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you wouldn't get it
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living like happily ever ...
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(se) eastbound
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  revel in the shards
Posted by: Deimos - Yesterday, 08:13 PM - Forum: Ludo's Woods - Replies (2)

Portals and walks, preparations and nuances, information and a press of the unknown down the edges, the columns, of his spine, led him into the thicket of the Fae woods. A thousand speculations hovered along the back of his mind, piercing and unwinding, until he could fathom no more, and they ran into deeper subsets – pondering over the nature of Ascended souls, and the freedom, the liberation, of their quandaries. In all transparency, only Rexanna’s concerned him, but if they could get one, they should’ve been able to snag all, and so perhaps most of them could come by happenstance. The how, the where, the when, and other questions were unadorned figments, rampaging along a Machiavellian skull that had no answers into their formulations. Much like everything else nowadays.

He navigated the eerie, enigmatic timber as he so often did; with caution, with vigilance, with predilection, not wanting to be caught unawares in its sanction. Tricky, labyrinthine, and laden with spirits, with orbs, with ghosts, he could feel the vestiges of spirits rising as he walked, as he tred further, as Zuriel’s footfalls traced behind his, as dimensions and denizens gave no heed to a common man. The sound of rain might’ve ricocheted against his ear drums, and he ignored it as best he could; choosing to not be haunted at this hour. Not when there were too many other things to do. [say]“I am looking for Delphia,”[/say] he spoke to the forest, to the leaves, to the eaves, to the world that always seemed to be listening; to the webs and traces of otherworldly factions he’d never quite understand.

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  (se) soon be my choice of which you'll have no part of (open)
Posted by: Alina - 11-25-2020, 11:45 AM - Forum: Crimson Cataract - No Replies

Alina wasn't a huge fan of any changes, let alone the rapid changes that were threatening to take place in the Greatwood. So she took herself off to a private spot to think. In her hands, she held some cloth and some grass, along with a few buttons. Although she wasn't a fan of the new, some traditions came from the gods themselves. Still, she had a lot to think about, and always thought better with something to do.

So when she reached the Crimson Cataract, she settled down at the water's edge. Staring at the lichen, she made sure to give it a wide berth. Then she took out a needle made of bone and some thread. Sitting in a cross-legged position, she began to sew the grass into the cloth, only half-paying attention to what she was doing.

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  wishes beneath the stars
Posted by: Anden - 11-24-2020, 06:20 PM - Forum: Shrine - No Replies

It hadn't been too long since Wessex held the meeting, and spoke of war. It wasn't long ago that Anden made the choice to leave the grounds. Even less time since Dani decided to join him. They would leave the Grounds behind, in search of all of the beauty in this world. Anden had finished all of his preparations - well almost.

It had been even longer since Anden was in the Glade. Not since he took Dani here, and they were tormented by Ludo's tricks. For what he wanted to do though, this was the best place for it. To prayer. Something the Outlander had yet to do, something he would have never done only a season ago. But like the seasons change, so had Anden.

Beneath the stars he felt his best. With each step he took towards the shrine he traced out the different constellations he and his friends had found.

The Evergreen Tree - a symbol of Anden's home. A reminder every night of why he had to be strong. Out there somewhere was his former life. Eloise Marie had to be here somewhere. A reminder that while some things, your roots will never change. Deep down, despite everything Anden was still himself - nothing the Voice could do would change that.

The Flying Bird - Dani... Flying free from the constraints of her old world. It remined Anden to push forward. Even the most timid of birds learn to fly from the nest eventually. Anden couldn't let his memories of his past life hold him back. He had to be brave and take flight, or he might never be free.

The Petal of the Evergreen Tree - Aisha... Always flowing freely from place to place. A sign of a brighter future ahead for those who sought freedom. Anden had to follow the beauty in Caido, he had to form his own path.

With memories of his friends shining down on him, Anden knelt down at the shrine, offering a collection of flowers he'd found. To who he was praying, at this point he wasn't even sure. The Voice was his goddess, he understood that. He might not see eye-to-eye with how she did things, but she made him stronger. But he'd heard enough about the old gods to wonder what they were like.

