I will never let you fall
Eriadne
Nephele Amoret
Botanist / Engineer

Age: 53 | Height: 5'0 | Race: Fae | Nationality: Natural
Level: 1 - Strg: 11 - Dext: 14 - Endr: 20 - Luck: 2
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#1
Every wound will shape me...
The last rose is a weight on her hip that feels as if it's burning a brand into her skin. The urgency with which she flies from the Spire makes her spine ache and her cheeks sharply red with the speeds she forces herself to reach. There is no time to waste. Nephele is unsure if the idea she has in mind will come to fruition, but it is one she has to try.

If the roses could heal the earth, could they heal a Fae?

Her chest heaves when she finally makes it to the Village, wings slowing though her feet do not touch down as she searches for the shock of hair that signifies her twin. "Eri?" she cries nonetheless, nervous of the approaching encounter but sure of what she must do. Eriadne was a trained warrior, and Nephele stood no chance against her in a fight. But Nephele is wily, and above all else, desperate for a cure. Her sister is likely still but a shade of her former self, but she keeps one hand in her satchel on the rose stem nonetheless, ready to meet whatever Eriadne throws her way.
Every scar will build my throne
Eriadne Amoret
Guard

Age: 53 | Height: 5'0 | Race: Fae | Nationality: Natural
Level: 0 - Strg: 11 - Dext: 12 - Endr: 12 - Luck:
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#2
ERIADNE
Eriadne had long since retreated into the deepest part of her tree hollow, away from the prying eyes of Fae that remained untouched by the Blight. It was too bright anywhere but the darkest recesses of the old roots where she made her home. They had seen the rise of Fae society and all that had come since but even the sight of the redhead oozing the black sludge of the Blight had never graced their presence before. Her signature hair that was once her prized feature- healthy, and strong -had become stringy and sparse in comparison to it's previous luster. Once proud and a force to be reckoned with, Eri had become only a memory to who she once prided herself on.

The sound of a voice pulled her from her reverie. The claws her unkempt nails resembled paused against the raw skin of her forearm where they'd created grooves of repetition. It seemed familiar but despite the nagging in the back of her mind, Eriadne struggled to place the significance around the soprano that called to her. Only when she turns to the source does the barest of semblance of recognition dawn on her.

"What do you want? Can't you tell I want to be alone?" She spits the words as the black sludge slips from her mouth to spatter along the floor. Steel eyes can hardly stay trained on this stranger, her sister, as she searches the room for the nearest weapon.

Nephele Amoret
Botanist / Engineer

Age: 53 | Height: 5'0 | Race: Fae | Nationality: Natural
Level: 1 - Strg: 11 - Dext: 14 - Endr: 20 - Luck: 2
Played by: Brit Offline
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#3
Every wound will shape me...
She is as stained and tainted as a soul could be, manic and consumed by the literal darkness that seeps from her pores. It haunts and hurts, to see the woman meant to be her perfect half fading into madness and obscurity. Eriadne's life hangs in the balance, and Nephele would sooner thrust a dagger through her heart on Mort's doorstep than let her sister's spark die. A world without Eriadne is not a world Nephele can live in.

So though her words are sharp, cutting, a cruelty she has never experienced from her beloved, she bears the lashing tongue with a tremulous breath and continues moving forward. Eri could crush her easily, but if she's to die by her sister's hand then that will be her end. Nephele could never hurt her. Not even with her own life on the line.

But she still moves swiftly, not giving Eri the chance to track down a weapon in the hovel of a home she has created. "I've come to try and cure you," she says firmly, though the shake of her hands betrays her. Nephele pulls the rose from her bag, terrified of it potentially being destroyed but unwilling to let this chance of healing her sister go. Surely Vi would understand? Knowing how the Blight and its victims seemed intent on stopping all planting progress, she flies swiftly from where she stands, getting as close to Eriadne in one moment as possible. Still concealing the rose by her hip, desperate to get in striking range.
Every scar will build my throne
Eriadne Amoret
Guard

Age: 53 | Height: 5'0 | Race: Fae | Nationality: Natural
Level: 0 - Strg: 11 - Dext: 12 - Endr: 12 - Luck:
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#4
ERIADNE
Cure? There was no need for a cure for someone like her. Eri's shoulders pulled up to her ears, wings fluttering in agitation. They'd lost their shine weeks ago, the reflective nature of their biological make covered in the black film that covered her surroundings. Not even the light of the candle lit at the foot of the stairs, burned to the base with hardly a wick to make note of. Soon that would be gone and she would be left blind in the roots of her tree.

