The First Perished: Leader, Soulsinger. Captain L' appel du Vide: Raven Captain of the Void Marus Heartmourn: Rhyming Death Knight, Dealer of Nektur. Revenant Blackstalker: Lord of Wolves, Blue Eyed Banshee
All of my "active" muses, all under one banner. From left to right we have:
1.) Captain L' appel du' Vide: "Elvish? Pirate". Raven Captain of the ship 'The Void' and personal ferryman/runner of all things illicit for the First Perished. Sails around Azeroth makes stops in most civilized areas. Face Claim: Tom Hopper
2.) The First Perished: "Undead" Blood Elf Assassin/ "Florist"/ Musician. Soulsinger, The Shepard of the Lost, the leader of the Perished and accomplished musician that plays music regularly in graveyards and in the Elysian Sojourn within the Veiled Stair. He's chosen a more quiet life, hanging up his blades for a time. Faceclaim: Tom Hardy
3.) Marus Heartmourn: Undead Elf Drug Dealer/ Creator of Nektur and Rhyming Death Knight. Acts more akin to an information broker for the First, Marus slinks his way into seedy parts of the world, garnering coin for his euphoric Nektur and getting the juiciest of details. Due to a complication in the process of his Death Knight "resurrection", Marus' mind is plague with the unending desire to rhyme in speaking. Face Claim: Graverobber from Repo! The Genetic Opera
4.) Revenant Heartmourn: Elf Hunter/ Wolf Brother/Living Ink. Due to his resourcefulness in the forests and woodlands of Azeroth, acts as a spy and courier for the First. Covered in "living" tattoos, the biggest being a pack of wolves across his chest and the name Coromir above it. Faceclaim: Josh Mario John
I will be accepting any and all asks for any of my lads here under this account as the 3 that aren't the First, never got much love and I miss rping them.
SS - "You know I'm allus curious 'ow you an' yer Orchid are gettin' along, Fizzy... got any romantic interludes t' share? Gods forbid, even a spicy moment?"
"I've never heard you so curious before about us. Color me intrigued," Safrona was slow to her grin, brow arched at her favorite Chef. "We...manage to keep things interesting, you can say."
Thoughts were stirred, and Safrona took her moment to present a heated scenario with tact, as she was prone to. She was somewhat private about her Orchid, but the years with her Soulsinger and a good wine had relaxed her talk of him. And Leon's gregarious manner always pulled more from her than most.
"Hmmm," she hummed, adrift of playful conspiracy. It did amuse her to lead an imagination just enough to wander on its own, of course.
"You are good with woodworking, yes? I think I need your skills at repairing one of my confession booth tables at home." Her eyes drifted away with a faux innocence. "It fell victim to a little soul-baring when he took the seat. Hit me with a time you'll be free and I'll show you what I mean."
Safrona paused to let her gaze flit back to Leon and pursed her lips together. She pivoted on her final remark, additionally correcting course away from potentially scandalous-sounding invitation. "Regarding the broken table, I mean."
BWONSAMDI - What ceremonies would they want to be performed before and/or after their death?
{ Ceremonies only within @thefirstperished 's purview to know, as he is knowledgeable in such rituals and one of very few to know at least in part of Safrona's very personal tithes and circumstance.
She does not expect much in ceremony, only that she hopes it is not in the company of her demons alone - both while in the throes of her final breaths, and after her soul is finally shuttled away from the flesh. }
a Tumblr-exclusive anniversary celebration of the albums Even In Arcadia and Take Me Back To Eden by the Sleep Token collective.
(more info, prompt list, guidelines, and faq bellow):
Starting on the 1st of May, everyone is invited to participate in this event with their own work (or by simply enjoying and sharing all the beautiful creations of your fellow brethren), under the tag #takemaybacktoarcadia <- follow for any updates.
There will be a choice between two prompts related to both albums every other day, for a total of 10 prompted days over the course of 19 days, culminating on the 19th of May, TMBTE's anniversary. This should allow everyone enough time to contribute with something, with the rest of May prompt-free for everyone to catch up!
The main goal is for everyone to have fun and make this Month extra special and Sleep Token focused, given it's EIA's first anniversary (on the 9th of May), and TMBTE's third (!!!).
