#&. phobetos

[corinthbayrpg]

NAME. Phobetos ( Ayberk Taşkıran & Yasemin Karaduman ) AGE & BIRTH DATE. 3000+ & Unknown GENDER & PRONOUNS. Nonbinary & They/Them SPECIES. Oneiroi OCCUPATION. Owner of Sybil’s Cave FACE CLAIM. Tolga Mendi / Cagla Demir

BIOGRAPHY

( tw: imprisonment, murder, war ) Phobetos remembers the world when it was young, perhaps better so than they do their own youth. Theirs was not the warmth of birth, they were created of elements, conjured at the hand of Nyx, one of her dream weavers, and one of the first. They were named after fear, and their first steps into infancy was in a world that was saturated in it. The fitful rest of the residents of early Greece was their guide, they learned language and history, stepping onto the streets with a hunger for knowledge. They watched, flanked by others of their own kind, as the descendants of the gods grew restless and claimed cities in their name. Phobetos saw the rise of Thebes, they caught glimpses of Cadmus— saw the way that the gods intervened in the lives of men, how they sent their monsters for them to defeat and how the heroes championed. Perseus, son of Zeus, the original beheader of the gorgon Medusa and saviour of Andromeda had waltzed by them as they watched, silent and patient, founding Mycenae soon after.

Nyx had created them as helpers of humanity and as a result, Phobetos was fascinated by them. Their allegiance lay only with themselves and they spent their days learning from the children of the gods and from the heroes that sprung fourth from the era. They watched with glee in Aetolia as Artemis sent her boar, fed and influenced the fear that it brought, before they took up their place in the front row, watching as Meleager finished the great beast after Atalanta pierced it with her bow. Satisfaction rippled through the city as the heroine took her prize, and Phobetos found themselves fascinated with that as well. It was then that they found themselves too involved, accidentally talking their way into the crew of the Argonauts; one of forty-nine. It was on this voyage that they brushed shoulders with the children of the gods, the heroes of Greece. Their role was never recorded in history, and they remained nameless in the countless retellings of the tale: but in every rendition that they tell of the time, Phobetos describes the hounds of Zeus with great detail, right down to the curved talons that descended upon Phineus to blind him. The entire endeavour took four months and Jason became a king, and the spirit continued their wandering. Fear is an idle presence, never a main player, content to seep through and shine in cracks that light forced through. 

And so it was, well into their existence, that Phobetos came to Troy. They watched in delight as players moved across the stage that was the great city, saw as Achilles grew from a golden boy into a man, bathed in the sorrow that laced itself through beautiful Helen’s dreams, and bared their teeth in a wicked smile as Hector’s body tossed up dust as it dragged behind the furious chariot of the great hero. When Paris drew his bow and felled Achilles, leagues fell into mourning and into despair and Phobetos revelled in it for a while. Deciding their playtime in war to be over as the tenth year of the Trojan war cast over the city, Paris fell, and the spirit left before ever seeing Odyssesus craft the wooden horse of legend. From the great city they stole a face, crafting a memento from a soldier that had fallen. His name had never been known to them, and Phobetos created their own, passing through the world as Ayberk Taşkıran.

It was knowledge that they sought out next, to know war was to know only a single side of the beings that they lived amongst, now they hungered for true understanding. They travelled through the ancient world, consuming knowledge of history and those who had played their roles in it. It was in those years that they came to understand how magic wove through the world, ribboning through the lives and dreams of everyone- there were beasts that roamed in packs and there were witches and oracles and others like them, formed of elements who shepherded the dead to their final resting places. They learned other human traits, ones beyond fear and pride and the other reigning characteristics that push individuals into war: they learned of bravery, morality (though they struggled to understand it), passion, and most perplexing of all: love.

Their wandering feet took them to Arcadia, where the sun shone the brightest and they revelled in the wilderness. It was across a market that they came across a being whose spirit bloomed brightly, as though she carried the flame of a phoenix. Riddled with intrigue, entirely enraptured, they sought her out, bearing the face and figure of Ayberk, a ghost from her home country to snag her attention. It was for her that they gave their true name, murmuring it against her willing ear. Phobetos, it was a name for a god, and they told her of their true nature, of their creation of fire and air. At the warmth of her attention the spirit felt as though their belly was swimming with stars, like they had swallowed down entire constellations formed of heroes they had once known. This, they decided, tethering their life to the human, was what it was to know love.

