There was a dream you had, one that hasn't quite slipped away.
The beginning is lost, or maybe there was no proper introduction to be had. Just a hazy recollection of a pulsating light, searing and all-encompassing. The light is unkind. It burns and it takes and it leaves you feeling deprived of something you cannot place. Even though it is of you. Or you are of it.
The light twists and writhes, but it is the same light, unchanging. Taking and taking. The light is you. But it should not be. And suddenly it is worse.
It burns brighter, a hundred times the agonizing glow. But beneath the light, a hand reaches out. Dark. Cold. It is not of light. It is not of you. But you could be of it.
The presence speaks. But you do not hear. You can not hear. But where it touches, the light fades. Aloe vera on seared skin. The light flickers. You flicker.
You take the hand. The light fades. The hand takes you. You are of it. The dark is relief. The dark is cold. The dark has a pressure, crushing at you. Mouse within a constrictor's coils.
The dark is suffocating.
You wish for the light.
You are not of the light.
You awaken from the dream in a cold sweat. There was more. But you do not remember. Something feels wrong. It did not feel like a dream.
When her first son was still young, Gianna began a tradition. For Astra’s birthdays, she would give him a flower. The flowers were known as passionbells, and they only bloomed within the feywild. Favored as she was by the archfey Titania, it was a simple matter to pluck them from the gardens, and so she took two of them. One for herself, and one for her son.
Passionbells, like most things of the feywild, were strange and magical. They were translucent, bell-shaped flowers that glowed with a soft white light. But when they were touched by a creature from the material plane overwhelmed by emotion, they changed color. And so they would remain, for another year. And so, Gianna would pick them each year, and the beautiful white flowers would change into light yellows and pinks from the happiness and love she shared with her child. And so they would remain, only beginning to wilt in time for next year’s celebration. After Caliena was born, she expanded to tradition to her daughter’s birthday as well, though she was much too young to remember.
As the years went by, Gianna was forced to leave the lands of the fey. Passionbells did not grow on the material plane, and so while she continued the tradition with her children (including little Jazmine, when she was born), she used different flowers. May bells and snowdrops and foxgloves, all were part of her children’s birthday celebrations, and they returned the favor on her birthday (or at least the day she celebrated as such, never having known the true date herself).
These days, Gianna usually celebrated her birthdays alone. She sometimes stopped by the capitol, or found herself near Haven, but her children were all busy with their own lives. She’d usually receive a Sending from Alessa, but with how often Gianna traveled it was hard to get ahold of her without arcane means. She was getting older, just past her sixtieth summer, and all her children (literal or figurative) had their own lives and things to be busy with. But this year, something was different.
Gianna awoke as she often did. In the bed of an inn, where she had performed the night prior. But as she gathered her things, ready to set off from the small town she had been staying in, she found a letter, addressed to her. The innkeeper knew nothing of it, or who had delivered it. There was no one else staying at the inn, that night. But the letter had small map, and Gianna had nothing but time, so she followed the trail out into the forest nearby. And in the clearing, stood her son, beginning to show the faintest signs of grey himself, smiling. Among a field of faintly glowing flowers. And as she walked through to meet them, tears began to fall from her face.
“Happy birthday, mom.”
The flowers parted and changed. Shifting to warm shades of pink and yellow.
The room was dark, but it did not seem to bother the aged woman, studying at her desk. Dimly lit, and bereft of decoration, Dumira’s private sanctum was not much to look at. After all, she never did.
Embedded in the space between the planes, a tear and twist in the fabric of reality that she had carved out with her own hands, it was… a fairly plain room, all things considered. The walls and floor were blank, and the only items of note within the room were the various bookcases and scrolls and all manner of strange baubles that were arranged among the shelves. It gave the appearance of a study, but with an almost jarring formality. Every item was neatly placed on a shelf, according to some sort of filing system only the mistress of the space was privy to. And besides the shelves, there were only two fixtures within the sanctum.
In a display case, uncharacteristically presentative, were a pair of folded, white-feathered wings. Preserved by magic, they sat neatly folded within the glass, the same as the day Dumira had excised them from her self. A reminder, perhaps. Though locked within the glass as they were, the sightless woman likely did not keep them around to admire. Whatever the reason, they were seemingly important enough to find their way into her utilitarian space.
