BEFORE THE SUN RISES; @altha6a - Tumblr Blog

WHAT MAKES THE GIRL DIFFERENT? I SUSPECT IT HAS LESS TO DO WITH WHAT SHE IS, AND RATHER MORE WITH WHAT SHE IS NOT.

writing blog for Althaea Sextus, the sixth necromancer from dominicusrpg. written by niamh (25, they/them, aotearoa new zealand).

#pinned*

PYLADES: I'LL TAKE CARE OF YOU. ORESTES: IT'S ROTTEN WORK. PYLADES: NOT TO ME. NOT IF IT'S YOU.

sixth necromancer & sixth cavalier: @sualumina

#sualumina #thumbs up emoji

location: the (un)locked door the rules of stigmata

“Not to be the one who states the obvious, but there is fifteen bones. Fifteen minus six does not make ten.” If there is one thing that Althaea can show an ounce of gratitude for is that they are accompanied by the Ninth House— the house of bones, or something equally as macabre. Their familiarity of bones extends to repairing breaks, to sewing them back together. Not some riddle around them. And truthfully, Althaea has never been a fan of puzzles. Medicine is straight forward, linear. An exact and precise science that she can achieve with ease. This is designed to trick them. One of her hands extend, grazing the medial condyle of one of the larger femurs. Perhaps a thanergy signature remained? The owner of the bone leaving them a message through time?

The bone is devoid of anything. Methodically so. Removed of any remnant of an owner, any semblance of a history. Someone took their time removing any trace of an identity from these femurs. “Nonagesimus—” Their voice was gentle, head tilting toward the woman. Their tone is awkward, a little uncertain, “Does anything about this... perhaps speak to you in some way? Some... pattern in the bones or something? I don't know. Do the bones speak to you?”

The room itself is miserable and does nothing to encourage their understanding of the situation. Everything is just as dead as the bones. Dark eyes shift across, abandoning the scale and bones, seeking out their cavalier, “Can I steal that scroll from you?”

#i. writing.#i. the rules of stigmata.#i. rising and dying.#womp womp

sualumina

𝐕𝐈𝐑𝐆𝐈𝐋 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐔𝐄𝐒 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐎𝐁𝐄𝐃𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐋𝐘 𝐁𝐘 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐎𝐎𝐑. His eyes wander far enough to spot his cot and dresser, the former which is by all means a plush upgrade to the bare cot he’s slept in in the barracks for a decade. He smiles a bit at Dr. Sextus’ remarks and knows it’s by intention that she does not recall his title, for at all other times her memory is sharp and wondrous— that is, it seems, when the subject is of interest to her. Yet Virgil detects no ill will to it. There’s plain and harmless evidence in their tone that they don’t care for being called by a new title and applies the same sentiment to him. He doesn’t mind. He doesn’t care.

❛❛ Then there’s no point in you using it. ❜❜ Virgil cuts in with amusement. ❛❛ Besides, it doesn’t have the word master in it, so— ❜❜ He shrugs. ❛❛ It wouldn’t sound nearly as remarkable. ❜❜

There’s a moment when they fall downcast, the slight quiver of their lips almost missed if he hadn’t been observing them, before rising back to their humor like it’d been a trick of the light. Virgil earnestly follows; he suspects to make a fool of himself on more occasions as he blindly searches for the right way to behave.

❛❛ They are. ❜❜ He agrees quickly, racing to resolve the matter that affected her. ❛❛ I only say it because you might not be comfortable with me yet and you should exercise the freedom to send me away. ❜❜ Virgil pauses, watching her expression closely. Perhaps too many years in the Cohort receiving firm and precise orders, strict even in matters of conduct, have made him socially obtuse; he can’t tell how his words will be interpreted. ❛❛ But if that’s not the case, I’ll stay. And please don't misunderstand, I would've stood outside until you were ready to explore. ❜❜

His feet finally take him from the door to the southwestern corner of the room, where he begins his inspection, feeling the floorboards out beneath each slow and purposeful step as he moves along the parameter of the chamber, and looking for any crevices in the walls as he progresses.

altha6a

“I could loan you my title? Master Warden Virgil Levante— Heir of the Sixth House, et cetera, et cetera.” Her face rests in her hands, cupping it in a slightly slumped position, peering toward Virgil. Inherently, he wasn't wrong. They should rest. The trip from the Sixth to the First hadn't been long— but they had to be practically pulled out of paperwork by their cavalier, dragged onto the ship. If she thinks about it for too long, Althaea isn't quite sure when they last got a uninterrupted eight hour sleep. (And then they definitely don't fall asleep for a few moments, a small hum as her eyes reopen after a long blink.)