Her tree.

This trespasser comes in like the Fae knights in stories that whisper at the back of her mind. White armor and swords drawn, or in this case, red hair and a hand to hide her weapon.  Eriadne narrowed her gaze as she backed up despite her slowed reflexes. First her home, and now her space. A deep snarl rips from her throat as she clenches her fists before using her knuckles to push the other away from her. Combatting the nag of familiarity she pulls her hands away as if burned by the contact, crossing them defensively over her chest.

"Who are you to know best? A savior?" Eriadne scoffed, turning her head with a flourish from the twin in front of her though one would be hard-pressed to see resemblance after she hid away. Self-inflicted wounds oozed with the black sludge along all parts of her body not covered by once fine clothing. "Because you're the smart one. Coming down here wasn't so smart."

A pause.

"Nephele."

Nephele Amoret
Botanist / Engineer

Age: 53 | Height: 5'0 | Race: Fae | Nationality: Natural
Level: 1 - Strg: 11 - Dext: 14 - Endr: 20 - Luck: 2
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#5
Every wound will shape me...
Never did Nephele expect her sister to become a stranger to her, even in their rivalries. The woman before her is but a shade of her former glory, a diseased tree whose roots cling to life by siphoning it from all living things around it. There is no time for mourning, however. There had been enough time for that since the Blight had first taken hold and she had fruitlessly tried to find answers. Now is a time for action. Rebellion. Antagonism in a way Nephele had never experienced, taking arms against the one whose love she had never questioned.

Like a sickly she-wolf, Eriadne's snipping and snarling is only a sign of worsening ailment. Nephele would never stick her hand down the den of such a beast. But this is her sister, her home, the heart of her world. There is nothing Nephele wouldn't do, wont do, to save her. Forgiveness is no question. Whatever Eriadne seeks to do to her, it is already forgotten. This is not her twin, and she knows those hands would never hurt her with clarity on her side. So when hard hands push her away, voice spitting poison, Nephele soldiers on. Eri knows her name, no matter how it's twisted on her tongue, and that is a good thing.

"Your sister," she declares, voice quiet but firm. She advances again, undaunted by the shove. Relentless. For even the sharpest of rocks are smoothed by the eternal battering of the ocean waves. "I am your other half. Your completion. I am your faith, and you are my courage. I know your soul, and I am here. Forever. Until the end. No matter how you push me away." They are likely meaningless words to Eri now, but she can't leave them unsaid. So she rises from the ground, wings swift, far faster than Eriadne has ever managed. Like a diving hawk she throws the entirety of her small body against Eriadne, and brandishes the rose at any open patch of skin she can find. Praying to Vi all the while to bring her sister home to her.
Every scar will build my throne
Eriadne Amoret
Guard

Age: 53 | Height: 5'0 | Race: Fae | Nationality: Natural
Level: 0 - Strg: 11 - Dext: 12 - Endr: 12 - Luck:
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#6
ERIADNE
Eriadne had never been a match for her sister's speed. The nimbleness and grace that Nepehele carried herself with since they were children had always been of envy to Eri. Her larger wings allowed for longer flights but reaching the speeds to match her sister had always been near impossible. Never before had the discrepancy been as apparent as it was now.

Before she even has a chance to react, her own wings held captive to the frame of her body by the sludge, her sister is upon her. She sees no reason for the deep-seated fear that has lodged itself in her throat when her back makes contact with the root wall behind them. There is nowhere for her to run, no shadows for her to hide the heinous transformation from beauty to beast.

And so she screams.

She screams until her lungs feel like they're going to fill with more black ooze than air, the spittle from her lips dripping along her chin as she feels a sharp, stabbing pain along the inside of her forearm. Any other time and the pain would only be a nuisance. Running barefoot through thorns in the Greatwood was simply a past time for children of the Fae when their duties left them idle. The searing pain that followed this rose was abnormal, though no more so than the Blight that covered her body.

But as any pain was, it remained to be a temporary state before the fog that had made a home of her mind seemed to ease. The relief was all too physical for Eriadne as her body slumped forward, falling into Nephele without any sign of reluctance. While one hand grips her sister's wrist with the flower to steady herself, the other reaches to brush across her cheek as she rests her own on Neph's shoulder.

"Nephele, I don't... I can't apologize for what's come over me. I had no idea..." Eriadne pauses to cup her sisters face as she pulls herself up to look at her. Finally looking at her to see her other half. Her own gaze blurs, shaking her head as her lips part again. "Did I hurt you? You have to believe that I never wanted this, dear sister."

