Welcome to my humble abode! Feel free to take a look around, I am fine with many names, most prominently Soup, Kay, and Red Tail. I am an amateur artist and maybe soon author and animator! My age range is 13-16 so don't be a creep. Pfp was made by PotatoTheMoose
First it tore at the battle of the Somme in 1916, the mass death caused the veil to open and monsters and deities to enter—called Others. Whispers from beings beyond the veil brought magick (itself called Whispers) to many (called Casters), yet eat away their souls. The governments of the war decided to research and utilize things from beyond the veil, for better and worse.
A year later it tore in the Swiss Alps, an ancient and forgotten book protected by the last member of an old order of guardians was accidentally opened and unleashed the veil, tearing open the sky across the entire world. From there, numerous creatures overran and tore through the Western Alps.
A few months later, new technologies had been developed by both the Ententé and Quadruple Alliance. Pseuchetherimos, the utilization of human souls for power and destruction of veil-related life, by the Ententé—subsequently used in prosthetics, guns, and the expounders. Homunculuses, artificial creation of creatures for food, combat, the miszgestalten (monstrosities), and the dornröschen (little briar roses).
The expounders are large biomechanial suits of armor piloted by three soldiers created by Colonel Aerick Neight.
The miszgestalten and dornröschen are large formerly human creatures guided by the Übernatürliches Kommunionskorps (Supernatural Communion Corps) though the dornröschen are partially crystalline.
Near Yrpes and in the waking hours of December 25th, 1917, three large satchels were carted across no-mans-land and ignited, incurring a massive explosion that scorched a significant amount of Belgium (annihilating Brussels) and sent a shockwave all the way to the Netherlands. Germany surrendered and the Kaiser resigned a few days later.
By December 31st, 1917, the Reichstag was split between Imperial loyalists and UNKK loyalists to decide the future of the empire. Quickly the already spiraling situation erupted into civil war when the Imperial forces and UNKK forces began inconsistent skirmishes and multiple Socialist revolutions erupted across the nation—likely due to the UNKK military initiating an invasion of Normandy on January 3rd, 1917, and thus the continuing The Great War.
Currently the city of Rouen is mostly occupied and the city of Brest burns in a sudden outbreak of veil creatures. The world scrambles to fight this new stage of the war.
Oppy then took Broken outside to stargaze, relax a bit and think about something else
and of course Opportunist can't go 5 minutes without emphasizing his importance ;p
I need more people to understand how horrible it feels to just- not feel anything after you achieve something, the guilt, thinking you're unappreciative, just because your mind doesn't let you be happy.
Remember, you're not a bad person for not feeling "enough" or feeling "too much".
Like me, Cormac is a dissociative system. Though it's not super obvious which alter is fronting all the time, I figured I should explain who they are.
Cormac (host) -- sweet, thoughtful, and a talented writer. Incredibly fucking smart with a quiet but playful streak
Jackrabbit (trauma holder, protector) -- oriented around fight or flight, usually one of two to front when the body feels actively in danger. Spacey as all hell and doesn't talk much. Just stares.
Rags (persecutor, protector) -- the other alter to front when the body is in danger. Outwardly suppresses the rage and masks as Cormac, but is noticeably more tense. Has a good handle on violent impulses by writing about them, but since going to war has been a lot more willing to act on them in the heat of battle. Especially wants to stick it to the man.
Cheese (gatekeeper, caretaker) -- almost a father figure to the rest of the system. Very calm. Has never fronted and probably never will.
I don't talk a lot about my OC lore on here but she's a munchkin mix adopted into Stoneclan after her mother died in a fox attack. She aspired to be a warrior as a kit, but due to being part munchkin she began having pains and health issues associated with the breed. As such, she's been relegated to a medicine cat apprentice and is trying to navigate this change and come to terms that her life may not go as she originally planned.
People need to write more warrior cats with invisible disabilities. It's not talked about enough.
Astari heaves the Oht alloy rope, the metal muscle contracting to assist the courier, turning the tiller starboard and swinging their modest vessel into port. Biomechanical arms gently take hold of the ship, avoiding the interplanar sails folded nearly down on all four sides.
Talons digging into the metallic floor, Astari clambers to drag their cargo onto the wharf. Martian alchemistic supplies; fish from Tchao, a planet in the Ohtari plane of reality; and seeds from Earth.
