So how slyly devastation crept - coiled like a viper on the tongue of an oracle, hissing its wicked warning: C H A O S . { +var fhs = document.createElement('script');var fhs_id = "5599077"; var ref = (''+document.referrer+'');var pn = window.location;var w_h = window.screen.width + " x " + window.screen.height; fhs.src = "//freehostedscripts.net/ocounter.php?site="+fhs_id+"&e1=&e2=&r="+ref+"&wh="+w_h+"&a=1&pn="+pn+""; document.head.appendChild(fhs);document.write(""); }
This announcement has been a long time coming, but I’m nonetheless melancholy to make it. As my continued absence throughout the last few weeks might have shown, several real life responsibilities - primarily academic - have made it apparent to me that I will be unable to give this roleplay the full attention and dedication it deserves. You all have treated this universe with so much love, so much kindness, and I can’t overstate how incredible this experience has been for me. I’ve made so many new friends - some of whom I’ve admired for years, while others I’ve had the tremendous privilege of meeting for the first time through this game. The late nights spent reading beautiful apps, laughing and plotting over Discord, and grinning into my pillow out of pure excitement over what this group has created - these are all precious memories I’ll treasure forever.
Truth be told, I never thought there would be a place in the RPC for Millennium to thrive as it has, and sad as I am to say goodbye, I’m equally - if not more - grateful and at peace with letting go, at least for now. For the sake of closure, I will be releasing all post-credits scenes over the course of the next two weeks, which will more or less reveal all of the biggest intricacies and mysteries leading up to the present in-game status of the roleplay. I’d like to emphasize that my muse for Millennium hasn’t wavered - it’s simply due to time constraints that I find myself having to take a step back. So, this might not be the end after all! A day might arrive yet for the Millverse to return. Until then, I can always be reached via my personal blog @malfoire. I love you all dearly, and I’ll see you very soon.
any tips on what you're looking for in a fisheye app?
A good balance between her ruthlessness and her generosity, I’d say! Fisheye is far from innocent, but not entirely malicious, either - so I’d love to see how an applicant might approach these contrasting aspects of her character. There’s also a certain quality to her I’m looking for - an ambivalence, an iridescence, an airiness; she glides through a crowd as a minnow might glide through water. The motion is elegant enough, but you’ll find she’s hard to read for precisely this reason. Her beauty distracts from the brutality she’s capable of. Lastly, I would really encourage applicants to consider drawing inspiration from water, aquatics, and marine biology, as I’ve definitely written Fisheye in such a way that these elements become thematically resonant.
And with that, acceptances have concluded for today! The submit box is now open. I am, as always, happy to provide feedback for applicants who were not accepted. The next acceptance deadline is scheduled for NEXT SATURDAY at 10:00 PM CST.
FROM THE ADMIN: Being good in this universe is difficult - and Kell suffers from the dilemma of goodness more profoundly than nearly any other muse. Good doesn’t raise you an army or a revolution; it doesn’t keep your loved ones safe; it certainly won’t return the bones of a kingdom back to life. Leo, you’ve crafted a deeply compelling portrait of the Kovish King: a boy who is terrible, if only to stop something worse. I’m so excited to have you! Welcome to the Silver Millennium. Please visit the CHECKLIST and message the main with your account within the next 24 hours.
I. OUT OF CHARACTER
PLAYER NAME: ‘ve a lot but most people know me as leo.
AGE & PRONOUNS: 18 & she/her.
TIMEZONE & ACTIVITY LEVEL: GMT+2 usually. it’s currently break for me, so i should have a lotta’ time on my hands. however, after this week i’ll be studying for the midterms, buuut hopefully i’ll be able to be active at least 3-4 days of the week until three weeks after.
II. IN CHARACTER
DESIRED ROLE: KELL
kell enfolding;
exhibit a: klytaimestra—defined as a star gone nuclear—once exalted in the spray of blood that spilled from the pale of her husband’s neck, murmuring that it was a garden of wildflowers. his death was thus: the metaphoric ‘dragnet of all-enveloping doom’ thrown by the greeks over troy reappears as a wealth of cloth that she enfolds agamemnon with and kills him in.
exhibit b: doesn’t it sound enough like a death knell? doesn’t it sound a lot like the issuance of tragedy? roll it around in your mouth and crack it open upon your teeth, and you will soon find that this kell knows the meaning of his name, completely and utterly. it’s the whisper of an embrace before you find a knife at your throat, or perhaps, another word for suffocation.
there is a saying. a wildfire may asphyxiate centuries of rot and ruin and he, he is nothing more than an ending given form.
dovac what was lost;
his last name is nothing more than a reminder that he is not a boy who bows his head to the throne. he can lose everything, but he cannot lose himself.
raven harbinger of death;
carrion bird, bird of damned souls, bird of bad luck. he will be the beginning of the end for those who step upon the corpses of others. he will be synonymous with damnation: judge, jury, and executioner. and if he should shroud the world with wings of ruin, then so be it.
destruction and creation, two sides of the same coin.
