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Entry tags:
i want fangs (open)
WHO: Emilia di Carlo + whoever would like to join her.
WHEN: Throughout the month of March.
WHERE: The village of Ke-Waihu.
WHAT: Arrival, settling in, wolves, and horrors.
WARNINGS: Will update this as needed. As a note: My starters are in prose but I love prose and brackets equally. Go with your preference if you have one, and I will gladly match.
Emilia di Carlo does not arrive to the village of Ke-Waihu quietly.
For a near two decades — the only two decades an ancient curse allows her to remember — she was the dutiful and responsible daughter. The one who obeyed her family's rules and erred on the side of abundant caution. She stayed to the light and did all things a good witch must. She hid herself and contained her magic. When the hateful brothers roamed the streets in search of those with devilry in their souls to burn them at their pyres, she bit her tongue and swallowed the resentment. Closed her windows and kept her twin close at the bosom. Served food at the monastery the next day, for who would be suspicious of the one who nurtures?
It did not keep them safe.
Now she cares little to make herself palatable, to do as she is told even as a deep sense of responsibility lingers. Tension lines her jaw as she is stripped of her bearings, furious in her dignity. Suspicion crowds the sharp of her gaze when presented with a brew, one her Nonna Maria would tell her under no circumstances to drink. Won't you, she is asked, and she decides that she will not. No one can make her, not even the merchant's liaison Taksui, he with the vicious eyes. She is vicious, too, and has learned to bide her time.
A villager woman, her eyes kind but distant, fails to understand Emilia's unwillingness. Shows Emilia the marks of her own curses, as though they are gifts upon the skin. She is willing, even, to take a fourth curse upon herself should Emilia deny them. Whispers to her of the other villages, including one where all curses can be broken. Emilia, already cursed, doesn't readily believe. Neither does she ignore.
Theirs is a precarious situation. Under no circumstances are they to blow their cover, she knows. But there are certain concessions she is unwilling to make, and certain answers that will not be withheld from her. To demand this of her without question is not reasonable, no matter how desperate she is. She knows this, too.
And so they are given days. Days to think it over, days to speak with the villagers, days to decide. The more she learns, the less she is assured, but so is she reminded of her dwindling options, too. One curse atop another. One mission that blinds her to all else.
She drinks the brew.
The frustration, the wrongness of it — the anger — sits in the space between her ribs, and grows. ➥
WHEN: Throughout the month of March.
WHERE: The village of Ke-Waihu.
WHAT: Arrival, settling in, wolves, and horrors.
WARNINGS: Will update this as needed. As a note: My starters are in prose but I love prose and brackets equally. Go with your preference if you have one, and I will gladly match.
Emilia di Carlo does not arrive to the village of Ke-Waihu quietly.
For a near two decades — the only two decades an ancient curse allows her to remember — she was the dutiful and responsible daughter. The one who obeyed her family's rules and erred on the side of abundant caution. She stayed to the light and did all things a good witch must. She hid herself and contained her magic. When the hateful brothers roamed the streets in search of those with devilry in their souls to burn them at their pyres, she bit her tongue and swallowed the resentment. Closed her windows and kept her twin close at the bosom. Served food at the monastery the next day, for who would be suspicious of the one who nurtures?
It did not keep them safe.
Now she cares little to make herself palatable, to do as she is told even as a deep sense of responsibility lingers. Tension lines her jaw as she is stripped of her bearings, furious in her dignity. Suspicion crowds the sharp of her gaze when presented with a brew, one her Nonna Maria would tell her under no circumstances to drink. Won't you, she is asked, and she decides that she will not. No one can make her, not even the merchant's liaison Taksui, he with the vicious eyes. She is vicious, too, and has learned to bide her time.
A villager woman, her eyes kind but distant, fails to understand Emilia's unwillingness. Shows Emilia the marks of her own curses, as though they are gifts upon the skin. She is willing, even, to take a fourth curse upon herself should Emilia deny them. Whispers to her of the other villages, including one where all curses can be broken. Emilia, already cursed, doesn't readily believe. Neither does she ignore.
Theirs is a precarious situation. Under no circumstances are they to blow their cover, she knows. But there are certain concessions she is unwilling to make, and certain answers that will not be withheld from her. To demand this of her without question is not reasonable, no matter how desperate she is. She knows this, too.
And so they are given days. Days to think it over, days to speak with the villagers, days to decide. The more she learns, the less she is assured, but so is she reminded of her dwindling options, too. One curse atop another. One mission that blinds her to all else.
She drinks the brew.
The frustration, the wrongness of it — the anger — sits in the space between her ribs, and grows. ➥
no subject
Eleven's smile turns to something of a flush, newly self-conscious of demonstrating a skill under some pressure. But he nods and sets the shears aside, then settles on the grass. His eyes close and he breathes to settle his nerves, focused on the warm spirit in his chest, then to the tiny pinpricks of life beyond him.
They don't have thoughts, he often tells Lily, but there's a vague feeling of thirst and dreariness about them that tells him plenty. He isn't the sun or the rain, but what he does have is a steady thrum of spiritual life energy to offer. He thinks at least, as his energy touches theirs, that their tiny lives feel healthier and stronger for it, and when he opens his eyes to look around him, imagines that the blades of grass stand taller with a more vibrant sheen to them. ..He's pretty sure they do, anyway.
Eleven chances a look to Emilia. "I've only tried it on a person once before, when they were dying." He picks at a pant leg. "At least, they stayed alive long enough to meet someone more suited to help them."
no subject
She'd given him his space to work, to concentrate — meditation seems to be important to him, and she knows, too, the importance of focus. But once he is done, she moves closer, crouches down close by to run her finger up one of the blades of grass.
It does look more vibrant. It feels it, too. She can sense it, like a ripple over the pad of her own fingertip. Her quiet excitement sobers as she meets his gaze, and thinks of how distressing that must've been for him. Thinks that she would've done anything if she could've tried something like this on Vittoria. "Do you feel any more tired for it?"
Does it take from him? In her world, there's always a price. As above, so below.
no subject
"I'm not sure," he says after a moment, head tipping thoughtfully. "It's.. there's a spirit inside me that I channel the energy through. Usually when I meditate, it's more like a... a cycle? Of energy passing between me and the plants. I don't think I've ever used it this way enough to feel it, if it does."
no subject
For her curse, yes. And for herself, too.
"That was why you were so shaken in Ellethia," she realizes. It was the first cycle, however warped, they were able to truly appreciate.
no subject
"I understand the cycle of life, death, and rebirth- or Erdrea's, that is. Coming here and seeing all these undead reminded me of what happened to that cycle when the source of all life had fallen." His expression complicates, falling a bit. "Death and darkness, unchecked. ..I haven't been able to get any answers about how it's meant to work in this world, but Ellethia showed me that there is a cycle of rebirth- that there's hope for this world."
He brushes his hands through the grass, then lifts his palm, tone lightening. "I might only have a little of Yggdrasil's power, but I want to try to restore it somehow."