Kentang_2_0



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    “Who,” Eurypon asked, his mind immediately going back to his son. He hoped Mydeimos had managed to escape from that pervert's clutches. Found some excuse to slip away. Gone to bed early or something. Really, anything would work.

    He grimaced, his thoughts souring instantly as reality hit him.

    His son didn't want to get away from that pervert. His son was probably with that pervert right now, doing gods knew what, completely by choice and his own free will.

    Phainon and Mydei's relationship through (mostly) Eurypon's eyes throughout the years.

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    17 Feb 2026

  2. Public Bookmark 15

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    When Phainon’s sword shattered his tenth thoracic vertebrae, he didn’t feel relieved like he thought he would be. He didn’t feel happy after being free from his torment.

    He didn’t feel content.

    Mydei felt anguish.

    Phainon’s great sword is like a key, one that freed Mydei from his own crumbling insanity. But despite it, all Mydei could feel is a deep sense of sorrow.

    —————

     

    In which first cycle Mydei became the dawnmaker and accompanied Khaslana each and every step.

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    13 Feb 2026

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    “Lord Phainon has such a thick face,” Mydei hears in the Marmoreal Market one day.

    He doesn’t turn, but he does tune out the hawking of the merchants some more to hone in on the conversation. Phainon is fairly fit, though, he ponders, half amused and half bemused, as he picks up a pomegranate. Surely if anything, his arms are thicker than his face?

    Or, how Mydei tries to find something that makes Phainon blush.

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    27 Jan 2026

  4. Public Bookmark 13

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    Phainon is a Ghoul who kills for pleasure.
    Mydeimos is the investigator who almost kills him back.
    This is not a love story.
    It is a slow, obsessive dance between two beings that should have never want each other and the violence that intertwines them.

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    22 Jan 2026

  5. Public Bookmark *

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    Eternal Recurrence #3,400,236 concluded as all that came before, and as all would come after. And yet, there remains a shimmering memory of it, something that stands out in that broken brain of his.

    “You're crying.”

    Khaslana lifts his tired gaze from their hands, blinks against the salty vapors rising from where his waterline glimmers.

    “I am.”

    Mydei is cupping his face, holding him gently by the jaw, and Khaslana barely feels it.

    “You're breaking.”

    “Yeah.” It's hollow, his voice. Numb. “I know.”

    ____

    Khaslana's long, long journey toward true daybreak, and all those shimmering, bloodstained memories collected along the way.

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    21 Jan 2026