Compilation of my entre EBG plot + the new stuff at the end :D
> For ease of reading and for those who just wanna see all my lore in one place. i also added in the little writing bits i made for this, also im so sorry abt any typos, im so tired rn
Tw: blood, sickness, mentions of skipping meals, sh and fantasies of attempting, sickness, vomiting, rot (do tell me if i missed anything else.)
5 days after the Irontomb crisis,
-> 8th time I've had to clean up the petals, they scatter and stick to everything they land on, this notebook is already covered in blood.
Breathing is hard, I don't want to think too much, but I know why it's happening to me.
We both made our choices, the world was- still is more important that what we felt. I just have to shove these feelings down until they wither away.
I feel nauseous just writting this, every breath is stolen and i can feel the vines and roots in my lungs, shifting and moving as the loose petals fill my throat. The ones on my shoulders and eyes sink deeper, trying to keep the air circulating in my body, but i just want to scratch it all off tear the skin until its raw and dig into my lungs to pull the vines out.
The hum of the Express is a constant, calming noise at least, even as i drown it out with my raspy coughing.
I am a creature of the Abundance, I shouldn't be wilting like this, and yet, the Verdure does not answer my pleas, does not grant this body recovery anymore than allowing me to breathe and choke and bleed-
A sharp sting pulses from my abdomen, yet it's the incessant knocks on the door breaks me out of my thoughts, my phone buzzes, screen smudged with blood and tears.
The express continued its journey along the silver rail, stars passing like afterthoughts.
Even after the events of the previous mission, some of the crew—namely Sunday—were on edge. He coud hear it echoing from the room beside his, that frantic coughing and retching barely muffled by the walls.
He knew she'd been eating less, barely leaving her room, and when she did, the smell of soap and detergent was sharp and noticeable.
Without tuning, the pain and disconfort was palpable in the air.
Andrea,
His Andrea was in so much pain.
He'd tried what he could, knocking on her door, calling, texting. It would be met with short, simple responses that did nothing to quell the worry in his chest.
.
.
.
Eventually he knew he couldn't help her alone.
He could only hope that this stop would be a step in the right direction for her.
6 days since Irontomb.
-> i have to clean everything, blood is caked onto the fabric of my clothes.
Another moment of this and I might collapse, my stomach hurts, so does my eyes. The smaller flowers have begun to fall from my skin and my eyes, blood trickles from the open stems, raw flesh in tiny spots...
It's still something I can hide atleast.
Usually, lying like this wouldn't make my gut twist, adding onto the pain of an empty stomach.
Yet as I speak, half-truths and bare information, continue to linger in the air, the doctor's face pales as I lift the veil and mask, face pale and blood long dried around my mouth.
I don't tell her about the petals, nor the falling blooms, the visit lasts an hour, her hands tremble the whole time.
.
.
.
"The doctor just prescribed paracetamol and full meals." I sighed, exiting the doctor's office, the shawl carefully around my shoulders,
"You were worried over nothing." Another cough slipped past my throat, muffled by the mask, I could smell the blood sticking to the material, the iron taste lingering on my lips,
He was still skeptical, I knew that, yet I hoped I could continue to lie, to try and push these feelings so far down that they were well below the dirt.
"I'll be by your side while you eat then." Sunday murmured, wings twitching in discomfort,
"Come on, we shouldn't linger too long."
7 days since Irontomb
"Snitch..." I sighed, settled back into my room on the Express, the lights low to hide the blood splatters I haven't cleaned yet, the smell of iron and chemicals linger on the sheets, faded from days of scrubbing that never ends.
I seize up, my shoulders shaking as i feel more of the flowers make their way up my throat, it tingles and sticks like it's trying to ham my airways and stiffle my breath, making me lightheaded and piercing into my lungs.
My eye strains as the glow of the phone screen covers my face.
My fingers hover over the chat, I hesitate, but I know there was no avoiding the whole situation.
I have to return to Amphoreus.
8 days since Irontomb
The movements of the train did nothing to ease my discomfort, stomach twisting and flaring in pain as I pushed away the tray of food provided.
It had taken only a day for the ache to intensify, blood permanently coated the sink in my room, rotting flowers filling trashbags and clinging to my throat at it became dry witb every heave.