She was possessed by another, and despite their insistence to remove him from her life; she had already sworn that his fated was tied to a god- when he died, they seemed to forget about whatever agreement had been made between Hermes and Züleyha, living out the duration of a human life together. What was forty years to a being that knew of eternity? It was a yawn, a slow blink in Phobetos’ life and it was too soon over, she grew frail and grey, and it was by their side that she passed on, her soul slipping into the greedy hands of the gods she had bargained with. It was exciting at first, watching her delve into immortality. Theirs was a wicked start, voracious in their appetites for one another, noticing too late that a succubus’ love could steal a soul and their being was entirely soul. The spirit had started to fade, so much of them had disappeared at the warmth of their lover, but it was the guidance of her patron god that had lead the two of them to the home of the original phoenix, who returned the fragmented pieces of their being, healing them from a shadowy existence to their original self. 

They were still young in their existence, and whatever advice that Petrichor impressed upon them had been vehemently rejected. To love a cubi was a death sentence, he had said it gently, but the two had ignored the sage advice, cobbling together a life that they hoped could be as beautiful as their early years. For a while, it seemed to be alright- they tore through the ancient world like a two headed terror, but the nature of Züleyha’s being began to prove difficult for the oneiroi, whose feelings of love began to be throttled by the warped vines of jealousy and betrayal; warmth in their relationship was all but strangled. They spat cruelties at her in hurt, recognizing the emotion they felt to be pain: to see one that they loved with countless others felt like swallowing daggers and they were soon parted.

Wandering became part of their life again, this time with a fervent motivation. A cure for the cubi was something that they sought and failing such, anything that could protect a soul. The spirit found their way through the ancient land, weaving through a world that was still rich with magic. Restless feet brought them to Macedonia, where whispers of a great genasi who held enough power to grant what it was that they desired. It was a bargain struck under the fullness of a moon and Phobetos, after nearly two thousand years of life, whose wisdom in keeping far from the greedy hands of men had kept them alive- offered their talisman to the genasi who swore their possession of it to only last the duration of a moment. Once his fingers closed around the item, which sat in the form of a necklace, the oneiroi realized their mistake.

Rage encompassed the trapped spirit, who sat muzzled by the whims of the genasi. The next year was to be spent in the same manner as a caged circus animal, poked at and showed off, with their powers expended and abused for the delight of those who cycled through the home of the magic wielder. Anger began to seep into their being and they became a snarled, desperate thing: as days turned to months and the months drew to a long year, they cast aside any hope of being rescued: their own kind knew little of their existence and any other alliance they had was a bridge torched. In the end, it was the arrogance of their captor that had set them free. Word of an oneiroi imprisoned had reached the ear of one cubi in particular and Züleyha found them, a crippled version of what they had once been, cowering at the corner of what was their cage. Confusion set as they saw her again, betrayal was worse than any amount of pain or burn of iron to their skin when they saw her hand in the grip of their captor. It was only when blood pooled at their feet that they realized her intentions. A beat passed with immense slowness when the cubi picked their talisman from the body of the genasi and fear ribboned through the spirit- it was only when she placed it back in their hands without hesitation that they realized the true gravity of their connection. 

There was no scenario that they would not love her. What remained of their rage still burned as they parted again, tearing through the world with a hunger to taste the emotions that lay outside of longing. They grew more wicked, fascinated by gore and by viscera, causing pain in ways that they could not feel themselves- studying the face of a man who bled out, noting the last cries of those who faded from existence. This was what it was like to die, they learned and they delighted in the way that they could use a pretty face to lure someone in, to exploit the weaknesses in the consumptive nature of men and women. Their desire for destruction lead them to North America, where they paced along new lands and watched as the world fought over the soils that grew lush crops. Blood was shed senselessly and they dove through the dreams of the innocents, fascinated to be in a world that had been isolated for as long as they had known. Barefoot and fascinated by the mysticism of the land, the untouched nature of the new worlds, Phobetos spent the duration of the seven year war in New France before they finally sailed back to London, beginning the regency era in what the rest of the crew of their ship deemed to be a more civilized world. 

