Hialao is the nucleus, a modern, sunny and hospitable seaside realm; Wildewall is steeped in tradition, good for those with archaic roots and a taste for wilderness; Elestis is the fantasy land of ever-tumbling magic and whimsical imagination; Parse whirs like the massive digital machine that it is, advanced and technological.
Barrows is the breeding ground of chaos, with refrains of grunge and anachronistic crime; Tethya is the small but glorious underwater world reminiscent of Victorian times; and those who don't feel at home in any of these places, or simply like to wander, are known as Drifters.
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PERMALINK // POSTED ON: Dec 7 2016, 01:35 PM
Kratos was an enigma to most of the people in the Barrows. The man presented quite an impressive air; he was eight feet tall and powerfully built, his body tattooed, pale as snow, and marked with vivid red tattoos. His body held the scars of a warrior, and the scowl on his face dared anyone to mention the fact that he was technically wearing a skirt. Most people had learned not to tell him that he looked odd, not just because he would kill them, but because he didn't much care about anyone else's opinion of him. People just didn't mean all that much to the man, they were either not of import, or in his way. It was one of the two, the only people that had ever meant anything more than a means to greatness or a stepping stone to pleasure were dead. And Kratos was a shell of the man he'd used to be. The gods had seen to that. And now he was stuck here, in this place. This place where people went about their lives heedless of any gods. The one thing he'd found about the Multiverse was that he didn't have to deal with the gods here, they were nowhere. They were nothing, they were shades in his mind, in his memory.
Part of him wondered if this was a trick, if this was something furies had done to his mind. He'd killed them, at least he thought he had. But they could do interesting tricks and Orkos wasn't here to snap his mind out of it. Funny, they could plant visions in your mind, make you hate yourself, remind you of every bad deed you'd ever done but ask them to take away memories, and they suddenly were powerless. They were useless, they were manipulative and conniving and they didn't care about anything but themselves. Kratos had sworn he wouldn't think of them anymore, but they came to his thoughts unbidden. His hatred for them overwhelmed everything. He wanted to kill something, and he wanted to do it now.
So he'd come to the park, a place where children played, even in a dark place like this. The Barrows was a horrible place to raise a child, but some were doing it, and he'd come here to watch them. It might seem odd to see the massive figure sitting on a bench, something like the ghost of a smile on his face. Watching kids stilled the rage in his mind, he actually liked children. His daughter Calliope had been the whole of the world to him, and now she was gone. Still, watching the children made it easy for him to quiet the frantic whispers that told him that he was a monster. He'd been called such throughout the years since his wife and child had been murdered by his own hand, and he believed it.
A young boy crawled up onto the bench next to him, fingers reaching out to touch the blades criss crossed over Kratos's back. "What these?" His voice was small and had a lisp. Kratos let a small chuckle rumble in his throat, a sound he'd thought he'd forgotten how to make. "Those are my blades, young one." He would have left them in his apartment with the other weapons he had, people rarely did crime in the park during the day, but the blades of Athena could not be left behind, they were seared into his flesh. A mother came up, scooping the boy up and whisking him away from Kratos with a terrified glare, as if her boy would break at his touch. The ever present scowl crossed his face, replacing the slightly happy look that had taken up residence.
"Bitch." he muttered under his breath. It was just as well, as much as the man would love to be a part of the world around him, the world of children playing, of innocence, he never could be. He was just a ghost.
PERMALINK // POSTED ON: Dec 10 2016, 08:43 PM
How great I am Gotta tell myself, yeah I'm the man Looks grim right now But pretty soon we'll be laughing about it Ohh, and it's alright Yeah, it is, I swear you'll see (It's not really) Yeah, it's alright 'Cause I've always got my family of me It's not a first (Might be the last) Yeah I'm sure I must have been Through worse, but Ohh, it's alright Got a paddle and a creek Yeah, and it's alright 'Cause I've always got my family of me
notes: welp. here we go, gl sans
Sans knew the feeling of being treated like a monster better than anyone. Partially because, well, he was one, but the fact remained that human treatment of monsters and how monsters behaved around each other was...rather different, to say the least. Humans saw monsters as feral, ready to attack anyone and everyone who wronged them, and if they weren't that, they had the intelligence of pets, good to play around with, but not really someone you'd trust with anything. It was downright depressing. Especially when he wasn't the recipient of the treatment, but someone else was. If it were him, fine, he could take it, but seeing someone else treated with an air of 'I can't trust you simply because you look different' was definitely a pet peeve.
