ᯓ 𐍂𐌹𐍆𐍄ward ➵

[riftward]

ᛟᛉᚨ  ᛟᛉᚨ  ᛟᛉᚨ  ᛟᛉᚨ  ᛟᛉᚨ  ᛟᛉᚨ  ᛟᛉᚨ  ᛟᛉᚨ  ᛟᛉᚨ  ᛟᛉᚨ ₀₀₁. carrd. ₀₀₂. guidelines. ₀₀₃. muses. ₀₀₄. prompts. ₀₀₅. lore.

𝐍𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐥𝐞𝐝 in the primeval forests of the north lies the isolated village of Riftwood. Long forgotten by the world around it, a strangeness has been left to fester there for centuries; a wound untreated, tainting the grounds sustaining those within. The hum in the air is far more than insects in the reeds: it is a frequency of unravelling rooting in the entire ecosystem like a sickness.

By the mid–1990s, the infection has spread. The dead are stranded, the living are blinded, and the supernatural spiral into madness. ᯓ 𐍂𐌹𐍆𐍄ward ➵ is a selective, mutuals-only multimuse writing blog revolving around original lore that explores themes of: identity erosion, fractured memories, belonging nowhere, the inheritance of grief, and spooky happenings in the mists ; where the landscape itself cannot let go, time seems to stagnate, and something in the marshes calls for the lost.

The veil is collapsing; being pulled under seems inevitable ... can you hear it yet ?

DMs open to plotting ⅋ discussing characters !! s/low activity. please read the carrd ⅋ guidelines before interacting.  

𝐏𝐫𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 𝐦𝐮𝐬𝐞:

Leah Halpain ⤵

The night-blooming soul. The conduit to a signal undoing. The mirror of ancient grief. Othered from childhood, her survival was feral positivity and following her own path. After building her own path, brick-by-brick, she is pulled home to care for her dying grandmother, and as Nana slowly loses her mind, Leah begins to mirror her: losing pieces of herself, bit-by-bit. Something deep in the marshes calls to her, a mournful song ... but can she resist its beckoning frequency?

ˡᵒʳᵉ|ᶠᵃᶜᵉ|ᵃᵉˢ|ᶜ.ˢᵗᵘᵈʸ|ᵖˡᵃʸˡⁱˢᵗ.

Visit Original Link

            tuned by ᴊ ᴇ ᴍ — (she/her) — 30 . MDNI.                   [somnilea & sangueiro (ic sideblogs). gutstung.]

[riftward]

𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐄𝐒 ; 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐡 𝐡𝐚𝐥𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐧

ʜᴏᴍᴇᴄᴏᴍɪɴɢ & ʀɪꜰᴛ ᴄᴀʟʟɪɴɢ Main. Canon. the mid 90s. after graduating with a degree in history and landing a job as a researcher and curator in a museum, a 27-year-old Leah is called home to care for her grandmother, whose dementia has worsened in the past year. with the primary doctor now deceased, it is up to leah to provide the majority of her care. while dealing with that, the ringing in her head continues to intensify, and a strange array of … strays have been lingering by the cottage. notes; all replies will default to this point in time unless we've plotted. good for all supernatural/mysteries/mild horror/spookies. ᴄʜᴀꜱɪɴɢ ꜱᴏᴍᴇᴛʜɪɴɢ ɴᴏʀᴍᴀʟ Alt. Pre-Canon. the late 80s. with an interest in medieval history and an overwhelming urge to leave town, a 21-year-old leah tries to find her footing in the world. unfortunately, she was raised on quicksand, and the waters want to reclaim her. she struggles with minor substances to escape the persistent ringing in her ears — a secret she hides well from her nana. notes; this alt.canon takes place with leah in university, studying history in any city that suits OR just before she leaves for university & is still living at home with her nana. can double as a normie-verse & can be made modern — like in her ic sideblog. ᴛʜᴇ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ꜱɪᴅᴇ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ʀɪꜰᴛ Alt. Post-Canon. plotting only !! after the death of her grandmother, the last ward keeping leah from wading through the marshes is broken. having found the rift that has called to her her entire life, she has found what lies on the other side. grief, understanding, memory, and power. there is something different about her now, and it begs the question: how much of leah is left? notes; we should chat first :> this is all i will say.

[vellichnora]

[fairy-magick]

[canvasoul]

the in-between

/ original photography by Vijay Sarathy

[mournfulroses]

Katherine Mansfield, from a poem titled "Very Early Spring," featured in The Selected Poems of Katherine Mansfield

[riftward]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐑𝐢𝐟𝐭; the source of the nightmare signal. the festering wound. a portal to a realm of archived memories. a discordant song.