Despite the time that had passed, they still held the face of Ayberk. A fond attachment to his features had kept them clinging to it, as did their hunger for years long passed, and the hope that one day they would be recognized by them again. They cast their name through the city like a wide net, hoping to summon forth the cubi that they had been separated from for so long. Throughout the years, they had been brought back together- brief touches in time that Phobetos regarded as sweet and too fleeting, as their aimless journeys took them to new lands and separated them again. It was in London that the spirit took to their wicked trickery, following in the steps of a Ripper-esque demon. The city seemed plagued by them, vampires and monsters of men, whatever grisly scene they left behind never returned to the two-faced spirit. It was just a small amount of amusement, a spark that lacked the strength to fan into a proper flame.

It was in London that she found them again, this time as a figure draped along his doorstep, her face unchanged by time when they flung it open and took her inside. It had been the second time she had died in their presence, and Phobetos clung to her body as the Erinyes lay claim to the soul. Whatever their last words were to be, they would not be in anger, and they wove her a dream of the warmth of their early existence, giving her something sweet to cling onto while she faded away. She would not be buried in London, they took her to Greece, back to Arcadia where her bones lay to rest near their home. The world had forgotten them, and much had changed, but the spirit murmured their goodbye as soil covered the plot and a stone carved with both of their names, binding their souls. Züleyha Taşkıran. It was then that they learned of mourning, of the true pain of being left behind. 

Centuries passed and they took up residence in the city of Çanakkale. It was the place that Troy had met its end and it felt like a fitting place for their life, passing through with a new face. They were uninterested in the draw of magic, but plagued by loneliness- what remained of their kin were few and far between, they had been certain that whatever was left of their kind had dwindled down to weak numbers: they had wasted the years that they were plenty. Phobetos, in their age and wisdom now considers themselves to be an expert on humanity, on magic and the world that reigns around them, despite how things often mystify them in the variances of human nature. This arrogance has led them through the rest of their life, until the fall of the veil, where they found themselves in Nyx’s kingdom.

There were forty-nine of them left, and one– brand new. Three existed now in Corinth, and as the veil was patched and they were cast back into the world, spat into the city, Phobetos made up their mind to take up residence there. It has been far too long since they have come into the orbit of one of their own, they miss the kinship that they share and the strength that they have together. It is a result of their own amusement that the oneiroi has now become the owner of a shop, telling fortunes to those too dense to understand the gravity of them. Through Sybil’s Cave they cycle through magical items, delighting in trickery and torment as a result of it.

PERSONALITY

+ adaptable, intuitive, intelligent - amoral, destructive, opportunistic

PLAYED BY Sam. EST. She/Her.

[penelopesbridgerton]

TOLGA MENDI Sol Yanım | Bölüm 6

[mavenlockwood]

Maven hadn’t been lying, when she said she didn’t know where or how to find the oneiroi. It’s not as if they came with an address book or telephone number; they just showed up, like phantoms in the night, and left just as quickly. That had been for the best though, Maven thinks now. Because it meant she didn’t have anything to give Viraj other than a name. She recognizes that face, though. It’s funny, how entirely human they come across to her now, she’d never think to question the façade if the genasi didn’t know better. But it’s the same one that helped her, of that Maven is certain, and she cannot pass up on the opportunity to speak with them again. “Hey,” she calls out, hurrying to catch up. “Hey, wait!” ( @phobetos​ )

[emoryhart]

Downtime allowed for a lot of people watching. Emory found it was something he wound up doing whether he liked it or not. It was an old game, one that’d started after his mother had passed and his father’s voice had gotten into his head. He wondered what people were often, if there was a way he could tell just by looking at them, exchanging a few words at the bar. Sometimes he’d tell himself he was good at it, the problem was Corinth was crawling with all sorts of things he’d never heard of, or had thought to simply just be myths. The person before him who’d asked for some kind of convoluted shot, he couldn’t place them though. There’s a kind of...Slyness? Mischief maybe, that feels secretive, knowing almost. “Do you uh, wanna repeat that? Couldn’t hear you over the music.” @phobetos​

[tezcatllpoca]

closed starter for @phobetos​

Ignacio had nothing in common with anyone in Corinth Bay except for the fact that he was a being that most people didn’t truly believe existed. However, if there was one group of supernatural beings he felt linked to, it was the oneiroi. He had been looking for one and when he came across one, his eyes gleamed with mischief. Perhaps, that was why they had so much in common. Divination aside. “I’ve been looking for one of you.”

