#♱ kaeleena libitina lockwood — the white swan.

[hymnoire]

In the haunted depths of Buckinghamshire's cursed forests, the long-awaited Day of The Ceremony had finally arrived. For the Kang Lockwoods, it was a sacred ritual known as the Bonding, an ancient rite performed beneath the watchful gaze of the full moon. Kaeleena, one among twelve sisters, wasn’t the eldest, several of her siblings had already faced this fateful night. For years, she had dreamed of her own Bonding, imagining the connection that would be forged : a beautiful, unbreakable one, linked to a soul destined to be her companion through fire and mist. Now it was her turn. Draped in the flowing elegance of her ceremonial gown, a pristine white that shimmered faintly under the moonlight, Kaeleena’s heart is pounding with excitement. The weight of her cape settled lightly on her shoulders as her mother guided her into the heart of the forest, to the sacred clearing where bonds were forged. Across from her, waiting in the shadows, stands her intended. He wears the traditional ceremonial black, and well, he is magnificent, she thinks. The Kang Lockwood tradition dictates her parents would lead them to this moment, her mother’s hand steady in hers, her father guiding him ( @dcrkfcngs ) forward. After guiding them, her parents leave, and they are left alone. Only the forest and the moon will witness what would follow. Her hands are tightly clasp together. She keeps her eyes on him with oh so many  questions she couldn’t yet voice. His face, half-lit by the moon’s pale light, is captivating. The stillness of the moment is in a way, beautiful. She inhaled deeply and then, tentatively, Kaeleena extends her hand towards him. An offering. An invitation. The first step toward something unknown, yet fated. “I have seen you in my dreams. Have you seen me in yours?”

[hymnoire]

Kaeleena had always been a shadow, one birthed out of the decadent cruelty of Giedi Prime. The halls of the Harkonnen stronghold thrummed with whispers of power and terror, yet her name was never among them. But she wanted it to be. She craved it to be. The white swan wore the unspoken truth of her lineage beneath her skin, a secret etched into her very bones. Yes, she had always known she was of royal blood; her mother had made certain of that. Late at night, the woman whispered stories of Kaeleena's birth in secret. Kaeleena had loved her mother fiercely, even as she died too soon, crushed beneath the weight of a world that never acknowledged the worth and life of women with no names. She was a child then, left with nothing but grief and rage. The forgotten Harkonnen had spent every moment since sharpening herself into something new. A Doctor. Her intellect and resilience soon made her one of the best; however, she was never so devoted to curing as she was to the power in the eyes of her patients : eyes that gazed at her as if she were a god. After all, who but a god has the power to decide who heals, who doesn't, who lives and who dies? A deep cruelty was born from holding lives in her care. She became a tormented weapon of intellect, an intellect that stripped away her humanity and replaced it with obsessions, with greed. A greed for power. A power she managed to steal.