𝐋𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐠𝐨, a temporary settlement stood among gentle marshes, protected by towering pines. Those who called it home were nomadic by nature, small groups drifting across the landscape without dragging their damage through it. At the heart of the settlement was a woman called Lohæn, who wished to make something more permanent of their home. A village was slowly built. Modest. Homely. Lohæn was not a leader, but a guide. She heard the song of the landscape, and described a veil that separated this world from another where stray matter moved through a great filter, storing memories forever. She claimed that something ancient created the other world for itself, and that it should not be feared. With the song came the entities: creatures that have historically existed in secrecy, away from humankind. Creatures that transform with the light of the moon, that feast upon the flesh of the living, that exist only as a specter of their living selves. Lohæn offered her song; harmonising with the veil she was attuned to. The monsters ceased to be monsters, understood and calmed. Existence grew quieter for those who lived in torment. It was peaceful.

Peace, historically, is short-lived, and with time came more settlers. From distant lands, with their own ideas and beliefs. Upon discovering the village, they deemed it witchcraft and devil worship, with Lohæn as their leader. The threats didn't take long, growing from insistent advice from the heart to outright calls for damnation. The village did not listen, nor buckle from intimidation attempts, and in the end, they paid for it. The settlers, following their own righteousness, brought violence upon the village, burning it to the ground and murdering everyone there. Everyone except for Lohæn, who was left with the cruelest fate: mourning. Her grief was deafening, and it ripped a hole in the very veil blanketing the land, turning the once harmonious song into a discordant, jarring hum. The broken psychopomp tracked down every last one of the heretics in a fit of grief-turned-rage and filled their last moments with suffering, before collapsing with exhaustion.

Since then, the land once protected is now tainted. A wound torn into the landscape, with a rift in the centre of the marshes still leaking distress calls into the wilds. More settlers came, as they do, and the historic village of Riftwood was rebuilt, the people blissfully ignorant to the carnage there. Most are impervious to the broken song of the rift, and those that prospered in the village were those who did well to turn a blind eye to the strangeness. The creatures in the mists are not so fortunate, many driven mad by the droning. There is a reason the villagers urge newcomers not to venture into the wilds, but even they are not convinced that it is anything more than old superstition.

Visit Original Link

Visit Original Link

[riftward]

I once again need to update a bunch of stuff for this blog 💀 the downside of revolving an rp blog around an original story is figuring out where in the story to place characters for rp — especially when I keep building on it.

[riftward]

remembering leah was a teenager in the 80s means making a playlist of stuff she'd have listened to so much fun

[herslaughter]

𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐋𝐀𝐔𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐄𝐑 - an independent blog for 𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐀 '𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐘' 𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐑𝐄𝐒 an eldritch horror oc. lovingly tormented by ivy ( twenty9 , she/they, gmt ). blog is 21+. minors and personals DNI. ©

[riftward]

i'm gonna try & finish up some carrd stuff for this blog tonight to fill gaps. i'm all too aware some aspects might still be confusing unless we've spoken in dms/di.sc & i wanna make the lore clearer.

i'm also up for a little plotting, doesn't have to be super in-depth. if we've had interactions on my previous @/sondershum-archive & you wanna continue or if you wanna chat about interactions between our muses, pls heart this & i'll hop into your dms :>

[riftward]

im also aware i have dms!!! i'll get to you soon ♥︎ if you wanna add me on dis.cc, go ahead, im ch.404 there

[riftward]

i'm gonna try & finish up some carrd stuff for this blog tonight to fill gaps. i'm all too aware some aspects might still be confusing unless we've spoken in dms/di.sc & i wanna make the lore clearer.

i'm also up for a little plotting, doesn't have to be super in-depth. if we've had interactions on my previous @/sondershum-archive & you wanna continue or if you wanna chat about interactions between our muses, pls heart this & i'll hop into your dms :>

[gutstung]

#GUTSTUNG — ʀᴇᴊᴇᴄᴛ ꜱᴏᴄɪᴇᴛʏ ; ʙᴇᴄᴏᴍᴇ ʀᴇᴘᴜʟꜱɪᴠᴇ. they all hate your guts anyway. [credit]

[riftward]

think i'll spend some time with axel today ♡

[riftward]

thinking of a verse/scenario for leah's time missing in the marshes. great for feral supernatural muses & other spooks that might lurk — riftwood is a hub for them, after all. she is following the sound of the rift calling to her, once a discordant frequency hum, now a song that beckons so beautifully. if you want your muse to hear it, too, they may be affected. off. a little extra unhinged. the frequency seems to be unbearable to the paranormal.

[herslaughter]

𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐋𝐀𝐔𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐄𝐑 - an independent blog for 𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐀 '𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐘' 𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐑𝐄𝐒 an eldritch horror oc. lovingly tormented by ivy ( twenty9 , she/they, gmt ). blog is 21+. minors and personals DNI. ©

[ch404]

My two precious girlies who have never done anything wrong in their lives