› accessing file // : holy water and hellfire

[Xenodaemon]

[align=center][div style="width: 435px; text-align: justify; font-size: 7.5pt; font-family: verdana; line-height: 13px"]Hello ! This is a storage for anything that I wish to share on here from graphics to writings and more , mainly will most thoughts / creations involve my main novel projects . Unless stated otherwise , everything in this thread belongs to me . Please do not post or take anything from here , thank you and may you have a wonderful day / night !

[Xenodaemon]

[align=center][div style="width: 435px; text-align: justify; font-size: 7.5pt; font-family: verdana; line-height: 13px"]Navigation reserved

[Xenodaemon]

[align=center][div style="width: 435px; text-align: justify; font-size: 7.5pt; font-family: verdana; line-height: 13px"]“FEAR. It follows beneath the sore feet that can only wander without a mere purpose, eyes that ever burn from the melted, dead dreams. It can smile like us, cry like us. When it carries our faces, it can do anything. Even when we wish to end it all out of fear to live more longer, how it is cruel that it can still keep us on the edge of living because it makes us afraid to die too, having us witness our terror slaughtering our hearts and stars. Beats slow down, lights fade out. We stand perfectly still, wondering if we are breathing, or if we are bleeding.”

[Xenodaemon]

[align=center][div style="width: 435px; text-align: justify; font-size: 7.5pt; font-family: verdana; line-height: 13px"]“MORTAL SCREAM TEARS ACROSS THE GOLDEN LIGHTS FROM TWITCHING, HOT VESSEL. They flicker once, twice, before death comes and evolves into silent irritation. Lips twitching, eyes gleam dangerously. ( You are asking the Sun himself to control what only chaos reigns beneath his fingertips. While he is the bringer of light, providing life in the stars and eyes, his lights never know how to stop devouring the darkness, the tenderness in hearts and homes. To ask the Sun to end the fire is like asking the Sun to end himself. Make him consume his own fire and he will melt into nothing but a tragic tale. This is no messiah you are pleading to. This is a murderer dressed in holy lights. )”

[Xenodaemon]

[align=center][div style="width: 435px; text-align: justify; font-size: 7.5pt; font-family: verdana; line-height: 13px"]An old drabble ft. Mars’ character ; may rewrite this when this was done on December 30 , 2019

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His name is Wesley Thorburn, but his soul weeps in the name of Xenphire.

Xenphire, Xenphire, their close friend.

They remember him akin to an elder recalling their childhood memories while they rest beneath the ivory moon, blessed in kisses of the moonlight, sweet and gentle. As they are deeply aware they are ever gradually dying. The lover stares at Xenphire, admiring his body like the first day they met him, but this time, it is full of amazement, bewildered at the waves of familiarity striking at them at once. The spilled lights from darling smiles, the gaze too soft while eyelids are heavy from the trauma they bear, the faint kindness found in ruined weeping heart if one hugs him too closely.

They understand now. Truly, they remember, and they want to embrace him. So their arms reaches over to embrace someone who hold many more meanings to them. They stop and also remember themselves. Remember the flames in some of their incarnations’ mouths as they sneer and yell at Xenphire. His blood on their weapons— on them. They ruined him in ways they do not wish to say, but their whimpers are enough to define them. They step away from Xenphire, and they think they hear a stutter in his heartbeat. Frail. Confused. Just like they are now.

“I... I hu-hurt you,” is all they can say, all they can offer with trembling body and dying heart. They had tasted his ruination. Grinned at the tears and wails that fall from his mortal system. Read his tragedies out loud to the world like they are poems. They had hurt them many times in the past, therefore, he does not deserve their presence. Xenphire does not need them anyway. Want. But in Xenphire’s softest way, he lets them come back to him with open arms and tells them in honey and milk that it is okay, they can return to his home, settling back in his ribcage. Rest easily again.

“I hurt you,” they repeat what is true. They had even killed him, and will once more in the future, if not this lifetime. They turn around to run, but their hand is gripped onto. They glance back to find Xenphire, with tears rolling over his cheeks, and they can not find themselves breathing well anymore when everything starts to rot and burn, lights fading in their shaken system. Despite this— everything, however, Xenphire begs them to stay, to stay, to exist in this terrible time of loneliness by his side.

Do not let him go alone in the darkness.

He will love you just the same.