Schedule and Prompts
(same as the pic above, but written here for ease)
Day 1 | May 1 - Feather vs Sword
Day 2 | May 3 - Eclipse vs Twilight
Day 3 | May 5 - Fire vs Flood
Day 4 | May 7 - Dance vs Reverie
Day 5 | May 9 - Arcadia vs Eden
Day 6 | May 11 - Glory vs Glitch
Day 7 | May 13 - Silk vs Venomous
Day 8 | May 15 - Puppet vs Mirror
Day 9 | May 17 - Drift vs Choke
Day 10 | May 19 - Teeth vs Blood
General Rules
ABSOLUTELY NO AI GENERATED CONTENT WHATSOEVER - we're celebrating the wonderful artistry and creativity of Sleep Token and its fans. If you can't participate with an offering, you're very encouraged to leave nice comments on everyone's works and reblog the hell out of them. AI has no place here, begone ew yuck.
LINK YOUR SOURCES - especially if you're using any videos/ gifs/ etc from fellow fans (and make sure you have consent to use it, official art/media excluded)
TAG/LABEL ACCORDINGLY - pay attention to any possible cw/tw, like flashing lights or generally triggering content. This is open to everyone, but any 18+ content is strictly off-limits to minors.
INTERACT WITH THE POSTS - the best way to encourage your fellow fans and turn this community into a really positive and pleasant place is to directly interact with the posts beyond a like. Go nuts in the tags! Share with your friends!
DON'T BE AN IDIOT - don't be an idiot! use common sense! be nice! if something makes you uncomfortable, just scroll past!
FAQ
What is this exactly? How did it come about?
I originally came up with the idea to have a Sleep Token fandom event in May, as it is Even In Arcadia's very first anniversary, and the fandom at large is a bit dormant, given the band isn't currently active. That being said, I couldn't have done this without everyone's feedback on this post (and outside)! Yay friendship!
Erm, exqueeze-me sauce, wasn't this an Arcadia event? Why is TMBTE here?
As pointed out in the replies of the post linked above, May also marks the anniversary of TMBTE, the beautiful and wonderful album that brought in a huge part of the fandom, myself included! It'd be a shame to pass this opportunity up!
What type of work can I do? Does it have to be "finished"?
Anything goes! Visual fanart, a gif edit, a music cover, fanfiction, a baked good, a meme, a 3D animation, etc. It can be something as small as a sketch or 100 word drabble, or a fully rendered artwork. The sky's the limit! All you need to do is choose one of the prompts (or do both! your choice!), make your lovely art, post it on Tumblr (you can link it to your Ao3 or Youtube), and tag it as #takemaybacktoarcadia, as well as the main Sleep Token tag, and whatever others necessary.
I only ask for it to be Sleep Token-related (numerals, Espera, crew, crusty god Sleep, Fuckass Ferry). Including OCs is fine, but please no fandom cross-overs (unless it's like, a Bilmuri x ST thing for example, ykwim).
What if I miss the day? What if I can't create anything?
No worries! Participation in all days is not required - do as little or as much as you are able, no pressure! You'll have a day in-between prompts to post your thing (so, Day 1 (1st of May) includes the 2nd of May as well, and so on), and even though the prompts end on the 19th, this is a Month-long event! Catch up as you're able to (even after the month is over - more art is always welcomed here!).
If you can't create anything (or even if you do), you are very VERY encouraged to comment and reblog others' posts. Also not a bad time to bring back some older Sleep Token posts - put them thangs on circulation! Let's really annoy all of our non-ST moots lmaoo
How were the prompts chosen? Why didn't you include xyz?
When I first announced this event, I was preparing myself for every possible scenario, so I got about 5 to 10 prompts for each EIA song, just in case (the plan was always to have 2 per day, like the House vs Host divide). Then TMBTE came on, and I gathered yet another list of words from that album. The final list is the result of me combining keywords/themes that are common to both (eg. blood, dance, twilight), and album-specific ones, all grouped in similar/opposite pairs. I could do this for at least 3 more months lol.
I don't have any questions, I just wanted to say you're so cool and awesome and smart and hot tee-hee ooh mamma 🤭
Why thank you angel 💙 It was a delight preparing this event for us!
