unusual supplicants
For any Loreseekers Member
Wessex Theskyra
the Wraith
General of the Hollowed Grounds

Age: 47 | Height: 5'8'' | Race: Demi-god | Nationality: Natural | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
Level: 12 - Strg: 61 - Dext: 60 - Endr: 61 - Luck: 58 - Int: 2
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#1
WESSEX
The Loreseekers Guild: a place she’s heard much about but never cared to explore past the Atheneum walls. Standing in front of the door reminds her that she should check in on the organizations every now and then. Not in the way that Zariah wanted to keep a tight hold on their activities, but in a way that allows her to know what’s going on; what lies behind the doors, what could be of assistance, the things they keep in reserve and why. The Guild is a mystery. She doesn’t know what information it holds and what could be useful to the general public.

Her people have never been terribly inclined to education and the book selection has been limited for a number of years - but with the explorations into Safrin’s library, finding scrolls and vaults, well, perhaps those things should be shared.

That is a decision for another time. Tonight is for portals and the Spire.

Wessex (with Deimos in tow, bless him) raises her hand and raps loudly three times on the door. Hopefully there’s someone within.
No, I’ll be the stone
I’ll be the hunter, a tower that casts the shade
I lie awake and watch it all
Deimos Ignatius
the Resurrected Sword
Warden of Halo / Guildmaster

Age: 33 | Height: 6'4" | Race: Hybrid | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Halo
Level: 14 - Strg: 72 - Dext: 72 - Endr: 73 - Luck: 80 - Int: 3
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#2
we're all killers
It could’ve all been prevented.

The notation stirred against his skull as he soared along the evening wake, grateful for the opportunity to spread his wings again and not have the feel of monsters clawing at his feathers, but otherwise, the reasons behind the movements were vexing and infuriating. Behind all the nuances, all the considerations, all the back and forth between monarchs, and Greatwood borders, anything the people of the Hollowed Grounds had accomplished were vanquished and gone.  

With a sigh into the Stygian abyss, beneath the starlit sky, he descended, spiraling down as Wessex neared the door, shifting back into his human form, touching along the foundations of the ground before the Loreseeker’s Guild. He and Rexanna had sought out information here before, and it felt like lifetimes ago. While the Queen announced their presence, the beast did the same via Attuned link, uncertain if either Jigano or Amalia (because he was supposed to be home hours ago) were within – a warning, an emblem, on smoke and fumes and irritation, established in his otherwise vivid, reserved, reticent silence and features. Wessex wants information on portals.
DEIMOS
Amalia Chandrakant
the Archangel
Baker

Age: 29 | Height: 5'6 | Race: Demi-god | Nationality: Natural | Citizenship: Stormbreak
Level: 5 - Strg: 49 - Dext: 45 - Endr: 52 - Luck: 49 - Int:
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#3
i sailed seas of emotion to wander a forest of scars
i am a dance of light and darkness
Amalia has not spent a great deal of time in the Guild of late, but today finds her within the hall, pouring through books from Safrin's library in hopes of learning more prior to her next foray into their depths. The knock upon the door catches her somewhat by surprise: few come here, to her knowledge, and she had not anticipated being interrupted by anyone. For a moment her heart tightens in her chest, concern that it might be Samuel or Jigano-

-but Deimos' mental voice sets her at ease, more than anything else ever could.

"Come in," Amalia calls aloud, moving her books to a pile and rising from her chair. Glancing between the Queen and the General, the Shield frowns slightly at Deimos' mental irritation, pulling uneasily at the hem of her tunic. What happened? she asks her lover silently, dark eyes flitting back to Wessex. She had known about the meeting in the wildwood, but opted not to attend. Now she wonders if the exchange did not go even worse than Amalia had cause to expect.
a galaxy of shadows and stars
Amalia
Wessex Theskyra
the Wraith
General of the Hollowed Grounds

Age: 47 | Height: 5'8'' | Race: Demi-god | Nationality: Natural | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
Level: 12 - Strg: 61 - Dext: 60 - Endr: 61 - Luck: 58 - Int: 2
LOKI - Mythical - Dragon (Energy Blast)
Played by: Astor Offline
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#4
WESSEX
To her surprise, it is Amalia’s voice that echoes from within, giving the pair at the door permission to enter the Guild’s inner sanctum. Pushing the metal door open, Wessex enters and offers the girl a half-hearted smile - not because she isn’t secretly half-relieved that it’s her instead of Jigano within, but because she knows this will now be a different kind of uphill battle. Perhaps the more difficult one. “Hey Amalia. Good to see you.”