[say]"Hello."[/say] Anden wiped his hair from his face. He wasn't sure how this worked. [say]"I need your guidance. I'm leaving the Grounds, and I need to be able to protect my friend. I need to keep us safe.[/say] Anden thought back to Dani, he couldn't lose her like Eloise Marie. [say]"Please I just want to be strong enough to show her the world."[/say]

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  A long time coming
Posted by: the VOICE - 11-24-2020, 04:27 PM - Forum: The Spire - No Replies

Two chunks of mageglass. The air around the Voice hums with magical energy, the potential of which has not been this tangible in years. Two pieces of mageglass, with which the abandoned might have made a stand against the ascended. With which the demigods and the Order might have stopped what the Voice was about to do.

But it was the ascended who triumphed. Nevermind that the Order knew of their plans. Nevermind that one of the demigods wanted to put a stop to her plans.

They had succeeded, just as the Voice knew they would.

In the very core of the Spire itself, the Voice nestles herself amongst brick and mortar and other unseen mechanisms. With the mageglass in her possession, she is able to alter the machine she created nearly three centuries ago.

A beam of light dazzles into the sky from the Spire, illuminating the dark cloud cover with light, and transforming the midnight blacks of nightfall into a day-glow white. The light lingers there for about thirty seconds, before the world descends back into darkness, forever changed.

Thanks to the efforts of Wessex, Amun, Neron, and Nate, the site has been fundamentally changed!

Incoming Outlanders can now ONLY be Accepted or Ascended!

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  [OPEN SE] nothing but the best
Posted by: Bastien - 11-23-2020, 11:01 PM - Forum: Domiciles - Replies (2)

If anyone had ever had the gall to say that Bastien De Rosieres was not simply the most extravagant, fantastic man they had ever known, they would regret the statement now. Just as the sun was dipping from the sky he brought out from the doors of the Artist's Sanctuary large sheets and planks, each about as tall as he was, and began to arrange them. Those passing by would notice that the sheets were painted with stars and constellations, the deep blue colour punctuated by sewn holes and gold accents of paint.

This construction was to be his lantern. As if Rexanna could be represented by some piddly little box! No, his wife deserved the best, and he was going to make sure she got it. One side of the lantern bore a life-size portrait of Rexanna, in the golden dress he remembered painting her in the first time and the other side a painting of her with him and Azrael, something personal written in Italian beneath.

There were a few things left to do, which he needed it constructed for; the Artist's Sanctuary had low ceilings and so Bastien had had to take his work out into the street, where he began to carve the planks that formed the edges of the 'lantern' into curving, waving shapes, far more aesthetically pleasing than mere plain wood.

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  (se) eastbound
Posted by: Aisha - 11-23-2020, 09:39 PM - Forum: Domiciles - Replies (4)

Stepping back through the portal had been strange, finding herself no longer in the cold of the fangs but in the bed of the spire.

Even stranger was walking to the manor, opening the door and finding it how she had left it. The kitchen smelled of stew, the fire was burning, it was as it had always been. Not enough.

The strangest thing was sleeping in her bed, the room she'd spent a full year in, the room she'd watched feel smaller and smaller. Her blanket wrapped around her shoulders, reminding her always of her first day in Caido and the comfort she'd found in Oliver. She slept restlessly, dreaming of flying above the sea of ice on the fox's wings, flapping through the night and diving upon prey that hid in the barren crevices. There was so much about the place that she despised; the cold, the desolation, the endless white and jagged stone. But there was something she really liked as well; the atmosphere of the citadel, the excitement of living somewhere new.

Even icy blues are better than gray.

The next morning she awoke to the familiar sunlight streaming through her window, and she threw off her blanket to head downstairs. She had some things planned for while she was here, and one of them was to work on a Ludo doll for the event in Torchline. She had no obligation to go, but she was interested in meeting the god herself, and flexing those artistic skills she definitely didn't have (she was gonna try though).

And so she sat down at the long table in the dining room with some things she'd collected; fiery toned paints concocted from ochre and berries, some straw, a stick and some charcoal. She started by weaving the straw doll, the way her mother had taught her when she was very young. Probably the only craft of the like she'd ever been taught, for there was a similar doll making festival back in her city.

