//Fibba. The grump bug, she who would hide behind an anubian disguise to try and convince herself she can have a normal life. Fibula is a competent mage, studied in and capable of basic magic arts like levitation, all the way to complex arts like Necromancy and complicated mixing of both Necromancy and Changeling transformation magics. But despite all her angst, despite her depression...
//It all vanishes when she eats tacos. She loves tacos. Mushroom tacos are her favourite, and she's always down for tacos.
//Ilium is not a nice buggo. She's manipulative, selfish, gluttonous, jealous and vengeful. She's vain and cares very little for most everyone she meets. She cares for her mother, though doesn't show it often, but loathes her sister's very existence, due to believing that, as the eldest sister, SHE deserves their mother's throne, not Fibula. She doesn't even want the throne, but the very idea that something was denied to her that she thinks she's entitled to makes her hate Fibula for it. It's this attitude and these personality flaws that were the reason for being skipped over however, and she refuses to see it.
//Queen Tibia. Though, she mostly uses that title out of habit now, seeing it as a bit hollow. Regardless, she's never given up on it, and plans to negotiate with Celestia and Luna for land to rebuild her hive. She's also quite taken with Princess Luna, smitten in fact. Tibia is hoping that Luna would be so kind as to help her populate a new hive... and maybe even be queen by her side. Or at least wait for her.
😒 - “Ugh! Not him/her/them/it again.” How does your character react to annoying people?
Fibby ignores them. Straight up. She’ll ghost a motherfucker without question, without warning and utterly without remorse. If they try to talk to her, or force her attention, she’ll snark at them openly, and in a hostile manner. She hates when people don’t get the hint. Keep going, and she will remove you from the situation, first attempt with an ultimatum, the second with a carrying out of said ultimatum.
That, or she’ll straight up tell them to ‘fuck off, I’m busy ignoring you’.
Tibia and her daughters had found a certain amount of success integrating into the worlds of Ma’Hatma. Tibia had begun putting herself into the Warden’s family and circles, Ilium had begun building up a circle of hopeless admirers,wallowing in their adoration and love for her (or her body, she didn’t care which).
The only outlier was Fibula. Heiress to her mother’s title, witch and necromancer. Unlike her sister and mother, who were trying their hardest to move on after their solstice rituals, appeasing the souls of the dead, Fibula had done the opposite.
Burying herself in her own little world, Fibula existed almost entirely within the bounds of her room, the curtains drawn and door locked. She had refused almost anyone’s entry, coming out only to visit her mother, whom frequently gave her the love she needed to survive. She was waspish, angry and lashed out at most everyone that bothered trying to talk to her.
That was all about to change. Recently, Fibula had become active. Moving quickly through the village, collecting things. Only ever in bits and pieces. Knuckle bones of a ox, Tooth of a Lion. Feathers of a Sphinx. Salt, candles.
Anyone who was observant enough would realise something was up. But Fibby was smart. She spaced out her finds and purchases, glaring at anyone who asked questions, and generally being dislikable enough that people didn’t care.
Then. One night. A disturbance. One so profound, it even had Ilium awake and trembling. Something was wrong. Something resonated across the worlds. The land of the Dead howled, becoming shrieking winds in the land of the living. The night turned cold. Tibia could feel her blood run cold with it.
Oh Fibula... please don’t.
They, being Ilium and Tibia, were up and out before the feeling passed. It was only for a second. But apparently it had been enough. The door to Fibula’s room was burst open by Tibia.
But her daughter wasn’t there. It wasn’t until they both arrived at the only other place that would make sense that what had happened hit home, and Tibia felt tears in her eyes.
Standing, swaying in the breeze, was her heir. Her precious daughter, Fibula, outside in the cold in the graveyard. The one place that Anubis was so freely cherished for his services. But she wasn’t alone. There were guards surrounding her, all with weapons levelled at her, outrage clear in some eyes, confusion in others. All of them tasted of fear.
Standing within a complicated Necromantic circle containing a pentagram, all over the top of a four pointed cross was both Fibula, and a blank looking, very attractive changeling mare. Her eyes were glazed over, and whilst she breathed, she didn’t speak. She didn’t move. Around her neck was a silver locket. One that Tibia and Ilium both recognised.
“Anubis help us...” Ilium whimpered, hiding behind her mother from the anger and fear in the area, “She... Did she..?”
At each of the cardinal points of the cross were separate items. At the north facing, the Ox bone. The south, The sphinx feathers. The east was the lion fang and the west was a bowl of green ichor.
Changeling blood. And the deep slice across Fibula’s hand made it clear where it came from. The ominous thrum of power still resonanted here, and anyone sensitive to magic could feel it. Divine magic, mixed with Witchcraft. Strange bedfellows indeed.