The Queen takes a moment to look around the room - at the fixtures, the tables, the books, and the general coziness of the place. It’s nice. A place that facilitates concentration and studying, she can imagine. Her eyes dart over the entrances to other rooms, but she makes no move to explore - not yet.

“I fucked up,” she sighs. Honesty and admitting her faults has always gone well with Amalia. Might be best to jump the gun and get that out of the way before prying questions can tug it out of her. “And now I need to know everything you’ve got on portals. And the Spire.”
No, I’ll be the stone
I’ll be the hunter, a tower that casts the shade
I lie awake and watch it all
Deimos Ignatius
the Resurrected Sword
Warden of Halo / Guildmaster

Age: 33 | Height: 6'4" | Race: Hybrid | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Halo
Level: 14 - Strg: 72 - Dext: 72 - Endr: 73 - Luck: 80 - Int: 3
BELIAL - Mythical - Peryton (Blend) ZURIEL - Mythical - Unicorn (Healing)
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MP: 9824
#5
we're all killers
Amalia’s voice flickered through the surroundings, and the slightest ease relinquished through his shoulders. He was still irritated, still exasperated with the entire situation, but at least now it could be shared, instead of simply burning, boiling, and brewing in his mind. His eyes gestured back forth from the baker to the Queen, watching, waiting, brow only arching a minute amount in Amalia’s direction as he breathed, inhaled sharply, exhaled slowly, biting in whatever composure he managed to maintain. He maneuvered inward, along confines and the meager amount of familiarity; a long time had seemingly passed since the last time he’d lingered in these depths. And while the Shield’s silent inquiry lingered in his mind, he listened to Wessex’s announcement and proclamation, had all the more inclination to agree on the statement withering between sighs.

His information, however, could’ve been deigned from Rexanna or the latest, eventful meeting, either one an exasperating effort – the first because he’d known what was coming, and the second because at some point it could’ve been segmented and prevented. So while he meandered in quiet, hushed decibels, gaze roaming along stacks of books, their Attuned connection delve and dove into the prior proceedings and occurrences – uncertain of how much to expand or not, if Amalia had ventured elsewhere to access the same information. The Ascended attacked the Mathair, and apparently killed some Fae in the process. Due to this, Delah announced no one from the Hollowed Grounds could enter the Greatwood. Another notice about imminent failures, about severed lines and tethers. His gaze roamed back to the table, to each individual, looking for all the world like he was waiting for some other opportunity or line to cross. Delah proclaimed if Wessex yearned to free her people, then she should abdicate. Why Wessex might have been going out of her way to fix her mistakes, why the blunders felt deeper, seared far more; why there were constantly consequences. She did not.
DEIMOS
Amalia Chandrakant
the Archangel
Baker

Age: 29 | Height: 5'6 | Race: Demi-god | Nationality: Natural | Citizenship: Stormbreak
Level: 5 - Strg: 49 - Dext: 45 - Endr: 52 - Luck: 49 - Int:
JYOTI - Mythical - Starwhale (Humpback)
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MP: 2580
#6
i sailed seas of emotion to wander a forest of scars
i am a dance of light and darkness
Amalia does appreciate the honesty: it gives her hope that they can continue to hold on to their relationship of the past, or whatever tremulous strands of it remain in the growing space between them. She does not gesture for the others to sit - it seems a strange thing, to offer such hospitality in a place that is not hers - but she does relax a little bit, the dip between her brows growing slightly more shallow. Her mouth, however, remains a pulled-tight line, the discontent deepening as she takes in Deimos' silent additions.

Fucked up, indeed.

"Why?" she asks of Wessex aloud, wanting to hear it from the woman's lips. Why do you need this, why did you do this, why and why and why? Her fists tighten a little as she clenches her tunic, trying to hold back the leopardess that snarls and fights within. "What happened?" the Queen deserves a chance to state her case before the Shield jumps to judgment- but oh, the judgment is lurking there, so close to the surface, so ready to strike.
a galaxy of shadows and stars
Amalia
Wessex Theskyra
the Wraith
General of the Hollowed Grounds

Age: 47 | Height: 5'8'' | Race: Demi-god | Nationality: Natural | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
Level: 12 - Strg: 61 - Dext: 60 - Endr: 61 - Luck: 58 - Int: 2
LOKI - Mythical - Dragon (Energy Blast)
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#7
WESSEX
She knows the judgment is lurking. Ever since Amalia became Safrin’s pet, the holier than thou-ness has increased tenfold, favoritism creating the certainty of only one way to do things - ‘her way.’