At any rate, so much as Sans wandered around during his time off, the Barrows wasn't a place he happened to go to too often. Mostly because it was, as someone had said once, 'kill or be killed', and the sound of those four words made part of him feel pretty ill. But at any rate he'd ended up showing his face there that day, and--well. The fact that there were children around these parts was....troubling, to say the least.If it was as dangerous as someone had told him, they definitely weren't growing up in a stable environment.
It'd practically give Tori a panic attack at the sheer thought, really.
But he wasn't Tori, and so long as the kiddos weren't being threatened, there was no need to get too worried. They knew what they were doing, right? He hadn't exactly had the most stable childhood himself, and he'd grown up just fine
Now, the other guy they were looking at had an impressive aura. It was an aura that Sans would believe that Undyne would get absolutely fired up by, provided that the guy with that aura wasn't an evil-doer. And, well...judging by the scowl on his face, he seemed troubled - but not evil. Sans couldn't judge that exactly yet, and he was in no position to at any rate - he didn't know the guy, only knew him by appearance, which said only a few things: he seemed unhappy, he looked like a warrior of some sort, and he was damn tall enough to tower over him like a mountain - he could tell that last one even with the guy sitting down.
Still, as time passed and the mountain of a man watched the kids, it seemed as though he was lightening up just the slightest bit. Sans was always uniquely perceptive in his own way, and he could at the very least catch onto that fact - though he was trying not to think about looking at the children too much himself. Because it just reminded him that he was trapped here, and, well...Frisk wasn't. The skeleton's eyelights floated over to the group of kids...and there was one that looked quite a bit like them. Short brown hair, striped shirt, but they had deep blue eyes different from Frisk's own chestnut brown. So as much as he could hope and pray that it was actually the kid that he knew and took care of - the Monster Ambassador who knew how to talk to everyone and had made progress pushing towards a brighter future, it wasn't.
And that was perhaps more depressing than seeing no one who looked like them at all. The skeleton sighed, and was about to move along when he spied a little boy crawling up next to the warrior man, asking about his blades. The warrior had chuckled and explained what they were - only for a woman to hurriedly take the little boy away, a terrified look in her eyes. And the guy didn't take it well, understandably so, the smile on his face fading as he muttered a curse under his breath.
Poor guy. Honestly, so much as part of Sans's better thoughts thought 'well, he is taking swords around everywhere, that could hurt a kid, plus he kinds looks like the sort of guy who'd crush me beneath his fist', the other part thought '...he ain't that bad, if he likes kids. just gotta prove that he's friendly - proving you're a good person to other people gets people to trust you, and maybe then the other people will trust us, too. or the 'freaks' 'll stick together. either way.'
That was what led the skeleton to walking over to the mountainous man, grinning in greeting. "heya. mind if i take a seat here, buddy?"
'Cause I've always got my family of me
PERMALINK // POSTED ON: Jan 29 2017, 06:18 PM
@SANS sorry for the wait dearie
Kratos wasn't too much like Sans, though he didn't know the skeleton that was about to request to sit next to him. Back in his own world it wasn't his appearance that made people mistrust him. No, in his own world it was his reputation as the Ghost of Sparta that made people treat him with disdain. The brilliant yet brutal war general that had murdered his family in cold blood. The people of Greece didn't know the full story, they didn't care to know. They just knew the basic details and it was enough for them to judge him. He didn't hold it against them, though his rage might say otherwise. He couldn't even stop himself from judgment of his actions, how could he expect others who barely knew the truth to not judge him as well.
Kratos had been too lost in thought to really notice the small skeleton that had been getting equally distrustful treatment from the people in the park. He wasn't one for trusting skeletal beings either, most of them were minions of Ares, but when the skeleton asked to sit by him, Kratos took note. A look of surprise would have crossed his face if he were less stoic, but he kept it off, instead cautiously peering down at the short squat skeleton. Ares skeletal messengers were always slightly taller and though Kratos was a paranoid man, he didn't automatically shove the skeleton away. If he made any move to attack or bribe Kratos though, the blades of chaos could kill a messenger of Ares as easily as anyone else.
"You may," Kratos said simply, refusing to elaborate further. He would see what this creature had to say, and then decide how to proceed. He was much more a man of action than words. Still, the 'buddy' had caught him by surprise. He had rarely been treated with anything but disdain, let alone someone calling him a friend.