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Beautifully drawn by Sid (Erasvita@DA)!
Current Novus date and time is

▶ Year || 503
▶ Season || Fall
▶ Temp || 35℉ (℃) - 69℉ (℃)
▶ Weather || Summer's iron grip has slowly faded into the gentler Fall embrace. The morning dew frosts over in the early morning hours and melts by the time the sun hits high in the sky. Many of the trees have traded their lush, vivid green for a more suitable array of red and orange hues. But don't blink, for Winter's cold embrace is fast upon Fall's heels.

Spotlight

Character of the Season
Theodosia

Member of the Season
Nestle

Thread of the Season
r.i.p. to my youth;

Pair of the Season
Atreus and Fiona

Quote of the Season
"Are there lines she's crossing? Should she toe them or touch them with a pole and stay away wholly? But to avoid such a storm he offers, such a taste of life; to withhold herself from the chance to taste starlight, to love satin and silk and swallow pomegranate seeds not yet offered... She should be stronger." — Moira in
Small as a wish in a well

see here for nominations


DISCORD

All Welcome - in dreams of darkest creation
Rhoswen — Day Court Citizen Signos: 15
▶ Played by Kezz [PM] Posts: 93 — Threads: 17
▶ Female [She/Her/Hers] Hth: 11 — Atk: 9 — Exp: 23
▶ 7 [Year 496 Summer] Active Magic: N/A
▶ 16 hh Bonded: N/A
#1
[Image: commission9-by-ameameridian-dchoc51-by-o...chp7gz.png]
In the heavy blue she moved. The cacophonous red pacing of her unholy heart thrashed against the silence that held a finger to her lips, ONE-TWO-THREE-FOUR, over and over again in the heartbreaking hum of a collision that unfolded before her eyes a thousand times and back again. Where did her mind end and the blood begin? What, in this chaos - in this solitude, had she become? It was a question she could not face for fear of the answers that lay in its wake. The glasshewn threads holding her together glinted in the moonlight, revealing a skeleton filled with a cyclonic emptiness that rattled between the hollow of her bones, left alone to scream into the night without a soul to hear its plight. For was not that the nature of grief? To drain the very light from one's life and leave them with only the husk of their flesh and skin, damned to wander this dark barren earth with only their perforated honeycomb memories. 

The mountain had been calling her name. Rhoswen, it whispered at the birth of every new moon, Rhoswen, it hummed in the floodlight of the sun. At first it had been easy to ignore: it had been nothing but an itch at the back of her neck. But slowly it had grown into a plague that set her body aflame. And for the first time in a long time the woman felt something beyond the eternal grey torpor that had woven its way into her very essence. What that feeling was she could not, would not, name. And from the shadows she had come; patiently, obediently. The violet blush of a new dawn had begun to bloom by the time she reached Veneror's foothills, and the kaleidoscopic light fractured in such a way behind the mountain's crest that it almost broke her heart to gaze upon it. 

"I am here. I have come."




ooc -- uhhh so this is tiny and all over the place (like me atm) but pls bear with me! rhos has been awol up till now, anyone feel free to jump in!


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Seraphina — Day Court Outcast Signos: 390
▶ Played by Jeanne [PM] Posts: 231 — Threads: 41
▶ Female [She/Her/Hers] Hth: 17 — Atk: 23 — Exp: 50
▶ 5 [Year 498 Spring] Active Magic: Greater Telekinesis
▶ 16 hh Bonded: N/A
#2
☼ s e r a p h i n a ☼

and I'm faded away
you know, I used to be on fire


Seraphina is not in the business of chasing after ghosts.

She tried to, once. She tried to cling to her past – to what she thought she was, or what she thought that she needed to be – when it seemed that everything around her was spiraling out of her control, but she had drained through her own grasp like water out of a cup with a hole in it. She’d learned, very slowly and very unhappily, that she couldn’t remain stagnant in the face of a world that changed as quickly and viciously as the desert wind; she had learned that the only way to live was to find some way to change, to press forward regardless.

Ghosts. Little fragments; sometimes she still looks into a darkened hallway and sees Viceroy’s luminescent golden eyes peering back, twin lanterns in the shadows.

She hadn’t intended to return to Veneror, but she slips out of the bitter chill of Solterra in the darkest depths of a cloudless night, her charcoal lips pulled into a worried frown. (Would they find a way to end the strange, relentless winter that had swallowed her desert homeland like a voracious snake? It was hard to know – but the gods might, and if they would not come to her, she would go to them.) She ascends the mountaintop just as dawn, a dusky swath of violet paling to blush at its tips, begins to break the horizon. She moves quickly and mechanically, exertion breaking a cold sweat over her brow; her breath clouds in the cool of early spring as she climbs higher and higher, to where the statues of the gods were what felt like so long ago.