They stay and tightly embrace Xenphire, their face presses against his collarbone before everything shatters into their sobs, loud and uncared while the storm screams ahead, sympathetic of their suffering. There should be warmth from this gesture, but nothing feels right still when their cracks and gaps of their body and soul are yet somehow unfilled, and they, the lover, hate it.

[Xenodaemon]

[align=center][div style="width: 435px; text-align: justify; font-size: 7.5pt; font-family: verdana; line-height: 13px"]Another old drabble ft. Mars’ character based on this beautiful edit ; written on December 31 , 2019

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Earth is nearly reaching to the end of a year— a decade.

As Time ever croons these tender bodies made in flesh or plant, lights slowly dying in their cores, the waves of an ocean that embraces the World will always come to kiss the lands, and a forevermore song made somewhere deep in Nature’s soft throat. Even centuries after centuries had passed by, with a home in the lover’s soul, imprinted with billions of stories and poems and prayers in black to royal blue to sanguine, this time, this particular approach to the new year that entities on Earth call it 2020 feels somewhat and somehow different.

Different. It is a rare word for them to use now. In this incarnation, they had tried to search for something new that they, Child Soul, hadn’t experienced yet. Yet they thought everything still appeared the same to them. They had lived roughly and softly, died horribly and gently. They just existed, nothing more, nothing less than that. Since the discovery of their true identity, their optimism was distorted, stained in ancient tragedies and uncertain futures. In this incarnation, remaining in the final day of the year before 2020 will embrace everything and everyone, they almost gave up.

Almost. It is an ever familiar thing that made Child Soul them. It is a broken promise, a faded dream, an I love you left outspoken. Though this story with this almost have a meaning that is different to them. After pondering over a bit, with a glass of sparkling wine in their hand while the wind caress them to stay longer at the balcony of Wesley’s home that can be theirs too ( to hide themselves away from someone who deserves better than them ), they realize this feeling of difference at the 2020’s arrival comes from a fact that Wesley is with them not as the Wesley Thorburn but also Xenphire now.

Nothing is ever old about Xenphire, they believe. Always does he bring something more than what they expect through his darling smiles, the soft heartbeats, and words blessed with his wisdom and kindness. He makes their life beyond a definition of paradise. Into the new year, while going through this stage of trying to accept themselves with every parts of them they had left behind in their blood and bone dusts, he would make their life softer. He had already made it soft as only the Wesley Thorburn they knew of, but softer is what makes everything more beautiful.

But does he still want them to be a part of his life, knowing they were a both friend and a killer to him?

They think, and think, and a hand gently lands on their shoulder: It was Xenphire.

Like before, they have nothing to offer to them as they stare at him. They know that he knows self-discovery is usually one of the hardest parts of living in an endless cycle, so patience and understanding are what he can give them, even for an exchange of their silence. Words can not be found in their mind, their heart. Only white noises fill in them with their veins, everything in them hum in a song of chaos, and they want to scream. Damn their parents of the forces for making them feel so helpless and pathetic.

But Xenphire just waits like he have always waited for them, with every incarnations he knows them of, to come back to his life. Every single one of their pieces, both beautiful and horrible, both a bless and a curse. They open their mouth to speak, but fireworks cut them off as they appear in the sky, temporarily painting it in colours beyond whites and blacks before neon lights shower to the oblivion, the smallest parts of memories to those watching them come and go. They flinch and nearly drop their glass, but Xenphire manages to catch it along with them— their vulnerability.

And to think he will do it again and again with them, despite anything and everything, they break into his arms as he embraces them to keep themselves whole, like any other time: Only full of adoration and acceptance. Both them and Xenphire does not even notice the countdown to the new year of 2020. Fireworks and cheers mean nothing to them now. They truly have each other once more as they will make each other’s current life hold many more differences in 2020.

“I’m sorry,” they spoke tearfully, “I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Xenphire spoke gently, “I will always forgive you.”

And that is all that matters to the immortals in the end.

[Xenodaemon]

[align=center][div style="width: 435px; text-align: justify; font-size: 7.5pt; font-family: verdana; line-height: 13px"]Rewritten of this drabble

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Today, they know him as Wesley Thorburn.

Millennials before now, they knew him as Xenphire.

Old memories gently hold their soul while they stare at him— his body that only knows how to bear the tragedies, the endings, the terrible things the Universe wishes it can close its eyes from; yet even with these pain, the darkest sky and deepest sea still glimmers for him, and in return, his aching heart only speaks in the softest kindness no one and nothing can ever offer to life itself. They think about the first day of meeting him to this very moment: The exhaustion, the bitterness, the wonder when can it all end... It makes sense now that they remember.

