I will never let you fall
Eriadne
Nephele Amoret
Botanist / Engineer
Age: 53 | Height: 5'0 | Race: Fae | Nationality: Natural
Level: - Strg: 9 - Dext: 14 - Endr: 12 - Luck:
Played by: Brit Offline
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Posts: 19
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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
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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: 4
MP:
#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.

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Nephele Amoret
Botanist / Engineer
Age: 53 | Height: 5'0 | Race: Fae | Nationality: Natural
Level: - Strg: 9 - Dext: 14 - Endr: 12 - Luck:
Played by: Brit Offline
Change author:
Posts: 19
MP:
#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
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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
Change author:
Posts: 4
MP:
#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."

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Nephele Amoret
Botanist / Engineer
Age: 53 | Height: 5'0 | Race: Fae | Nationality: Natural
Level: - Strg: 9 - Dext: 14 - Endr: 12 - Luck:
Played by: Brit Offline
Change author:
Posts: 19
MP:
#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
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