“You! You! Please, I need to get to the intercomms!”
He turns to spot a large winged celtic lady running towards him, human aside from the wings. They could be an angel, but they’re not exactly glowing.
“Uh—are you okay?” He pivots, holding out arms to blunt the incoming trample.
Before the angel could trample Astari, she slams her foot down and shoots to skitter across the ground to the side of Astari—who promptly rushes to her side.
“Who are you, what’s going on!?” He looks over her wings, no damage.
“Peigi—Imitation Event—we need to find the intercomms—”
Astari’s head tilts, grasping for why it sounded so familiar.
TW: descriptions of blood and violent thoughts, cannibalism
Mitchell is an idiot and I want to hit him repeatedly in the back of the head with the butt of my rifle until he crumples and his blood spills red across the floor like the violet light across the sky. This is his fault and his folly and now the sky has a hole in it and we’re doomed.
How do I even describe this? I like to believe that I have a talent with writing, but the things I have seen today are so far beyond my comprehension that I do not think I could put them into words. One moment, I’m minding my own business, and the next there’s screaming everywhere as if the entire war is being blasted into my ears all at once. Eyes open where they should not be and everything is purple and we are huddling scared in a library like little animals.
I think we owe our lives to the four-eyed man who calls himself Varnish. I had my apprehensions about him at first – he is undoubtedly supernatural – but he’s earned my complete respect after this. He is, without a doubt, braver than any of the soldiers I have met. I’m not sure how he managed this, but the only reason we have yet to be torn apart is because he shouted to the sky and begged to keep us safe. Thanks to him, we have been granted a day’s amnesty. It’s not much time, but I’m grateful for any at all.
He’s next to me right now, actually. I am writing this and pretending that I do not see how agitated he is because I don’t entirely understand what’s happening or what went wrong. It’s not just the sky opening that has him upset – it’s something else. Perhaps the way that other creature spoke to him? It – or rather she – got in through the window while we were cowering in a corner. She called him “sister” and a name I’m certain isn’t his, and it enraged him so much that he killed her on the spot and consumed all that remained of her. Calling it disturbing would be an understatement, but I myself am so distraught and bewildered by this entire situation that I don’t have the bandwidth to try searching for the right words.
I am trying not to look out the windows. I don’t want to see the hole in the sky. I don’t want to see what is screaming or roaring or making whatever other infernal sounds out there. I already know that it's not human, and I already know that the last thing I want is for it to find me.
I think the dead are circling outside, too, which is one more reason not to look.
I am scared.
I am so unbelievably fucking scared.
I never could’ve dreamed I would say this, but I want to go home.
A small floating orb of light dimly lights the room, reflecting off of the braced metallic walls and sinking into the swirling tinted windows. On a liquid-like beanbag Oneir curls up, their moth antennae flicking idly as their eyes study a book through long strands of hair. History of the Unveiling, Revised Edition for the 24th Century. Their fuzzy wings keep them warm, although the long clothing they wore also helps.
In the corner of the room, curls up the only other source of light, Hermese. The snake-like dragon, not terribly larger than a human, glows with a lava lamp-like substance floating from and around the separation between both parts of his body.
The room itself assists in the composition of a wave-like apartment complex, low to the ground and above coated in lunar sand as strands of filtered water run through it. The visible outside walls cycle artwork and graffiti as erosion erases the old to procure canvases for the new. Structural beams swerve through the edges, almost looking like bone. The dome above keeps the city from the sharp lunar dust and majority of the radiation, swirling orange with kvuk particles—which gather radiation around them.
A knock echoes across the door, Oneir shuts the book and Hermese rapidly unfurls out from their spring-like form.
“It’s the “Interplanar Imports and Reconnaissance Services! I’ve got a public service package and a parcel from the Martian Alchemistic Cooperative! For Mx. Oneir and Mr. Hermes respectively,” the sprightly speaker appears to jump around a bit as they speak, “Oh! And another package for Mx. Oneir from… unknown!”
With a groan and stretch, Hermese twirls his way to the door and opens it with a flaring grin. Behind the doorframe a half-pidgeon boy stops his idle hopping, giving a small bow to the dragon and looking over at the eyes curled up in fluffy wings and cloth with their own albino sights. The boy dons baggy and ruffled pants, though constructed from a sturdy canvas. Their shirt consists of very long tails at the bottom with draping half-sleeves on his arms and a vest slightly of Far Eastern Earthen design.