They flinch at the growing burns in their eyes. Everything begins to fall into useless shapes and colours, but Xenphire still stands as a beautiful meaning: He is their best friend who they had always loved. Slowly, their arms reach out to embrace him, though when they sees his own coming to them, they halt. The old memories clench every edges of them, stealing their breaths away, and they step back from him. The lights in his eyes flicker, and they think they sense a stutter from his heart. Frail. Confused. Just as they are now while they remember themselves too—

What Xenphire meant to them in the end:

He is their best friend who they would always kill.

“I... I hu-hurt you.” The words leave a violent reminder in them, remembering the taste of his blood that they had spilled from his body, the aches of their cheeks while they watched him wail, grinning madly. They may not had killed him in every incarnations of his and their own, but memories can still slaughter the stars and homes. Immortality never knows how to forgive, how to forget, therefore, it only gives, gives, and gives until living no longer feels like living, but dreaming. Though can Xenphire let them breathe despite everything they had done and said to him?

“I hurt you.” I killed you. They still can if their parents make them, as Mother Nature and Father Time are nothing but melted Hell and Heaven all at once. In fear that will come to reality, they turn. But they hand gets gripped onto and they find the tears falling on Xenphire’s face. The old memories catch them in the throat, forced them to see the desperation forming in him. They swear they hear their own laughters tearing across the sky, soon overcome by the thunders, but there is just a choked sob from them. Then nothing is found in them, not even the barest lights.

Xenphire begs them to stay, and that is what he only asks from them.

Stay.

He needs them— wants them, as no stars or prayers can be enough for him to feel less alone. They are enough to him, and they realize that to him, they will always be enough. That he will always love them the same. So they stay, and Xenphire embraces them tightly, letting themselves fall for him to hold while protecting them from the darkness around them both. Still, on his collarbone, they end up wailing. There is supposed to be a happy ending to this moment, they should be breathing well again, but from the place of pure agony, nothing can ever come out as gentle.

[Xenodaemon]

[align=center][div style="width: 435px; text-align: justify; font-size: 7.5pt; font-family: verdana; line-height: 13px"]Child Soul comes from a verse with heavy supernatural and mythology influences , but I remembered creating a human AU for them , so if I do end up bringing them over to the New World , maybe I can find a way to transfer this backstory into the New World verse

CW: Child abuse, neglect, mentions of murder and death

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“ Born to a mother and a father who It does not ever know their real names, as they go by Mother Nature and Father Time, respectively. Even It doesn’t have Its own name, but Its parents and the World calls It the Child Soul, or fondly, Kid. The Mother and Father have always kept It sheltered from the World, telling It that Humanity is not ready to meet It with all of Its powers. From this, They had taken away Its belief that It is a Human, but something more than even God that just happened to be placed in a mortal vessel because if otherwise, the Universe would instantly die. It gets taught by Its parents everything, especially the arts of healing and killing, as Its parents believed that they are destined to be parts of the World’s Creators and Destroyers. Although during most of Its life, their parents are absent to do their jobs, leaving It alone to take care of Itself through self teachings, entertainment, or simply resting. Its parents never really cared what It does as long as It didn't leave Its home.

Until the age of eighteen, It was told that It can leave and have Its own life without Its parents. Stepping out of the home was a whole completely different experience, as the World was much more louder and harsher in every sense. It was even difficult socializing with anyone when It rarely experienced any emotions or expressed thoughts, but having to be included in Humanity, It forces Itself to pick up habits, tics, traits, just as everything from anyone It interacts with. It is only fortunate that It is flexible in everything, not having strict interests and views in anything. One thing no one will ever understand from It is how It perceives everything in a neutral area unless prompted by picking up others’ views to choose the opposite end of the spectrum. No one can call It sympathetic, but not exactly apathetic either. Its parents would always tell It to not judge, but to create, bear, and destroy; or the Universe will collapse right in Its hands, so It exists to do as It was told, watching the World slowly dying before Its eyes.