Her voice falters despite the conviction behind her words, searching her soulmates face for any sign of injury. Her own appearance is for once far from her mind, for however briefly, as she slowly comes back to a saner place of mind. While her actions in a Blighted mind were blurry, the disgust she felt with herself made no pretense of hiding.

Nephele Amoret
Botanist / Engineer

Age: 53 | Height: 5'0 | Race: Fae | Nationality: Natural
Level: 1 - Strg: 11 - Dext: 14 - Endr: 20 - Luck: 2
Played by: Brit Offline
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#7
Every wound will shape me...
Nephele knows Eriadne would scold her for it any other time, but she closes her eyes as they slam together. Too scared to see what may happen, terrified of Eri's hand rising to strike her down. They only clench tighter as her sister screams, the sound of her pain and fear like a fire that turns her insides to ash and clogs her throat. If her sister dies, Nephele will surely follow, for this world will hold no other meaning without her. But she presses forward, tears streaking down her cheeks, praying to take this agony from her sister's veins. It was so horribly unfair. If anyone should have fallen sick, it should have been Nephele. Not Eri. Never Eri.

The screams subside, and Nephele slowly opens her bloodshot eyes, praying more fervently to Vi than she ever has in her long life. Bring her back. Please, bring her back to me.

And there she is. Eyes clear for the first time in many suns and moons, hatred erased from her face. Nephele's arms come forth to catch her sister, feeling as though she is an ancient tree, roots buried deep and immovable. Whatever weight her sister carries, Nephele will bear it.

"Eri," is all she can sob, smiling until her cheeks hurt. Relief crashes over her in waves as her head is clasped and cradled, and she turns to press a kiss to her twin's palm, trusting these hands to never hurt her now that Eriadne's mind is clear. "It's okay, it's all gonna be okay now," she assures, knowing it's no answer. Doesn't Eriadne know that she would suffer any pain at her sister's hand if it meant curing her? "I-I've missed you so much," she expels on a hiccup, but nothing can stop her trembling smile.

How long? Is this a cure, or a temporary salve? Even now her scientific mind undermines her joy with the idea that this is not permanent. But why else would Vi have them plant the roses? "It's only temporary I think," wrenches itself miserably from her, hating to have to tell Eriadne this. "But Vi is curing it. It won't be long, I swear to you I'm going to fix this. Just stay with me, okay?" Desperation clings to her words in the same way her tears cling to her lashes, hazel eyes staring frantically at Eriadne. The Pit would not contain her sister normally, but with her wings out of commission, perhaps her twin would consent to being temporarily placed there. Neph knows she'd rather die than hurt any of their village, perhaps her pride will succumb to that threatening idea.
Every scar will build my throne
Eriadne Amoret
Guard

Age: 53 | Height: 5'0 | Race: Fae | Nationality: Natural
Level: 0 - Strg: 11 - Dext: 12 - Endr: 12 - Luck:
Played by: Dyn Offline
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Posts: 9
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#8
ERIADNE
With barely a moment to regain herself, she feels her heart plummet as quickly as an acorn during Leafchange in the Greatwood at Neph's statement. With a clear mind, she can feel every bit of the Blight that has her body trapped and flightless. If she could only shed her skin like the snakes she had chased as a child she would never be more grateful to feel clean. As it was now, she's not sure if any amount of scrubbing will remove the blackened tint her skin had taken.

Or if she even had time to take a bath in the first place.

"How long has it been since..." She doesn't have to finish her thought to know that Nephele will understand. Eriadne finds herself too short of breath to continue regardless, the thought of becoming lost in her mind once more teasing at the edge of her consciousness. Clarity was only a temporary state for her now. Until... Until what? Until the gods decided to stop playing with their lives?

Despite her calmed state a growl pulls from her throat without permission as she pulls Nephele closer to her. The wings trapped on her back ache as they strain to take them far from the Greatwood where the Blight was simply a story told to scare children; if such a place could exist.

"I'm not going anywhere. I promise." She runs a hand through her sister's hair before pulling away and trying to disentangle the sludge from her hand that was caught in Neph's hair. "But you and I both know we have to plan for the eventuality of a relapse. I may have stayed to myself this time but next time... We don't know what will happen next time. Or when it will happen as long as the gods remain idle."

