ilcapitanos

Ice has consumed even where this archon demands worship, it seems.  A cathedral—-  if he recalls the name correctly.  Imposing, regal, the watery spill of sunlight diluting through the colourful glass.  All these grand proclamations.  
            
            “Is that so?”  his head tilts towards the Captain.  Death is out of place here, ironically, in this place of dead weather and snivelling godhood.  Clad in simple black robes, unassuming, the ever pleasant smile curving his lips.  The interior is bright, frigid ice.  Hoarfrost and fallen snow.  
            
            “You were once a trespasser in my home once,” a gentle reminder.  “Though, I suppose it became yours too.”  His head lifts to peer down at the long, pale pews. 

⠀ ⠀▋ ID:⠀⠀@mortesarte 
            
            [     a chill blows through the empty hall— finding shelter in the shadows of his coat, up the sleeves of its arms and crevices of its armour.  it recognises the quiet coming of inevitability, recognises Him.  but this inertness meets no flesh this time,  only the whispering rot of fallen humanity.  its gaze sets upon the familiar figure still,  stood with silent expectancy in his approach.   ]
            
            "     ...whether beyond life or not,  you still aren't a guest here.  you're a trespasser.     "

⠀ ⠀▋ ID:⠀⠀@mortesarte 
            
            
            [   he swallows,  thickly.  this wasn’t the first, nor likely the last, attempt at coaxing him.  the satiation of bloodlust wasn’t enough to target anymore,  no idle conversation in his morality.  instead pulled the desire of rest, whisper of a loved one’s open arms,  calling him to rest his head and lay his heart bare.   his eyes fight to stay open,  swaying under the pressure of injury.  though regardless of carelessness, he comes to realise slowly that his life persisted still.  it was a matter of pride.   ]
            
            “     i already told you what i am here for.  i’m here for a purpose, and i have yet to fulfill it.     “
            
            [   a step staggered forward,  towards the calling despite himself.  because, he still clung to the vices of his humanity,  and fell into them even in attempted acts of being above them.   ]

The gentle coaxing of a tongue; the bale-eyed stare of an uneasy stray. Ushering you closer with murmured reassurances and honeyed comforts.
            
            /Come home.  Come to me.  Don’t you want to go home?/ 
            
            For this is Death.  A languid glory, a half-hearted attempt of ascending even the divine.  Such mirth in his eyes as he gazes at this human, this stray, like a beckoning lover.
            
            /Come to bed, won’t you?/ 
            
            “But of course,” Morthelme laughs delightedly, as if that is obvious.  “You persevere even now.  What a strange thing you are.”

⠀ ⠀▋ ID:⠀⠀@mortesarte 
            
            [   under a dizzy spell,  the commander stops shortly as a voice calls out.  one that pulled into temptation,  not the inhuman and twisted tongue of minds perished in divine punishment.  not where he was between recognition of words and the language feeling like a stranger.  this one was sweeter.  fonder.  it made him all the more alert, standing straighter despite gashes in his side protesting against the movement, his body yearning to return to the earth.   ] 
            
            "     ...and you were watching.     "

“but of course,  i am fond of anything daring enough to defy me,”  morthelme declares this as if it is obvious.  his fingertips remain greedily pressed against it’s palm,  as if he is seeking the warmth granted by the glove.  then death’s touch withdraws from flesh once more.  it remains unmarked.
            
            “i have nothing to worry about anyhow,”  death sighs,  as if content with this blasphemy.  his fingers entangle with gloved ones this time,  bringing knuckles close to his mouth.  a chaste kiss,  cold even through material.  “gods belong to me,  even before their legacies have begun.  you are no different.”