Decades had passed before Kaeleena finally stepped into the heart of the Baron's empire. From there, she would plan to make her bloodline—not his, hers—endure. They would remember her not as a shadow, not even as the inferno that consumed and reshaped the Harkonnen legacy. The Baron had tried to kill her—how dared she claim herself as one of them—but he simply couldn’t. How and why? That answer was hers alone, locked behind a sly, knowing smile from that one day they faced each other. How had she forced the Baron’s hand, made him see her potential? A deal had been struck. He would grant her the position she craved: not by ruling, but by marrying the heir. The arrangement was an insult at first, an attempt to bind her ambition to a spouse’s role. Ah, well. Kaeleena had not flinched. On the contrary, she had embraced it all, seeing it for what it was : a beautiful opportunity. Feyd-Rautha ( @deficd ), the sharpest blade in the Harkonnen arsenal, was to be her brother and groom. She had seen him in the arena, his ferocity and madness unrestrained. She saw the bloodlust that burned behind his gaze. She even imagined him slicing her head off the moment she became an inconvenience to him, and she smiled at the thought. Kaeleena waits in the grand atrium, where the silence is thick. The polished floor reflects the sharp edges of the fortress’s brutal architecture. She stands poised, her silhouette wrapped in black silk embroidered with gold accents, the fabric clinging to her figure like shadows caressing stone. Her hair is swept back, glinting like polished moonstone. The sound of steps echoes in the distance, growing heavier with each stride. She doesn’t turn to look; she doesn’t need to. She knows it is him. Feyd-Rautha, her blood and promised. She has been waiting for him, knowing they would cross paths here and now. "What is it, my Lord, that seeps beneath the skin and gnaws at the marrow of certainty? It bears no visage, yet watches unceasingly. It speaks in whispers, only in the solitude of your mind. It hungers for the warmth of blood and the stillness of power, and when night falls, it nestles within the abyss of your shadow, its embrace both suffocating and inescapable." A riddle. Her lips curve into a faint, knowing smile, the subtle gesture a contradiction of menace and grace. "It has been arranged for us to be formally introduced tomorrow," she says, her voice laced with chilling enthusiasm. "It would only be proper for us to meet beforehand... Brother Mine." She turns. Her gaze is steady, somewhere between soft and sinister, her tone almost tender as she adds, "Unless, of course, you would rather settle the matter here and now. Shall I bare my throat to you?" Her lips curl slightly, almost indulgently, as she tilts her head to expose the pale, vulnerable curve of her neck. "All the disgusting vile little dreams I’ve had about us begin like this," she murmurs, her voice both confession and taunt.

[hymnoire]

My Favorite Films / Kaeleena and the : movies that inspired the story of her.

Tagged by : @noiranamnesis (thank you for always tagging me!) Tagging : Anybody !

Suspiria (Luca Guadagnino, 2018) The orphanage she has been raised in, Swans of Misericorde, into is her Tanz Akademie, it's a place of beauty and cruetly. Her mother surpreme was a woman named Libitina ( who gave her name as middle name for Kae by the way), like Madame Blanc this mother supreme who molded young girls. Kaeleena becomes both dancer and witch in a metaphorical way of speaking, she's an apprentice and an heir to the tradition of her own orphanage/academie. The rituals she performs are more... surgical, but no less supernatural depending on which verse we walk into. She learns that creation is possession, and power always comes at the cost of blood.

Midsommar (Ari Aster, 2019) The Swans also alike May Queens of a twisted ceremony, chosen for sacrifice and rebirth. Tradition as a cover for for horror a,d brainwashing. Kaeleena sees through the flowers and fire, and she ends up using ritual not for comfort but for control as she happens to be the only Swan aware of what the orphanage truly is. She becomes the one behind the rites with Mother Supreme and when her sisters scream and suffer, Kaeleena listens like a god and watch them burn for a greater good.

Prophecy (show focusing on the story of the Bene Gesserit in Dune) Kaeleena is cultivated when we truly think about it. She is the culmination of experiments. Like the Bene Gesserit, the Swans of Misericorde do not believe in prophecy, they engineer it. Kaeleena knows the difference between fate and function, between vision and manipulation. She is no messiah. She is the hand behind the curtain, preparing the world for a god she intends to become. She will lead Swans of Misericorde after Mother Supreme Libitina dies and rebuild the Sisterhood similar to Bene Gesserit.

Dune (Denis Villeneuve, 2021) Kaeleena is also bred like the Kwisatz Haderach, she's part of a vision far greater than herself. She walks the path of destiny with something cold and that doesn't always belong to her but a greater cause. Almost like Paul Atreides, she has the burden of power and believes in prophecy but loses herself in the madness that both induce. She doesn’t just predict changes but she becomes it, she rewrites the fate of evolution itself.

Poor Things (Yorgos Lanthimos, 2023) Kaeleena is also like Bella Baxter, she is an experiment in becoming, rewritten by hands not her own. She reconstructs herself being fully aware of what she is, she loves redefining what it means to be alive even though it also questions her : is she alive? Her love for humans turning monsters or humans turning machines (depending on verse) is alike Bella’s hunger, all consuming. Both are monstrous and divine. Kaeleena doesn’t seek humanity—she transcends it, becoming her own creator.