I wanted to just disappear.
My vines would wrap around my neck, as it sensing the underlying desire in my heart. If I couldn't kill my feelings, then the only logical step was to—
"...Andrea? Are you alright in there? Madam Herta sent a message to me earlier, it said you need to get to the space station ASAP." Stelle's voice echoed through the door,
I wiped my mouth, spitting the rotting petals stuck in my teeth.
I hoped the rotten flowers would just block my windpipe- render all that air useless and finally let me rest.
"I-" several more coughs tore through my body, followed by the wet splat of blood into the sink, "I'll go soon..."
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
"Andie... this condition of yours..." Hyacine held my hand gently, looking over the exposed muscle and week-old scabs on my shoulders where the flowers used to be,
"A.... recent development... after the Irontomb fiasco." I murmured, pulling my shawl back up, hiding my shoulders,
"And you're certain it had nothing to to with the black tide?"
I nodded, turning away,
The sadness and concern in her eyes was too much, i couldn't look... without my veil to cover my face, all my emotions were bare, exposed to her.
"Well... I'd say this is similar to a myth I read about in the Grove..." Hyacine tightened her grip on my hand,
"Something about Mnestia cursing a nymph in love to cough flowers until she could finally cough up her feelings... whether to confess or rid herself of the emotion."
"The nymph chose neither... and suffocated."
I stilled, eyes finally darting to hers,
"So i have to choose?" A cold shiver made its way across my body, I felt lightheaded, scared... my stomach twisting into knots. I didn't want to confront it.
'The choice was already made.' More flowers threatened to make their way out of my lungs as I thought of it, as if trying to seize m tongue before I could say anything more.
Yes, the world was ending, there could be no space for such fragile love. But... Amphoreous had time now, we'd earned that time through the sacrifice of everyone...
Even so, admitting it would mean I'd allowed myself to trust someone the way I trust in Robin and Sunday. That I'd found someone safe enough to love...
"I want some time to think... " I finally let out the breath I'd been holding, coughs finally breaking through as I put my free hand over my mouth.
i can't stay here in Okhema, not when-
"Your condition is too precarious... the feelings are rotting you from the inside out, if you'd like... you can come with me to the grove, maybe we can learn more about what's happening."
I squeezed her hand in response, a reason- any reason to be far from this place... I'd take it.
The Grove Of Epiphany was a sight to behold in the reborn Amphoreous, with the... hasty renovations that had been done during he final cycle, the destruction that ensued was now ingrained in the divine tree.
I hadn't joined Lady Trianne, Stelle and Castorice when they came to this place, but I'd seen the pictures.
The damage had been cleaned up and fixed, yes but it still bore the traces of golden flame.
Bark and branches sometimes shimmered and pulse, the brightness of the early morning sun coming through the canopy of leaves... even with my veil covering my eyes, i could see just how magnificent this place was, it felt ethereal in here.
Some of the scholars walked past, greeting us as we moved towards the place where the old Twilight Courtyard was located.
And then I saw her, a serene and elegant lady, reading near one of the many shelves.
Hyacine reacted first, a smile already on her face.
"Lady Cerces! It's a pleasure to see you here."
My weakened heart began to beat, I tried to shake away the awe, she was beautiful yes, but I couldn't throw myself into another emotional rollercoaster while I was already on this one.
The introductions registered in my head, but I didn't answer when prompted.
Instead of taking offense, Hyacine spoke for me, helping me onto one of the cots used by the previous patients.
Fatigue and pain weighed down my body and I succumbed soon after.
When I finally came to, She- Cerces was still in the room, apparently Hyacine has asked her to keep watch while she tended to other things, and I could see the curiosity in her eyes.
The days would begin to pass in a blur.... we'd grow closer and closer
Somewhere in Okhema, Cyrene noticed fallen petals shoved in some odd, barely noticed corner,
There was spots of blood, like someone had pricked themselves to get them...
upon a closer look...
they were small, fragile Forget-me-nots
"You and I.... we're quite similar, don't you think dear?"
A vine, much like my own, lifts the fabric over my shoulders, the faint scent of cedar incense, fills the air between us.
The seconds stretch into minutes as we sit close, each one an agonizing span that weighs down even further at my heart.
