dorian ♕’s Comments (group member since Nov 28, 2020)

dorian ♕’s comments from the Grimoire’s Return. group.

Darian sighed, and looked at the route Mal had gone. He only had a couple minutes…

He tore after Mal, barging into his room with a dramatic flare. “Malory of Aenia! You King had requested you.”

There weren’t a lot of ways to piss off Mal, or to make him feel something that wasn’t musta ashes… but maybe this was it.

Darian snorted. “Oh Saints, Mal are you APOLOGIZING? Since when do you do that?”

Though he wouldn’t admit it, he appreciated Mal for it. Sometimes he just needed someone to tell him that they were there for him, and they wouldn’t leave.

“You don’t need to become king. You are perfectly fine as my advisor. Plus, it keeps me in check. And Saints knows how much I need that.”

Darian shuttled. “You’re Fine. It was the fact of the matter.”

The fact of the matter being that Duke was pushed to the king position literally an hour after his father’s death, and a rival land attacked an hour after THAT, leaving half of his land dead.

The fact of the matter being that Duke had faked it for very one, his grief, and his depression, and now he was hosting majority of the land’s people in the palace, or around it.

But it was fine.

He was FINE.

Duke was exhausted.

A king day of being king, of making commands, of ordering people around and sending soldiers out.

He hugged Duke back.

“Are you okay? I mean, you kinda..”
He motioned to the dead girl beside him.

*time to continue this, me thinks?*

Marcus cell himself collapse to the ground, gone with the shadows. He felt himself being lifted, and distantly, he hoped he was dead.

Maybe he could be with Ace.

Marcus’s vision seemed to narrow.

Tunnel vision. Pastor John had always told him about it, how it would only happen to Venandi after some irreversible happened.

Well.

Looks like he got his wish.

He stood up, and whirled around to face Mal. “I NEVER said that. Don’t put words in my mouth, don’t you EVER tell me something I didn’t—“

It was before he could realize, he had Tenebris out, and he was close to the man.

He was planning to kill him too.

Just like he did to Ace.

Marcus shook. His face was splattered with her blood, and his, mixing and creating a dark substance. He hated how around them, the world was still white, none of the signs of THEM around.

Mal and Burroughs were gone.

“I’m sorry.” That was the only words Marcus found himself repeating, over and over and over. He sunk to his knees with her, staring at her.

He wanted to hold her.

Oh god.

Oh god, he fucked up and now Ace was dying and he couldn’t do anything and—

Oh my god.

“I’m sorry.”

Marcus was crying. He was crying because he knew exactly what he had to do, and he didn’t want to do it. He wanted to stay here and kiss her forever l, and not have to worry about a world that wouldn’t except them.


But he couldn’t.

Because he was who he was, and she was who she was, and he was a Venandi, and she was a witch, and there extent meant to be.

So, with his heart falling into a void as dark as his Witch’s magic, he revealed the knife that he had up his sleeve.

And he stabbed his witch in her stomach.

Marcus shook just as much. “Ace. Acelopina. My witch. Please. We could just leave, not have to deal with this, anymore.”

He knew it was dangerous, but he pushed back from the blades and turned around, cutting his neck in the process. He winced, but ignore the warm Bess dripping down his neck.

His eyes were a pulsing gold, something not normal for a human like him.

Or maybe not so human.

“Please.” He said, once more.

Then he kissed her.

Marcus had his hands up. He had been in these type of situations before, and he learned the best way to get the person to put down the knife was to make them think you were entirely at their mercy.

To be fair, he had never been in a situation that involved a woman he loved.

And a very powerful witch.

“Put the knife down, Ace. We could talk about this.”

If worse came to worse, he could just stab her. Kick the leg from underneath her, sweep up his daggers from the ground, and stab her once in the heart, and the other in the eye, to properly kill a witch.

Shadows were around. Darkness and shadows and every nightmare you could imagine.

Marcus, bleeding from his head, and kneeled over, could do nothing about it, couldn’t use a protecting spell. The only thing he had was his Venandi uniform, which thank God, he was wearing, and provides him protective from the most strongest and common Magics.

Slowly, with a wince, and a twist of head, he stood up. He tried to look for Ace in the shadows, holding his one dagger out, and another pressed closer to his chest.

“Come out, sweetheart.” He said, softly, yet venomously. “Maybe don’t hide yourself using your magic like a coward.”

Marcus fell to the ground, the girl atop him. Before he could think, his training overtook him.

All emotion and love for Ace empires him, as he pushed at the girl atop him, and delivered a swift punch to her ribs. There was a slash above his eyes, twin to the one slitting his brow. The blood was starting to fall into his eyes, and as he stood up, he wiped away. He pulled tow daggers from SOMEWHERE on him, and rushed at the girl, slashing down with one dagger, and up with the other.

SLAY WHAT YOU WANNA SLAY

Marcus might also be going through his villain era? But also, I liked that I FINALLY MANAGED TO INCLUDE ONE OF THE QUOTES I MADE FOR THE CHARACTER SHEET 😩🥳

She made him bleed. Marcus slumped over, pressing a hand to his nose. If anything, he pressed more force on her body underneath him, watching her squirm.

He felt a rage come over him.

She made him BLEED. He was BLEEDING, and here she was, crying, and sniffling like he was in the wrong, like HE didn’t try to convince her not to do this stupid shit, and just love with him, just be HAPPY.

And she was making him the villain, when all along SHE was.

Marcus stood up, wiping blood from his nose. “Get up.” He said, his voice void of emotion and empathy. He was hollow,, a shell of himself. They would fight this out properly, and he

Would

Fucking

Kill

Her.

Distantly, he had a thought, something his mother told him once:

A truly horrible thing, wasn’t it? When people lost the ones they loved.

Marcus straddled her waist, hands raised to press the garrote to her neck.

Then he saw her tears.

Genuine, golden tears of her girl who saw death before her eyes, who saw the man she loved wanting to kill her, who decided to join a war because she had no other option.

And he hesitated.

That was his first mistake.

Marcus pressed a hand to his face, a bit shocked at the strength in her hit. Then, breathing hard, he grabbed one of his knives and threw it at her.

He had done this plenty of times before, but he wasn’t sure why this was different. Why, when he threw the knife, he PRAYED to God, that it would miss.

And then, tore a piece of clothing from his shirt, wrapped his around both of his hands, making a makeshift garrote. Then, he went to choke the girl he loved out.

Marcus dug his feet into the white dirt beneath him. There was a way to play this, a way you always played it with powerful witches like her.

You let them make their plow first.

Marcus smiled at her, then threw himself at her. It was a short work, meant more to disable her, then kill her. He tackled her.

Aeris, the God of Wrath, was not having a good day.

After almost being drastically made maimed and killed by one of his brother’s felons, he sat inside of a cage, sipping nothing other than tea and his sorrows