“I believe–hah, what do I believe? I was divined as a hero once. The one whom ‘could do no wrong’, the most perfect– the one whom they could count on when the world became far too unbearable. Under their command, of which was heralded the right command, I slaughtered hundreds, thousands, in the far-west with their emblems stitched onto my shoulders. Soldiers, just like myself. Innocents, far from myself. For them to believe in morality, to believe in proper functions when they inflicted sin on those they did not wish to receive sin from– who are the hypocrites?”
❛ You can spare a little humility. ❜ Full of himself, wasn’t he? Not that she had much room to talk. Self-loathing and hatred could only make one so TALL in comparison to the Gods on Mt. Olympus. But still she heard the true story in his tale. A hired killer, a hero, a soldier in war that fell like Achilles. How strange. Even when away from home she was finding links to the attrocities she’d helped to commit. ❛ You remind me of someone. A warrior that fell to his own ego. His mother was careless and, by my standards, betrayed him in her carelessness. Funny how things work out, isn’t it? ❜
“People, whether mortal or divine, ‘are the same when things are well, but different when things are … unfavourable.’ Why would they want to believe that a GOD is capable of wrong? Why would they want to believe that a GOD, among the vast multitudes of those that exist, can be more corrupt than the devils they shun beneath their feet? They only believe that they want to believe.”
❝ But that’s just it. There is no bloody morality, there never has been. Good and evil are only figments of their feeble imaginations. Have they ever considered this ‘Heaven’? Christ, what if there isn’t one, or what if there was noting at all? —If people don’t die, the world overpopulates, if war doesn’t occur, civilizations grow too strong. If that’s evil, then fine. Let them EMBRACE their idiotic faith.
❝ People are different, so are we. No offense, but I don’t see why that’s so hard to understand– not you, per say, but all. ’If one is divine, why not be just?’– Hn. ❞
It was a lot harder to blend in here than she ever thought it would be. Between the blaring of vehicular horns or the scorching heat of the sun, the embodiment of strife found little more comfort in the shade or quiet. Some carried pistols strapped to their legs, other adventurers carried blades tethered to their side of back– she’d seen plenty of shops on her way around the city, searching and detecting for any signs of microscopic ENVY. For a life made worthless by the crumbling of an empire. A seed wanting to germinate from the inner confines of a shell was a beautiful thing, especially when that seed would grow to a tree that could block out the light from so many lives.
Perhaps she was morbid, perhaps she was MAD, but long strides and a weary mind carried her into the greying part of a dusty city where children no longer played.
Thick on the air was the scent of poison, perhaps not hemlock or wolfsbane ( to her dissatisfaction, in fact) but something as pungent and grotesque as radioactive waste. She felt a pulsating from within fallen slab and broken glass, her body maneuvering through tight spaces and dark areas to feel the light of the sun again.
The earth here was gray and dead, like the dust and sand on the shores of the River Styx. It reminded her of the halls where here uncle commanded the dead, of the great hound that guarded his gates and destroyed intruders where they stood so proudly.
In a small clearing she knelt, palm exposed to the dead earth to smooth out the rocky ground below her. Her feet had carried her this far, through the city and droves of illiterate imbeciles that would sooner rape the world than see it restored. It was beneath her skin that she felt it, pulsating and gyrating in the patch of dirt. A brown tip tickled against the flat side of her hand, rising steadily with many a thorn. It grew to a mere inch before she paused, head jerking to one side.
My name is Vervain and I am twenty one years old. I use female pronouns and tend to speak in a very formal manner to try and get my point across without having any feelings hurt. I tend to be very busy during the week, but i will do my best to get to replies and asks when I have time.
First things first, please don't godmod! This means controlling Eris or anything that Eris does in character. It could be the smallest thing, like making him pick something up, to using your character's abilities to hurt and/or kill Eris when I did not give you permission to do so.
I am both selective and mutually exclusive, meaning that I will only roleplay with those I follow back.
I also reserve the right to reject roleplaying with ANYONE and for ANY reason. This is my blog and I will not be bullied.
Memes may be sent to be my non-mutuals, however. I will always interact with non-mutuals in my askbox.
This is a multi-ship and multi-verse blog. However, Vittorio is canonically bisexual.
This is a hate-free, theft-free zone. I will not send hate, nor will I answer messages directed toward me or anyone else that can be considered hateful or hurtful. You've come to the wrong place to stir up trouble.
This blog will contain offensive and sensitive topics and is considered generally 'NSFW'. However, I am opposed to doing smut very often and will probably keep that on the low side. Blood, sexual assault, depression, suicide, toxic personality traits and abuse will all be things that are discussed here. HOWEVER, they will all be tagged correctly.
Her name is ERIS, she is known as DISCORDIA. For thousands of years she has reigned terror and injustice on humanity, sweeping across the land in the form of chaotic hurricanes and crumbling eruptions. She is violent death, she is starvation, and she sets fire to those unwilling.
Born to darkness (and some say to the King of Gods; Jupiter) with her brother, Thanatos at her side, the two were employed by HADES to bring in the souls of the dead. While her brother was granted the gentle death, those brought in through infancy or through the burden of peaceful sleep, Eris was charged with the destruction of mankind. Envy, lust, these are just a few of the things she feels for those given less GRUESOME tasks. Her occupation creates friction on her appearance and creates what she had become. Sunken emerald eyes and pale, gaunt features. Spindling fingers rake at the earth, sowing the seeds of her Golden Apples that jolt the world in their wake.
She is forever known for the wars she causes, most notably the Trojan War, where she threw down the seeds of destruction and clapped as mortal and god alike were pitted against each other in absolute RAGE.
Eris, Goddess of Discord, lives among the world's most chaotic bodies; humanity. They, along with their violent free will, make up a collection of sinister creations and thought processes that makes her feel at home. She appears to them as the most terrible evil; the spokesperson for a Tax Agency. There's a certain joy that comes to her from the dread others display, heels clicking and clipboard displaying all the wrongs they deigned to commit. Riveting. But her terror-streak has run dry as of late, what with so few massive wars occuring with the blade and sword. But humanity has a few new toys to play with, and they are creating their battles without her.
Aesop's New Fables.
The generic verse for all of my cross-overs without a verse of their own. Usually taking her out of Ancient Greece and into a new, more modernized atmosphere.
Time-Swept Goddess.
Any verses taking place before the 1940s will be placed here. This includes Ancient Greece or anything occuring on Mount Olympus unless otherwise specified!
Vampire Chronicles [ Shadow of Death ].
Created during the peak of Greek Civilization, Eris was made by Cyril. Among one of the many Greek young women turned by the vampire with disregard for the rules, Eris was headstrong and sought after more than what the night had to offer. Her stay with her own maker did not last long, however, as Eris soon learned throughout history that her own kind could be more cruel than any human. She created few companions and had even fewer friends. She disappeared from known History at the time of the Roman invasion, choosing to remove herself from the mediterranean and seek out enlightenment and popularized-philosophy in other regions of Western Europe.
As a Child of the Millenia, she was blessed with the Fire Gift, Telepathy and Telekinesis. She can also fast for long periods of time if need be and her cravings are at a minimum. She is, however, one of the many that does not survive the ‘purge’ from Maverick Vampires in the final book. She dies by fire in southern Italy, near Rome, when it is set by her own kind. At this point in time she has made quite a few of her own fledglings and it is with them that she dies in a Coven House made known.