“While an incredibly fair point— I figure if we are going to attempt to become Lyctor's, there is little point in dancing around being shy,” There is no breaking this chain. It becomes death do us part. There had been some sermon, extensive and reactionary, lecturing on the necromancer-cavalier bond as proof of God, something sacred. More than marriage, more than duty. Bemoaning something about the Fifth House. (They'd stopped reading around the seventh page.) “I'm not going to make you stand outside like... some kind of glorified gargoyle. They already gave you an atrocious bed!” With that they stand up in a movement and flurry, coat swishing as they take a few steps across the room, grasping one of the ugly navy pillows from the couch and throwing it onto the undignified bed. “— Explore, yes. I saw birds when we arrived. One was a beautiful blue, we should absolutely go and check them out.”

#virgil: explore:)#althaea: BIRD #i. writing.#i. writing (..) virgil levante.#sualumina

secondswords

romilly had thought that, if she stepped outside, she might have a moment alone. of course, she rarely was alone these days. even when she had no living company, she could feel her brother's ghastly presence, could sense him across the room, waiting for her to raise her gaze to him.

the ceremony that had taken place earlier certainly didn't help calm her nerves. as she had risen to answer teacher's call, to retrieve her key ring, there he had been. he had stood over teacher's shoulder, watching romilly as her shaking hands clutched the ring. don't judge me for this fear, she wanted to shout at him, this opportunity should be yours. instead, she clenched her jaw and hurried back to her seat.

settling in was something she would save for later - even looking at the cavalier cot made her feel nauseous - so she had mumbled a curt "excuse me," to her necromancer and beelined for some fresh air. and now, here she was, met with the presence of another necromancer. althaea sextus, her brother's voice sounded in her head, a doctor. someone he might have known. at althaea's words, romilly took a breath and shrugged. "it's - different, yeah. the second house has... a bit more sand." a sad attempt at a joke, to seem a little less frightened than she is. "i don't know much about the lyctors, but if this was their home, then i'd guess so. to live surrounded by so much mystery seems... difficult to manage." and yet, that's the circumstance romilly found herself in, the circumstance they all were in, as of today.

altha6a

It takes a moment. Althaea is familiar with the spitting image of her— and attempting to find the line where Romilly begins and Remus ends is difficult. The sharp lines of her haircut, the slope of her nose... it feels like a ghost. “Romily—” Althaea's voice is soft, gentle. The hushed tone one uses at a funeral. “I wasn't aware you'd... become a cavalier.” The words fit weird in their mouth. But maybe that's because the whole situation feels weird. They are many things but a social creature is not one of them. Words have never fit right, never sat correctly on their tongue. War, they can do war. She understands the art of losing and grief in the field. But when the funeral ends and the body is gone, when the only thing that remains is a human with an incomprehensible amount of anguish and heartbreak— that is where Althaea fails.

“The Lyctor's are the Hands of the Emperor, the greatest thing a necromancer could ever aspire to be— and I'm going to cut myself off before I ramble too much...” Althaea's lips pause, a soft furrow as they cut themselves off. Romilly doesn't need more expectation, another weight on her shoulders. Fitting into the shoes of Remus must already be challenge enough, especially when his body is barely cold, not even decayed to bones yet. “It was so long ago... perhaps there was much less mystery back then. But I suppose in itself, that is another mystery. Did you ever met any of the Lyctor's— when you were deployed? I heard that someone once saw Augustine the First a few years back but that might have just been bored soldiers spreading rumours.”