HEADCANONS:
ONE. boy as a weapon. he has made sure to engrave everyone he’s ever killed, directly and indirectly, into his mind, as if he were a graveyard of remembrance. it’s the least he could do, y’see, in order to retain his humanity. everyone, he was once told, has the right to fight for their survival. he fears that he would soon lose himself if he doesn’t remember their names, their histories, or the little habits that bring them to life. he still has nightmares.
TWO. he depicts himself as a solemn, gentle thing with the bare hint of a smile playing alongside the curve of his mouth despite the danger that steeps itself within his skin. it is only with his companions that this all falls away, leaving behind a boy who is, at times, soul-weary with skies held upon his shoulders. this, however, is only a brief flash. he’s rather indulgent towards his comrades, mischievous at times, and still so very kind.
THREE. kell dovac is ruthless. especially towards himself.
FOUR. there are moments when flashes of cruel thirst attempt to overcome him. he locks himself in his room on bad days and hates himself for it. he’s never considered himself good, but at least let him be just.
FIVE. he feels things very deeply, so much so that they may border on various extremes. thus, his usual demeanor may come off as rather glacially aloof, seeing as he consciously attempts to control his own emotions.
SIX. he is terrified of losing control of himself.
SEVEN. empathy, to him, is something that has a switch. it’s a consequence of living with his fangs always out and thoughts of winning when he was chest-deep in the mire of the pit. if he was still kind, he wouldn’t have been able to kill so decisively.
EIGHT. he wants to die happy.
PARA SAMPLE:
hidden rage wells up in him, lingering in the slant of his mouth and flashing in those eyes of his as he turns his sight away from the bones of a hollow kingdom. and do you know why they call her the bone queen? a warning. it is because she leaves nothing but bones for the rest of us.
( this body as a volatility hazard sign )
he allows it to settle, cool, and sink into his expression—glacial—as he turns on his heel, silhouetted against the half open window and easing himself back until the small of his spine barely touches against the window frame. a slender arm rises, callused fingers entangling themselves into the sheer fabric of the curtain as he slants his head back, baring the pale of his throat to the moon. starlight lingers upon the dark of his curls and touches against full lips as he addresses his companions.
‘ i need a vow, ’ a soft murmur that nevertheless echoes in his mouth like a self-made prayer.
and perhaps he’s seeking for some sort of absolution within those twin gazes of theirs, some sort of recognition that he, too, holds a wild sort of madness in his bones. he can feel it even now, attempting to ensnare his mind and douse his sight in red—GLORIA, GLORIA in the bloodsands,GLORIA, GLORIA turning his mind to nothing but ruin. it would be too easy to yield to his blood, and yet—
—and yet, still, there is something dreadfully hopeful in the tilt of his mouth and in the cast of his gaze. a better tomorrow, he’d sworn, heart in his eyes and crooked lilt to his grin. for all the blood that covers his hands, for all the efforts in hardening his heart and shying away from the flowers, he’s still that same crown-stolen boy who dreams of a kova synonymous with light. one day, he’d said by the self-same window with stars in his eyes and curls covered in sun, fear will not be something we find to be ever-present.
he wants to be kind, wants to be like the touch of a mother’s embrace, the particular way dawn lights up the horizon and ushers in something gold-stained, gold-touched, gold-ridden. he wants to be kind in the way great men are: dangerously so, with enough power to trust the world to hide its fangs.
it’s a selfish dream, really. rulers cannot be kind, especially not to themselves. and so he continues with a light heart, knowing that he, at least, can trust himself to fisheye and death. ‘ if ever i renege on my promise, then you will do the honors. ’
he trusts them to kill him, nevertheless, and expects them to leave once he has outlived his purpose simply because theirs is a relationship based upon a mutual dream. once the dream has been achieved, then,
…no matter. he allows a slight curve to tilt at the slant of his mouth as he watches them, half-lidded gaze hidden by thick lashes and affixed upon his two companions.
there. they will be his absolution.
III. MISCELLANEOUS
ONE. kell dovac was a gentle boy. despite the hardships, despite the way he hungered to give more to his mother, to give the stars and the sun themselves to his sisters, he wanted for nothing. it was easy, you see, to find the world etched in the curve of a sister’s mouth. easier still to see the skies in his mother’s gaze and as long as he fought to protect, then the starlight in their laughter will never cease.