At the center of the room was a table. Simple, wooden, with the same minimalist lack of thought for aesthetics as the rest of the study. That is where Dumira sat. Her usual mask, a simple metal construction that hid the upper half of her face, sat neatly on one corner of the table, leaving her stitched eye sockets fully visible, were anyone present to observe them. However, she sat alone in this stark space, mulling over texts with the iconography of suns and scimitars. Several tomes and scrolls lay about the table, as well as a personal journal of her own, which had not been touched in some time.
Letting her left hand float a short distance above one of them, she let the softly pulsing enchantment of her glove transcribe the writing into something more tangible. Words and writing took form within the gloves, as her fingers softly ran over the illusion it created. Dumira’s brow furrowed slightly. With her other hand, she rolled a fist-sized octahedral stone in her hand, a gift from a sphynx many long years ago. But no matter how she fiddled with the stone of knowledge, it lacked the answers she sought. This troubled her.
Sighing, Dumira set down the tome. The flowy words and moral posturing of the devout tired her. Whatever the truth may be about the corruption she had witnessed, it would not be found in these saccharine writings of praise. Such sweet illusions and light often served to distract from truth.
I reblogged this a while back but I don’t think I ever did anything with it. Wanna do some more Writing again so if there’s any that seem Interesting send me a character and a number
Oh boy. Oh boy small child Dumira. Obviously this would be very much before she, you know, cut off her wings and gouged out her eyes or her hair started to grey, so she looked A Lot different. Dumira was a literally angelic child who was raised in a temple of Sarenrae by her human father (a cleric). She was very much raised with ideas of Justice and Good ingrained into her, and so she was a Very headstrong and stubborn child who was kind of obsessed with. Righteousness and Paladin things. She also liked to collect bugs and go out flying recklessly and harassing people but she got yelled at a lot for those things.
4) Their laugh
Dumira’s general disposition means. A lot of dark souls laughter, basically. A ot of very amused chuckling. She probably also has a comically evil Villain laugh that she’s practiced. You know, just in case.
1, 8, and 17 for seraphina u kno i will always ask about bard wife
1) Them as a child
Seraphina as a child was... very messy. She was born with very underdeveloped arms, and her family’s way of dealing with that was. To just have servants do everything for her short of carrying her on a palanquin everywhere she went,, which obviously was very embarrassing for her since she couldn't go ANYWHERE without 1-3 servants accompanying her. She also had a bit of a stutter and issues with speaking where she’d get through sentences in her head faster than her mouth could keep up, and stumbled over words a lot. She had exactly one friend (Isador) and spent a very large amount of time in etiquette classes and the like which she absolutely Hated. Into her teenage years is around when she started to actually get some basic prosthetics and started to be able to Do things for herself a bit more, which is when she really started to get into music (some very basic piano was something that was originally done as like. An exercise to see how much she could do with her original clamp-hands). But basically TLDR for most of her early childhood she was. A little brash and very much annoyed with everything her family wanted for her and kind of unhappy.
8) Their interactions with their significant other
I’m gonna talk about Clara because I assume you don’t want to hear about the Terrible ex-husband. Seraphina got off to a genuinely Very bad start with Clara originally, because she was a wraith bound to a silver broach at the time and Clara made some comments that basically boiled down to that they saw her as like. A tool to be used or an object (which weren't necessarily intended to be. that dehumanizing and such but Clara is not very good with people unfortunately). Which rubbed her very much the wrong way since she, as a noblewoman who had been arranged into a shitty marriage to increase the standing of her family and basically was treated as a trophy wife, had very often been treated as a commodity or a fine piece of jewelry and was very resentful of it. Literally within 10 minutes of meeting Clara she possessed them (because ghost) and made them ram their head into a wall causing a concussion.
That being said, over time Seraphina saw a lot more of Clara and they did start to have a lot more. Pleasant interactions. They started to talk more and she did start to care about them a bit, with some bonding over violin times (more like violin crimes whenever Clara plays lmao). And then, you know. Seraphina died again, her wraith form destroyed trying to protect Clara. And Clara literally sold their soul to a devil to get Seraphina back (and alive this time!). Which is pretty romantic. So since then everything has been a lot more Tender and Seraphina probably also feels a bit guilty and might think she owes Clara a life debt and they’re. Wives now. Hell yeah. So now there’s a lot of interactions between them that are just. Quiet comforting/reassuring. And still also violin times. Those are important.
