Fate is a Strange thing (MxM) (God/Mortal) (Closed w/matsukaze)

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    Writing Style-


    I normally write a paragraph or more, consisting of 8+ sentences, also could be more. It depends on how my muse is and how my partner replies to my posts. Just NO one or even three liner posts! I need content to reply to and keep the story moving. I like to have your input on plots, so feel free to suggest what you think makes sense or makes our RP more fun.

    As for character description, I will leave that to you. You can do a form, face-claim, or describe as we RP. (Your guy is the 'dom or seme' in the relationship.)



    Plot- Your guy was abused badly while living among mortals. He was laying more dead than alive by a river when a God appeared and offered him a place to heal and grow. Now he lives in the Realm of the Gods and has fallen hard for the one who saved him.


    Faerdhinen God of Magic


    Starter Post-


    A lone figure stands in the center of the temple gardens, beside a glass fountain that continuously had the purest water flowing from it year round. Surrounding the figure were rows upon rows of exotic plants, flowers to simple vines with leaves upon them. Trees that reached high to the sky also dotted the area, their trunk a starry silver, leaves shining gold, and flowers as white as snow. Currently, the figure who was a God, bent over a bush of blood roses. These roses were very unique for they were the color or blood and even smelt like it, but in the center of it glows a diamond.

    Smiling, the God Faerdhinen, gently picked a few precious roses and placed them in his woven basket upon his arm. He was gathering various flowers to decorate the halls of his temple and home. He liked to switch them out every few days, which were actually centuries to a mere mortal. Not that any mere mortals have ever stepped onto the plane of the Gods or Goddess since their banishment during the Ancient Wars. Of course, Faerdhinen was different he liked having Mortals around, so when he could he’d personally find those deeply in need and bring them here to stay beside him as his followers and companions. Speaking of which…

    Faerdhinen glanced up and towards the temple columns on the far side of the garden and smiled softly at one Mortal in particular that he’d saved. The poor mortal had been mistreated and thrown aside, it broke Faerdhinen heart and so he offered a place with him. Somewhere he could grow and heal from these bad experiences that Mortal life had wrought upon him.

    Okay, thanks for joining! I am heading to bed now, but I'll reply as soon as I can tomorrow. :)

    //rest well!! c:

    Cyros - [ss-eye-rou-ss]

    Calloused fingertips slid across the delicate petals of a snow white flower, a small dusting coating his skin as he pulled his hand away. Cyros hummed to himself and rubbed his fingers together, cleaning off the powder and watching it fall to the floor at his bare feet. The man smiled to himself, finding an odd peace in the action and repeating it over once more. It had been so long since he'd been able to enjoy something as tender and calm like the current moment. The life he'd lived before, the life he'd live on the Mortal Plane, was one of suffering and pain, and he bore the scars to prove it.


    Cyros had been mistreated and neglected for his entire life for seemingly no reason, and was always the poor soul to be blamed for any misfortune that afflicted those around him. He'd never understood why he was treated so terribly but chose to try to live his best life anyways, although he never really got a chance. After refusing to accept blame for a mishap at a town pub one evening, Cryos was dragged out into the mud and rain and beaten within an inch of his life. He was left to die in the nearby woods by a river and he most certainly would have died had it not been for the god Faerdhinen graciously saving his life. Cyros was given a second chance and a home warmer and more welcoming than he'd ever known. He'd even made a friend in the process.


    Cyros slowly peered over his shoulder and caught the eye of Faerdhinen, a small smile appearing on his lips. He couldn't deny the flutter in his stomach and quickened pace of his heart when he gazed at the god. Cyros didn't know how or when his feelings for the god had formed, but he was keeping them a secret. For now. "The flowers are lovely.." he chided, walking over to the god and peering into his basket to see what he'd chosen to decorate his temple with today. "Perfect picks, as always." he chuckled, meeting Faerdhinen's gaze at that point.


    He'd not been in the ethereal realm for very long but the time he'd spent here had been, well, magical, to say the least. Faerdhinen was extremely kind to him, as well as the other mortals that roamed about who'd been saved by the god in previous years. He wasn't sure what it was about the god that made him so giddy, like a young boy with a crush, but he couldn't deny he certainly felt something for him. It was strong, but he knew it would probably be best not to act on it. There were probably a hundred others who felt the same about Faerdhinen and the god certainly would not settle down with a mortal, not with all the beautiful gods and goddesses roaming about.

    (Good morning~)


    Faerdhinen’s soft brown cat ears twitched and he nodded a bit, the faintest of smiles touching his lips for a brief moment. “Thank you. Plants… flowers in particular fascinate me. The beauty and fragility of them, that is,” the god murmured, gaze becoming distant as his thoughts wandered from this time and place. But, not a moment later he blinked and his golden gaze returning to the present.