She wove the straw tightly around the stick, thick in some places and thin in others to create a small feminine form. A sharp leopard's fang worried at her lip as she focused, trying her best not to fuck up like with the last straw piece she'd done.

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  (SE) The Artistic Expression of Bitterness
Posted by: Iris - 11-23-2020, 09:33 PM - Forum: The Artist's Sanctuary - Replies (2)

Iris made her way through the ancient streets of the Sanctuary with determined stride. The days had begun to shorten and dusk was already on the horizon, thickening the shade. Every turn she took, her shadows followed, dancing in the corner of her eye.

Her father, Erasmus, staring straight at her from the side alleys. Radiating wrath with a murderous intensity, jaw tight with disdain.

The traitor he killed, eyes still as wood, but wet and glistening. Mouth gaping as if uttering a final cry. A warning.

And then, every once in a while, Elias.

Finally, she was in front of the Artist's Sanctuary. She left her ghosts out on the street when she closed the door behind her. This was the place. Having scanned the room, bright and full of colorful baubles and their more or less skilled makers, she proceeded to mile about, gathering bits and pieces of advice and materials.

Iris was not a talented craftsman, but she was a stubborn perfectionist, so she decided that her present for the trickster god would be made to a certain standard. For this, she needed help.

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  come join the party
Posted by: Wessex - 11-23-2020, 02:07 AM - Forum: The Settlement - Replies (6)

The realization came on the tail end of her last message as she felt for the familiar minds of her siblings; there’s an extra one, an extra unfamiliar presence. She can’t help but wonder how long this Ascended has been here, why it’s kept its distance, if any of them have found it yet. Or worse, if others have already poisoned it against its siblings, its mother, its eventual place in everything that’s going down. And Gods, what a shitty time for an Ascended to be new to Caido.

No, what a dangerous time. Wessex worries, she can’t help it.

In between all the meetings and trips and explorations, the Wraith searches for this person. She can feel them in the Grounds, but not where, only that they’re more near than far. And after a few days she switches her tactic, looking for someone who stands out as a new Outlander, rather than an Ascended.

Eventually, she thinks, she’s found him: a young man, a stranger, yet definitely, definitely Ascended, according to her senses. This time, she doesn’t feel the need to play anything up, trying to move parallel to him, unobtrusive at first, until she can swing in to intercept his path. Which she does, with a slight smile and a forceful, firm presence.

[say] “Hello.”[/say]

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  Be Thankful for Family In All Its Forms
Posted by: Belril - 11-20-2020, 09:33 PM - Forum: The Settlement - Replies (1)

Both the Abandoned and the Attuned were walking back from the fields to the settlement, the former's eyes looking every which way in order to avoid strange happenings to him. After almost a full year living on his own, it's a habit that's not easy to break by this point.

[say]"...so...what is your family like,"[/say] Belril asked of Henry, who has had to spend a little bit more energy than normal to keep up with the longer-legged person he was traveling with and was breathing somewhat-heavy as a result. Belril wasn't mad about the energy drain, no one asked to be as tall or short as they were...but he would appreciate someplace to sit when they got to where he was being led to...

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  When the end will not reveal its face
Posted by: Remi - 11-20-2020, 06:51 PM - Forum: Sidhe Village - Replies (4)

It was no secret that Remi Taliesin was now a resident of the Greatwood. For years and years only Ianto and Delphia had the honour of living properly among the fae. Though the alchemist was dwelling in Vai's old cabin in the woods and not in the village, still he knew his presence had been felt throughout the Greatwood.

For better or worse, they were all going to have to work together now. Having left a note on the notice board to let the remaining fae know of his intentions to hold a meeting to discuss the reason he was in their woods, and what Vi and Mort had instructed him to do, Remi waits in the village. Having one been governor of Torchline, having been in strange positions that required leadership, the alchemist is not so bumbling and awkward in front of crowds as he might once have been. Still, he doesn't wear the mantle of leadership well, even more so with Ronin around him to provide his unwavering support. But, this isn't about him, as Mort and Vi made clear.

So here he is, standing beneath the dappled sunlight; this non-soldier in charge of creating a stronghold against the ascended.

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