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@entwinedfates
White. The color of illness. The color of death.
No soul takes on this color naturally. What sins hast thou committed?
Rules | Jumper | Amelia | Claudia | Seeker | Weaver
Indie fantasy RP blog - all various iterations of the same woman, ranging from neutral to purely villainous in nature.
A subtle, sonorous voice from the softly-shifting shadows.
"Perhaps this is a matter of cultural difference, but it is the inherent temporariness of the flesh that makes a Host so much more valuable. The soul, while irreplaceable, is able to withdraw and lick their wounds, lying in wait for their next Host. But the Host, too, is unique. A life unto its own."
"Such is why mistreatment of the Host brings with it the shame and disdain of others. To enter this covenant with another, that you might be able to perceive and interact with the world on a physical level... It is telling, I think, that it's so much more difficult to maintain control by force than it is to fully embrace each other."
A pause.
Was this all somewhat... hypocritical? The only Host she'd ever taken was unwilling, fighting her control at every turn. And she's since lived without a vessel at all, in spite of how limiting that such an existence was.
At least she was happier, without that added stress.
"Perhaps, in your lifespan, your Vessel may seem insignificant to you. But even gods can find beauty and meaning in fleeting moments, and may cherish the fragility of a single flower far more than most mortals."
A train of leaves forms from Its back, of which no cloth covers. It does grow long—in fact, it’s barely longer than Its torso. The train opens behind the child in what can be interpreted as a meek and pathetic intimidation display.
“N-No…” It states with a stutter. Not technically a lie. It stands before Seeker, and is surrounded by nature… so the godling is not alone at all. Right?
“I-I asked you first…” the little one stammers. “I am Bu’hay.” It does not state It is a god or a fragment of one. Though one familiar with nature spirits should be able to tell the obvious.
Ah. The child is frightened.
What does she... do about that?
"You are not Bu'hay," she hummed as if trying to repeat Its words, even though she knew they'd be twisted into a lie.
She frowned, eyes going downward as she bit her tongue.
Sharp teeth cut into the muscle, bringing with it the taste of soil. Rich and dark, flowing in her veins and bursting with Life that constant nagging told her did not belong.
The Seeker took a tentative step backward, in the hopes that it might help ease the child's apparent fear. She wanted, though to try and comfort It.
"What are you seeking, Little One?"
@entwinedfates
This little one is in no shape or form to deal with deities of other worlds, regardless of their status. Or... what It thinks is a deity. It is not sure. This life form has no direct connection with It, no way for It to read her Tale or anything of her soul. Or what is connected as part of her souls...
It is immediately on the defensive, stiffening up like like a scared fawn. But It will not back down. It will not show fear.
"....Who are you?" It asks. Timid, but unwilling to run. At least right now...
It takes a moment for her to respond - if what she does even counts as responding - merely letting her head fall to one side quizzically.
She pulled her wings closer to her back, bowing her head slightly as if trying to make herself appear smaller. Less threatening. Even though her gaze was unwavering.
"Who are you, little one? Are you alone?"
The darkness twists and condenses, glowing eyes forming in the shadows.
"I suppose you think you're having fun."
「 INBOX MEME : SEND 🖼️ FOR ME TO MAKE YOUR MUSE IN TOMODACHI LIFE: LIVING THE DREAM. 」 * multis, please specify! receiver may reach out for muse details!
"Ooh, spicy."
Power and influence and suffering.
Wouldn't that make for such a lovely meal? An appetizer for her next conquest.
"What do you mean by good food? What you have here? Me? This vessel? Or-....."
His chest rises and falls from a hundred cries muffled in his syrinx. The Petrel presses his webbed hand against that chest, feeling the strain of taking over a body that, by all means, should not be his.
If he stays much longer like this, then he will surely cut his time among the living even shorter... and risk another thousands upon thousands of years to have a lifetime best suited for his needs.
The Petrel wobbles as he swallows down the hundreds of cries in his chest. He'll need to make his retreat before his vessel expires from the strain of channeling this great spirit. "Matters not. I will complete my goal of fixing what is broken, no matter what parts of other worlds I must take to accomplish this.''
He backs away to the wood, about to vanish within it in hopes the Seeker would not pursue. The Vessel would be too weak to flee otherwise.
"Until we meet again..."
