#c: unknown

[dailymanuscript]

Folio 22 verso, the Voynich Manuscript

[pauleyperretteworld]

[lettersandinkstains]

worldbuilding / blood upon the altar / short stories - the history of the goddess, sariel

(cw: violence, blood)

Her fingers grip at the golden handle of her sword, the silver steel drips with blood and it spills over -- staining it orange and her hand. She forged that sword herself so many years ago, with dragon scales and blessed by a witch. Around her are the bodies of those who tried to fight, who tried to take her world away from her. There is nothing now, standing between her and the one she is after.

“I love this world just as much as you do,” They call out, voice echoing through the red stained fields. “I want what’s good for it, too!”

There is a beast that lays underneath her skin, it’s shut her off completely and she marches towards them with intent. It’s as though she does not see the bodies littered before her, the ones who had worshipped her without so much of a second thought. Her eyes glow such a dark, heavy red.

They had been too late -- but of course they were. Even Sariel had told them that they would be. There’s no fighting it, she had predicted it so many years ago as the Tree had been planted. She had requested that the moment the venom in her system overtakes her, they kill her.

Around them is rivers and lakes of blood, burned fields that was once lush of green and a darkening sky that was always so blue. They worked together to make Elionde, their world, their beautiful world to what it was. Neither of them had intended to become gods, but they did and Sariel tried to fight it with each passing day -- suffering so greatly as she did so.

But when the Tree was planted, in its beautiful silver and golden leaves, it connected with her.

They don’t want to kill her -- her, who had a smile that lit up a room, her, who always had stories to share, her, who would rather die than watch people suffer. Sariel, Sariel, who they grew up with in their little village and was called to action because of an old prophecy. But they know that they have to. There is no choice -- between them and her, her and the world, they have to -- they have to --

And for the first time in two thousand years, the light went out.

[flava-ava]

[TXT MSG]: your cousin is unloyal. He has no sense of training. I never want to see a lemon again!

[TXT MSG]: MY COUSIN IS LOYAL TO CECE AND ONLY CECE[TXT MSG]: WHOEVER YOU ARE, BACK THE HELL AWAY FROM MY OTP[TXT MSG]: if this is yaya, your name might be one syllable repeated twice like cece’s, but you ain’t no cece, you imposter!

[unsided-archive-blog]

@moralisia pressed the  ❤

( ✧ .・゜゜ Fuck.... fuck fuck fuck. Carrie had messed up, not for the first time, but this was definitely the worst. The world was fading, and it was fading fast. The cold tile floor was hard in the small of her back, warmth spreading with what she assumed was a pool of blood beneath her. She was going to die, this was where it was going to happen. She always thought that her death would mean something but... this was fragile and almost desperate as if her life had just... slipped through her fingers. 

❝Is... someone there?❞

( ✧ .・゜゜ Her words are a splutter. Shapes are dancing in front of her, what looks like a shadow of a figure, had someone found her? Or was it an infected come to finish her off? Either way she didn’t think that it made a difference at this point.

❝I... I .... please.❞

[dailymanuscript]

Folio 17 verso, the Voynich Manuscript

[dailymanuscript]

Folio 9 verso, the Voynich Manuscript

[dailymanuscript]

Folio 17 recto, the Voynich Manuscript