For any other inquiries, please reply to this post - someone may have the same question as you, and it saves me the trouble to explain twice! WORSHIP
It took an extra layer of will to dismiss the Scythe, fixing her eyes instead to the violent red haze that dominated the Voidstorm's midnight atmosphere. A world shaped by violence and hunger, she and her every demonic extension felt a strong lust for the Black Harvest on it's surface. Without restraint in place, she felt the nature of the Hunt would shape her into mindless pursuits. She refused to turn the Harvest so mindless. She could not waste a Marked soul among the masses to some base greed.
It had been a wise turn to dismiss the Voidwalker on her run now to the Singularity's post. It's voice had grown too strong here. Ran too deep. The Dominaar's voices here too sounded too alike, vibrating down her bones in their timbre, too hungry to know her.
Safrona must have seemed fragile in the moment, fingertips tracing toward her chest in her silence. The Ren'dorei Ghostblade nearby approached with a sardonic offer to assist a soul not fit for plateaus past the Voidstorm.
But as her fingertips found purchase on the pendant at her throat, she found the familiar armor of her smile. “I am fine. Just…caught up in a thought or two.”
“That's a dangerous pastime in this place,” the Agent admitted on a stiff, weary chuckle. “We've had a couple seasoned Rift Mages even need to dial back some of the work out here. The shit gets intense.”
Exhaling short and soft, Safrona continued to caress the details of her pendant. Delicate twists of iron, painstakingly arranged around amethyst to resemble a flower just beginning to open. It had been her beloved's gift, a new delight that she was too eager to wear, took pride in day to day. Now touching it brought her a slow wave of relief, a needed calm in a place of cold, apex predation. Sanctum. Like the whole of her Soulsinger.
“Sounds like you could use new resources in that case. I'm sure a Courier can manage.” Safrona lilted with a renewed focus, her smile shaped now with professional certainty. “I certainly have before. Let's go over what you need, yes?”
The Courier let her eyes roll down the Ghostblade's silver and blue uniform with a lengthening thought, gaze straying down to the glow of his sheathed daggers. “And maybe in turn, I can ask something in return. I've heard talk around your camp of this Ghostpetal? I'm a little curious…”
* * * * *
Some weeks later, Safrona called her Orchid to the night garden of the Sojourn, hoping the gifts she had for him were fitting. Her mind had not lingered on sweetness in Predatia. She had been consumed by preservation, and the complexity of the one she loved.
“Something new for the garden, for your hands to cultivate maybe.” Safrona gestured to the carefully packaged young bulbs of a very pale, thin, nearly translucent flower. She was averse as usual in touching the bulbs herself, admiring it with restraint, just as she did the rest of his his gardens. Her hands were vessels of entropy. Flowers rarely survived her.
“They grow past the Voidstorm. On a ruined world where everything is just…prey. But this grows like a defiance despite all the violence. They call it Ghostpetal. Medicinal, I was told. Helps build our resilience against the Dark. I thought of you with it.”
Moving to the other end of the table, she lead his eyes to another new sight lain on it, bringing away the blue silk that covered it. A pair of daggers were positioned, one atop the other. The blades curved sharp, white as the Ghostpetals themselves. Unearthly, like twin slivers of a moon, masterfully made.
“I had them commissioned by a smith out there, similar to the daggers the Ghostblades use. A little more personalized though for your hands. I hope they serve you and our Perished well.” She lifted the calloused pads of his fingertips to kiss them with a most tender murmur.
The light dances within your eyes like sprites performing trickery in the woods, a beckoning glimmer leading further into the shadows of your soul. I hesitate for only a moment as I wonder if I would survive the trek through your darkened glade, still my feet enact the will of my heart to the beats of a dirge.
With every glance you send my way, chords of joy faintly echo within the shell encasing my heart; a shell built of scars and wounds of the past . You say I'm dangerous but how could that be true when I travel the paths your light shines upon within your very world? Danger rarely appears from before you but merely from what was left behind.
Will this path lead me to death or another surprise you hide behind your cobalt hues; a brambled path broken and leading me to doom? I haven't the strength to turn away , find a safer path, risking it all on faith as I hold out my hand.
