#flight writing

[archersea]

bursa, 2024

[carnie-fr]

Awyn

He - Him - His

The Birthday Massacre - Kill the Lights

His jaw is clenched tight. He knows Aechon will read it as irritation. It’s not entirely false. But it is more because if he speaks it will come out hoarse and strained. Holding in a cough gets harder with every passing day. Makes his chest tighter. He can barely breathe past it. He lifts a hand and waves Sequence and Aechon out of the room. Aechon opens his mouth in protest, but the imperial herds him out. The instant the door shuts, the hacks rip through his chest into his glove. He realizes his seconds can probably hear it, but he couldn’t hold it any longer.

He pulls his mouth away at last from the thick fabric and frowns at the string of blood and spittle that connects his mouth to the dark spots left behind.

--- This story's missing a wishing well No mirror to show and tell No kiss that can break the spell I'm falling asleep... ---

Bio Lore W I P Bottom art from Paladine on FR

[carnie-fr]

Puck

He - Him - Himself

Hozier - Arsonist’s Lullaby

Not as flirty or prideful as he used to be, Puck remains a kind heart and wild reveler. Puck's aged experience and countless scars lead to a dangerous opponent on the field. Even with the relations between him and the leader of the clan repaired, his presence still sends worry through the most seasoned warriors that had opposed him during the civil war.

The Silence falls under his command and that of his lover, Björn. A mercenary group mostly comprised of those who still believe in the survival of the fittest, the Silence are warriors and rogues who followed Puck in the civil war and remain loyal to him still. Not so extreme as he once was, the work has mellowed him dramatically. Basic mercenary work now, instead of the zealous riots of Plague worship. Though much of that mellowing can be attributed to Björn.

Puck has had many lovers, but none so serious as Björn. True, he has Menis still, but when Björn and he finally got serious, something blossomed in him he'd never known. The viking Nocturne came to the clan when the Aurea Empire fell. Björn's wife had fallen in the chaos and while he mourned, Puck found himself drawing closer. It took years and the slow, steady work of The Silence together before they got to where they are now. Now, they stand shoulder to shoulder, each to cover the other's blindspot. Soon, no one had to ask anymore if they were together. Where Björn is the calm, collected focus, Puck is the warmth of passion and freedom. They encourage the best out of one another.

A recent job in Ice, however, has Puck distracted. He knew Björn was loyal to his element, but never was it so vivid as those weeks. Björn's enthusiasm to explain old traditions and stories of his childhood that he'd never told before came spilling out. And both of them are only getting older; his feathers and hair are becoming streaked with grey and white, his limp worsening every day... He can't help but think of the old abandoned house they'd stumbled upon in the wilderness of Ice. Retirement seems more and more welcoming with every passing day.

Past

Born with a terrible heart defect, paling even as he cracked out of his egg, his superstitious parents left him to die at a very young age. Had it not been for the intervention of a kind-hearted spiral from Lightning who stumbled upon him, he would have wasted away. Carrying a little magitech device in his chest now to keep him alive, the spiral would take him back to Arcane. To a clan known as The Nebula's Center. Under the careful eye of Comet, the orphan grew and played with a pair of siamese twins, Phenax and Erebos, the three quickly become thick as thieves.

But Comet was not loyal to the Arcanist. She raised them with the words of the Plaguebringer, the Mother of Filth. And when Imirear was called to His service and Limiri formally stepped down, Comet was next in line. And so the clan went through a major change. Comet had worked her magic on many clan members and it wasn't long before The Nebula's Center was no more and The Rot's Revelers were born. Puck, Erebos, and Phenax became her seconds, along with a mirror named Xenagos. Then came the Decay. And Puck accepted it, as of course, he should. To hell with coatl superstition of sickness being a weakness. He would survive this, too.

But the Decay ravaged his body and mind. He clawed at his scales, tore his eye out, as fever madness took hold. But the fierce, sharp-witted coatl who came out the other side was a force like no other to be reckoned with. Swiftly becoming the clan's commander and coliseum champion, the revels were where he belonged. In the fray of indulgence and freedom.