Even the idea of hurting her sister refuses to be brought to life by her tainted lips. If she were to hurt the only other person that cared about her in this lifetime then she wouldn't be able to live with herself. Falling on the edge of an Outsider's blade would surely hurt less than seeing her sister hurt.
Nephele Amoret
Botanist / Engineer

Age: 53 | Height: 5'0 | Race: Fae | Nationality: Natural
Level: 1 - Strg: 11 - Dext: 14 - Endr: 20 - Luck: 2
Played by: Brit Offline
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Posts: 52
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#9
Every wound will shape me...
Time has seemed to slip through her fingers as of late. She shakes her head restlessly, as if to cast away those days where she did not have Eriadne by her side. Days she had never prepared for and ones that she prays will never come again. "Almost a season," she whispers, pain drawing little lines in the corners of her eyes, in the downturn of her mouth.

Nephele folds into Eriadne's protective embrace, going wherever those hands guide her. Her first cradle, the ones that had patched her skinned knees and shoved her into brambles alike. A choked-up laugh escapes her as her sister's sticky hand smooths through her hair. Normally it would send her caterwauling up the nearest tree, but she doesn't care right now. Instead she presses closer, heedless of the sludge that coats her sister's body, and tries to ignore the reality of the words Eriadne speaks. Though she knows them to be true, she can't stand the idea of imprisoning her own twin sister.

"I don't want to lock you away like a monster," her voice wavers alongside the tears that blur her vision."I...the pit could work. But I swear we're fixing it as fast as we can. I don't want to leave you again," and here is the unsaid pleading, the quiet beg that Eriadne does not force her to do so. But she knows deep inside that she has to. That Eriadne will make her. Even if only to finish her task, she must leave. Even if it tears her heart out to have her sister back for only the briefest of moments, just to abandon her once more.
Every scar will build my throne
Eriadne Amoret
Guard

Age: 53 | Height: 5'0 | Race: Fae | Nationality: Natural
Level: 0 - Strg: 11 - Dext: 12 - Endr: 12 - Luck:
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#10
ERIADNE
Eri sucked in a quick breath of damp air through pursed lips as the answer comes to her. How quickly time had slipped from her fingers and she hadn't a say in it, much less a memory to hold on to during her time for all of these months. And here her sister... Nephele had done it alone. Though she didn't remember the transition from sane to less than, she can't imagine the horrors that her sister would have endured while seeing her through it.

And yet she was still here. Her rock through it all. Though she had never expected that to involve a disgusting black sludge covering her whole body in the roots of a tree she had called home. It sounded like her home now was going to be a little more... In the pits, if you will.

Regardless she holds her sister close while taking steps towards the stairs. Towards the light of the sun on a Blighted land that her pale skin had long since forgotten while hidden away. Even now at the bottom of the stairs, the idea sends a shiver down her spine.

"I don't want to leave you, Neph. You know that. I would never, if there was any other way." Her voice cracks on her sister's name though she doesn't stop, attempting to remain strong to repay the times she could not be. One step. And another.

Continue.

"I know that you'll find a way to fix all of this. You've always been so smart, Nephele. I'll be back before you know it." Eriadne moves her hands to Neph's, leading her. "And when I have more than a few moments, we must do something about those under-eye bags. And your hair! Neph, just because I'm not there to look stunning, doesn't mean you shouldn't."
Nephele Amoret
Botanist / Engineer

Age: 53 | Height: 5'0 | Race: Fae | Nationality: Natural
Level: 1 - Strg: 11 - Dext: 14 - Endr: 20 - Luck: 2
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#11
Every wound will shape me...
The crack in her sister's voice only drags further tears from her red-rimmed eyes. Eriadne was not one to lay down and accept defeat, and even now she refuses to be bested by this disease now that her mind is clear. But knowing her sister is hurting in any way, even on her own behalf, is something she can scarcely bear. No cure could work fast enough to solve this. She hates that they couldn't succeed, that it's taking a godly intervention to heal those who are sick. Nephele feels inadequate, useless, a failure that does not deserve her sister's emotional words.

She follows after her sister, being led forth by the hands and trusting wherever Eri deigns to lead her. Limp and meek in her grasp as Nephele follows Eriadne blindly, like a blind creature seeking the sun when it feels the warmth upon its face. It's the truest comparison she can conjure. She is the North Star, but Eriadne is the sun. Blinding in its radiance, but capable of imparting so much warmth and security even in these brief moments.