    “Will you join me in replacing the old flowers throughout the temple?” he asked, before stepping away from Cyros and heading to the nearest pillar where a black vase was placed upon a stone table. Raising his free hand he waved the old flowers away and clean water refilled the vase. Humming an ancient lullaby, he gently picked a few flowers he thought fit well together and arranged them in the water.

    “How do your wounds fair?” Faerdhinen questioned, as he finished his first arrangement and moved to the next closest vase, repeating his previous actions.


    //mornin'!!! c:


    Cryos beamed at the prospect of helping Faerdhinen replace the flowers of his temple and nodded quickly in response. He gingerly plucked some nearby flowers he thought looked nice and walked over to the closest vase. Since he didn't have magical abilities like Faerdhinen, he had to remove the flowers normally and replace the old water with a little bit more work. He arranged the flowers inside and stepped back to make sure it all looked nice.


    Cyros looked at the other vases as well, smiling at the ones Faerdhinen had decorated himself. "It always looks so beautiful in here.." he sighed to himself. When asked about his wounds, the man glanced down at his stomach which still had a few bandages on it. "Pretty good, I'd say. They're still sore but overall I'd say they're pretty much healed." he replied, brushing his fingers across a bruise on his ribcage.


    "I hope they don't scar.." he murmured lowly, hand resting on a patch of gauze on his side. He didn't want to remember the night when he'd been nearly killed simply for refusing to be blamed for something he didn't do. Cyros muttered some curses beneath his breath and took a seat beside one of the vases, delicately stroking the petals of one of the roses Faerdhinen had plucked and put inside.

    Faerdhinen smiled softly as he watched Cryos moved along with little trouble, replacing the flowers. The flowers he chose seemed to match each other very well, which made him even happier. At the man's words he nodded to himself, yes this land was always hauntingly beautiful. The darkness of life never seem to touch it, which Faerdhinen found both a gift and curse. Forcing himself to focus on the mortal's words the god relaxed more. Good. The wounds were healing and well. With Faerdhinen's magic there was little chance it would get worse but still, he worried about that happening. About him not being able to do enough for this or others pour wounded souls.
    "Hmm, scars are not so bad. They are prove of your survival and strength," he murmured, gold gaze peering at Cryso with a gentle glint in his slitted eyes. "Everyone gains them at some point, best not to fret over them." Faerdhinen added, gaze glazing over at the thought of the few but major scars upon his skin. Shaking these thoughts away, he turned back to his vase.

    Cyros snorted a bit, glancing up at Faerdhinen where he stood. "I guess you're right.." he sighed, scratching his somewhat stubbly chin. He chuckled to himself suddenly and let out another heavy sigh, a smile appearing on his lips. "Perhaps when the wounds scar they'll look cool, too." he joked lightly, brushing his fingers across the wounds again.


    He glanced up at Faerdhinen with kind eyes and smiled, nodding once in his direction. "Thanks, Faerdhinen..." he murmured, walking past the god and patting his shoulder gently. "For everything. Saving my life, being a good friend, everything." he added after a moment, his hand lingering on Faerdhinen briefly. He pulled away a moment later and walked over to another vase, cleaning it out and placing new flowers inside. It was such a calming ritual to do this. It gave him a sense of purpose even though this was a small task. Just knowing he was making someone happy with what he was doing was fulfilling.

    Faerdhinen nodded as the mortal joked about the scars, it was a step. A good one at that.


    Gold eyes followed him as he stepped past him, touched his shoulder, and spoke. Faerdhinen had to admit that it warmed his heart to hear him say these things. He was hoping things were gong well, but he had had his doubts. Now though, they washed away as Cyros words echoed in his mind. "You are very welcome. You a good person, who deserves kindness," he murmured in response, though not quite loud enough for the other to hear from the distance between them. Silently, Faerdhinen's gaze followed him and he took a moment to watch the other replace flowers before moving over to a vase himself.


    Vanishing it, he froze with his hand raised slightly his eyes glazing over. Blood and screams overtook his vision and hearing, his body tensed and he frantically latched onto the vision and did his best to track it. The mortal realm no doubt... but where?! He thought, hurriedly. But before he could figure that out the vision and noise dissipated.

    A sigh escaped his lips and his hand fell limply to his side. Too late.

    Cyros had just finished one of the last vases in the temple and went to turn to as Faerdhinen what he wanted in the final vase when he noticed the god's rigid stance. He rushed over and grabbed his shoulder in concern, looking the man over with worry. "Faerdhinen, what's wrong?" he questioned.


