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Defros had waited far too long for this day to come.

My, he certainly had a few tricks up his sleeve.

The Weaver of Fate was exuberant, to say the least, as this was an annual commitment he dare not forget -- how could he? Chaos and havoc, such noble gratuity. And so, the god was adamant not turn down his right to indulge in this rigmarole, rebellious party; materializing upon the subversive gorge in a spiel of divination, a snarl betrothed, low. There was nowt concern or care if mortals could not make it atop these minacious cliffs, jagged by pikes and conical edges. It, of course, was all but a sinistrorsal merriment. Here, a feast would be made in cacodemonic celebration –– platinum eyes, harder than scree, stared at the irate seas –– vile, a smirk besmirched the man's velvety lips. There was no better time to play, “Mortals, come and dine in some fine, better-age wine.” Making sure that all could hear the words he spoke in dark, valorous power, magic wove in the concoction of a buffet. Tables fashioned from the earthen marl, cloth bestrewed over them in vivid decoration; palatial entrees of meat, fruits, vegetables and various drinks spindled atop it for flavour.

Come they shall, or shan’t. Once done, Defros disappeared, particles dematerializing back into the immortal heavens. The god was eager.

SUMMARY

Defros has laid out a feast in Defros' Pass, available to all that can get to it. The characters that have entered into Defros' Gamble/Defros' Temptation are affected by the curse/gifts in this thread. Those that participate may request the Fate Festival Diamond () to be added to their profile.

He walks. | "He talks."


Glaucus Rose-Esma


Glaucus had, well, been bored, to say the least. Now, as an adult, such deviations had yet to be revamped into a more illuminating turnover; fortunes favoured the bold, did they not? Robed by an iron-will and a sharp, smarmy tongue, the wolf intended to use it at his own discretion, wherever that be incumbent. It was tantalising, like a covet he could not satisfice. A brow came up, punctilious and vigilant to the periphery, the unknown -- eyes of marigold-oceans held a stony, competitive expression -- searching, perhaps, for sugar and spice. But then, a voice impinged like a phantom’s anarchy. The man didn’t know what to think, murky cocoa and charcoal hairs bristling in a surge of vainglorious prowess, immodesty, as he became notably imperilled by the altitude of a craggy ridge.

It was rickety, yet he trekked with certitude.

Was he afeared, though?

No, Glaucus Rose-Esma dubbed himself gallant –– a hellhound, a mulish asshole –– need he say more? Spiralling horns of bonemeal white incised and spoked at the airspace above, a macho expression furnishing the boy in cosmic fiat. If not for self-gloat, then what? He wore it like a vizard, strutting impression with absolute laudation. And soon, at the serac’s apex, the wolf was greeted by an earthen marl table, bestrewed in cloth with palatial entrees of meat, fruit, vegetables and alcohol. Fuckin’ hell, talk about a feast! He was euphoric, hungry; so, he indulged in a portion of fleshy muscle, savouring its sinewy goodness.

Fire 0/2 | Metal 0/2.
Compass 0/1.





Erlik “Kronos” Collins


Pull my hair and fuck me sideways; how long had it been since Erlik fraternised with a living gal, a doll? Or, truthfully, a flamin’ soul in general? Yeah, it’d been far too long, actually.

Of course, he didn’t care for formalities and tea parties, but considering the prior circumstances that Erlik was in, he vowed to never let such inane, vile discrepancies happen again. It was his way or the highway. The man had been unambiguously contemptuous on many ideations, bred from bigotry and barbarous proclivities; horns of bourbon sauntered into the aerosphere above, garnet-red eyes lacquered by the need to do what he did best. He’d lost the porcelain toy, but c’est la vie. There will always be bonny, juicier guerdon’s to greedily decry -- oh, the very thought of it had his skin writhing like an infestation of mites -- an impulse, even, unable to be tranquilised. Pets were so personable. It’s hard to forget that insalubrious obsession he has with cogency, possession and dolls alike, treating them as if they were his goddahm life source. Oh, to inherit one more would be splendid. However, it was then a voice obtruded upon Erlik’s abominable thoughts, inviting all to attend a feast, a banquet. Whiskey, bourbon and gold hackles horripilated with astute supremacy, curious yet chary –– what could it possibly be for? Was it a festival of sorts? Climbing the treacherous fractures, he moved with intrepid prosperity, intention, and a collectively brash demeanour that embosomed him in a snarky prowess.

A brisk glance to the boy, he didn’t care much for their presence. “Looks bloody delicious,” The man’s thick, Australian accent slewed from those velvety lips in pleasure; he too, took the liberty to wallow. Erlik was a fiery tempest that shone like a leviathan’s lordliness.

Stoic, vinous, smug –– ain’t nothin’ better.

Fire 0/6 | Psychic 0/2.
Charm 0/1 | Smoketrail 0/1.
Specimen ∞ | Agile ∞ | Durable ∞ | Legend Lore ∞ | Lucky ∞.