[phobetos]

for: @epialcs​ location: sibyl’s cave

"I hired someone named Sibyl,” Phobetos said excitedly, pushing through the door of the shop. “Well, her name is Sara, but she looks like a crone so we call her Sibyl. The customers love it.” They had been entirely too excited to get to meet Epiales, and now that the other oneiroi had taken them up on their invitation to see their shop, Phobetos was all too eager to show them around. She was a source of fascination, an entirely new creation in a species that they had been convinced had been all but stamped out. They were one of the first, and now-- one of the last, but before them was a new breath to their kind. “Sometimes, a genasi brings me cursed objects. Don’t touch the that black stone,” they warned, beaming at the display before gesturing towards the entirety of the shop. “What do you think? Do you like it? It’s all new, but I think it’s nice. We have beads and everything on the doors.”

[zulcyha]

Leyha had no concept of time when she was in Tartarus, no knowledge of what had passed on earth. It felt like thousands of years that she had been caged, waiting for the opportunity to break free. And perhaps it truly had been, because nothing is the same as she remembers. There are so many sounds and sights, things that flash and make noise, and mysterious contraptions of steel that move faster than any horse she’d ever ridden. And perhaps it is a bit overwhelming, but this is the price of freedom, and Leyha will never allow herself to return to the pit of Tartarus. So she must do what she has always done in the past — adapt. But first she must figure out what that means, in this reality, and right now, the only thing she is certain of is the fact that staying in the open is not a wise idea. It’s with hurried steps that she rushes away, aimless in destination but carelessly pushing past mortals and other species alike, too distracted by the world around her to pay much mind to the people. ( @phobetos​ )

[waeteeth]

The text had been simple, it’d been one word. Temple. And then he’d gone to the bathroom, yet another room bathed in blood and bodies, and he’d emptied his stomach of any snack he’d had in Athens. It shouldn’t have mattered, it was all blood, it was everywhere. Under his fingernails, at the knees of his jeans from kneeling in the mess, in splotches on his shirt. He swore if he turned on the faucet, the water would just run red. It hadn’t though and he’s less of a visible mess, it’s off his skin at least, but finding clothes that aren’t covered in it are impossible.

And so that’s why he sits hunched over on the altar, fingers running through his hair when they aren’t wringing together. Anemos, Phobetos too maybe, he’ll text them both and tell them to watch the villa from afar.He’d already told Tobias and Maven to stay far from the flat. But for the moment he’s just waiting in a panic, fear and dread and everything else just in the pit of his stomach as he tries to pull himself together. The usual combination of florals hit his nostrils and somehow, for once, they don’t offer him any comfort.

“None of it’s mine.” It’s a callback to that night in the greenhouse he thinks, right before the veil had fallen. But there’s no humor to it, he’s shaking his head and drawing a breath he doesn’t need to take. “Job went fine, came home tae a bit of a mess.” @mylesxdelian​

[anemosofnyx]

“Epiales is gone.” The youngest spirit wanted to see more of the world, to experience more, and Anemos could not deny them that. They would have gone with them, but that meant leaving behind everyone here; Rafael and Hippolyta, Nemesis and Phobetos, even Vasilis. They can’t just pick up and leave, not like they normally could. “They were another like me, an oneiroi.” It’s a shame that Rafael never got to meet them. He should know Anemos’s family, like they know his. “They’re new to this world, and they want to see more of it. But we were going to get married, after Nem’s wedding. It was going to be grand.” What a shame they’ll miss out on that party. “Oh well. It’ll just have to wait until they get back.” They have plenty of time, after all, as immortal spirits. It could be a hundred years from now and they’ll still be the same. ( @rafaelyilmcz​ )

[vikasokolov]

for: @zulcyha​

“Your partner,” Vika said, already making herself at home on the couch, “They do not mind the intrusion?” In truth, she cared little if they did— there was nowhere in the city that she could claim as a home at present, and the living room was small, but comfortable enough. Besides, it seemed as though Phobetos was about the same size as the manticore was and an afternoon of playing dress up with Leyha in their closet, she had her eye on a few of their pieces. “I’ll find a place soon, after I find the fury I am looking for, and my sister.” A smile curved on her lips, as wicked as a fish hook. “Maybe we will stay in the city here, and we will not be separated.” They saw Leyha now just the same as blood, they were bound by their creation— by the phantom chains that still bound and marked them as escaped prisoners of Tartarus. “There’s fun to be had, I think.”