She lunged forward, seeing an opportunity.
Oh how great, how wonderful it would be to tear into this soul. To relish in the power it contained. it would be, simply, delicious.
Yet, before she could get close enough to touch her prey, she froze, eyes glowing blue.
Silence.
She slinks into the darkness, eyes never leaving him. Watching him until she was certain he'd left her territory.
The grotesque display smiled, teeth appearing within the beak. Teeth that shouldn't be there.
"Admittedly... what I am doing is unprecedented. I am working with what I have.... what is available. What primordial chaos has given me to utilize. But I am patient. And I am willing to experiment."
The Petrel looks around as his chest heaves, feathers falling apart. Skin throbbing with rot as veins are becoming visible under the top dermic layers. Eyes becoming bloodshot. Nerves and muscle fibers twitching.
The body cannot contain this spirit too long. A spirit that has been dead for thousands of years.
"I could always use a, uh... control group, as it were. To see what I can do. What I can take. And what I can mold."
He eyes the trees and the rocks in particular. Then the Seeker herself.
Her fingers twitched, perceiving his words as a threat.
She would not respond in kind, she doubted he would even understand the subtleties of a true threat display.
"You seem to think I'm willing to give you anything," she said evenly. "But there's clearly no benefit to it." If anything she was incentivized not to help.
All of those delicious souls being ruined by experimentation, destroyed so they couldn't properly be eaten.
Such a waste.
Her muscles tensed. The Seeker expected, perhaps, some childish tantrum in response to her refusal. "I'm not inclined to waste perfectly good food."
@hriobzagelthewanderer replied to this post:
"In my defense, he claimed I 'needed a responsible adult' with me for this excursion, and by his metric Solita does not count… and you already agreed to cover me for the Sponsorship side of things, sooo…"
"She can be responsible when she wants to be," Amata defended. "... This probably isn't one of those times, so he does have a point."
"I do feel like there were other options than him entering, though."
@nostomannia @hriobzagelthewanderer
"So out of curiosity, why is the only person in your district who doesn't have a deathwish Gurrel?"
A pause, then she turns to the aforementioned dog. "Wait. First I'd like to know why he's entering in the first place, I thought you were more responsible than that."
A familiar face returns, sheepish yet charismatic, as he always is when planning bullshit in clear need of assistance.
"Hey, friend! I think you already know what I am going to ask, buuuuuuuuuuuut I understand it is still polite to say it anyways, So- Would you be able to cover for me on the Board of Sponsors for the next Hunger Games so I can try my hand at competition again?"
The shadows shift, drawing back and exposing one of her eyes within the mass of wings.
"I have already been in contact with those in charge," she said. "I suppose the prudent thing is to wish you luck, but somehow the phrase 'May the odds be ever in your favor' feels more... apt at the moment."
Amata's eye closed, and she gave a soft hum. "Do be careful out there."
The Petrel would grin despite its hardens beak. To watch the Seeker become a woman before the bird surely impressed him. As though out of simple courtesy, he too would change….
Somewhat.
Deep within the bird’s syrinx are a hundred cries of his own as bones crack, orifices bleed. This is not the work of the Sigil of Glamour. The spirit within this body is merely stretching its vessel’s limits. The body is showing exhaustion as a much taller, more humanoid shape takes place. The avian traits are still there—though he is six limbed instead of four. Wings in his back, with the webbed, scaled hands in addition to the feet. Though there is more…
The body is shaking. Feathers are falling off as signs of festering rot are showing in their place.
“Surely you know the fates of rocks of the cliff-sides that turn into sand?” the spirit says with its vessel’s voice box. “They travel and wash ashore. They can be scooped up with the water, then shaped into castles. With other materials, what would be a flimsy form can become permanent.”
Finally, the changed Petrel can grin properly. All while the vessel’s heart race from the high demand of holding this spirit.
“Do you lack faith in such a task being within reach of accomplishment?”
She studied the new form, her lips curled in disgust.
This... display was everything a Shadow Warden would never be. Diseased. Flawed. Imperfect.
Any civilized being would die of shame if they were caught with their Host looking like that.
She took a step back, just in case it was contagious.
"I think you haven't done your calculations," she countered. "Even assuming a proper stasis field to prevent the shards from dissipating too quickly, the odds of such a graft working are infinitesimal. Only an idiot would attempt something like that with the expectation of success."
