empyreanruler-blog

[empyreanruler-blog]

[I was going to draw coinage and currency for gayt but got distracted and drew a flapper instead

Fun fact:  Dersite currency is based on sapphires, the rarest mineral on the planet.  Prospitian currency is based on platinum, the rarest substance on Prospit.

Platinum is more plentiful on Derse, and Sapphires are all but unheard of on Prospit.  So, Dersite coinage is more valuable than Prospitian cash for what it is backed by, but due to the rarity of any agricultural goods, Prospitian are able to charge Dersites out the ass for what is common on their planet.

In short, the Prospitians pretty much screw the Dersites over in trade.] 

[empyreanruler-blog]

M!A: For one week, you're a little kid again! Go find your Dersite friend and have fun.

> And just like that, you're no long Willa Quay, but Winsome Queenling, and as such, you are very much baffled as to your surroundings. Not that you show anything but a serene smile, far too old for your age. If you've somehow been teleported to a new environment, it wont be long before Prospit claims it. Thats usually how things seem to go. 

For now, though, you have a particularly pale friend to find, and you're not going to find her by standing around. Humming a quiet psalm, you start out on the roads, not really knowing where you're heading, but you figure theres only one way to find out. 

[empyreanruler-blog]

[Private] 

Exactly what it sounds like. I'm sure you felt it during your time under the corrupted power, while under the godhead's advances. Heat radiating throughout you, seeing and feeling nothing but light. 

Its rather hard to explain.

[Private] 

Accepting Skaia’s light is not just a metaphorical action, you are filled with stars, I can fill you with light.

[empyreanruler-blog]

[Private] 

Accepting Skaia's light is not just a metaphorical action, you are filled with stars, I can fill you with light.

[Private]

I don’t know. But I want to try.

[empyreanruler-blog]

[Private]

I don't know. But I want to try.

[Private]

A serious matter?  You say my straits are not so dire as I sing?  I am the Universe, Willa.  And I am going to be killed.  It is inevitable, immutable, done.

How are you going to help me, hnn?

[empyreanruler-blog]

[Private] 

All your talk of stars! This is a serious matter, for Skaia's sake! 

You're sinking, Snowman. You must do something to save your soul before it is too late and there is nothing left of you. I have never a woman as desperate and so unwilling to see the truth than you, even after everything that happened. You're hurting those you care about, that enough should urge you to change your ways. 

White magic was able to help you when you needed it, it can help you again, to lessen your burden if nothing else. Your situation, however dire, can always be changed, fate is kind to those who rise to meet it, not just let it lead them where it may. I could not give you my help then, but I can give it now.

Please, let me help you. 

[Private]

An attempted murder happened, Willa.  I’ve been strained for a while now, and one invited me over to dance.  It ended with me stabbed, dying, and weighted to the bottom of the city’s reservoir.  What I did was bargain with the Terrors, offered them a bit of my stars in exchange for the rest of my Universe.

I couldn’t let myself die, Willa.  Not when the whole of creation is tied to me.

There is nothing sacred, nothing to help. I miss the days, Willa, before things went sour.  I do.  But if you wanted to help me, you’re a decade too late. My fate is sealed.

[empyreanruler-blog]

Survived perhaps, but at what cost. 

[Private] 

The pain was tolerable. I was saved before I was too far corrupted, but my dear friend, what happened that such a thing should occur. Such evil does not simply come by coincidence.

I know I am less than nothing in your eyes, but if something is happening, perhaps I can help you. Let Skaia's light flush out your darkness, Snowman. Let me help you, please in the name of all that is sacred, what if you are used again in the future. What if next time you hurt yourself permanently. Or worse. 

Mm, both to your face and to mine. Such muddy skin ruins the complement of ebon hair.

I suppose it is well that you survived.  

[Private]

I am sorry for any pain inflicted by my prior possession. You are not my favorite person, but I had no desire to harm you.

[empyreanruler-blog]

The color is horrid, it doesn't suit me at all. I should think cutting it all off and starting all over would be more merciful than bearing it as such.

I am not quite the one for scurrying, but it did do quite the number on my hair. I’m afraid we match now. 

[empyreanruler-blog]

penis

How utterly classless.  

[empyreanruler-blog]

Put a word inside my inbox

And I’ll tell you a fact about myself based off that word

[empyreanruler-blog]

I am not quite the one for scurrying, but it did do quite the number on my hair. I'm afraid we match now. 

Its good to see you’ve recovered. 

[empyreanruler-blog]

Its good to see you've recovered. 

[empyreanruler-blog]

You spend your time while the fight is raging on, very much on the ground, writhing, gasping, the foul smelling ink like substance seeping into your hair and staining the once white locks black. When you're moved, the pain doubles, and your eyes go from shimmering gold to almost pitch black, your vision marred. Her words don't register with you. You think, vaguely, you understand her meaning, but the sounds become garbled and misformed. 

Then there's something shifting inside you, almost being siphoned out through your wound. You scream, but its not your scream, its the horrible cry of the Dark Gods losing control of your body. The dark substance slowly oozes from you until your blood runs a clean blue shade. You cough, and similarly black bile forces its way out of your mouth, until you are perpetually rinsed out of the darkness. It almost hurts come coming back out. 

Your breath catches in your throat, and your hands shake like leaves as you look first to the dersite, who is all but glowing now, and your savior, who is fighting against the monster. "Thank you, sweet child." You say in an almost inaudible whisper, forcing yourself to sit up. You feel like you could sleep for days, even if it were right here on the street, but you know thats not a possibility. Right now, anyway. 