17) Them Sleeping
Seraphina is a fairly heavy sleeper. She tends to toss and turn a bit and. Occasionally mumbles in indistinguishable elven during her sleep. Because of that she’s also 100% a blanket thief.
I need to work on character description, and I’m sad I’m not good enough at arting to participate in the drawing memes going around, so send me a number and a character (preferably an OC) and I will write a paragraph or two describing:
Them as a child
Them several years past their main adventure
Their parent(s)
Their laugh
Their crying
Their interactions with their children, if they have them
Their interactions with their pets, if they have them
Their interactions with their significant other(s), if they have them
Their interactions with their best friend
Their interactions with an enemy/rival
Their interactions with a stranger (feel free to say who the stranger might be! wink wink)
do the problematic oc thing for seraphina . wife city
Seraphina is precious and justified and can do no wrong.
On a more serious note Seraphina’s biggest sin is inaction. She travels with a lot of genuinely kind of evil people who will travel around inciting war and exploiting people for their own gain and she just kind of… lets it happen. Because she owes most of the party a literal life debt and cares very much abt Clara especially she has a tendency to just look the other way when someone decides to leverage the death of a noble and destabilization of a city’s leadership to line their pockets. Or wants to ally themselves with a war criminal. Or is half-demon or worships an evil god of death and ambition and manipulation.
Oh and she also murdered her awful ex-husband i guess but like. He killed her first that one time and even if that weren’t the case Seraphina is 1000% valid and justified for wanting revenge on Bastard Nobleman.
Don’t think I don’t see what you’re doing. Trying to get some dirt on your arch-nemesis by appealing to me desire to rant about OCs? Very well.
Prompt List
1) What is their full name, and does it have any special relevance? Alternatively, what nicknames do they have?
Councilman Valek Garth, his title denotes him as a member of the Hunters’ Council, the governing body of Rai'Mychievusch. He’s sometimes informally known as the Invisible Hand, in reference to being the one who handles relations (or allegedly, manipulates them) between the Hunter’s Paradise and other nations. He also used to be called Wisp when he was much younger although almost nobody would remember that.
5) What is their favourite weapon to wield?
Well that’s a pretty easy one. Valek is a mage, first and foremost, and as such relies more on his overwhelming arcane power than any physical weapons. That being said, he recently acquired a very nice black gauntlet imbued with the power of the Far Realm, which he has undoubtedly been itching to try.
11) Diplomatic or aggressive?
Depends on the situation! Valek is pretty smart, and tends to analyze a situation first and tailors his approach to his circumstances. If its simpler to solve a problem through bribery or manipulation, he will. But if its easier to just silence the opposition, well. The Invisible Hand works its magic.
12) They get arrested, and thrown in jail, how do they escape?
Given his current standing that would be very difficult. However, Valek is a powerful man, both politically and in terms of arcane might, with more than a few tricks up his sleeve. One way or another, he would not stay in jail for long.
10, 12, 13, for seraphina and also 2 and 14 for faith
OH THESE ARE FUN. I’m gonna answer them in the same order as asked so this post might get a lil long.
Prompt List
10) What is their favourite colour? (Seraphina)
Black is an obvious choice, given that dark clothing and black hair makes up about 90% of the Seraphina Aesthetic. But for her favorite color I’d say probably a nice, deep sapphire blue.
12) They get arrested, and thrown in jail, how do they escape? (Seraphina)
Oh she certainly does have Options there.
Before her first death, she was part of the most important noble family in the region so prison would’ve been a non-issue. But now? She certainly has the mind for manipulating anyone in charge of guarding her, and its rare that she can’t think of some way to turn the people around her to her side. But even if words fail, Sera has gotten pretty handy with a set of lockpicks, and has more than her fair share of magical misdirection between her illusory clones and a well-timed Invisibility.