Nosferatu (F.W. Murnau, 1922) There’s something inhuman in her gaze still, maybe like Orlok, she is ageless, hungry, and calculating. She corrupts, her love consumes, her creations live forever but never truly live, especially her sisters/swans or her daughters when she becomes mother supreme. Kaeleena is like a vampire, she cannot die because she’s never truly been alive. There is something immortal about her then.

[hymnoire]

Kaeleena stands over the cold metal table, her gaze fixed on the lifeless form of Sasha before redirecting to what seems to appear as her spirit. "Never in my wildest dreams do I imagine the otherworld could be so... chatty," she mutters with a smirk, her voice carrying a mix of curiosity and irony. The laboratory, her sanctuary, feels like a second home—a place of comfort for her, but to anyone else, a house of horrors. The Bluehouse, a small, fading blue cottage hidden deep in the woods of the House of Miséricorde—a secluded religious establishment in the meadows of Buckinghamshire—is the place she brings all the bodies she experiments on. Here, away from prying eyes, Kaeleena is free to pursue her singular, obsessive goal: bringing the dead back to life. Many experiments have failed despite Kaeleena being a scientist of genius. If only she could be more selective with the bodies. She would prefer something less ravaged, but the less damaged corpses often lack what she needs in their post mortem... resilience. Sasha's unburied body lies exposed, naked, pale and broken, on the icy metal slab. Kaeleena lets out a quiet sigh as she wipes her decaying skin with a damp cloth soaked in holy water. " The holy water’s just for show, darling," she muses, dragging the wet fabric over his cold flesh to clean in. Her eyes flick to the nearby tools—screws, drills, and saws, neatly laid out like a surgeon's kit. She nods toward them with a casual tilt of her chin. "The real fun starts later." Her fingers trace along the jagged crack in Sasha’s skull. "What happened to you?" she mutters, her voice low as she studies the fractured bone. "It’ll take weeks to fix this mess. Not that I mind getting my hands deep into the grey matter of your beautiful brain. Who did this to you?"

[hymnoire]

“Brilliant." The word on Kaeleena’s lips carries weight. For her to deem something brilliant, it must be. She stands in the stark whiteness of the laboratory, her world of order and creation. Dressed in a pristine lab coat, her hair are so pale it verges on white, blending seamlessly into the immaculate sterility around her. This is her sanctuary. The birthplace of the future she has long fantasized about. Being an intern under the legendary Professor Harmsmith has been an honor, and Kaeleena ensured she was his best intern. No, the best. Later this year, she will hold her diploma as a neurosurgeon, and like all the other selected juniors, she has been assigned to monitor one of them. Him.

Project Titanomachy.

A venture set in motion years ago, a vision to sculpt men into weapons. Some interns received weak, forgettable subjects. Not Kaeleena. She had set her sights on the finest, the one who outperformed them all. The deadliest. The one with the highest kill count during practices. Another fooli had been in charge of him first, but Kaeleena always gets what she wants. She doesn’t even need to glance at the file labeled Agent 7 ( @noiranamnesis ) before closing it. She knows it by heart, she knows Him by heart. Her gaze follows him as he runs down the treadmill, the way his muscles move are… engineered. He is being monitored, soon to be evaluated, and yet she watches him like he was more than an experiment subject. Her deranged eyes never leave him, drinking in every flex, every breath. Rrrr, magnificent. Ah, and if only she could run her tongue along his chest down to his belt, but oh no, how inappropriate. How deeply unethical. How utterly delicious. Sadly, she is only here to evaluate him, to ensure the weapon remains in prime condition before his very first mission. "You can stop running." Her voice cuts through the sterile air, cool and steady. She tilts her head, extending her arm towards the desk : an invitation, a command. Join me. Only when he sits does she lower herself onto her leather chair, letting the silence stretch between them. “I have watched you, Agent 7. From every conceivable angle.” Her lips curl at the edges, her usual sinister smile. “I am Doctor Junior Kaeleena Lockwood. From this moment on, you are under my supervision.” Her fingers drum against the desk with a specific rhythm, slow, a melody she often sings. “You were first assigned to Clementia Brown, weren’t you?” A chuckle escapes her lips, low, velvety and wicked. As if she enjoys remembering what she did to that poor, naive Clementia to ensure Agent 7 will forever ber hers and hers only. “I do things differently.” Her fingers stop drumming. Her gaze sharpens. “My dear colleague failed to recognize how exquisite you are, how promising. But I see it. ” A pause. A shift in the air. “It has been six months since you acquired this… oh-so-beautiful new organism of yours, along with a mind rewired for excellence. ” She leans in slightly, eyes on him. Eyes a little mad, a little intense, as always. “How about we get to know each other by sharing how these last months have impacted us. You tell me how you feel. Then, I tell you how I feel."