Don't leave me behind on this blackened road, I've walked too far to turn back now; so meet me halfway, for once take the chance and let me lead you to the skies above. Dance with me across the galaxies, break free from the bounds of the woods you call safe. If you have the will, I will have the way, to allow you to escape your chains at your own pace.
We weren't meant to save each other, but save me you did; saved me from allowing myself to die to gravity's effect and allowing me to breathe. Forgive me my shame of only finding you now, not yet finding what feels to be the better part of me. If this only lasts a season, in my heart I'd ask for more, but know my heart would go with you forevermore.
If I had kissed your lips back then, do you think we'd make it in the end? If I hadn't held back and let loose the arrows of my feelings, would one land squarely in your heart? If I held you tight and close obstinate in my refusal to let you go, would you still find comfort for your soul?
If you had seen me as I see you, would you have saved yourself the heartache? If you hadn't found another and tempted the fair-faced fates, would your fingers still entwine with mine and dance beneath the moon's light? If you had asked me to save you from your tears, would you not already be swept up in my arms and consoled completely?
If we were honest with ourselves, would we still be the same people? If we hadn't shied away in fear of what could've happened, would we be in bliss with what did happen? If we had asked each other to speak truly from the heart, would I be the only one that would hold nothing back?
If you had taken my hand as I did yours, could you overlook the scarred weathered skin? If you hadn'tve met me, could you have survived the storm you find yourself in? If you had asked me to stay away, would you really want me to?
If I had told you I loved you, would this all still feel like a game? If I hadn't put my feelings on the line, could you have done so instead?
Will these pounds of flesh be enough to tip the scales across the threshold, scatter the bones before your sacred throne? Is there ever a good end, to the story broken and left untold; forever discarded by words so cold?
Will you take these words written on my wrist, hear the silent screaming falling from my lips? Does the yelling ever get so loud that not even time can tell, how much longer you can last until this final die is cast?
Will I always ever be, just a footnote in your legacy; the one who always stayed but not the one you crave? Can my pain be seen by you or will your eyes continue to stay blind, to things you know you need, remaining just a lie in another's forgotten crimes?
Is this my penance, my torture, for a transgression of my past; is it payment for a future that seems so far from my grasp to hasten it towards a nearer time? Will my scars pay enough homage to the suffering I've imbibed; the twisted thorns adorned upon my jagged, bloody brow a testament to the glory of your divine?
Do the shackles that bind physical and spiritual stay for my benefit; a constant deterrent and reminder to keep those fangs behind my smile? Does the key to freedom dangle seductively upon your neck, beckoning toward the weary heart that thrums gently to the time of your own?
Will this be the last time the Divine shines her eyes across the altar of my pain? Will this be enough to satiate the blood she lusts for, satiate the hunger or only cause her to demand more? Would that be enough, another two pounds I'd carve freely from myself, strip myself bare til even the blood refused to flow.
Allow the offerings and sacrifices be enough for Her hand pull me to ascend to what was earned, pull me to Her side as the equal she deserves. Or shall I be swallowed into the shadows as another prisoner fallen to their conquest: used, forgotten and abandoned.
The things I feel are real, my heart and my actions are real. But when the things you feel genuinely begin to feel like a yoke around your neck, a great weight that pulls you to the cold depths of a sea of loneliness: what are you meant to do with them?
Do you abandon your feelings and succumb to the crushing pressure of the abyss? Do you cast aside everything and force yourself to feel nothing, allowing your lifeless corpse to raise back to the surface, allowing your bloated flesh to be cast here and there as struggling breath attempts to inflate your salt caked lungs.
Should I search for an island that looks as dangerous as the waves I bob against; taking the chance that the sandy shores only look perilous? Shall I simply submit to the currents, resigning myself to venture to waters unknown, hoping I survive winds and exposure?
Have the gods forsaken me for transgressions, I am unaware I've committed, in the name of a love that felt more real than they? Has the desires of a man lowered his worth before the very eyes of the heavenly one he seeks to abide with? Shall I allow my blood to fill my lungs, allowing my body to become an altar to earn the favor of spirits to whisk my body to the embrace I long for?
Am I even allowed to wish that it would be benevolence that finds me and not the denizens of one's own madness? Do the thoughts and hopes, and yearning I feel inside my heart betray me to the hands of a yawning maw of darkness, one that seeks to consume my very soul?