13) Would they leave their party for any reason? (Seraphina)
I read this originally as “a fancy party they are hosting” and my mind immediately swam with dramatic ideas about pre-campaign Seraphina, but I just realized thats not what that meant.
The party? Potentially. Seraphina is a nonevil character enabling a… morally challenged party. There’s a part of her that definitely questions her place there, but the party has done so much for her that she’s probably too grateful to abandon most of them, unless they did something truly terrible she couldn’t overlook. That being said, she definitely cares about Clara more than anybody else. If Clara wanted to leave, or if something happened to Clara, there’d be a good chance Sera would part ways with the party. She really just loves her scarecrow SO.
2) What hobby would they like to be good at? (Faith)
I don’t… think Faith has ever had a hobby. She’s always so concerned with Her Purpose and with guiding others towards Sarenrae and towards salvation (willing or not) that she doesn’t really. Think about herself as a person outside of her Purpose. Even as a child she was never really allowed to have Hobbies or Interests, and I guess she’s probably never really thought about it before. Unfortunately I think she’d probably think taking time for something she enjoys would be frivolous and a distraction (although I’m sure she’d take great interest in other people’s hobbies if she believed it would make them trust her more, but only as a means to an end).
That got kinda sad :(
14) If they could own any creature as a pet, what would they have? (Faith)
Pets… I’m not really too sure about that one either! Faith did have a horse for a while that she traveled with (goodbye Mirage, you will be missed), which she probably stole and considered a Practicality. I could see her adopting an animal if she believed it would be Useful to her or if she believed it was sent as some sort of Messenger or Sign from Sarenrae. Also as I’m writing this it occurs to me that the concept of Faith having some sort of hawk or maybe a smaller bird would be Nice.
Braxx tightened his furred fingers around the handle of his war club, as he strode with a look of fire in his eyes. Most times, the seasoned gnoll was calm and relaxed, like a reed bending to flow with a gentle wind. This was not one of those times.
“What the hell kind of game are you playing, Valek?”
Sitting cross-legged on a neatly laid out bedroll, Valek glanced up to the hyena-faced warrior, a look of apathy in his cold, violet eyes. The older mage’s hair was rapidly greying, the years (or perhaps the magic) taking its toll on him. “Our job, if you recall. Perhaps you should try the same, next time.”
The cry of a large hawk, perched atop a cart some distance away, almost tauntingly. Braxx relaxed his hand from his war club, but slowly began to ball it into a fist, to prevent him from wrapping it around Valek’s neck. “You cut three of our people off. Left three of them to fend for themselves against a dozen. That’s not how we do things. We’re supposed to be on the same side, you ass.”
Valek, with a look of mild annoyance, rose to his feet. “No, I focused on the objective. Something you seemed to have forgotten about. Or did you think it was a clever plan to abandon our employer and toss them into greater peril, keeping them in the center of an ambush?”
Braxx’s mouth curled into a snarl. “Focused on the objective? You focused on yourself and your mission. And left everybody else for dead, practically sealed their fates yourself. You play the part of the big leader, but you don’t care about anybody but you. You’d leave us all for dead if it lined your pockets. Consequences be damned.”
Valek took a step closer, a mote of darkness swirling deep within those blue eyes. “I did what was necessary. Made the call no one else would. If you had stayed, there would simply be another body littering the ground.” That apathetic gaze had begun to curl into a hint of a self-satisfied smirk.
Braxx grabbed Valek’s arm, now within an inch of the shorter human. “I’m not playing your game anymore, Valek. If I see you pull a stunt like that again, you’re gonna be the one in the ground. No matter what that hawk of yours has to say about it.” With a small growl, he shoved the mage back, sending him stumbling slightly.
(a little bit of bonding between two of the NPCs in the game I DM)
Moira raised a hand to her mouth, in an ultimately futile attempt to stifle a yawn. As though slightly ashamed for breaking the heavy silence that had set in, she awkwardly moved it further back to her scalp, before remembering that her clean-shaven head did not have any hair to run her fingers through. Across the now-vacant fire pit, Seraphina averted her gaze slightly, so as to not worsen the awkwardness. The finely-dressed woman cleared her throat with a polite cough into the crook of her mechanical arm, and silence enveloped the two yet again. This was going to be a long watch.