[hymnoire]

     — ꣼ 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑡𝑎𝑙𝑒𝑠 𝑜𝑓 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑏𝑙𝑎𝑐𝑘 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑤ℎ𝑖𝑡𝑒 𝑠𝑤𝑎𝑛.

Kaeleena and Gaya can be seen as two faces of contemporary art, each representing a philosophy that matches their nature. Gaya describing herself as expressionism meanwhile she sees Kaeleena as surrealism. They are twins bound by blood, but in the end, they drift like night and day.

Kaeleena, the white swan, is driven by the desire to transcend reality, to dismantle the barriers of perception and reconstruct them into something entirely new. She aspires to a New World she will be the god of. Her works relies on transhumanism and the creation of a new species, something better than humans. Her connection to Surrealism is so far just an artistic preference, but it mirrors the revolution of thought. For her, art isn't as much of an escape than it is for Gaya but it can be an inspiration as she connects it to her science like Dali has. After all, surrealism is a tool to unlock the subconscious, to merge dreams and reality into one, the same way she does with her life work. The surrealist movement have these impossible juxtapositions and this boundless imagination and it works with her need to challenge the gods and to explore the depths, to go furthur than the simple human experience. To bend it to her will, too. She doesn't paint, it isn't how she expresses herself but if she did, her work would be filled with symbols, codes and narratives from an alternate dimension she wants to materialize as the future.

Gaya, the black swan, on the other hand, she is the visceral. If Kaeleena wants to revolutionize the human experience, Gaya is consumed by it, consumed by the heart more than the mind. She wears her emotions on her sleeve, she is emotionnally transparent and impulsive. She does paint and her art is inspired by expressionism, expressionism as a sub mouvement reflects her belief that art isn’t meant to represent the external world as it is, nor bend it like Kaeleena does, but to explore the emotions that world stirs. She says she can express with art what she believess words arent enough to embody. Gaya’s work is raw energy, with the force of her impulses, it sometimes also drifts towards abstract expressionism more. Where Kaeleena loves art to explore the surreal, Gaya uses it as a catharsis of her inner nightmares and memories. Every brushstroke, every color in her pieces seems to scream with feeling : anger, passion, sorrow, joy, all tangled together. Her art is then deeply personal, it appears she often paints the meadows of the House of Misericorde. Gaya has forgotten everything the human experiment that is the orphanage has put her through, brainwashed. Somehow, it's visible in her art even if she herself, cannot access the memories anymore. " A haunting vision of the meadows of Buckinghamshire, the landscape distorted yet still recognizable. The oil strokes are thick, deliberate, creating a scene that is simultaneously beautiful and unsettling. The warm tones of the meadow are interrupted by darker, more oppressive elements, as though shadows from her past have seeped into the painting itself. It is a reflection of her memories of the House of Misericorde, the orphanage where she spent her childhood. There’s something hidden in the strokes, a tension between warmth and sorrow, the weight of unspoken secrets craved in the fabric of the landscape. "

