#aeger

[littleappledolls]

This little one wanted to say hello. Thank you to everyone who has been checking in on us and sending messages of support. Your kind words help, immensely. We're moving through things a little slower than usual (!) But will be posting images and updates tomorrow...with a surprise...or two. #aeger #legacy #littleappledolls #dollstagram #vinyldolls #dolls (at Somewhere In-between)

[quarkmaster]

AEGER

A design piece done as homework for Ken Fairclough's Course, Learning a ton.

Sergei Sarichev

[littleappledolls]

We are giving away this little guy! If you use Facebook, head over to our page (info in bio) and comment to win! #aeger #littleappledolls #smalldoll #vinyldoll #vinylfigures #dollstagram #dolls

[anonymous-moon]

Day 260-

Phantoms today.

[tylaugr]

i cannot stop thinking about aeger and pitying my own creations so imma ramble about him below but WARNING he’s a fucked up man who did fucked up things and i’m not going too in depth into everything here but there might be hints so here’s your warning. and just because i’m sad for the tragedy that is my own creation doesn’t mean i condone bla bla bla let’s goooo--

so, first, “aeger” is the latin word for “sick”. he didn’t name himself that. his parents didn’t name him that. he never even knew his own parents. he was born into slavery, always chained at least by the ankle deep, deep underground to help mine further into the labyrinth of his ancestors. he was born mentally unwell into a horrible environment, beaten and whipped and chained, underfed and overworked, without enough sleep (how can a man sleep like this), forced to go into more dangerous parts of the labyrinth because he has an innate sense of direction inside and resistances to any toxins within (but not immune, he still suffers, coughs, heaves). another slave sets him off. he snaps. he keeps beating his enemy despite him being long dead. he bites into his enemy, blinded by rage. his captors watch. “sick”. they call him aeger, and they know he’s useful, and resilient, and unstable.

he has a sickle. there are some things in the labyrinth he must kill himself. he plans. he draws his own blood and curls up against the stone wall, acting like he’s dying, waiting for one of his captors to get close enough to inspect him. when they did, he slit their throat open and unshackled himself. he picked up their rifle, which he had seen them use plenty of times before. he starts walking, a man in rags, and he tears through any in his way, slave or captor, and he thrives from taking their lives. the first thing he sees when he escapes is the full moon, looming over him, and he feels more overpowered than he ever has. and the stars all feel like eyes, watching him.

he flees far, far into a forest, where he sees construction. a...shelter, is being built. he hears the word “cottage” and “home”. he sees the others. they see him, covered in blood, wild eyes. they tense, and he attacks. he does what he knows: take, and finish where they left off. he makes traps around his home like the ones he had triggered and learned to disarm in the labyrinths--the ones his ancestors made. he feels he is always being followed. sleep still does not come easy.

sometimes people pass by. sometimes they die, over time, he learns to trade and barter, but he is always wary. one day, a woman stumbles upon his home, alone, with a bag of clothes and other things. her name is helena. somehow, they wind up together, “married”. aeger has never known love, but he likes this affection--but sometimes he feels aversion to her. perhaps it’s because she’s one of them. he doesn’t know exactly why. but it’s fine. everything is fine...and then his son is born, and he finally knows what love is. that is his world, and he loves his son and his son alone. he has no love for his wife. he suspects she’ll take ardes from him--paranoia he thought he had conquered returns stronger than before. fights start, get worse--and helena falls ill. as he goes to check on her, she pulls a dagger--she swears she won’t let him take ardes. he has been waiting for this. this is final. he grabs her wrist, the other hand over her mouth, and he turns the blade inwards on herself. he tells ardes she died from the sickness, but his son sees blood under his father’s fingernails.

 his son goes outside too often--out of his sight, at night, under that moon. he does it for the moon. he swears the moon has damned him and helena. he swears it has eyes. and ardes loves it, and it clearly wants to take his son away from him. and aeger cannot take it. he forbids ardes from leaving the house. ardes obeys, perhaps for a few months, but one day he asks if he can go outside. aeger thinks his son is trying to leave him, his world, the only thing he has ever and will ever love, and this is his final snap. he starts coming at his own son with a sickle, his mind split, not thinking right at all. in the back of his mind there is a voice screaming at him to stop, but everything else is adrenaline, panic, distrust, anger, grief. ardes keeps backing up towards the fireplace, and as aeger gets close enough, he feels a sharp, terrible pain in his abdomen. he looks down, and sees that ardes had grabbed the firepoker to defend himself. he drops the sickle. he drops to the ground, surprised that ardes is there to cradle him. he weeps “i’m sorry, ardes, please forgive me, i love you, don’t leave me, i love you more than anything--” until he dies.

one day, many years later (how long, he does not know), he opens his eyes again, but he doesn’t feel...right. not dead, not quite alive. there’s that damn moon. he’s under a tree. he sees those eyes he loves the most. ardes. ardes is a young man--and although he was always different, there’s something new aeger sees in his son. “please, father, for me,” ardes whispers gently in a soft, lulling voice, with loving eyes that hold no resentment, and a warm smile. aeger sits down in a wheelchair almost automatically, thousand-yard stare, a broken, manic, grateful smile, and replies “anything--anything for you, son.”