What shall the name be of this specter that haunts my way even as I know not where the waves carry me? Is it a phantasm sent from the one whose presence claims my being wholly? Is it an imp seeking to pull what life remains in sodden bones?
Will I see the Elysium once more in the cerulean hues that adorn her face; will her alabaster hands find purchase within the bindings of bearded hair upon my face? Will the birds above my floating existence sing songs of forever longing or bring me branches of olive, signaling the truth of the end of things as they are?
Shall I ever be a hulking mass to be found dashed upon jagged rocks, tatters of my clothing dancing in the wind as flags in my honor? Would that I continue to dance among the ocean spray, a veritable banquet feast for the crows and scavengers of these cold waters?
What sacrifices must I further yield to have what the entire of my essence calls for? What else must I carve from myself and relinquish to find myself embraced again against the bosom of she whose smile radiates the lights of a million moonlit nights?
How else must I prove my worthiness, my loyalty, to the one whose mere glance summons me from the depths of this purgatory?
The gentle sunkissed skies of mourning creep silently against the retreating canopy of starlight fields. The constellation of her smile fades from the night scenes as my ferry made of seafood lays my weathered body among white sands and bleached shells; a final gift born from a stubborn devotion of a wayward soul.
The soft subtle din of a small metal hammer ringing out as it struck against fine iron echoed as a gentle breeze carried throughout the corridors of living spaces beyond the doors of the Sojourn. It wasn't a usual sound found there as typically the only sounds heard were the young Serenis singing in her room, the quiet rustling of fine attire as the Lady Safrona walked hurriedly toward a convenient portal to her office in Stormwind. Or even more so, the almost imperceptible movement of a trowel slipping into the moist dirt to create a space for some new type of greenery.
After being caught up in extra shows at the Sojourn, and a curious guest appearance at a bar down in Booty Bay, the Soulsinger found himself absentmindedly forgetting an event that was more important than the day of his birth. Chastising himself for being distracted, he had secluded himself into their modest library for a night's time, researching different customs and gifts one gives on various years of betrothal. The various races each had unique stylings and as being such beings that truly didn't stick to one singular custom, he fell upon several customs that seemed to fit nicely into something he could craft.
During the sixth year, the Orcs would give a gift of Iron; though not surprisingly, the iron gifted would more often than not come in the form of a weapon or sturdy armor. The Dwarves, masters of mining and all things stone, would give gifts made from the gemstone Amethyst. And from the beauty of Moonglade, some of the younger Elves and Taurens have adopted giving gifts of Callia Lily to their partners as those flowers often symbolized magnificent beauty, rebirth and purity.
Taking aspects of each of the customs, The Soulsinger relit the small forge to slowly build to the correct temperature before leaving the home to head toward the local market. It wasn't easy getting simple iron or amethyst here in Pandaria but after strong negotiations, and a particular nasty game of Jihui, made the necessary purchases of materials. After a few long days , and a few bottles of Highland scotch being emptied, a small box found its way unto the armoire of the Lady of the house. A small note gently laid against the box, mimicking the position of the sleeping elvish man's body in his favorite chair.
" My soulfire,
Another year of bliss as these cursed eyes are allowed to stare at the ever growing beauty that you are, another year of a dead man's soul captured in the sweet embrace of rapturous marriage. I never thought I'd have a marriage, much less one that's lasted six years, with someone as deeply intuned to myself as I am to her. I pray to whatever gods above and below, thanking them for allowing someone such as I something that remains my greatest peace and the only Home I wish to know.
My love for you grows every night, even when the clouds obscure all the stars.
It was rare for the Sojourn to have a festive gathering to celebrate the turning of the season, much less a fabricated holiday meant to ensnare both lovers throughout years unending and insufferable 'pick-me's searching for someone to spend a night with.
What was even more rare was the Soulsinger performing on nights such as these, nights that held no sway in his soul nor brought for feelings of joy or contentment. However, this year was one that held a deeper meaning to him, one that furthered his bound nature to this world that sought him dead too many times over. There was no mention of his playing this night, as it was during the week, but there was a crowd gathered nonetheless. " Didn' expect this many t' care about this foolish of a 'oliday, even less so that there'd be this many I feel wit' wounds tha've neva' disappeared", he said softly to the bartender as another glass of scotch was poured for him.
