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Elly Farren / UK / she/her cis lesbian artist ellyfarren.carrd.co for portfolio / social media / contact Check out Dyskrasias from the beginning here

[ellyfarren]

Dyskrasias (Original Music Video)

Read the story of Dyskrasias here

Falling Birds on SoundCloud

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CONTENT WARNINGS:

This video contains brief flashes and at the end frequent flickering lights.

This is a fantasy story that revolves around very unrealistic but often graphic genre-appropriate illustrations of violence and death, including suicide.

Specific warnings for blood, emetophobia, impalement, suicide and briefly animal death (birds, nongraphic).

[ellyfarren]

This was The Incarnadine’s sacrifice, ritual aimed true: a blade to her throat and the hollow bones of a fallen starling cradled in her lap as she beseeched a fading god at the end of the world to spare at least her.  Hollowed Yualis, summoning back Her blessing of blood from the earth in an effort to stall Her fading, heard a single mortal’s prayer and reached out with no hand to touch that pain they shared.  This was the Coalescence, and all else followed, as birds to the moon.

FIN

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Watch the Dyskrasias music video here

[ellyfarren]

Castrel cannot be blind to her own shadow stood before her, to the one who she feels alongside her own heartbeat, to the culmination of a god she once loved, once was.  And so, Valke takes what She needs, what she owes, and reaches into the vessel which so dutifully delivered the Ichor, Her blood.  She reaches in and places there a memory, true as the day it faded from its dying world.

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Alt text for video:

An animation of Valke’s hand pushing into Castrel’s chest, a portal of light opening up beneath her palm and letting her hand enter the cavity within. Castrel’s hand rests on Valke’s wrist, loosely as Valke’s hand falls to Castrel’s sternum, presumably from where it previously rested against Castrel’s cheek. It rests for a moment, and then her hand pushes (or is pulled) forward, light blooming beneath her touch, hand falling into the flesh beneath light breaching the surface of water. Castrel’s hand tightens around her wrist, unclear if she is pulling Valke in, trying to stop her, or simply accepting the sensation for what it is. Valke’s hand does not stop until it is lodged deep within, their faces drawing closer. The light emitting from that place is incredible, bright cyan, illuminating the whole of the scene.

[ellyfarren]

Svellere the Lancet had surrendered to the ice of Halcyon.  Her throat remembered its threads snapping under this very edge, the memory indistinguishable from the present.  She had no recourse against the proven inevitable, though it was not her hands that trembled. She had not hesitated when last she held that blade.

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[ellyfarren]

Castrel does not raise her halberd against Valke, throat scarred with a suffocating halo of light.  The Exsanguinated does not bleed from the eternal wound, for Her blood flows through the chambers of another’s heart.  This god, in Its fading breath, accepted the sacrifice of a dying woman at the end of the world, and together they became something neither of them could ever be.  Yualis is no more. The Incarnadine, devoured.

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[ellyfarren]

She had slaughtered Dove, whose void-white blood spilled as easily as any other bird fleeing hopelessly to the full, fading moon.  The glass dagger remained, pilfered from her corpse, a fetish of reality in a place where nothing is real.  It would be the key to the Exsanguinated’s firmament, and Her cathedral therein.

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[ellyfarren]

As Castrel approaches the shade named Valke, they bleed together so thoroughly, so completely, that she would mistake herself for the blood of a god if she did not feel so deeply profane.  It is dizzying, like staring into the distant reflection of the moon on shimmering waters, knowing Her celestial body could never, would never brush against her miserable, mortal flesh.

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[ellyfarren]

She had slain the Maw of Rust, her bold red blood so similar to the shade she saw on hands never her own.  Tajsa chattered upon the corpse of Lanio, treading riddles like water, unbothered by the hue of any blood quenching her thirst.

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[ellyfarren]

But the Ichor couldn’t see.  The Ichor was never real in a world with tides and shores.  Castrel was nothing more than a hum of resolve and self-preservation to The Incarnadine.  A pulse, nothing more.

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[ellyfarren]

Svellere was never blinded by light, always saw the bones and salt for what they were.  She knew the beginning and the end, and there was no reason why sacrificing herself should not save her now when it was the last choice she ever made, the one that saved them all.  If the Ichor could see what she always saw, she too would bow in fatality to the god who immortalized them both.

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[ellyfarren]

All death rests long behind Castrel now as she steps into the sacred light of Hollow Cathedral.  Something adjacent to memory stirs, something bleeds together that was never divided, a vision behind every blink that is unseen when light rushes back in. The moonlight, the altar, the cathedral, the Shade, the Ichor, all pull the tide outward and reveal the bones amid the salt.

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[ellyfarren]

Castrel bleeds out under the Harbinger’s icy dagger.  Dove, who fears the reunion of Ichor and Shade will turn her vacuous blood against her, erasing her from all being and finally ending a life long ago promised the terrible relief of death.  She lives every moment in the memory of mortal penitence, and hungers for the dark blood which bestowed oblivion to its unworthy heir.

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[ellyfarren]

But even Hollowed Yualis, in Her immortal divinity, could not escape that all things share one fate.  Indeed, Yualis is no more, and She could drink a thousand oceans and still one day fade.  Valke the Exsanguinated, She of Hollow Bones, Queen of the Abyssal Plains, uncaged from all matters of blood and the tether of the earth, awaits Her Ichor at the altar of Her own undoing.

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[ellyfarren]

Keeper Tajsa, too, aspect of Yualis Herself, cannot resist its pull towards the Shade’s Ichor, rejecting Lanio’s agency in service of sating its undying thirst.  Lanio, who knows nothing but to oppose her own death as many times as is asked of her, tries to smother her own horror, being confined to a cage of fangs that feast on the facsimile she refuses to see for what it is.

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[ellyfarren]

In Her hall of bone and moonlight, Hollowed Yualis rests before the dais, awaiting the return of Her blood which She summoned long ago, as the shadow of unbecoming fell upon Her.

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[ellyfarren]

Even as she bleeds together with them, feeling their phantom hearts beating where her own pounds against the confines of its ribs, even as she doubts if it is herself or another who stands before her and whose intent it is she feels to kill, she dismisses all hesitation.

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[ellyfarren]

Mounting the marble steps of Hollow Cathedral, the Ichor looks and feels only inward. The others were as nothing against the agony of emptiness she calls herself.

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