Anyway. Might as well dive right in with the why.

She nods and finds a table to lean against. It might be a long story. “I should start at the beginning. Before the Mathair was inhabited by a spirit, it was a portal and they were all… linked. Online. And right before LongNight, the Voice called a group to the Mathair to reactivate it. It was lit up. Bright with her energy.  Before we could do anything, Lucas fucked us over by hurling a spear at the tree, and it skewered him, and the spirit took back control of the tree.” She looks up at the chandelier and then closes her eyes briefly. “So we had to get rid of it. The Fae warriors came quickly after. In the middle of the fight, I tried to call a cease-fire and talk. That didn’t work and I had to kill one of the Fae after they nearly set me on fire.”

Wessex briefly looks at the other two before forging on. “In the end The Voice killed the Fae with some kind of blast that nearly killed us, too. We crawled away. Dragged ourselves to the closest shrine where she healed us and told us about Halo - the snow-covered place. Apparently that’s where she sent Zariah, but that’s neither here nor there.” She crosses her arms over her chest rather defensively, but manages to keep her tone stable.

“So then Delah calls for me account for the deaths. And do not tell me you expected that meeting to go well. I told her what happened and she rightfully ripped me a new one. But I draw the line at groveling. And at letting her dictate what happens here. So when she told me the Grounders could have access to the Greatwood if I stepped down, I said I’d let her know what the people decide.” She pauses and grows a little softer. “And I will let them decide. Once I know what the options are.”

Wessex spreads her hands in a wide gesture. Now they know all.
No, I’ll be the stone
I’ll be the hunter, a tower that casts the shade
I lie awake and watch it all
Deimos Ignatius
the Resurrected Sword
Warden of Halo / Guildmaster

Age: 33 | Height: 6'4" | Race: Hybrid | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Halo
Level: 14 - Strg: 72 - Dext: 72 - Endr: 73 - Luck: 80 - Int: 3
BELIAL - Mythical - Peryton (Blend) ZURIEL - Mythical - Unicorn (Healing)
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Posts: 6,558 | Total: 10,651
MP: 9824
#8
we're all killers
He listened; ever the silent witness, delving straight into past parameters, storing information, collecting the other granules. The General had been granted a solid foundation of answers either via the past event, or from Rexanna, an active participant in the debacle. But about portals being linked online, or that the Voice had all the powers, the precision, behind the opening of worlds, or that it was Lucas’s error that led them down to the road to ruin – his eyes narrowed in speculation, leaning against one of the shelves, no longer configuring pretenses. Cease-fires and discourses failed, a tried and true story he’d already watched, had to kill when they could’ve just left well enough alone, if there was always another way – his eyes narrowed, and he still said naught. Halo; the snow-covered world, the start of the current mess and situation, the thing they were all trying to reach towards and failing either due to these actions or some other unwinding consequences, piles upon piles of nuances and disasters. The tapestry and canvas of mountains, of peaks, of high-rising summits, from the book seemed like a distant, hazy dream, compared to the stark outreach happening now.

Let her know what the people decide indeed. His jaw clenched, arms folding over his chest, gaze flickering back and forth, from Shield to Queen, a brewing sigh evident in his chest. And what were the citizens deigned to acknowledge? When sometimes their votes didn’t matter? When things were bounced and bounded off, from one individual to the next? “What sort of options?” Options in portals, in reigning possibilities, in monarchs to fill the void or empty position? Or just the endless flow of variables, one right after the next?
DEIMOS
Wessex Theskyra
the Wraith
General of the Hollowed Grounds

Age: 47 | Height: 5'8'' | Race: Demi-god | Nationality: Natural | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
Level: 12 - Strg: 61 - Dext: 60 - Endr: 61 - Luck: 58 - Int: 2
LOKI - Mythical - Dragon (Energy Blast)
Played by: Astor Offline
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Posts: 3,156 | Total: 4,350
MP: 0
#9
WESSEX
Isn’t that the point, then? If their voices haven’t mattered before, they will now. This is their lives, not just Wessex’s. She has enough confidence that no matter what happens, she will find a way to make things work for herself, even if she has to go into hiding for a couple of years. She can see Deimos’s disdain for her as he no longer chooses to hide it and privately wonders if he could have done any better, finds it unlikely that the man would have said what Delah wanted to hear - whatever that was - or immediately stepped down to leave the Grounds leaderless and a part of the population disenfranchised.