A wretched, wet laugh escapes her bitten lips at her sister's teasing. It's familiar, and she has missed it like a phantom limb that aches with reminding memories. "We're already the best looking here, who else was I supposed to compete with if you were gone?" Her teasing is weak, but there's a spark that is building in Nephele, fanned by her sister's temporary clarity. "Will you braid it for me, when this is all over?" A gesture, a hope for the future, a surety that they will both be there to see a time when such a simple task that they have always done together can be reintroduced to their daily lives. Unimpeded by sickness and taint.
Every scar will build my throne
Eriadne Amoret
Guard

Age: 53 | Height: 5'0 | Race: Fae | Nationality: Natural
Level: 0 - Strg: 11 - Dext: 12 - Endr: 12 - Luck:
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#12
ERIADNE
Eri's eyes narrow at the blinding radiance of the outside world. She can't remember the last time she had stepped out of her tree and felt the sun on her face despite the cold of the season. Though the days she spent affected by the Blight blended together, her sense of time nonexistent in her Blighted state, even the days leading up to her loss of control had started to blend together. She had never taken the time to catch the way the rays of the sun caught the snow, almost blinding her as she turns her gaze back towards her sister.

Even her beauty is more blinding than any creation Ludo or Mort could conjure.

The question catches her off guard but she doesn't falter. The walk towards the Pit was longer than she remembered as she had no use of her wings. A part of her that felt as broken as her pride as she walked through their village in such a state.

"Of course, Neph. As if you even have to ask. Only if you promise to visit me when I'm resting." They both know the Blight was hardly a respite from the world around them. As useless in the pit to her village as she is right now to comfort her sister, she squeezes her hand as they near the Pit.

Nephele Amoret
Botanist / Engineer

Age: 53 | Height: 5'0 | Race: Fae | Nationality: Natural
Level: 1 - Strg: 11 - Dext: 14 - Endr: 20 - Luck: 2
Played by: Brit Offline
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Posts: 52
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#13
Every wound will shape me...
Her sister's squinted gaze peers out into the outside world, and Nephele is there at her side, hands still clasped together, ready to take it on at her side. It was never supposed to be this way. If any were to have fallen sick, it should have been Neph. But even now Eriadne is the strong one, the rock, leading Nephele out of the shadows of the tree and into the light. Then her sister's eyes turn towards her, and Nephele squeezes her hand and smiles, a reflection of the tidal wave of relief and love welling up inside her.

They move through their village like this, hands locked together as if terrified of the impending separation that each step heralds closer. Walking feels as strange to Nephele as it surely does for Eriadne, but part of her relishes this prolonged moment they share. She's sure this is only a temporary moment of clarity for Eri, and she is unsure the exact timeline of how quickly the roses will begin working their magic on the Blight. Every second is treasured, and when they come to the Pit, she stares down into its shadowed depths with trembling lips and short, shuddering breaths.

She can't possibly leave Eri here. She can't. She can't.

She must.

"As soon as I plant the last rose I'll be right here," she vows, unable to keep up the teasing pretense that normally shadowed their interactions. Nephele's wings begin to beat, prepared to help guide her sister down into the Pit, to bear her weight and slow her descent. She may leave in time, but Nephele will go down with her, into the darkness. If only for a moment.
Every scar will build my throne
Eriadne Amoret
Guard

Age: 53 | Height: 5'0 | Race: Fae | Nationality: Natural
Level: 0 - Strg: 11 - Dext: 12 - Endr: 12 - Luck:
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#14
ERIADNE
Eriadne has never feared the Pit. As long as she has been alive the Pit has been a necessary mar in their village to protect those who are unable to protect themselves. Even protecting Fae from themselves in extreme cases. The Blight certainly qualified to that extent, even if she was the one affected by it. Perhaps even, especially if she's the one affected by it. Wielding a sword in a Blighted state was only asking for trouble and heartache in the aftermath. If there was even an aftermath to consider.

A deep breath to clear her mind as she squeezes Neph's hand as they stare down into the darkness. She couldn't think like that. Her sister had never given up on anything, it wasn't possible that she would fail to do so now. Wiping the last of black reside from her face as she steps towards the edge, feeling the hum in the air as Nephele's wings disturb the calmness that was such a stark contrast to the turmoil that had made a home in her heart. Nobody wanted to put themselves into a state of exile willingly but if it meant protecting her sister then she'd go to the ends of the world.

Effectively that was the Pit as far as she was concerned right now.

"I know you will be. So let us not delay any longer." Eriadne had never been one to wax poetic when it came down to it, stepping off of the edge towards the darkness without hesitation. She knew her sister would slow her fall with her own wings beating uselessly against the black sludge that contained them still. The sooner she reached the bottom then the sooner a rose could be planted and there would be hope once again for those like her.



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