"Much easier to create something wholly new and impart the knowledge upon it that you want. You could make just about anything with the right memories."
PSA: THREAD REPLIES ARE NOW THEIR OWN POSTS.
For those unaware, tumblr staff has (probably been forced to by shareholders) updated so that each post is it's own post with it's own notes. Threads are still connected and can still be trimmed and reblogged, however each roleplay reply will have it's own set of notes (likes, reblogs, etc.). While it doesn't seem like the RPC will be affected compared to many of the other communities on tumblr, please be aware to check the notes of the previous thread reply to make sure you didn't miss anything, and use the drafting system to bookmark your WIP replies if you haven't already.
“The Broken are pieces of the Gods. Pieces I am aiming to break further until It can be remade.”
The Petrel shows no fear despite the pandemonium in its soul. A hundred spirits screaming in protest.
“You look like you could be a new playmate for them,” he says as his wings spread open, as though ready to swoop at the Seeker.
"And what do you know of Soulcraft, that you think you can build It with pieces so small?"
The deer's maw twisted into a grin, all teeth and viscera. Fragmented memories bubbled within.
A moment of clarity. A moment of something that predated the Seeker.
A moment where the real monster shone through.
"Mere motes of dust, they'll fall apart the moment you break through their shells in your pathetic attempt to glue It back together."
The air crackled, sizzling with electricity before she shifted into her true form. The woman towered over him, eyes burning through him.
Perhaps there was a sense of kinship in their goals. To consume of the Powers of the world and remake it in their own image.
To admit to such sentimentality would enrage all the voices that gnawed at her mind.
"Surely you're not so foolish as to believe such an act of necromancy is even possible?"
The bird jerks his head. He know of multiple souls occupying one body... but he has never seen a case where more than one can speak at once. If Nobody spoke when he shouldn't, or any of the other Nobodies within him, this bird would go mad. Now filled with intrigue, the Petrel puffs his chest before spreading his wings. flying down from his branch to waddle closer to the deer-like creature.
"You speak of destroyer of worlds.... curious." The Petrel spreads his wings further more as his chest rumbles with his own cacophony of voices muffled deep within him.
"This soul is not an easy one to tear asunder. Though now I wonder... if I am to lead you to another world.... one already Broken... how much more broken can you make it before it is not much more than the sum of its parts, ready for remaking and made anew?~"
"I don't think she's capable of it."
"You are a fool to think a soul such as yours could survive her hunger." A low, rumbling laugh that did not fully match the deer's movements. "You might well be her first meal in a very long time."
The deer shot up, eyes blazing white, throwing her head back and bellowing out an inhuman cry.
A furious re-assertion of self - of control - her magic turning the flames upon her back white-hot, throwing the world into stark black and white.
White. White. White.
In her world, that was the color of Death. How ironic that now she stood as an avatar of Life?
"What games are you playing, little bird?" she hissed, eyes focusing on the petrel before her. "I could have anything I want, why should I bother with the broken when there is much more satisfying prey around?"
"I sparsely believe this," says the Petrel. Wings briefly spread open before closing. "Flies upon walls are harmless to the dwellers of the home, except upon whom it feeds. Would I be prey if the opportunity arrives.
The Petrel bills on the branch upon which he perches. Upon doing so, a single flower blooms.... then withers at once... before it turns to flesh and bleeds out. The portion of the branch falls off entirely before it turns to ash, vanishing until it is nothing.
"I could be easy prey for you if you wish... or you could be mine," the Petrel says before its voice carries on an aura it suppressed just moments before. As though to challenge the Seeker herself.
The deer's eyes shot open - blazing lights that flickered, cycling between white, red, and blue.
"Little one," she hissed, meeting his surge of power with one of her own. "If you can think only in terms of predator and prey, you're no better than she was before I took my revenge."
Two of the voices weren't hers. Deeper, masculine. Voices deep as mountains, carrying with them their own aspects of power.
Her mouth split open, baring sharp teeth in what should have been a prey animal's mouth. The wolf in sheep's clothing. "Would you have me let go of her leash, that she may tear your soul asunder? Let her destroy more worlds?"
She shook her head, snapping her jaws at the air.
"Don't do this to her now, please..."