[virajxsoteira]

@hektorsoteira​

“Mavens been made human again. A witch.” Viraj said simply, dark eyes stayed fixed upon the ceiling above them as blankets pooled at his waist. The smell of the sea wafted in through the open window, carrying with it the sound of the Aegean beating across the shore. This is what Viraj had come here to tell his sire, and instead he’d lowered himself before Hektor like any pious waif before a Godly altar. “It was her choice, she had a vampire help her with the arrangements. Jamie, apparently he knows Patroclus and was connected to a pair of oneiroi as a result: Phobetos and Anemos.” The insult felt fresh still, that Maven who had been like family to him would turn away from the gift she’d been given. That Jamie would help her in this endeavour, and that there was a man in this city with the audacity to rescind Hektor’s power.  Viraj canted his head to watch the stone-like features of Hektor’s frame, sharp blue eyes cut through the dark. “I plan on killing all of them. Maven, Jamie, Phobetos, Anemos. Patroclus. But I thought you should know that someone in this city is undoing your cult’s work.” 

[erosxoneiroi]

@zulcyha​

Ørjan had been alone for most of their life, but when the veil fell and they were reunited with Nyx and the others, their story of servitude was a common one. But being without their powers for over a century was less so. Phobetos had told them as the veil was reformed: come to my shop, come find me - and now stood in the threshold of the altar to the power they’d once held, they almost felt out of place. "Phobetos?” The spirit questioned, the face wasn’t what they were expecting but without their talisman they couldn’t tell a witch from a werewolf, let alone one of their own kind. “Is that you?”

[ryqoshay]

Promptober-2021: Happy Life: Mayonaka

Primary Pairing: YohaRiko Words: 467 Rating: G Prompt: Midnight Parent Fic: Happy Life Time Frame: Sometime during college

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Author’s Note: 2nd entry for Oct 20th’s prompt

Summary: Yohane found another stray

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“I’m telling you, Riri, she was so~ cute!” Yoshiko was describing a stray cat she had come across on the way home and managed to find a new owner shortly thereafter. “Fur as dark as the deepest of nights. Golden eyes that shown like twin moons of another world. Teeth that glistened like ceremonial bone daggers.”

Riko couldn’t help thinking that pretty much described Phobetor, currently sitting in Yoshiko’s lap. The main difference being Phobetor’s one emerald eye.

“And I came up with the perfect name for her too, Mayonaka!” Yoshiko continued. “I do hope her new owner takes it into consideration. It’s such a cute name for a cute little kitty… hey! Wha? Phobetor?”

Riko watched as the current cat of the apartment swatted at her girlfriend’s hand as she tried to pet him. Then, Phoboter stood, turned, and with tail held high, trotted over to Riko before climbing into her lap.

“I think you made him jealous, Yocchan.” Riko commented.

“Phobeto~r!” Yoshiko whined. “I wasn’t trying to imply that I would have Mayonaka replace you! I was saying I’d have her in addition to you!”

Phobetor responded by kneading a couple times into Riko’s leg before curling up between her and Prelude, who had already been on her lap.

“Yohane can’t be the only one who thinks having a third pet would be a good idea, right Riri?”

“Hrm…” Riko considered. “I think sometimes it feels like Yocchan is already my third pet.”

“Wha?” Yoshiko balked. “Yohane is nobody’s pet! If anything, Riri is Yohane’s little demon.”

“I thought I was your angel?”

“Yes, right, angel…” Yoshiko shook her head. “Wait, why was Yohane Riri’s third pet?”

Riko laughed.

“Anyway, it’s not fair that Riri gets both Phobetor and Prelude.” Yoshiko groused. “Come over here, Prelude.” She coaxed, patting her lap. “C’mon, Prelude.”

The pug opened her eyes and watched Yoshiko for a moment. Then, she slowly got to her feet.

“That’s a good girl.” Yoshiko patted her lap again. “C’mon. C’mon over to Yohane.”

Prelude stepped closer to Riko and Phobetor before settling back down, curling herself around the smaller cat.

Yoshiko whined again. Riko laughed again. Yoshiko pouted adorably.

“Well, there may not be room left on my lap.” Riko decided to say. “But my shoulder is open.” She reached her arm toward her girlfriend.

Yoshiko hesitated.

“C’mon, Yocchan.” Riko prompted, mimicking her girlfriend’s former tone as she patted her shoulder with her other hand. “C’mon over to Riri.”

Finally, Yoshiko gave in and slid in next to Riko, leaning her head on her shoulder.

“That’s a good girl, Yocchan.” Riko cooed as she wrapped her arm around her girlfriend and patted her head.

“That’s all?” Yoshiko asked as Riko began to move her hand away.