    He'd never witnessed Faerdhinen do something like that before so he had no idea what was going on. Worry made his stomach churn and heart beat fast, his eyes darting all over Faerdhinen to see if maybe he was hurt or something had happened. "Are you okay?" he asked softly, rubbing his arm lightly and taking the god's hand that he'd seen go rigid in what he could only assume was fear or something worse.


    Cyros had no idea what else to say or do in that moment, other than to let Faerdhinen get his bearings. He stayed quiet at that point, giving the man time to calm down and respond.

    For a moment Faerdhinen could swear that he couldn't breathe. How had that happened so quickly? Why had he not gotten time to find and save the mortal? Why had he just received their cries? Suddenly, he felt a unfamiliar touch and he felt like fleeing, as though he was a deer within a hunter's eyesight. But instead, he forced himself to look at the person touching him and was surprised to find himself facing Cyros. 'What is he doing? He looks... concerned?' He thought in his own confusion. But then he realized the state his body was in and he let go a shaky breath, "I'm sorry, Cyros. I'm fine," he murmured, trying to give the man a reassuring smile. Causing the other worry was the last thing on the God's mind, he was supposed to be helping Cyros, not the other way around.

    Lightly, he squeezed the man's hand in thanks before pulling away from the touch he both found wonderful and frightening. As a God he was barely looked at with fear, but to be touched was... unheard of.

    Cyros swallowed thickly and moved back after Faerdhinen assured he was fine and pulled away from him. He was sure what he'd just done was probably an unspeakable act here in the ethereal realm but down in the mortal realm, touch was Cyros' only way of comforting those who trusted him. The man fought back a quiet remark about Faerdhinen's odd behavior and instead looked towards the massive building he now called home. "I'm going to go redress my bandages. They're starting to fray." he spoke quickly before turning on his heel and hurrying off.


    Cyros entered the room he'd been given to sleep in and shut the door quietly behind him. He stood in front of the mirror perched on his wall and removed the plain white button down he was wearing. He then took great care in removing his bandages and putting more healing salve the wounds. For a moment he stared at the deep cuts on his abdomen, quick flashes of the cause of each cut running through his mind. He hastily covered them back up and sat on his bed, dropping his face in his hands with a heavy sigh.

    Before the God realized it, Cyros had spoken and then fled. Sighing to himself, he rubbed his face and thought about going after him. But, should he? Faerdhinen shook his head and headed in the opposite direction, he didn't want to bother the mortal and his own odd behavior was... complicated. However after a few steps he stopped and really thought about it. The god didn't want the other man to think he was angry at the touch or anything like that. If he left things like this that was a large possibility.


    "Very well, I shall go apologize and then leave him be," he murmured to himself as he turned and began to walk to where he knew Cyros chambers were, "Maybe he'll allow me to check his wounds as well. If not... Well, I'm sure he'd say something if they were getting worse. Right?" As he chatted with himself, he finally found himself standing in front of Cyros' door. Biting at his lower lip he raised his hand and knocked on the door lightly a few times.
    "Cyros, tis me. Faerdhinen. I just came to apologize for my strange behavior back there," he spoke loud enough to be heard through teh door and in what he hoped was a calm tone.

    Cyros' head shot up from his hands and his gaze locked on the door as Faerdhinen's voice carried through the wood. He looked down at his bare torso and quickly picked up his shirt off the floor, slipping it on in a hurry as he stumbled towards the door. He opened the door and smiled a greeting to Faerdhinen, stepping back and moving into the room. He motioned the other inside and sat back down on his bed with a sigh. "You shouldn't be the one apologizing, Faerdhinen. I touched you without permission and on top of it all, you're a god and I'm a mortal. I shouldn't have done that." he murmured softly.


    Cyros turned his gaze away from Faerdhinen's and glanced down at his hands, his thumbs sliding over each other while he thought about potential consequences for his actions. The man didn't know if touching s god was a serious offense or anything so he didn't really know what to expect.

    Faerdhinen stepped into the room with some hesitance, he himself saw his bedchambers as a sanctuary and did not let anyone in. So once inside he stayed close to the door and dared not touch anything. His tail twitched behind him, another sign of nervousness that the God was not use to. "No, don't... I mean- It is alright. You did what you believed would help me and in a way, it did. I am grateful, Cyros," he spoke slowly, forming his words and thoughts as he went. "No punishment or anything like that is going to be dealt. There are other Gods and Goddess who would but I am not like them. I see no reason for such things to be so serious," he added.

    Faerdhinen fell silent and observed the mortal, watching his movements closely to see if he was in much pain. "Your wounds, did you need help changing the bandages?" he asked gently and softly.

    Cyros felt like shrinking up into a small little ball to just avoid this talk altogether, even though he was being assured he'd done nothing wrong. The man glanced at Faerdhinen standing so far away but decided to stay quiet about it rather than sound desperate to constantly be around the god.