[hymnoire]

     kaeleena & the difficult person test

Tagged by : @deficd ( giggles thanks ) Tagging : @murderugh ( achilles ! ) , @dcrkfcngs ( xero ! )

[hymnoire]

He couldn’t be more right, and she knows it. A slow, knowing smile tugs at the corners of her lips as she glances down, a soft scoff escaping her. She swirls the liquid in her glass, her movements almost meditative. "Well…" Kaeleena knows she can be honest with him, even though she rarely opens up. Yongjae, he's always listened. "Am I merely being paranoid, then?" she muses, her voice with a quiet vulnerability she never allows. "I have this feeling that by the end of the day, I have not made a single genuine connection. It is strange, truly—back in the UK, I felt like I never struggled to socialize, but here in Seoul…" She pauses, the words catching in her throat, as though admitting this aloud chips away at her pride. "God, it’s different." She sighs, a trace of frustration in her tone. Most of her life has been spent in the UK, where her reputation is well-established, her respect hard-earned. Over there, she was someone—a figure of authority in neurosurgery. Yet here, despite her recognition in the field, it feels... insufficient. "Okay, okay, so what you are saying is I should just relax and stop assuming my new colleagues hate me?" she finally asks, her chin now resting in the palm of her hand. A wry smile flickers across her face. "But for the love of God, do not mention any of this to anyone. This is—" she lets out another scoff, "mortifying." Kaeleena rarely shows this side of herself. Confident, poised, untouchable—that's how she prefers to appear. She’s not like Gaya, Gaya is he bold and outspoken twin sister, Kaelenaa is different. Indeed, Kaeleena keeps her feelings guarded, her true self carefully hidden behind the image she projects. "But with you…" she adds, her tone softening. "I suppose I just trust you. I feel comfortable confiding in you."

[hymnoire]

'I don't need any rest, I'm fine.' --- For Kaeleena

“I know you don’t, Silly,” Kaeleena coos, lips curling with a mockery too delicate to be anything but cruel. “I thought we were playing humans tonight.” Ironic, isn’t it? Human she is, technically. But she wears the word like an illness sometimes or like a funny little thing another time. She doesn’t act human. Doesn’t feel human. Why should she? Gods don’t pretend. Gods perform. She drags the brush slowly through the whiteness of her hair, each stroke languid, ritualistic. Her skin fresh out of the bath smells like mint and orange blossoms. Her eyes never leave the mirror, not really. The cathedral of these few moments of peace before sleep, she likes them. “We’re supposed to lie down side by side,” she continues, invested in her silly little roleplay games. “Share the stories of our days like secrets passed in the dark." The brush halts. Her smile twists. “And whisper promises that tomorrow will be kinder.” Like a lullaby sung.

sleepy prompts. / still accepting.

[hymnoire]

ㅤkaeleena, as mother supreme.

[hymnoire]

There is a certain loneliness in power. Kaeleena knows this better than anyone. Power—supreme and hard-earned—rests upon her shoulders like a mantle too heavy for the mortal world. She carries it with the weight of decades, a lifetime of sins and sanctity intertwined. Years of unspeakable horrors birthed from her genius, in pursuit of supremacy, science, and something even more elusive: the Holy. Does that make her a god? Perhaps, in some cruel and twisted way. She creates life itself, manipulates it, bends it to her will. And for what? She knows for what, she believes in the Next Species, the Next Creation that comes after humans, she believes she has to be the architect of it all. The cost was not part of the equation however, not when she started on her mission. Her loved ones—those few souls she cherished deeply—are gone now. All she has left are followers who worship her intellect, admirers who contemplate her accomplishments and drink her books and works like the bible. But they are not the ones she needs. The ones who mattered most slipped through her grasp as she ascended. Now, all she has is the silence that comes with power. Tonight, even that silence feels distant. She sits in a bar, far from the grand halls of her world, far from Sister Elizabeth who never leaves her side and the entourage that normally surrounds her, mostly people who work for her. Her white dress flows over her like a sheet of marble, her long, silver-white hair cascading over her shoulders. Her gloves rest on the counter, forgotten for now. She always looks so reverential. The hum of conversation, the clinking of glasses, the noise of life surrounds her like a cocoon, and in it, she finds an unexpected peace. It drowns out the internal storm, quiets the memories. But then a voice pulls her from her reverie, a stranger offering her a drink. The words hang in the air, light and inconsequential, but they catch her attention. She turns her gaze towards him, her eyes studying his face for a moment before her lips curve into a small smile. There is a charm in his offer, yes. "Please," she replies, her voice soft but steady, "I would love a drink." There’s a pause, a flicker of amusement in her expression as she tilts her head slightly, her long hair swaying slowly . "Do I look the part though? Of someone who needs one?" A soft laugh escapes her, a rare thing, almost bitter in its humor. "That can't be good." She glances down, then back up at him. "You have eyes," she continues, a teasing lilt in her tone, "I will let you decide what to order and I will honor it. Tell me—what type of drink do I look like I drink?"