  [    THE 1ST:   IL CAPITANO.̲    ]
                   001.⠀⤻┃⚔︎      ˢᵐᵒᵏᵉᵈ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᵇˡᵒᵒᵈʸ ᵉˣᵉᶜᵘᵗⁱᵒⁿ
            
            ⠀ ⠀▋ ID:⠀⠀@mortesarte 
            
            
            [   its fingers are motionless while the cool hands slips closer to its own hand,  a whisper of wind slipping in the gap of its glove.  with his demand,  it huffs,  a gruff sound-  bearing similarities to a laugh.  and despite that,  it stays still,  the creeping of his hand good company.   it finds amusement in the lingering touches.   ]
            
            "⠀⠀stubborn in getting your way.   i didn't think death to be so fond of one who defies it..⠀⠀"

“but of course,  the heart always aches for what it can never have,”  it’s said as almost a conclusion.  as if morthelme finally understands the captain’s resolution.
            
            and there’s a gasp strangled in the depths of death’s throat as the unmortal’s gloved fingers brush over a cheekbone.
            
            “indulge me,”  death whispers.  and could anyone ever disobey it?  his head tips into the pressure,  his own hand lifting to twist digits under the glove so close to his hand.  until death’s flesh press against it’s own,  fingers against it’s palm,  cool  &  pleasant.  but harmless.  morthelme cannot help the delighted grin.  “do you see?”  

  [    THE 1ST:   IL CAPITANO.̲    ]
                   001.⠀⤻┃⚔︎      ˢᵐᵒᵏᵉᵈ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᵇˡᵒᵒᵈʸ ᵉˣᵉᶜᵘᵗⁱᵒⁿ
            
            ⠀ ⠀▋ ID:⠀⠀@godselysia 
            
            
            "⠀⠀i had matters to deal with.⠀⠀" 
            
            [   a vague answer,  to be expected of a fatuus with such high ranking.   even if it wasn't up to "trouble," it wouldn't reveal that to anyone outside of its own ranks.   even then,  it wasn't exactly a brilliant conversationalist.   ]
            
            "⠀⠀i'll assume the same goes for you.⠀⠀"

“of course.  as is your companionship,  i’m sure,”  varka beckons his own soldiers forth.  there’s a hushed frothing of concerned mumblings,  unintelligible to his ears,  but he ignores it.  
            
            “i wasn’t expecting you to come out here,”  varka calls out to the harbinger.  as if attempting conversation.

  [    THE 1ST:   IL CAPITANO.̲    ]
                   001.⠀⤻┃⚔︎      ˢᵐᵒᵏᵉᵈ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᵇˡᵒᵒᵈʸ ᵉˣᵉᶜᵘᵗⁱᵒⁿ
            
            ⠀ ⠀▋ ID:⠀⠀@godselysia 
            
            
            [   it waits silently for an answer;  piercing blue,  even if not visible,  staring at the easy smile the leader wore, and remaining still as a stalking scorpion.  it hums,  seemingly pleased with his answer.   ]
            
            "⠀⠀.. very well.   your sensibility is appreciated.⠀⠀"
            
            [   it waves a hand and the soldiers that stood rigidly behind began unloading equipment for tents.   ]

sword smoked with
                       bloody execution;
                       unfortunate are those 
                                           who cross him.
            
            
            CANON - DIVERGENT PORTRAYAL  •  HC BASED  •  CENTERED TO BLOODSTAINED KNIGHT THEORY

/   drop ok x 

  [    THE 1ST:   IL CAPITANO.̲    ]
                   001.⠀⤻┃⚔︎      ˢᵐᵒᵏᵉᵈ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᵇˡᵒᵒᵈʸ ᵉˣᵉᶜᵘᵗⁱᵒⁿ
            
            ⠀ ⠀▋ ID:⠀⠀@faucygne 
            
            
            "⠀⠀i'm able to wait.   interrupting your duties is hardly of interest to me.⠀⠀"

  [    THE 1ST:   IL CAPITANO.̲    ]
                   001.⠀⤻┃⚔︎      ˢᵐᵒᵏᵉᵈ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᵇˡᵒᵒᵈʸ ᵉˣᵉᶜᵘᵗⁱᵒⁿ
            
            ⠀ ⠀▋ ID:⠀⠀@miragest 
            
            
            "⠀⠀..  i am not,  no.   merely a business trip.⠀⠀"