The Fae would never have let them open a portal there, not when it meant needing to kill the spirit inside. Delah’s proposition, her convenient lack of an answer (in the way the Fae are so good at avoiding lies) was utter bullshit. It wasn’t so much that there’d been another way, it was that the Mathair shouldn’t have been the first one they opened. If only they’d taken an Ascended down into the Spire. If only, if only, if only…

Matching Deimos’s cross-armed stance, she meets his narrowed gaze. “Portal options. I want to give everyone the chance to choose where to live, what to do with their life. If I can give them an open portal and they still want me to step down - then fine. I’ve done my part. If I can’t, and they want to go through the Greatwood, that’s fine too.”

She’d made the hard decisions she said she would - and in the end, freedom for her people won out over the Fae’s lives. Revolutions are never as clean cut or as simple as we hope they’ll be.
No, I’ll be the stone
I’ll be the hunter, a tower that casts the shade
I lie awake and watch it all
Amalia Chandrakant
the Archangel
Baker

Age: 29 | Height: 5'6 | Race: Demi-god | Nationality: Natural | Citizenship: Stormbreak
Level: 5 - Strg: 49 - Dext: 45 - Endr: 52 - Luck: 49 - Int:
JYOTI - Mythical - Starwhale (Humpback)
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Posts: 3,098 | Total: 4,577
MP: 2580
#10
i sailed seas of emotion to wander a forest of scars
i am a dance of light and darkness
Amalia listens in stunned silence as Wessex spins her tale.

She can feel each muscle of her body tightening, coiling more closely in disbelief and denial as the Wraith plows further on. That the portals are a connected system Amalia already knows. That one is housed within the Mathair the girl knows as well.

The rest of it, though? That is new, and oh, is it a ride.

She does not respond as Wessex explains the spirit in the tree, except to clench her jaw unhappily as her dark eyes grow wide. She does not react as the queen so blithely dismisses the murder of the fae, except to squeeze her hands into fists tipped by leopard claws. She does not express any new unhappiness with the revelation about Zariah, except in the snarl that flashes across her face. She does not display her opinion of Wessex's line, except in the sharp exhalation that leaves her nose, the tight line that marks her coral lips.

In short, Amalia Chandrakant says nothing. But her body says it all.

And when Deimos mentions options, and Wessex explains that she wants to let them choose- "Why," Amalia interjects suddenly, the word ground out through tightly ground fangs. There is fire in her eyes and on her fingers as well, and lilac horns spiral from the nest of her golden hair. "Why the fuck would you think that any of this is okay."

She is almost more beast than girl now, now. Horns and qilin ears sit above slit leopard eyes and sharpened teeth. Patchwork fur in cream and black is interjected by a mane of lilac and silver, leading to a tail which slashes angrily, swatting the air around her feet. There is fire in her fingers and her toes, dancing dangerously up her limbs - not harmful, not dangerous, not as yet, but bordering precariously close to violence.

"You walk into the woods from which you are forbidden - which you and your goddess nearly killed - and slaughter something sacred to the Fae, because- what? You think you're entitled to everything? You think the world should bow before you, no matter what death and destruction you bring?" Her words are a mix between a snarl and a growl, her eyes fixed solely upon the Queen.

"When the Blight spreads on through other places, what then? When more stand against you taking what is theirs, what then? When you have to slaughter more in the name of your goddess- when will it be enough?"

