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[AW] to all the saints - Printable Version

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to all the saints - Nerissa - 01-16-2018


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nerissa;

t h e   n e c r o m a n c e r
Snow cloaks the Denoctian landscape, drenching the earth, strangulating nature. Oh, but nature is not so easily conquered by a few heaps of snow; nature has learned, nature has evolved. Even in the depths of winter do the birds still sing, the squirrels still play, the deer still wander—but Nerissa wouldn't know.

The smell of death is not so easily conquered by sweetness. Wherever the girl goes, so does the lingering scent of decay. Nature slinks back from the smell of the dead; disgustedly do the birds fall silent, the squirrels retreat, and the deer recoil from the trail of the necromancer. Maybe she smells like this because she spent too much time with her mother's rotting cadaver, or perhaps the odor is caused by the bracelet pried from a corpse that now rests on her ankle. Some say she collects dead things, others say she is the dead thing; she is a zombie studying necromancy because her maker perished, and she wants to raise an undead army in his stead.

Who knows? Only Nerissa, who no one cares to ask.

And so, in the wake and in the path of the lilac girl, all life retreats, all rumors bloom. The girl is used to it. She does not notice her smell, or the whispers; she is fixated wholly on her supernatural goal. At the gates of the Night Court, and the bustling, lively markets of the gypsies, Nerissa finds an inkling of a long forgotten feeling begin to swell in her speckled breast. She spent a year and a half searching, seeking, desperately begging for answers from strangers who had none. But maybe, hopefully, there is someone here who has a shred of an answer; just a glimpse, a piece, a tiny corner of an explanation is all the girl needs.

Nerissa smiles for a moment. Desires, prospects, and dreams gathered so nicely all in one place, she contemplates the impossibilities Denocte holds.
'This will do,' she tells herself quietly, 'this will do.'



forgive me, I am so incredibly rusty ;-; anyway, an even die roll, so nessa's staying cheery!
@Reichenbach <3



RE: to all the saints - Reichenbach - 01-23-2018







Many lost souls found their way to the gates of The Starlit City, some came grasping for an end to their heartbreak, others desperate for adventure and excitement, some came to rewrite themselves — and still others came in search of answers, an end to their quest. Reichenbach had learned to distinguish each type of traveller from such a young age, his sticky fingers twitching and greedy for their coins or jewellery, sometimes wrestling secrets from between their sealed lips. He'd stood within the thrall of the bustling markets, silver gaze keen on a mark, a catching grin upon his black mouth — and then he'd made his move.

Life had changed a lot for The King Crow as he'd grown, but his smile remained the same. Enigmatic, charming, so vibrant and full of life — a death trap for some, an awakening for others. 

Reichenbach grinned now, turning from one of the many burning bonfires scattered throughout the city, their flames always lit and tended to. He often chose to stand amongst the crowd, no more a King than he'd ever really been, a King of orphans and broken things. Yet they'd chosen him to lead them, a trained soldier with a history of thieving, fighting and inspiring. 

The crowd parted like water around him as he walked, most paying little to no attention to him — Reichenbach was a common and known man, despite the shadows that coiled and curved around him in a constant dance. It was not he that drew their gazes, but the lilac spotted girl that arrived at their gates, bringing with her the pungent odour of decay. Reich could not help himself — he approached, a grin upon his roguish mouth.

"Do you like it? We have rogues from all corners of our world," his long lashed eyes danced over her swiftly, curious, "Along with those that were born here." 



@Nerissa no no your writing is fabulous!!! Sorry it took me so long to reply xx
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