And, as she reaches the peak, her gaze catches on another figure.

She sees a lost woman, the red twines of her hair like fire in the pale blush of the dawn. She sees a woman who lost her brother to the night he served, a woman who lost her lover to flame, a woman who’d been homeless – torn between smoke and stars and sun and scald – for far too long. Rhoswen. There was something frantic and tragic and horribly, horribly lonely about her silhouette, a paleness cast dark against the rising sun. Seraphina takes one step towards her, tentatively, then another and another; she almost calls out to her. Where have you been where have you been where have you been. She hasn’t seen her since the gods returned; she hasn’t seen her since the Denoctian regime disappeared; she hasn’t seen her since her kingdom froze over. A part of her wondered if she, like her brother, was lost to the void.

But there she stands – solid as polished sandstone but hazy and flickering in the dusty light.

I am here. I have come.

She bridges the distance between them slowly, and she does not speak until she stands at her side. “Rhoswen…” She trails off. How many times has the red woman found her, torn asunder, a girl carved in the shape of a banshee’s wail? And now it is she that looks at her with a dreadful sort of quiet, the bright chips of her eyes gleaming in the haze of early dawn. “What are you seeking, Rhoswen?”

What do you hope to find here, on this holy mountain abandoned by its gods?



----------------------------------------------------------



tags | @Rhoswen
notes | <3




@


BECAUSE MAN'S FIRST WORDS IN THE FACE OF GOD
are always "forgive me"


please tag Sera! contact is encouraged, short of violence





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Rhoswen — Day Court Citizen Signos: 15
▶ Played by Kezz [PM] Posts: 93 — Threads: 17
▶ Female [She/Her/Hers] Hth: 11 — Atk: 9 — Exp: 23
▶ 7 [Year 496 Summer] Active Magic: N/A
▶ 16 hh Bonded: N/A
#3
[Image: commission9-by-ameameridian-dchoc51-by-o...chp7gz.png]
hope is a dangerous thing for a woman like me to have

Rhoswen could not remember all the ways she had felt pain in the short sharp chapters of a book (her book) still unwritten, but she knew - regardless - that it had been interminable. The memory of each stroke borne from the fibres of a hallowed-gold bullwhip lashing across her spine lived on in the hellish, hazardous realms of her mind. A divine castigation for all the crimes she had committed across chambered timelines and many amaranthine lives. Hell was not a threat Rhoswen feared, for there was no torment she had not already endured; be it at the hands of those she loved or the very moon under which her fate had been sealed. She had lost everything to that opaque lunar light: her brother, her daughter, her lover, her sanity. And what, then, was left? Like a wolf drawn to a sky-reaching bluff under the cover of darkness, Rhos had found herself almost entirely alone - almost. For no matter how hard she yearned for the sun's terrible grip, the red woman could not evade that gentle maternal embrace of the moon. 

What did it feel like to harbour a rift within every tooth, filament and grain of your soul? Rhoswen knew, oh she knew. 

"Rhoswen -"

There was nothing that could startle the she-wolf now, but even as she stood on the very edge of oblivion Rhos knew she had not expected to share the dawn with the queen of old and new. Had she even expected to lay eyes on Seraphina again in this life? It was not a question she wished to answer. Dilated cosmic eyes sifted through the mist in search of the voice and it's mistress, succeeding with unsurprising efficiency. The Solterran Queen was both unrecognisable and unchanged. To Rhoswen, she was a tapestry. A monochrome canvas painted by callous fingers - hands owned by a general and a devil - and swathed in humble glory. The truth was that Rhoswen could not satisfy the pride she harboured for this woman she barely knew; it sickened and soothed her. The weight of her guilt felt somehow lighter under the sovereign's gaze, but the paradox of this truth brought only further anarchy to her blood and her bones. 

"A long time ago, I thought I knew." She breathed, tongue rasping over the dry walls of her mouth. Rhoswen felt as though her hooves had sewn themselves into the very earth below, amalgamating with the clay and the rock and the roots of this cursed kingdom. "But I am not that woman anymore. Now, I am no-one and so I have nothing to seek." The silence that followed was bloodless and haunted by the gilded, fractured light that had risen up around their silhouettes. And then -

"Seraphina, I don't want you to ever forgive me."






ooc -- two months later i'm so sorry, final year is kicking my butt @Seraphina


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