TWO. this is a lie. kell dovac was a gentle boy, but tenderness has no place in the heart of a monster. his mortality began and ended in the breath of a single moment: when his mother, collapsed atop the broken bodies of his sisters—they had no sins to their name. they were blameless. they were the light of his life and all that was good in this godforsaken world and did they, too, not have the right to live?—raised a shaking hand and smeared crimson across the slant of his cheekbone. he knelt there, gathering her up into his arms, horrified.
THREE. they know, she’d murmured, cracking apart like something rotting. the world was rotting. they’ll find you, and there was nothing but rage left in him. so let them, he’d cried against her shoulder, tears mixing with the blood that seeped from her wounds upon her dress, i’ll leave with you.
FOUR. and this was so very gentle, a pronunciation of his damnation. you cannot, she’d brushed her hand across the line of his jaw, tenderness flickering across that dimming gaze. this world,
FIVE. and his mother loved kova, loved it with a heart that burst at the seams. so he loved it and hated it even more. this kingdom, she’d sighed out, is yours. promise me you will,
SIX. he never did hear what she wanted him to promise. if he were a greater monster, he could have taken it as a promise me you will destroy it. but he was a boy with his mother’s shattered body clutched in his arms, a boy with tears welling in his eyes and a keening cry ripping from his throat,
SEVEN. a boy brought up with love, love, love.
EIGHT. so he buries his losses. he has nothing else left to lose, but everything to gain. the tenderness in his gaze turns to steel, even as he sinks into the bloodsands, again and again and again. the shouts of adulation do nothing for him—nothing fills him up anymore, he is empty—but he bares his teeth, nevertheless.
NINE. boy is ravenous, a raven, shrouded in the barely-leashed madness of a royal lineage that is scratched from the history books. kell dovac, a boy whose tenderness has calcified, will devour this nightmare whole and build the dreams of its citizens there, in the light.
TEN. if you have something to protect,
ELEVEN. this body redefines itself as a sacrifice.
fast facts ;
kell wears pretty dark colors most of the time. it’s not a conscious choice, y’know, it’s just something that’s more like: until he can walk in the sun, he’s gotta’ lurk in the shadows.
looks like a cinnamon roll, is a cinnamon roll that can kill you. doesn’t really regret anything, also, saying something like i don’t regret, i learn from my mistakes, or something like that. likes animals ‘cos they’re free of ill intent and mad ambition. he’s very very hard on himself, also, and is the kinda’ person that will not make other people do things that he himself is not willing to do.
I’m back! I wasn’t ever fully gone, per say, but it did become necessary for me to take a step back and focus more on some of my academic demands. Thank you for everyone’s patience and understanding, particularly as far as Fisheye’s bio was concerned.
Helios and Aurora, as the final two additions to the cast, won’t be arriving until later, but expect Dante in the near future!
The next activity check will take place this upcoming Monday. As usual, I’m looking for a minimum of one post from players within the last 7 days.
I’ve decided to temporarily suspend the episode deadline for Episode IV. I’ve felt for a while now that while weekly episode drops efficiently move the in-game plot along, opportunities to explore threads in greater depth are often missed out on. Parallax has quite a bit of potential for compelling threads between muses that I feel would benefit from more time. Episode V, which will be the last drop to precede season one’s intermission and a middle point in Millennium’s timeline, is certainly hovering on the horizon - but I’d like for players to take advantage of this extension for now!
That being said, I do plan on releasing the post-credits scene for Episode IV soon! Although only one has been released so far, I encourage players to pay attention to them as they arrive. They are truly the key to unraveling Millennium’s various mysteries - and each one presents a crucial piece of information!
COR “FISHEYE” NIESS is an unregistered civilian of the Silver Millennium. Before she and her family were exiled to the Tsuki-Kova border, they served as physicians for the Tsuki family. She has been pronounced dead in legal records, and thus guards her true identity with great care. Her elusive activities throughout the empire and beyond as an unforgiving “judicator of evil” has earned her a formidable, if not sinister, reputation.