#i. writing.#i. writing (..) romilly dyad.#secondswords #death tw

t1decalls

Innogen had never been one to venture out and explore her surroundings. Well, correction. She had always longed to do so, but her illness and the watchful eyes of her family and staff kept her from wandering off far. She often felt like a bird trapped in a cage, destined to fly around her enclosure until death captured her in its grasp, but maybe for once, she could fly free--- even if it's just for a moment.

She paused at the girl's voice, not realizing that she wasn't alone in her admiration of the sea. Her eyes examined the Sixth necromancer, a slight smile forming at the girl's words. It felt nice to not be the only one gawking at the unknown. "It's certainly a sight to remember." She mused, shifting in her wheelchair a bit. The last question caused her eyebrow to quirk up, mind racing with images of what the ruins could possibly hold. "If they had, their findings might be recorded in the library. But," She knew it was a bad idea but suggested it anyway, "I would rather uncover Caanan House's secrets myself, rather than read about it in a book."

altha6a

Althaea's head turns, turning toward the woman. Septimus. It was rare to find Heptanary blood cancer in deep space. The Cohort nearly accepted anyone, but they'd reject the Seventh House unless it was a necromancer. Too much of a risk, they claimed. But now they knew it well enough, the signs and symptoms to check for. They felt the salt that lingered in the air caressing her cheeks, looking at Septimus as the wind ruffled the other's hair, “Should you need a partner to adventure with—” Althaea spoke, a sharp grin on their cheeks. “Then I would very much wish to put myself forward for such a role. It is far too big of a fortress to conquer alone. Two is company, three is a crowd? Perhaps we sneak off where our cavalier's cannot find us and get lost somewhere?”

#i. writing.#i. writing (..) innogen septimus.#l3gacies #cancer tw

bellemaledictions

"It almost didn't feel real the first time I saw a sky without rings. Couldn't figure out where everyone got their water from if not from ice debris…" That and a sky that wasn't yellow had made Philly feel like she'd stepped into a story when she'd landed for her first deployment. Now though? Well maybe the phrase wasn't "used to" but she felt less shocked any time she faced a new planet. Not to say that this one wasn't shocking in it's own way. An expanse of water this big wasn't exactly common and the dark shapes in the depths and on the horizon spoke of being built at least a myriad ago, if not longer. She wondered idly if it had been the first lyctors. At least until the warden suggested that they might be even older than that.

"Shit Doc, I didn't even think of that. You really think they're older than even the first house?" She leaned forward slightly, trying to see if she could spot anything that'd distinguish the ruins' age… Like she'd know what to even look for. "Do you think that…" Philly trailed off as she gestured vaguely towards the nearest of the robed individuals. "Uh… Teacher?" That was what one of them had asked to be called right? "Do you think Teacher would know if we asked?"

altha6a

“Ah, the best part of being in the Cohort. See new places, meet new people, occasionally get involved in trench warfare.” It had been a welcome surprise to see Philly again— unexpected, but there was something about seeing a familiar place on an unfamiliar planet that soothed them. The Fourth House has always soothed her, far too calm and kind in the face of tragedy. In the crucible of space, they'd run amuck in the stars— and now again on the green of the First House. “I admit, I have always admired the Fourth, the skyline must be stunning. I didn't experience a sunset until I left the Sixth.”

“Maybe—? Architectural integrity is not a strong suit of mine... but the structures seem well-built, I can't imagine that decay only occurred over a myriad. Frustratingly, most of the pre-Resurrection knowledge is cultural, not structural,” Althaea paused for a second, a hum. Their head tilts slightly, looking toward the ruins again for a moment, the crumbling and decaying cities that once layered the land. “I... we could try? Worst case, Teacher just brushes us off or says no. It could be worth a try— if you want?”

#i. writing.#i. writing (..) philophrosyne tettares.#bellemaledictions

sualumina

THESE ARE OUR DAYS AHEAD.

♘ ˚ — closed starter, written for @altha6a !