"And these flowers? Not ones ive seen in any corner of Amphoreous." Cerces murmures, running her fingers over the delicate carnations, sending shivers down the petals to the stems.
We stay there, breaths held in a silence that seems so natural.
Vines on vines, roots creeping closer, like instinct between two trees who know they can rely on each other for support. In this quiet corner of the grove, atop the divine tree where no mortal soul could even reach.
Its green and brown and green and brown and green and brown—
My mind is hazy, eyes darting from branch to branch, feeling the soft cloth of our robes, the golden rays that filter through the foliage, the wind on the petals, and the black strands that frame my veil.
"Tell me more about these flowers... if you feel comfortable doing so." Curiosity drips from Cerces' tone, even reborn her inclination to learn is as potent as ever.
As should the Titan of Reason be.
I run a hand through the flowers on my shoulder, a calming habit of mine, to know I still bloom, that I have not faded into nothing.
My vines wrap around her other hand, clinging, begging for stability like a tree, frail and weak from the summer heat.
She notices, of course she does, yet chooses not to speak on it.
There's a tremble in my voice as I begin speaking. Is it fear? Is it relief? Or just the flowers stifling my breath once again.
"These carnations... are thought to be divine in my homeworld..." Lectures and passages cross my mind, such things I've memorised since childhood.
Divine flowers thought to be the flesh of gods, made into crowns and paraded in holy ceremonies....
I'd chosen it when i was a child, seeing the vibrant red as the color of joy and excitement.
I tell her as much while the breeze passes through the leaves.
It's a wonderful thing to be able to share this with someone.
Yet my heart continues to sting, and my words cut short, both of us know that's as much as I'll speak for the time being.
My condition was getting worse, we both knew i had to confront my feeling sooner than later.
Tw: blood in text and photos, mentions of vomitting/sickness, thoughts of s/h
1st person pov btw
5 days after the Irontomb crisis,
-> 8th time I've had to clean up the petals, they scatter and stick to everything they land on, this notebook is already covered in blood.
Breathing is hard, i don't want to think too much, but i know why it's happening to me.
We both made our choices, the world was- still is more important that what we felt. I just have to shove these feelings down until they wither away.
I feel nauseous just writting this, every breath is stolen and i can feel the vines and roots in my lungs, shifting and moving as the loose petals fill my throat. The ones on my shoulders and eyes sink deeper, trying to keep the air circulating in my body, but i just want to scratch it all off tear the skin until its raw and dig into my lungs to pull the vines out.
The hum of the Express is a constant, calming noise at least, even as i drown it out with my raspy coughing.
I am a creature of the Abundance, i shouldn't be wilting like this, and yet, the Verdure does not answer my pleas, does not grant this body recovery anymore than allowing me to breathe and choke and bleed-
A sharp sting pulses from my abdomen, yet it's the incessant knocks on the door breaks me out of my thoughts, my phone buzzes, screen smudged with blood and tears.
it's been days since i thought to eat anything and keep it down, the vile creeps up along with the petals, it hurts too much to bear.
Clear versions utc!! Dividers by @/cafekitsune
I tried my best to place the blood on the most pressed keys, to really emphasize that i can't just clean the blood off because of the continued coughing and someof it has already dried into a brown-red even on the spots where i hold my phone on the sides
Also i made the little texting interface at the bottom on a whim, it felt wierd not having it
This happens before planarcadia because i truly don't know how to slot this in with the voracity elation stuff orz
I stopped playing hsr back in 3.4, but have kept up with the plot, i may take time to respond because I'm searching up lore/canon to spring off of.
Also due to timezones i may be asleep when you send something/have other things to do please be patient
As mentioned in the PSA i made, there will be drawings/images/writing depicting blood, vomiting, sickness, rot, and other uncomfortable topics.
While i will not portray it in detail and my writing is amateur at best, it will be there.
And as i write in first person for my self insert, i may add more personal details
Please don't force yourselves to read/interact with my plot if you feel uncomfortable with any of the above. I will include a cw and tw at the top of the posts.
Dividers by @/cafekitsune & i will be reblogging this a few times before ebg begins
"What a nice place, shame it's such a ways away from the grove." Cerces sighed, her feet aching from the walk.
The sound of the waves and sand shifting under our feet was calming, reminding us all that era nova had finally come and it was time to enjoy the peace we'd earned.