[hymnoire]

Tea time. Another tradition at the Manoir. The Swans and the Crows would never miss to attend it, here in the grand salon. How heartwarming to reunite for it, after ten yaers. "Minwoo." Kaeleena's voice is as delicate as the smile on her face as she sits down, right next to him, taking what she assumes is Gaya's seat. If her sister isn't here by her favorite boy's side, she must be occupied with other matters, it is the perfect time for them to talk. Gaya and her, they had a chat earlier : stay away from Minwoo, don't put weird shit inside his head Kae. - said Gaya. Laa dee daa. If you are not there to keep an eye on me Gayane, I might just do as I please. - Kaeleena answered. She extends her hands to take Minwoo's inside of hers as she adresses him a slight bow from the head. A traditional way for the Swans to greet each other and the Crows - friends and families only. The Golden Boy and the White Swan, reunited. Unspoken similarities have always linked the two of them. If they do not feel like the others do, they see better than any of them. Swans and Crows already stand at a high level of cognitive faculties, these two might be demi gods then. "Please know your presence have been widely expected. Especially by Mother Supreme and Headmaster Nero, your name has never left these walls nor their lips. Have you traveled well?" In her never ending observations, Minwoo has probably been one of the most fascinating case to her. He is grown now and as years pass, Kaeleena is curious.

       @murderugh liked for a short starter.

[hymnoire]

kaeleena, and what is there in between a god and not a god?

[hymnoire]

use this generator to create some randomly generated headcanons for your muse(s)!

Gaya is a sleepwalker. (When she loses her humanity and becomes half artificial intelligence, yes. )

Gaya desperately needs a hug but doesn't know it and refuses to ask for one. (Obviously. May she find the One who will give her hugs without her having to ask.)

Gaya has an embarrassing old deviant art account. (Super girly and glittery - she was trying to fit in at thirteen. )

Gaya is the gay cousin. (HAHAHAHAHA KIND OF. But Bi. Bi cousin. )

Gaya has punched a hole in their wall. (Terrible anger management so many)

Kaeleena tackles and wrestles people to show affection. (Almost. She slices their skull open and fixes their memories of trauma. )

Kaeleena is a very good singer. (She sings lullabies to her pet projects, they're the only ones who ever heard her singing. Melodic and frightening.)

Kaeleena can't make the voices go away. (HAHAHAHAHA WELL.)

Kaeleena reads wattpad. (False. She writes her own wattpad stories where she's the main character, it's well written, deranged yet surprisingly corny.)

Kaeleena has a pet lizard. (Definitly named after her lover)

Taken from : @certifiably-i !

