in hopes of gaining...”
But donuts.....
“What of them?” They do not have need to consume nutrients. Ask the cursed glaive of donuts, not them.
Places a dozen glazed donuts at his altar in hopes of gaining absolution for sin. But also, slaps that lizard bubble butt!
@cookignis
Thou gains no absolution. Only eternal torment for daring to touch their divine ass. How dare!