"If Phagousa hadn't promised to open her hidden stash of ambrosia you'd have stayed cooped up at the top of the tree." Mnestia teased, the motion of her wings creating gentle winds that eased the summer heat.
The place was secluded, a distant shore somewhere near Styxia where the waters were clear and the sand was as fine as dust.
We stuck to walking along the treeline, passing the time with talks about the local ecology of the Amphorean waters something about half-divine fish and ancient blessed fruits that were just propagated myths. I kept my arm braced on Cerces' back, just incase she felt too tired to continue.
After a while the sun began to set, casting an orange glow over everything, the water looked like molten gold.
The trees gave way to a small cove framed with flowers and high cliffs, beyond which some of the other titans and heirs were lounging in the prepared tent, the rest were in the water, enjoying the waves and even diving for shells and the like.
Ambrosia was already flowing freely into cups, songs echoing in the wind, food being cooked over the open fire allowing the delicious aroma to waft across the shore, even as the night was fast approaching.
Before we could even move past the treeline, i heard the shutter of a camera and looked back to see Mnestia taking a photo.
"Something to remember today by." She hummed, taking our hands and pulling us closer to the group.
Dividers by @/cafekitsune, wc: 304 words @soltuneia
Tw: blood, sickness, mentions of skipping meals, sh and fantasies of attempting, sickness, vomiting, rot (do tell me if i missed anything else.)
A/N: uh... this one really got away from me... if it makes you uncomfy at any point, please just stop reading.
Blood seeps it's way under my fingernails, slipping past my skin as I scratch and claw at my shoulders, everything spins around me as I lean against the wall.
The flowers are all rotten, they itch and try to root deeper as if trying to save themselves from the inevitable outcome, not even THEIR blessing is enough to heal this aching wound.
'What if he doesn't want to see me- what if it was just a fleeting thing? a high stress thing- what there was always nothing between us and I just latched onto the closest person who was so open to showing me even a scrap of affection.' My breathing quickens, tears welling up in my eyes... the thought s terrifying.
If I tell him what I really feel and he doesn't feel the same what does that make me? a fool? someone blinded by one-sided admiration?
If after everything I've been through the rot the pain the days of lying awake and wanting to run back into his arms... only to be rejected? I think it would be better to just never tell at all.
I hate it
I hate it
I hate it
I hate it
I hate it
I hate it
I hate it
how could I let this happen to myself?
my body shakes in pain as I double over the sink, chunks of flowers and roots choke their way out of my lungs, I'm too tired to speak- to breathe- to do anything except stew in my own misery and self pity.
I can't breathe, everything hurts, my eyes, my lungs, my mouth- maybe it's the blood loss finally settling in, maybe it's a poor excuse I tell myself to justify doing nothing, just letting myself rot here with no one to notice.
The days I've spent here in the grove are both peaceful and infuriating, Hyacine stares at me like I'll drop dead at any point, and with how I'm feeling, I sure I do.
Cerces looks at me like a specimen sometimes, a living proof of something that was just a simple myth before Amphoreous became real. like I'm something to be studied. other times she looks at me with genuine admiration... it messes with my already muddled mind.
I stagger back towards the cot, the silence in this little dorm more than I can handle.
These feelings will kill me.
seconds turn to minutes, turn to hour as I lay there.
the echo of voices lightens the daze as I turn towards the door.
"She's not getting any better... but she still won't acknowledge it... and neither will..."
"They have to- we can't just let this continue!"
Realization dawns on me, and it settles like a bittersweet medicine.
I'm not the only one suffering.
Their voices grate on my ears... I don't want to confront it I don't want to get better why- why do I have confront it and potentially be hurt? why do I have to-
I'm afraid of dying.
But I'm more afraid of rejection.
I'm a coward, a coward who can't face her feelings even if it means that it'll kill me.
.
.
.
.
Light spills into the room, I hear shocked gasps from the people peering in,
I'm in a sorry state, covered in blood and regret.
Hyacine rushes to my side, trying to feel for a pulse., Cerces looks around for a rag she can use to wipe the blood.
I stifle a wince, finally moving.
There's no doubt that I'm on my last legs.
They help me clean up, and all but drag me to Okhema,