Riko laughed again and resumed her headpats.

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Author’s Note Continued: Mayonaka is actually the name of an OC in my unpublished D&D fic. She is the younger sister of Yozakura, real name Hakumei, who I have managed to bring into TA via a TTRPG Setsuna is running, where Ayumu plays her.

But the way I write Mayo has thus far relied heavily on first person narration as it grants me access to a particular style I learned from the Haruhi light novels that intentionally blurs the lines among Kyon’s internal and external monologue as well as the overall narration itself. And I’m just not sure I’m ready to try translating that over to a third person perspective. Especially when confined to 4k characters in a prompt event.

But I still love the name and couldn’t pass up using it somehow for the Midnight prompt. Thus, Yohane found another kitty. And Phobetor’s jealous.

Edit: If anyone is curious about how I write Mayo, I did translate her, Ryqo, Yoza, and a couple other of my D&D OCs into a LL style school idol setting a~ll the way down at the bottom of my Archive. They were the first posts I made this account, in fact. Lonely derelicts of a long past event on an LL fansite I unfortunately rarely visit these days.

[corinthbayrpg]

NAME. Züleyha Açıkgöz AGE & BIRTH DATE. 1,666 & June 13th, 354 CE GENDER & PRONOUNS. Female & She/Her SPECIES. Manticore OCCUPATION. Shop Assistant at Sybil’s Cave FACE CLAIM. Özge Yağız

BIOGRAPHY

( tw: slavery, death, torture ) Züleyha was born the daughter of a merchant trader in Constantinople, during the Byzantine period. She spent the formative years of her life in Anatolia, but after the death of her mother at eight years, it was then that she boarded a ship bound for Athens along with her father and her uncle, never to return in her human lifetime. The trio landed in the port city Piraeus before further traveling to Corinthia, where her father set up a shop to eke out a living. It wasn’t such a bad life, for a time. Züleyha grew up happy, so long as her father was around, and enjoyed assisting him with his trade. She adapted well to a Greek life, becoming familiar with their customs, and the outlook of her future seemed bright. Unfortunately, fate had other plans, as all that crashed and burned around her.

At the age of twelve, Züleyha’s father passed to a sickness, and her uncle, rather than choosing to continue to take care of the child, sold her to the temple in the city as a servant, before taking off with the money. It was a harsh transition, to go from a loving home to walls of cold stone, told to put her devotion into serving a goddess that did little for the girl. But Züleyha was nothing if not resilient, bending to fit the mold that was required of her while she waited for the chance to grasp her freedom. And the moment came in the form of a soldier from Arcadia. She was fifteen years old at the time, and had blossomed into a handsome young woman, who caught the eye of many men visiting the temple. Enraptured by her beauty, and in search of a wife, he paid for her freedom and took her back to Arcadia with him.

If only Züleyha were the type of woman who could be content with such a life. Though she had gotten what she wanted, in freedom from her life as a servant, her new husband was twice her age and a bore. He offered nothing stimulating, nor did their life together; all he wanted from her was a child, a son. Once Züleyha produced that for him, she was little more than a pretty trophy to parade around his fellow soldiers. It was an even more unhappy life than the one she had left in the temple, a different cage that felt just as suffocating, even though the bars were not as apparent from the outside. She wanted more from her life, something exciting, and the opportunity to make her own choices, for once. To guide her own destiny, rather than fall into the mercy of those around her.

And so as the years went by, the young woman slowly began to reach the end of her patience, putting together a plan that would require the favor of a god. With offering in hand she approached the temple located in the city of their home, dedicated to Hermes, and knelt at his altar, praying for the means to escape the marriage she so despised. Perhaps he sensed the guile in her heart, something cunning and ruthless that lurked beneath the surface, or perhaps it was her plea that impassioned him, but the end result was the same. It was then that the trickster god approached her, offering what at the time seemed to be everything she wanted. Freedom from her marriage, without losing the land and home it brought her, nor her son. For the remainder of her human years, Züleyha would live a pampered existence, and then in death, she would become his servant. Though far from fond of the idea of being bound to anyone’s will but her own again, even a god’s, the truth is that the girl thought herself more clever. That in the end, she would find a way out of the arrangement, after she had already taken everything she wanted. And so Züleyha agreed.