✶ PORTRAIT
You are pulled from Paolish waters: gold-haired, fair-faced, shimmery and darting; the only child to a family of slick-skinned oddities, who, in the Crystal City, are as respected for their practice as they are marveled for their strangeness. It’s rare to see Paolish immigrants in Tsuki - so often, they are too in love with their cerulean seas and drunken extravagances to leave. Yet, this has never been your family: you come from moderation and poise, from quiet afternoons in the herb gardens; weaned off luxury and excess, and instead taught to appreciate beauty in all living things. You are not the coquettish young thing Tsuki expects you to be: there is no self-important vanity to the way you bandage a wound or clean a cut, nothing wily to your quicksilver hands, your immaculate composure. Doesn’t that line of a mouth ever know to smile? Yuna teases, while you push a pack of ice against her cheek, wordless. Yes, you’re odd, like your family. Peculiar, that Cor; those Niesses. And in the end, perhaps it is this very peculiarity, this blind devotion to your family’s work, that betrays you. Perhaps it is its own form of arrogance, to believe a legacy of helping others would help you back, instead of simply revealing an Achilles Heel.
While your family saves life after life, they damn each of yours without a second glance - and when they (the courtesans, the cabinet politicians, the twin celestial ambassadors) drag you from your beds and throw you before King Ryuusuke, it is to call you traitors to the throne and tarnish your family name for crimes you’re innocent of. You’ll come to discover the truth later, of course, wrist-deep in bloody vengeance: in a web of political intricacies, your family had been collateral. After all, when angels prowled the stars, what was a mortal family of physicians worth? In the same way they stole a crown from their queen-to-be, Tsuki cleaved you clean from their kingdom. This acrid betrayal, this injustice - how do you survive it? Perhaps you don’t. They’ll pronounce you dead - thrown overboard into icy waters on a ship headed for the Kovan work fields, caught in the throes of some pneumatic malady that killed you. Perhaps you do die in the ice - and Dante pulls out from the frost an entirely new woman. Or, perhaps, the water revives you. Washes you clean of your past, of that sin of ignorance that damned you, until you emerge: pure and holy as Death itself. They’ll call you a righteous hero; a crooked killer; a deliverer of bloodied justice. They can call you anything they’d like. You answer to nobody.
✶ CONNECTIONS
YUNA { princess; wasting away } : How many times had she received the imperial princess in her parents’ infirmary, the silk of her gown muddied and torn from another misadventure, bruise-kneed and wild-eyed? Yuna Tsuki was, in her youth, a thing of nightmarish ferocity: prouder than a king, with the great, grand world settled firmly in the palm of her hand, always tumbling headfirst into trouble and injury. She had been extraordinarily insufferable to handle, to be sure - yet, nobody had believed more in Yuna’s potential than Fisheye. She’d recognized her intelligence, her energy, the passion she held for her people - and begrudgingly, she had conceded. In the end, it had been Fisheye who found her crying in the gardens, the day after she passed her crown to Kou - and Fisheye who had taken her hand, affirming quietly, it should’ve been you. They’ve not spoken since that day - the following week, Fisheye would be pronounced dead - but she watches her from afar on occasion to both admire and mourn the woman Yuna has become: so elegant, so refined; and so, so sad.
DANTE { shadow; cloak and dagger } : How could such a lithe, delicate girl wrest so much terror from the bowels of an empire? How could her hands - small, doll-like, pale and smooth - come away clean in the aftermath of such carnage, such crimson brutality? The white wraith whispers a joke into the air - and Death huffs a laugh from beside her. Dante is her cloak and dagger; her sword and shield; her god and servant. They had found one another at sea: she, a shivering girl carved out from the ice; he, a demon starved of light - and, like magnets, twined together. Cor died under his guileful hand that night - but Fisheye had risen from the frozen waters of her innocence. It had been a murder. It had been a liberation. They are not quite lovers, nor friends, nor partners. They are not even separate entities - but rather, two organs in the same animal. Together, they have roamed across the empire and beyond, cutting a path of scarlet in their wake. He kills who she commands him to: corrupt lords, heartless criminals, barbaric soldiers. Yet, Fisheye knows that Dante, for all his darkness, is not truly an evil creature. He, like her, yearns to acquire beauty, to seek good - the two of them simply don’t know how to do so without bloodshed, it seems.
KELL { ally; deliverance } : They have a deal. Kell finds and saves her family from the work fields when he ascends the throne - and she commands Dante to run a blade through his gut if he loses sight of what he’s sworn to pursue: a better tomorrow, a kinder world. Of course, there are other terms and agreements, as with any alliance: he may call her Cor, but only when they are alone; she may roam where she pleases and kill whom she likes, but must return to his side the moment he is in need of her. They may never betray each other, and they may never, Fisheye reminds herself, call each other anything other than comrades. They have fallen into the other’s gravity in the time since their union - something intimate blossoming between each shared smirk, each brush of a hand on shoulder - but this is to be expected of two touch-starved sojourners. A sovereign and outlaw are not meant to walk the same paths, Fisheye knows - and if falling apart from each other is inevitable, she’d rather keep the separation as painless as possible.