Abruptly Amalia steps back, drawing up to her full height, her dark eyes hard and sharp as flint as she stares at the woman who helped to raise her, the woman she loves as dearly as family. "This goes beyond gods. This is about you. You are being selfish, taking whatever the fuck you want without giving any thought to the people you hurt along the way. I will not help you murder the world, Wessex. Get out."
a galaxy of shadows and stars
Amalia
Deimos Ignatius
the Resurrected Sword
Warden of Halo / Guildmaster

Age: 33 | Height: 6'4" | Race: Hybrid | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Halo
Level: 14 - Strg: 72 - Dext: 72 - Endr: 73 - Luck: 80 - Int: 3
BELIAL - Mythical - Peryton (Blend) ZURIEL - Mythical - Unicorn (Healing)
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Posts: 6,558 | Total: 10,651
MP: 9824
#11
we're all killers
War had made him almost entirely immune, a numbing venture, to the way lives were always so perilously lost – fallen, fallen, fallen in the heat of battle, in the wake of trying to survive, in trying to protect, in trying to make it another day, another hour, another second. Perhaps it had done the same to Wessex – but not Amalia. Because while he listened about portal options, about things that likely shouldn’t even matter anymore, things flickering apart in his ribs, in his lungs, the Shield ignited.

His eyes slid over as the taut coils loosened, as he could feel it within Attuned bonds, a warning, a progression, and then an opus, a masterful unleashing of claws, of horns, of snarls, of all the sharpened measures suddenly streamlined back into the void – fire and vitriol and vehemence shaping in her accord. It was fascinating, exhilarating, and fully supported, a pride instilled in the connection, releasing the encouragement, the strength, the fortitude, the might, instilled within his framework as she sculpted and carved into the expanse. A drum, a tower, rising from where he leaned against bookshelves, Amalia’s message clear – whether or not Wessex would adhere, would acknowledge, or if everything would continue to flicker and fall apart, the damage done, unhinged. Then a length of calm and composure in between, striving to infuse some cool contortion to the air that wasn’t all bedlam and mayhem.

Perhaps it was just too late. Actions unraveling, consequences, rebuttals, the world maneuvering, twisting, and curling back in on itself.
DEIMOS
Wessex Theskyra
the Wraith
General of the Hollowed Grounds

Age: 47 | Height: 5'8'' | Race: Demi-god | Nationality: Natural | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
Level: 12 - Strg: 61 - Dext: 60 - Endr: 61 - Luck: 58 - Int: 2
LOKI - Mythical - Dragon (Energy Blast)
Played by: Astor Offline
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Posts: 3,156 | Total: 4,350
MP: 0
#12
WESSEX
Oh poor, brainwashed child.

She’d predicted this, saw their divergent paths long ago. Amalia’s hatred now runs as deep as the cosmos are vast, and Wessex can see that she’s forever lost. Her vow to never kill the Chandrakant girl will remain in place, but all options of discourse are clearly closed. She sighs, her gaze falling in disappointment and then up to the mixed-animal face with some version of pity, taking the immature fire and rage as she’s always done.

Killing is where Amalia draws the line and killing is one of the few things Wessex is good at. How she minds now and didn’t five years ago will never be understood. There is irony, somewhere, in who the girl’s chosen as a partner and she’s curious to see if, years from now, when all is said and done, if the girl can still claim her moral high ground. If when face-to-face again in battle or across the wide, wide ravine, if she’ll still cling to her promise of life. If Wessex will fall into the category of living, or if she'll be shunted off to something other. It’s easy when the enemy is dehumanized by divine propaganda, when they’re painted as demons and murderers and all-consuming parasites. Defensive words fly to her lips, but she swallows them all with a level gaze.

Does she think this is okay? No. But there’s no point in defending herself.

Does she think she’s entitled? Yes and No. Entitled to a life as free as anyone else in Caido who wasn’t born in the Grounds, but not to a place of power - which is why she’s offering up a choice.

Does she think she’s selfish? No. Because there are others who want out. There always have been. Their people died continuously because they wanted out.

In the end, their values and priorities are just too different and she’s tired of the uphill battle with Amalia. She’s tired of being told she’s wrong and evil and an abomination. Those things take a toll on a person, even those with spines of steel and hardened hearts.

“As you wish,” Wessex says softly and turns to go. On her way to the door, she throws out, “My promise still stands. It always will. And I hope you won’t consider everyone who wants to leave the Hollowed Grounds selfish or entitled.”  Maybe if she and her precious Guild had made portal information readily available, they would have gone through the Spire first, instead. But those are things they will never get to debate (or hurl blame on). Cold cordiality it is, from now on, then.

The Wraith slips out the door and shuts it behind her, leaning against the metal for a couple of minutes to sort herself out.
No, I’ll be the stone
I’ll be the hunter, a tower that casts the shade
I lie awake and watch it all


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