Not many people like to interact with It though, finding Its cold, stiff demeanour and Its forced acts unsettling, but It doesn’t mind when everyone has their own opinions. Not when It doesn’t exactly know what loneliness should mean to It. Learning about the Internet though, It finds Itself more interested in interacting with people online, finding the communication easier when tone and expressions aren’t fully relied on. It learns how to code, hack, anything with technology, and It thinks that with these abilities, It can be what Its parents made It think It is: the Beyond. So It would hack to gain more information about everyone, everything, and everywhere. It never holds any intentions of using them to harm though, but mostly for curiosity and to help those in need by providing them services and locations that can assist them. Though wanting to know more of what would happen across the world, It formed a group who would be the ‘crows’ to It, gaining and giving It information about anything from any places and anyone, and It gathers Its associates It had interacted with online across the world and assigned them a name based on the King of the Gods.

In the present, It travels just for curiosity and satisfaction, using Its people to learn about any crucial details of any places It visits if needed, returning them with Its money, materials, food, or knowledge in payment. The World would often see It under a cloak, barely knowing what It looks like but their height and face. Even when seeing It in photos or recording, It interacts with the World in a different manner: Holding onto something and stare to the Unknown. Though It doesn’t mean harm, perhaps not even when there are strange times when It leaves certain places or from people before ruination strikes. Some would try to contact It to learn more about It, but It is never the one to share, just as It is never the one to stay, as It always wanders alone. This world never means to last forever, so, in the strangest way possible given from Its background, It lives simply, never really knowing what had happened to Its parents. Though as they are Mother Nature and Father Time, where Nature is Everywhere and Time is in Everything, It doesn’t think It is ever alone to begin with. ”

[Xenodaemon]

[div style="width: 435px; text-align: justify; font-size: 7.5pt; font-family: verdana; line-height: 13px"][align=center]THE SOLARIS ORDER

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This is a small group of nomads who are known to hold the strongest link to the outer space, led by Lord Ílios and Lady Fengári, also known as the Sun and Moon. Each member is given an Ancient Greek name after a celestial body of the Solar System, based on their attributes and interests, though those who dies will simply be replaced by another when the group is open to taking a new member, taking after their name, title, and memories.

Their intentions are to create simply the Cosmos in the New World, so with their greatest effort, they travel across the world providing peace and guidance to those who are in dire situations. Although if ever necessary, violence is also the option to ensure that the Cosmos does not fall. Sometimes, the Lord and Lady will assign each member a mission and have the group break up for a certain amount of time before reuniting.

While it is normal to feel hopeless at times, hope plays the most important role to the group. The stars never once close their eyes at the world, regardless of what they have to witness from it. They burn forever to bring hope for those who does not wish to look at themselves and the terrible state the world is in. So if there are stars in the sky and beyond, why can not there be any in the New World? When one person hope, another begins to do so before it forms a pattern— a constellation.

The Solaris Order hopes that when the world sees them, it can be gently reminded that they are enough for simply existing.

[Xenodaemon]

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— Name to be decided. Currently can not decide if this character would be similarly to Child Soul or their own identity.
— Intersex agender; goes by any pronouns.
— Panromantic pansexual. He is incredibly easy to form crushes, especially when someone treats him with great kindness. It would be clear to notice how he feels about a particular person as he is extremely expressive and emotional, but he often doesn’t realize how obvious he is with his feelings until someone points it out to him.
— Born on November 27, 2017, the beginning of the Blackout; is currently twenty three years old.
— Group to be decided. Probably Cult of Dionysus.
— Would usually make himself sleep at 11:11pm, believing that he’ll wake up with good luck.
— Enjoys collecting rocks anytime anywhere. Always pick up one wherever he goes out. Would even want to go on rock collecting as a date. If he gives his best ones to you, it means that he highly adores you. Favourite kind of rock to collect and hand them away as gifts are hearts.
— Would had loved to take his loved one to a place like a museum or aquarium. Though he’s the kind of pal who’d focus mainly on said loved one as observing them more than his surrounding.
— Have a lot of. Rats. Every room in his home have at least one or two of them. Probably even carries one around with him because why not? Names them after a star. ( CW: Animal death ) When they die, he cremates them with a wish that they would turn into a star.
— Finds every little chances to touch someone with fondness when he is very needy and affectionate. He’ll even be like, “Oh! Your hands are full, let me help you!” and does That as his skin brushes theirs while he take their stuff. His favourite ways of expressing his affection to others through physical contacts are high fives and gentle headbutts.
— Writes poetries about anyone he’s friends with and would even show his work to them as to express his appreciation and love to them.
— Have a habit of rambling a lot. Just loves to talk about anything to anyone, even if they may be annoyed about it.
— More to be added, but :flushed: I love him so much, your honour