" Wounds are a curious thing to you Azerothians. Some see them like scars, badges of honor that prove they survived what should've killed them. Others.. Others hold onto the wounds to remember those they've lost; foe, friend, lover or rival." The Ethereal's words lingered like gentle sparks of static between pieces of cloth, not enough to discomfort but enough to gain one's attention. The Soulsinger offered a mirthful chuckle in response, downing his second glass of scotch.
" Then allow me ta' 'elp ease the pain of the wounds."
The Man in Black moved toward the stage with of mix of confusion and scattered cheers, the patrons unaware his music would be shown tonight. With a gentle raise of his hand, the crowd gathered and sat at tables and the bar, a quiet moment falling over the ended conversations. " It isn' often I play on days like this an' less still tha' I'd make myself known. But on this day of all days, I have somethin' ta' celebrate as its my 'Cherie an' my own seventh year bein' bound t'gether in ceremony." A loud series of applause and cheers rang out, echoing out to the environs beyond the walls of the Sojourn, only to be silenced by the serene movements on the Soulsinger's hand. " But on this day of all days, I can feel many in 'ere see this day as one of remembrance an' possibly pain. Memories of lova's sent t' the life beyond, memories of 'earts shattered by time or war; perhaps even a heart or two scarred beyond wha' they believe t' be repair."
Gathering up his ebony guitar and making sure it was in tune, a singular finger pushed the brim of his hat up to give an unadulterated view of the crowd. " I don' sing songs like this often nor do I use my abilities often in this career but I think I need a few back up singers this time. 'appy Anniversary, my love, but t'night this song isn't fa' us. But maybe it'll 'eal our 'earts all the same."
The soft hum of an aethereal choir began to be heard as the first few notes were struck from metal cord, faces of lovers long gone gently forming in the mist emanating from backstage. Soft gasps sounded out as a few patrons recoginized former lovers offering vocals to the Soulsinger's own borrowed voice.
" We've been down roads,
Both paved an' torn.
Watched promises wear thin,
With the years we've worn.
Ya' the best I've eva' known,
My Truest Friend;
But I've been the storm that lef' ya' broken,
Trying t' mend...
An' I know the weight of every tear
I made you cry.
I'm the reason you're afraid
To let love....try.
But I hope we can find a way to heal;
Even if our love's a little fragile,
A little real.
If we break and bend,
Then we learn to stand,
And if we have to let it go
I'll still hold your hand...."
It was rare for the Soulsinger to soothe the living, more often merely playing for their entertainment and only offering supplication to souls of the dead. But tonight, it seemed, the Dead came to offer supplication and soothing to the loved ones left behind; the foe-friend, the rival, the young lover and the old heart bound forever. The song carried on into the night, soaking the wounds of the room with a salve of healing and remembrance that not all wounds need to be painful.
If you receive this, you make somebody happy! Send this to ten of your followers who make you happy or somebody you think needs cheering up. If you get one back, even better!
BASTION - According to your muse, are justice and vengeance similar? When do they overlap, and when are they different? (For the Soulsinger)
" Mmm.. Ya' always brin' me such interestin' hypotheticals, 'cherie."
The man slid a small fragrant tomato into his mouth; the soft splash of its inner liquid coating his tongue as its flesh danced across his teeth as he chewed. Taking a beat or two to watch his flowers dance gently in the wind, he popped another tomato into his mouth before finding an appropriate answer.
" Justice an' vengeance often result in the same outcome but the desires behind 'em are different. Justice is typically in fava' of the community or group, often a centralized goal tha' ends in the deat' of an overarchin' villian. Vengeance is born out a desire, often selfish or of a singular being's problem."
" F' instance, say I was consumed wholly by the darkness an' my soul was splintered ta' the ends of Eternity: true, it would be a problem fa' me but it truly only affects ya'self, love. Now, if someone came an' burned down the Sojourn, tha' does affect ya' an' me but thin' of Saraj an' all the patrons ya' 'ave given a place of peace ta'. One is a quest of vengeance, the otha' justice as a sanctuary fa' the weary was destroyed."
