Court of the Fallen
now is now, and that was then - Printable Version

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now is now, and that was then - Rexanna - 09-20-2019

It was a long walk home, but they had made it through the snow – managing to avoid the sun whenever possible for Rexanna’s own safety. And when they made it back to the Settlement, instead of heading immediately for their homes, she directs the Sword to the Sanctuary. She knows how he feels about shrines and visiting them, but she has questions regarding the Roses – what they do to people, and more importantly what they could possibly do to the Ascended, if they’re there to cure the blight.

And the blight reacts similarly to how Ascended fluid does. Perhaps she must be more careful when planting them, should anything go awry.

Or perhaps it’s all for naut.

Regardless, she makes her way with Deimos in tow toward the Atheneum – heading straight for the two grooved books in the corner. The place she has Ascended, a small shrine… But a shrine nonetheless. She glances toward Deimos with a small encouraging smile, before she pulls open the shelves to reveal the obsidian sphere, and a dusting of offerings surrounding it. “[say]Lady Voice…[/say]” She begins, uncertain how to ask, what to say. She hasn’t done much with her Ascension, and she hopes perhaps that her goddess won’t be upset with her.

“[say]We have some questions regarding the roses being planted, if you have the time…[/say]” She pauses for a moment, glancing toward Deimos before she continues. “[say]And replenishment, please.[/say]” Even if the Voice doesn’t show, she still needs some extra based off of all she’s trekked through the Greatwood and back.



(please wait for deimos to post! He's joining in for shrine reqs! ily <3)


RE: now is now, and that was then - Deimos - 09-20-2019

If he could’ve dragged his feet in some petulant pout, he might have – and though the Sword shouldered an incredible amount of distrust, distaste, amongst a myriad of other embittered, rancorous sentiments towards deities and their ilk, the notion of visiting the Voice at all leant him down a reticent path. It was something to try, something to attempt, when they’d run out of other strands to investigate. His features meandered straight back into Helovian tactics, reticent, nonchalant, appearing utterly detached and void of any notion or emotion – even if Rexanna strived to make him crack a smile. There was a trepidation, a consternation, coiling its way through his ribs, because the circulated rumors hadn’t been kind, hadn’t been prosperous, and had been their way into treacherous, deceitful paths. He once might’ve been grateful for the Voice’s role in ensuring Rexanna’s liberation from Zariah’s clutches, but now, with everything else rampaging through, blight instilled and fermenting, decaying over finer beings, roses needing to be planted, guarded, and the rest of the chaos entangled over their world – his opinions were skewed.

The beast wasn’t even aware of where a shrine to the Voice was, following after Rexanna’s slight grins, winding only portions of the Atheneum he had yet to meander through, only proffering small, nearly inaudible sighs expanding through his chest, through his lungs, a swift inhale as he pondered the depths of roles and upheavals, how seditious things had become, undermining, underpinning thoughts taut and clambering around his meticulous mind.

Had she sought to infect them all? Had she meant to extinguish all other races? Had she intended to slink her poison, her vitriol, her might into the rest of them, until the Ascendeds took over? Until it was only them remaining, existing in spite and strife?

Hundreds of inquiries circled his machinations, and he had a feeling none of them would be answered – not to him. His eyes watched as Rexanna pulled open shelves, narrowing his gaze at the obsidian orb, the collection of offerings surrounding; as if it were tucked away, unseen, unheard, unnoticed. Would anyone notice if it was broken, misshapen, mauled? Or would anyone be capable – too protected, too nourished, too required and needed by its individuals? Seditious, mutinous, he offered nothing except a fought-off sneer, channeling calm and composure, standing behind the once-Thief, only slightly tilting his head at replenishment; awaiting some inevitable reeling of being ignored entirely, or another dreadful conclusion.


RE: now is now, and that was then - Random Event - 09-22-2019

Perhaps it is the presence of the Abandoned than prevents Rexanna's goddess from appearing. Or perhaps it is as she fears, and the planting of the roses is beginning, already, to have a negative effect on the Ascended and all that they hold dear. Or maybe the Voice is simply preoccupied with something, and unable to grace them with her presence.

Whatever the reason, the shrine remains lifeless. Rexanna will feel a surge of pleasant static, however, from the orb that sits nestled within. She is replenished, and ready to face the world once more.


RE: now is now, and that was then - Rexanna - 09-24-2019

The shrine remains lifeless, and for a moment Rexanna considers tapping on it. Certainly, something should happen… Right? She glances for a moment toward Deimos with a light shrug, before a feeling cascades over her – and despite the wary travel they had done, she feels incredibly refreshed and vibrant again. So instead of saying anything to Deimos immediately, she turns back to the Shrine, a dip of her head in a small curtsy of sorts (you can take the lady out of royalty, but you can’t take the royalty out of the lady) as she murmurs a quiet thank you to the Voice.

And then she turns to Deimos with a light frown and a shrug. “[say]She is not coming.[/say]” She informs him lightly, reaching out to brush his shoulder gently with an encouraging smile. “[say]She’s heard us though.[/say]” She adds, a bright fanged smile crossing her face, as though the brightness has returned to her eyes that the Sword might be able to notice. She’s been refreshed, the goddess having been here and yet… Not. And while it’s not the answers she seeks, she knows it’s at least something… That they’ve been heard.

“[say]We can try again some other time.[/say]”


RE: now is now, and that was then - Deimos - 09-24-2019

Nothing. The Sword was so used to it by now that the notion doesn’t even simmer or spiral against him; he’d half-expected silence and its deafening contortions. Not worth it, not enough sunk into his bones, between measures of relief that he wouldn’t have to see her, and other consternations that, once again, they’d received naught for answers. [say]“Sorry,”[/say] he began, a routine, a habit, of making apologies when others led him to shrines and temples, presuming his presence was the reason why they received a non-response. He arched a brow, watching, waiting, as Rexanna still appeared to grant the sphere some respect with a curtsy (he committed no such thing – narrowed his eyes and brooded, staring menacingly at the object, as if he could burst it with just his caustic stare), then turning, and shrugging at him.

She is not coming - not a surprise. He shrugged in return, though was befuddled to understand and contemplate the notion that she’d heard them.

And he really didn’t want to try again. He didn’t want anything to do with that damned goddess and her spread of disease; but for Rexanna’s presence and efforts, he simply nodded, intending to yield to her movements, and preside out of the area.