Then Comet fell and he became leader. Barely matured, Puck then led through his prime. His wild ways and the kind heart that remained beneath seduced many a lover, and Puck has many children across the continent from his time as leader. His clever mind grew alliances with Beastclans and dragons alike and grew rivalries and tensions with others.

He remembers the day it all ended. The bone-chilling roars that haunt his dreams even now. That makes his stump ache with phantom pains. The crash of dens collapsing, and the screams of the dying. He remembers adrenaline and pain.

He remembers seeing stars.

Then he woke in Shadow. And never had he felt more betrayed. Perhaps it was fever-induced fury from his wounds, perhaps he was madder than anyone thought, but as his debilitating state forced him to inaction, a rage broiled within him. It didn't take long for others loyal to him to gather, and they became The Pack. For some time, Icthanil allowed it. It gave Puck his space to worship and practice in his own right and kept a part of the old clan alive. But they became worse and worse. Up until Puck's son, Reuel, was killed. And the coatl seemed to snap.

With sheer brute force, Icthanil managed to end the first battle and force The Pack from the city. But the civil war raged on and on. Then a face Puck hadn't seen since his hatchling days ended it swiftly. Imirear's words were law as a progenitor. Again, Puck was forced to inaction. He fumed and raged until the next revel. And it was the longest ever had. Old connections forged anew in blood and adrenaline. And Puck was sated. With a raging snap, the tensions finally relaxed. Puck finally relaxed. The Pack disbanded and The Silence formed.

First art is from @acverg The second art is mine.

[carnie-fr]

Looking for FR art and lore friends. I haven’t been active in like 4 years and like 75% of the people I interacted with vanished LOL.

[carnie-fr]

Cenn is up for auction!

Cenn has a full body gijinka design, completely colored and shaded, that the winner of the auction will get in full resolution. Starting bid; 500kT Current bid; None Autobuy; 5500G or 5.5milT Ends; Jan 30th, 2020 22:00 FR Server Time 00:00 CST Guard; 30 mins

[carnie-fr]

Updated my lore page (link is on the top of my blog page on desktop) and added a ‘finished’ checkmark. You can now sort them by who I’ve finished writing for so you don’t have to click through a bunch of ‘WIP’s.

[sarenarteriusfr]

"A cold day's morning breaks open on a lonely soul. Left out in the frosty winter's night of his own desires rests a set of numbed toes and ice laced frills. Unbothered as his youth had him brave the tundras of the icefields below, a long neck stretches to the sky to greet the morning. A smart one, his body laden with fat to insulate himself, he feels no remorse for not burrowing beneath the foliage to rest away a good chunk of the season. Yet still aware of his dire need to eat more. Shaking his slumber off him, he finally leaves the puddle of self made warmth in the scraped open barren earth to seek breakfast. Skirting the edges of clan territories for anything he can find. Carrying high hopes for starchy roots to hold him steady. This sort of morning has been walked before time and time again. Merely a single Bogsneak and the things he can carry pushing forward against the elements. In his sachel lay a single picture. Faded and obscure, and with it his purpose. Someone to find. Perhaps even a lost relic to time. Even the location of a memory would suffice. He seeks the faces and the places of time long ago, not for noble cause or gain. A simple drive yet urges forward. Perhaps to fill a gap within himself. Or merely to sleep much fuller at night with his curiousities filled. On the back etched lovingly with what smells of pearlcatcher "ink" rests a song. Notes woven delicately with meaning unknown. no more than 2 and a half lines with no words or incantations to be found. Along his travels, a well and friendly bard was kind enough to play it for him. And so when weakness and frailty finds him in his travels he lulls himself to sleep, humming his mystery song into his dreams." Lmao I did my random desire to make a lore dragon. I have no idea what lore drogs sell for these days though. So I guess hit me up if you want him. It's been a long time so no fancy formatting on this one. What you see in the quotes is plainly written in the bio.