But Hermes did not act instantaneously, no matter how much she would have liked. Instead, he bid her to be patient, that when the time came the deal was fulfilled, she would know. It was during this time that she met someone who finally caught her attention, a traveler from her home country. Drawn in by the familiarity, she found them to be utterly fascinating, regaled by tales from other lands near and far. Introduced by the name of Phobetos, quickly Züleyha became enraptured by the mysterious person. While waiting for Hermes to follow through on their deal, she spent any time she managed to steal in their presence, forming a bond between the pair until they finally revealed their true nature to be that of a spirit — an oneiroi. Rather than finding such information intimidating, it only pulled Züleyha into their orbit even further. It was the most exciting thing she had ever known, until her feelings of interest developed into something deeper, a rush of affection she had never experienced before. She fell in love with the spirit, a fact that only further enforced her desire to be free of her boorish husband.

In the end, the wait was not so unreasonably long, only that it felt such a way while trapped from the inside. It was a terrible, unfortunate accident, they said. A day trip that her husband made into the city to attend the market, only for a horse to suddenly spook right as he passed by, the man trampled beneath his hooves. With a son to inherit the estate, in a time when she couldn’t hold it in her own name, Züleyha got to keep everything, just as Hermes promised. And she got to spend the rest of her mortal life with the person that she loved. It was the happiest period of Züleyha’s life, looking back. But nothing good lasts forever.

Indeed, the deal that she made to achieve such happiness would not be forgotten, and in the end, she could not outmaneuver fate. It was a sickness that did her in, the same as her father before her, though she had aged much further than most around her, living a long and happy life. Her final breaths were taken in the bed of her home, her lover by her side, only to wake up later as if time had reset. Back to her days of youth, not a day older than when she had made the agreement with Hermes, at first Züleyha was ecstatic about this rebirth. She ignored the god’s temple, enjoying her new beginning with Phobetos, blissfully unaware of the danger her new nature posed to them. It was only when the oneiroi realized pieces of it’s soul had been stolen away, nearly enough to kill them for good, did the pair figure out that Züleyha’s second life came with strings attached. It was only then when she approached Hermes again, demanding understanding, and the god explained all too gleefully what had happened to her lover — just what she had done to him, and what she would continue to do. In one small act of kindness, before departing Hermes left her with the information that a phoenix could heal Phobetos’s soul, and that he would be in touch with her again soon.

It was fortunate for the oneiroi that they had known one of the species in days past, and so they approached the original phoenix for help to restore what had been taken. But even with Phobetos’s soul returned, it did not fix the new barrier between them. The couple chose to stubbornly deny the inevitable at first, too in love and too selfish to let go of each other, but it is a difficult thing to love someone when you cannot be with them, and to have to watch them be with others. The happy bubble they made in her human life was no more, and eventually, their relationship crumbled under the strain. Züleyha does not remember her last words to the spirit, but she knows they had been spoken in anger, a cruelty to her tongue that had never been turned against Phobetos before. She left the region of Arcadia entirely, following the bidding of Hermes as he directed her across the world. The succubus spent most of her time traveling with merchants, a familiarity to it that reminded her of her childhood, taking the souls of any who displeased the god. 

But she never forgot her love for Phobetos, no matter how much at times she had wished. Even though two hundred years had passed since they last saw each other, when word traveled of rumors of a spirit being captured in Macedonia, Züleyha found herself abandoning her current path to race towards the country under the chance that it might be the oneiroi she once knew. Tracking down the genasi was not a mission of particular difficulty; blinded by their own arrogance, their success in managing to possess an oneiroi, the man thought himself untouchable and openly bragged to any who would listen. Though his soul was tainted by the dark stain of his magic, he was not immune to the cubi’s charms, beguiled by her pretty face and sweet words. It did not take long at all before he willingly brought her to where he kept the oneiroi imprisoned, showing her the talisman that kept it under control. Underestimated by her small and seemingly human appearance, he never even saw the blade until she had dragged it across his throat, a spray of blood cast across the wall. 

Freeing her former lover, Züleyha did not hesitate before returning their talisman to them. It was a bittersweet reunion, the acknowledgment that while their feelings had not changed, neither had their circumstances. But they parted on much better terms this time, and for the rest of her life, the two weaved in and out of each other’s company throughout time. 