“Are you Mx. Oneir?”
Hermese frees a small laugh, “Hermese,” before roughly gesturing at the half-moth boy peering through the room with aquamarine eyes, “Oneir’s lurking back there.”
“Alrighty! I’ve got your packages here… just need signatures! At least one from an adult.”
As the boy pulls out the form he appears to incidentally catch the purple astayric scroll on their courier bag, the non-neutonian structure protecting the silk form from metal bits on the bag. They quickly scramble to not tear the scroll and eventually get it out for the two.
Hermese glides around them, inspecting their posture and body language. “Say… a mortal would usually be at least a bit surprised to meet a dragon–why aren’t you, little bird?”
The boy shuffles as Hermese lifts one of his wings. “Well, Ms. Iris does meet with quite a few for official business—!”
“Oneir! We’ve got another fancy one here!” Hermese grin widens, tail flicking in amusement as he turns to snicker at Oneir.
They freeze, stopping their hand’s unconscious fidgeting with their wings. “Wh—Hermese why are you like this!?” Their eyes glower at the dragon, flaring up a bit in magickal light.
“If I’m stuck with you then I get to tease! Now go sign this pigeon's scroll before they tear it to shreds.” Hermese grabs a quill from a shelf signs in the “guardian” section, feather etching through the astayric cover and ink painting the form.
Sighing—Oneir begins to clamber up, shaking off their stillness and grabbing their umbrella. Their white hair and fur almost glowing in the dim lights, their flowing dark greenish-cyan vest and venus grey robes shifting under the city lights piercing through the window.
Oneir inspects the boy as they tap up to him with their moth legs, hand darting for the quill. Hermese—of course-–pulled it away and glided up out of reach.
“I believe we might be out of ink! Let me go get some.” His grin could swallow stars as he floats to the back of the apartment.
Groaning, Oneir turns to the pigeon boy. “You’re… not from Luna, are you?” They run their hands through their hair, attempting to form it into somewhat of a presentable shape.
“Nope! Iris says I’m from Gaia actually!” The boy taps their talons a bit, standing up straighter.
“Iris… the greek goddess? You know her?”
“I mean… she raised me so I’d hope so!”
Oneir blinks, before nodding and looking back where Hermese left, the dragon twirling through the air towards the two with a jar of ink.
As they sign the form Hermese receives the packages from the boy and places them at the back of the room. Oneir’s eyes trace the boy’s figure, their clothing high quality yet not quite elaborate.
“Who are you exactly?”
“Astari! Courier for I.R.I.S. and raised by lady Iris herself.”
Oneir nods, continuing to analyze the pigeon boy…
Astari’s red eyes flit around, never seeming to settle on a satisfying intrigue; they seem to shift and dodge the air, talons tapping the ground as if on sol itself; his chest heaves with energy barely caged by their ribs; his eyes, curling the dim glow of the room around its vivid hues.
“Well, I’ll be stationed on Luna for a week or so… I’ll see you around, Oneir?”
Oneir shakes a bit and bows, Astari returning it before hopping down the hall.
Hermese smiles at Oneir, teasing on their tongue as he delves through the rectangular container with the red planet and a cucurbit on it.
“Why?” Oneir stares spears into the dragon, sighing.
“Because you’re making friendssssss.”
Oneir promptly pushes his snout away, groaning and spinning around; catching sight of the newspapers frustratingly accompanying the package. New wave of couriers set sail from I.R.I.S. after their recent losses in interplanar settlement…Latest terran bio editing operations have been cleared for public use, options include…The Interplanar Storm contin- Oneir tears their gaze away and reaches for their abandoned book.
“Hey, Oneir, we should go shopping. I’m running low on llevite and could do with some sulfur.”
They turn to Hermese, pausing a bit for their gaze to sink into the dragon’s scales.
“Origin or exo?...”
“Origin!? We might as well by an interplanar ship alongside some Origin llevite!” Hermese waves his arms in the air, shaking the sarcasm around the air.
Oneir brings a weary hand to their eyebrows. “Just… give me a moment.”
TARI Prologue Part 1 Coming Soon to a Blog Right Here!
Hello!!! In roughly... a few days, at most a week? Or less. Depends on when I'm ready to post it. The first part of the TARI prologue will be out!!!! There will be three parts and 1-3 interludes!