𝐓𝐑𝐄𝐏𝐈𝐃𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐂𝐔𝐑𝐈𝐎𝐒𝐈𝐓𝐘 𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐆𝐔𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐒 𝐀𝐒 𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐔𝐂𝐓 𝐄𝐒𝐂𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐇𝐈𝐌 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐎𝐂𝐓𝐎𝐑 𝐓𝐎 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐈𝐑 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐌𝐁𝐄𝐑. Virgil’s eyes trail along the walls of the decrepit castle, memorizing the winding hallways they’re led through until they arrive in front of a large wooden door that creaks when it’s swung open. He steps inside after Dr. Sextus, his stiff posture finally softening once they're alone. The reception of their hosts left him unnerved. There was... weight to it; an invisible mass settled on his shoulders. Expectation, perhaps scrutiny. Now that they’re away from the stifling atmosphere, he heaves a great sigh of relief.

❛❛ You know Doctor– Master Sextus… The ceremonies I’ve attended are sparse– even rarer are the ones I’ve been in. Now I'm tallying them up one after another. ❜❜ Virgil states, opening his jacket by the lapel. He rips a hole into the interior lining using the old keychain, clasping it closed once it pierces the fabric. He’s determined not to lose it, although he doesn’t know why. Intuition is his best lead from today onwards; if it were unimportant, they wouldn’t have made a big deal of handing them out.

❛❛ Well, did that count as a ceremony ? ❜❜ Frowning, Virgil makes sure the keychain is secure by tugging on it. Once he’s sure, he closes the flap of his jacket and places his hand over his chest. He needs to get accustomed to the weight against his left breast. ❛❛ Regardless, you should wind down, we've had a long trip. I can leave the room, if you like. We can take stock of– ❜❜ He pauses, ❛❛ all of this after you've rested. ❜❜

altha6a

“Master Sextus,” Althaea parrots back. The words still feel unfamiliar and strange, a different title layered upon them. “Shall I return to calling you First Lieutenant Levante? Or whatever title was imbued upon you when you became my cavalier? Honestly, I honestly can't even remember what that was.” The ascension to Master Warden of the Library was drowned in administrative and procedural papers, and while Althaea is confident that there was some title assigned to him— she just has absolutely no recollection of what it was.

Her scapula pair together, the sharp stretch followed by a click as they sit, the slight crease in their coat as she perched on the bed. The room is... average. Sunlight bleeds through the salt-stained windows, the furniture coloured with decay and age. It does draw curiosity as to the original purpose of the room. And its inhabitants. Did the original Lyctor's sequester themselves here? Virgil's words draw her back to attention, a sharp hum from their lips, a consideration, “I wouldn't call it not a ceremony. Ceremony adjacent. The cousin of a ceremony.”

“Leave?” There's an unexpected quietness to her words, a strange vulnerability seeping through. Their lips are quirked, the curve of their cupids bow almost quivering for a moment before the emotion is smoothed over. Hidden and returned back, embarrassed even about the display. One hand smooths over the crease, pressing it flat in distraction. “You are free to explore— if you want. But I would never ask you to leave. After all, these are your quarters too.” What is mine is yours— one flesh, one end. She leaves it unspoken but it still sits on their tongue.

#i. writing.#i. writing (..) virgil levante.#sualumina

“All of the water on the Sixth House is brought from cargo ships,” Althaea's voice cuts through the lapping of the waves, where the tide draws to the rocks. Unprompted, only dragged from their throat as they feel the presence of another. A terrible us of their time, staring into the abyss, and not attempting to unravel the strangeness of Canaan House. S shells of sea urchin's lingering along the shorelines, a blue crab scampering along and into the salty depths— all merely existing on this uninhabited planet. Unaware of what surrounded them. The ocean stretches beyond the horizon, vanishing into the cerulean of the sky, mixing into one endless stain of blue. Only interrupted by the grey divots of buildings that have fallen to even greater rot then Canaan House. How open... How refreshing. The entirety of the Sixth lived buried underground, sealed away to save them from the raging heat of Dominicus, starving them of any light. And of the sea. “I've read about it but seeing it... it's very different. A planet, almost entirely covered in water. And the ruins— do you think the previous Lyctor's explored them?”