And so life continued. She kept moving frequently, in order to hide the fact that she never seemed to age, her paths mostly moving along the trade routes as Hermes bid. She watched much of history from the sidelines, a nameless observer to moments that would redefine the world. The most notable instance being when the succubus had returned to the city of her birth, and held residence in Constantinople during the siege of the Fourth Crusade. For days the Crusaders looted and terrorized the city, partook in the murder of thousands of innocents, but Hermes kept his servant protected by guiding her to a shelter hidden by his magic, and so she watched it all unfold before her eyes. It was not the first, nor the last time that she would ever be in the city, returning throughout the centuries to witness both the rise and height of the Ottoman Empire, but the senseless violence never left Züleyha; it developed a morbid fascination for the darkness of the human mind, which would only fuel her own, in the years to come.

Perhaps it was the corrupted nature of her soul, the horrors she had witnessed across the years of her long life, or perhaps it had always been there simmering underneath the surface, but the woman slipped into a darkness that she would not recover from. She began to enjoy her existence as a succubus, the destruction she could cause to life around her. The fact that she could feel no pain, that her injuries would heal near instantaneously, and the experience of hurt long faded in her memories, all led to a certain thrill in causing it in others. Either through a kiss or a blade, Leyha enjoyed the damage she inflicted upon others. But her cruelty made her reckless, too arrogant from years of being protected by her god’s favor, and the near invulnerable nature of a cubi. 

She had started going by Leyha Açıkgöz by that time, residing amongst the wealthy in London during the Regency era. Trade had been disrupted by the war between the United States and the United Kingdom, something which displeased Hermes, and thus he had sent his creature to punish those responsible and assist the few merchants who still prayed in his name. Though she followed his direction faithfully, remaining in the city until a conclusion was reached, it was also in London where she fell into trouble that would soon become her doom. 

She had taken the soul of a shifter, merely for fun, then promptly left his bloody and cut corpse in the street. But Leyha had been careless in returning to her estate, leaving a trail behind that her victim’s grief stricken brother followed to her door. Though she fought back against the shifter, leaving him wounded and bloody, in the end, his teeth found purchase in her shoulder, a bite that would bring her second life to an end. Aware of the fact that she was dying, and the knowledge that Phobetos also resided in the city at the time, Leyha stumbled her way to her former lover’s door, where she took her final breaths held in their arms. 

But what waited for her beyond was no peace. Hermes had no claim on her soul anymore, the twisted and dark thing it had been turned into, instead taken by the Erinyes. She was sent to Tartarus, to spend an eternity in torment for all the harm she had committed while on earth. What was two hundred years for the mortal world, passed by as thousands for Leyha. It was a torture that would break anyone, and she could not say that she had been strong enough to fight against it, her very being corrupted into something more monstrous than even she could have imagined. The only thing that kept the woman from losing her mind entirely was to focus on thoughts of Phobetos, and to plot her escape. It did not matter that the idea had been little more than fallacy at the time, it gave her something to cling to. Until the day came when it was no longer so outlandish. The veil fell, and then was repaired with a patch job, but in doing so, tore a wider gap and unlocked the gate of the cage that held Leyha in place. It was the opportunity she had been waiting for, and the woman struck without hesitation, escaping from her prison and emerging as something new. 

A manticore, Typhon had called them. His prized little creations. Had he always intended to unleash them upon the world? To release them from Tartarus? It matters not, now that Leyha has escaped her confinement she will not allow herself to be taken back. Spit out from the veil into the city of Corinth Bay, she is no longer bound to the will of anyone but herself. The freedom she always desired from her life, but could never quite reach is now within her grasp, and Leyha will do anything to hold onto it.

PERSONALITY

+ adaptive, quick-witted, spirited - temperamental, manipulative, ruthless

PLAYED BY Abby. CDT. She/Her.

[emoryhart]

The library is one of the few places he can quietly sit around and house hunt. Before him are his phone, a local paper, a notepad with various addresses scribbled. Zillow worked just fine, but he needed something down physically. He has a pen in one hand and his chin in the other, eyes unfocused as he just scrolls through house listings. He hadn’t slept after he’d gotten back from the bar, he didn’t so much anymore, sleep was hard to come by, he would rather be a semblance of productive. So instead of crawling into bed, he scrolls, he scribbles, he tries to picture a home for him and Micah and Tobias.

The woods were quiet, he could hear leaves crunching under his feet. Around him, they were beginning to change colors. He can hear his brothers up ahead, the sounds of them messing around in the distance. They can’t be all that far from the family camp, they’re being too loud to be deep in the woods. Deep in the woods where they’d always been told to be quiet, to be vigilant. 

@phobetos​

[phobetos]