    "Touch is just a comforting thing us humans use to help others who appear upset. It's just natural for us." he said with a small shrug. He peered down at his poorly wrapped wounds and bit back a chuckle. It looked as if a child had tried wrapping his wounds.


    Cyros turned his gaze back to Faerdhinen and gave a sheepish smile, nodding slowly. "Yes, please. I'm not quite certain how to do it as nice and neat as you do." he chuckled, removing his shirt entirely at that point so the wounds were easier to access.

    'Natural' Faerdhinen thought. Touch was not 'natural' in the Immortal Plane. It was pretty much forbidden... Then again 'touch' in this realm usually meant a God or Goddess trying to kill another. Faintly, Faerdhinen snorted at the thought. The truth was very different from what Mortals knew.


    Golden eyes softened as he took in the way the bandages were 'wrapped', true it was rather horrendous but at least he tried. A surprising amount of Mortals who came here were more than happy to have Faerdhinen take care of everything. Any motivation to do it themselves was swept away. Not that the God blamed them, they were in 'paradise'. Plus, the God brought them here to heal and be healed.

    "Practice makes perfect, as some mortals say. I'm more than happy to fix your bandages and change them when they need to be. But if you'd like I can also teach you how to do it, if you'd rather not have to come to me every time," Faerdhinen offered as he moved forward and took a seat beside the man.


    Then silently, he unwrapped the bandages rolling them in a ball and setting them aside as he went. Mentally, Faerdhinen fumed at the wounds they were inflicted upon this man. Their violence was horrid and something he had never approved of. However, for Cyros sake he did not outwardly react to the damage, as not wanting to offend him in any way.

    Shaking his rambling thoughts to the side he absently flicked his hand and had a bowl and two towels float beside him, without missing a beat he took a towel dampened it, and cleaned around the healing wounds. Letting go of the now bloody cloth Faerdhinen took the clean dry one and dried the wet spots before continuing to wrap the man's wounds.


    As he fell into a silent and easy rhythm of cleaning and wrapping, his thoughts drifted once more. 'This mortal was not like the others. He was more independent yet showed kindness in small ways. Cyros smile was warm too, in a way that was not like anyone the God knew. Twas not fake or forced like most Gods or Goddess, nor quite as nervous as the Mortals he brought here.' He thought with a fond smile. Then a nagging voice pipped up. 'Not to mention the Mortal man is not at all displeasing to the eye.' It teased, causing the God's eyes to widen and his cheeks to flush faintly, before him realizing it.

    Cyros watched with calm eyes while Faerdhinen began undoing his poorly wrapped bandages and replacing then. When offered to be taught how to do it properly, he nodded and blushed ever so slightly. "That would be great, thank you. I feel like such a child, making you do this for me." he chuckled and shook his head. "I also don't want to burden you too much with the tedious task of bandaging me up ever couple of days." he chuckled again, rubbing his chin slowly.


    Cyros glanced down and watched Faerdhinen's nimble fingers work the bandages off and clean his wounds. He winced every now and then whenever Faerdhinen's touch move over a tender spot around his cuts but he didn't say anything. He knew his wounds had to be cleaned or else they could get infected and cuts as deep as his could be fatal if they became infected.


    He leaned back on his hands on the bed, his eyes following Faerdhinen's every movement as the god wrapped him back up. His gaze drifted up to his face and he spotted the blush on his cheeks along with his wide eyes. "Faerdhinen?" he spoke softly, this time resisting the urge to touch him.

    Faerdhinen listened to the other’s words and shook his head slightly, fighting down the blush. “S-Sorry, yes?” he murmured, pausing in his work and looking up into the eyes of the mortal… Of Cyros. It was too much, gazing into those intense gray eyes.

    Ducking his head he quickly finished up his work, then he waved the dirty water, bandages, and towels away before standing. “Done. The wounds look well. They should heal in a matter of days, with the magic of this realm working into it,” he rambled, slitted eyes darting to and fro. His dark brown cats ears and tail twitched with anxiety and uncertainty.

    Cyros was going to ask about the look on Faerdhinen's face but the god went right back to cleaning him up so he was cut off from his train of thought. He sighed and scratched at his stubbly jawline, quietly musing to himself that he needed a shave. It was then that Cyros noticed Faerdhinen was once again in an awkward position, tail twitching and ears moving uncertainly.


    Cyros frowned deeply and in that moment he decided enough was enough. "Screw it.." he muttered as he stood up, reaching out and pulling the god tightly to his chest. He hugged him close, one hand resting on his back and the other settling on the back of his head. "What's the matter?" he questioned. "And I'm not letting you go until you tell me. You've been acting weird all day long. I'm worried about you.."