"Let me..." You offer, standing shakily without putting too much weight on her. "try that again." Frowning now, you clench your fists at your sides, channeling every ounce of power you might have left in you, calling to every corner of Skaia to aid you. Your crack your knuckles, and your neck, and let loose from your now shining fingers a bright white blast of almost electric looking energy at your corrupted friend. 

Purification in Progress

It happens so quickly, in the space of heartbeats. Even as PI braces himself, raising his four hands (now all ablaze with the warm, almost-soothing sensation of Imagination) in preparation of her - its - charge, he knows it’s going to be damned close. In fact, he knows there’s a very good chance he’s not going to make it. But he has to try, for the stranger and for Deuce if for nothing else.

Plus, it’s hardly likely for him to run now. He’d have a better chance fleeing from a rhinoceros.

The crack of a gun makes him jump, and he barely has time to register the fact that it was Deuce trying to shoot out the legs from underneath Snowman before she’s bowling into him. PI leans into her strike, half tackling her and half aiming to catch her should she stumble and fall.

The moment he touches her, it happens: a rushing, booming wave of cold, ripping through him like a hurricane wind and raking its claws over his skin, his mind. A strangled scream tears from his throat like an audible wound, but PI wraps his multiple arms around the puppet regardless, pressing his forehead against her shoulder as he focuses, pushing the magic through his limbs and into her.

Cold and fire, warring inside him, utter and unimaginable agony like hot wires twisting underneath his skin.

She has to be neutralized, or else he’s damned. And he will not let her go free until the shadows have been seared right out of her.

[empyreanruler-blog]

From behind your would be shield, you cant tell if you're helping or not. The momentary reprieve that your lighted boundaries gives you is enough to fuel perhaps something as strong as an attack - if you'd been given the chance, that is. Perhaps you misjudged just how strong the Darkness had become in her, because before you can even react, the searing acid is all but tearing through your body. The shield falls as quickly as you do, shrieking in heavy Prospitian as you hit the ground, thick, molten ink dripping from the wounds on your shoulder. 

It hurts. It hurts. More than that, though, its starting to spread. You feel like your whole head could melt from it, and you can barely manage to lift yourself up on your uninjured arm to see where the battle stands. The light feeling of Pure magic shoots past you, and you smile through your haze. The saviors come at last. Kill him. All but lying on the pavement now, you manage to open your eyes more, through the dizzying pain, to see once blue blood swirling with the black corruption. As if recognizing your consciousness, your body is wracked with the blinding heat of the darkness stirring within you, and you groan, grinding your forehead against the ground, gripping your shoulder through the sludge, anything to stop the pain. Kill them all. 

You whisper strained prayers through stained lips, asking, begging Skaia to give you the strength to fight this infection. If you give in, you're lost. 

Purification in Progress

[empyreanruler-blog]

Before you can react, you're being tugged along, the threat of attack imminent both in your mind and in the air. It hangs on you like a weight, making your already difficult movements even more so. Its hard to breathe. And then you hear her, and skaia, its wretched enough to make the angels weep. 

You turn to face her, only to be shoved roughly to the side. You can understand the young Dersite's intentions, but you're tired of being so manhandled, you're an ex queen and a strong member of your society. You can contribute, damn it! "I wont!" You shout back at her, standing quickly - your shoes long abandoned - and clasp your hands together in a sort of mock prayer. It doesn't affect the magic any, but it helps you quell the sick fear that's slowly working its way up your spine. 

Quick prayer said, you open your eyes and channel however little magic you have, forming a bright, but thin barrier around you and your small companion. It wont hold for long, but its enough to keep the black magic out, and in. You know its as dangerous for Deuce to use her magic as it is to be exposed to it. Hopefully, the shield of white light will be enough until the deity can arrive and save the both of you. 

Something Wicked This Way Comes

[empyreanruler-blog]

As you wait for Clubs Deuce to track down Snowman, you seek the aid of another, a celestial being to whom you've not had the honor of being formally introduced. However, given the situation  you suppose formalities can set aside for later. You can feel every new entity that awakens to the dark magic, the sickening heat curling through you insides like snakes. You feel sick.

"Ah, I'm so glad, lets make haste. I've spoken to GPI and I believe he can help us, he simply needs to know our coordinates. He also instructs that we should not confront Snowman on our own." You show her the phone. Even after six years, you're not entirely sure how the technology functions.

She thought about it, this woman cared about Briory too, and her magic seemed strong and warm…

Deuce checked her phone briefly, wincing at the messages there. She was coming sooner or later. Slick would completely flip his lid if he knew what Deuce was going to do. But…

Deuce typed something, then exhaled slowly and put her phone away. “Okay.” She nodded. “Snowy was…well we were moirails once. So…I’ll do it.”

She stepped a little away, and closed her eyes, opening up her senses to the magic permeating the air.

Briory…

Deuce sniffed the air, tracing the streams of shadow, looking for her in the saturation, the few people that had already spread the infection muddying her senses. It made her skin itch and her back blaze, like a white hot iron was being carved over her scarring a second time, but she still kept looking.

Deuces eyes snapped open and her eyes flashed “I can track her now.”

[empyreanruler-blog]

Understood. 

Er, coordinates. I'm not sure. I will have to talk to Clubs Deuce. I don't know the city very well. 

No, Sire, but I am with Clubs Deuce and we are tracking her as we speak. We should be upon her soon, and I would ask for your blessed aid. I fear the worst if we cannot stop her soon.