Tagging : @murderugh (Minwoo) @mercifuldeliverance (Ker Leto Janus)

[hymnoire]

Kaeleena's voice has the softness of a lullaby, warm and gentle. It was often said that her voice could calm storms within, and as she gazes into Tobias's eyes, she knew his life had been far from kind. Eyes never lie. Kaeleena, she is a remarkable listener, an exceptional neurosurgeon with an intuitive understanding of the mind. Her insights often felt more therapeutic than analytical, and she has a way of making anyone feel truly seen, understood, and cared for. Kaeleena isn't just a woman of science, but a nurturer. Her care was genuine, and as their discussions evolved from light banter to deeper, more meaningful exchanges, she began to introduce Tobias to something larger than himself—the House of Misericorde. Her home and the home of her family. It wis a prestigious institution, known for taking in orphans at a young age, educating them to the highest standards, and molding them into exceptional individuals. The House does far more than philanthropy, though. It is an entity with influence and reach, donating to universities, placing its 'children'—those who had grown up within its walls—into powerful positions within society. These individuals owe their lives to the House and remain loyal to it, forming an intricate web of allegiance. It isn't just an organization, it was a system—no, a family. Many of the children who have grown at House are the same age as Tobias now, living their lives but always returning to the House, for celebrations, ceremonies, festivities, prayers or ... missions. "We will be a family, Tobias," Kaeleena says, her voice filled with warmth. "Everyone at the House already knows about you. I couldn't help myself—I told them about our conversations, about how bright and promising you are. A soul like yours shouldn’t wander in the dark.And they agreed with me." She pauses. "We hold a ceremony for every new member who enters our family. You will be celebrated. You’ll meet your brothers and sisters, and you will make a promise—to be there for them, as they will always be there for you." Her voice lowers, adding weight to her words. "That is how you sign up." Beneath the gentle exterior of the House of Misericorde, there were deeper currents. Secrets lay hidden in its foundations, buried by the woman in charge, Libitina, who will be maintainted by Kaeleena who's meant to be the next Mother Supreme. It was true—the House was an ideal place in many ways, but to preserve its power, influence, and legacy, some things went beyond morality. Sometimes, far beyond. Kaeleena’s expression softens again, her eyes twinkling with purpose. "As for what we need from you..." she began, her voice trailing off into an enigmatic smile. "We need you to do what you do best, Tobias. Art." Oh and he might have to kill someone at some point but that's for later, let's start easy. "Paint," she continues, her gaze steady. "You’re an artist. We value art and legacy above all at the House—it is everything to us. We need portraits, Tobias. Portraits of every member of our family, canvases of the meadows, the forests surrounding the House that we will hang on the wall. All of it, immortalized." The House demands loyalty, and those who failed to offer it fully, the members who tried to run away or betray the family : they were never forgotten. Some had been...reconditioned. Realigned. Brainwashed. Tortured. Their stories needed to be remembered, too, Kaeleena wants him to pain about that too.... If his loyalty stands strong enough. "Would you like that?"

[hymnoire]

     — ꣼ 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑡𝑎𝑙𝑒𝑠 𝑜𝑓 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑏𝑙𝑎𝑐𝑘 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑤ℎ𝑖𝑡𝑒 𝑠𝑤𝑎𝑛.

chapter. 05. The Solstice Queen.

The Swans of Misericorde is much more than an orphanage—it is the center of a human experiment masterminded by Mother Supreme Libitina. Under the pretense of religious devotion, therefore many festivities occur, for the swans to connect to their faith. One of the most expected, awaited festivity is the Solstice Festival, where the Solstice Queen is named, carried and adored by her sisters in an euphoric parade. There is one every year whose role is to become the personification of the sun of Juce. All the Swans dream of becoming Solstice Queen. Except maybe Kaeleena.

The afternoon starts with a meal, all gathered around the family table in the gardens as Mother Surpeme launches the festivities by inviting all the swans to take a sip from their glass of Nectar. Then, they dance and dance around the austel in euphoria, in their traditionnal attire made of long white cotton dress and a flower crown. The flower crowns, they are all unique and different as the swans made them themselves and exchanged them right before the ceremony. Holding hands, chanting, united, together, they never stop dancing once the music started. The last swan standing is named the Solstice Queen and is carried through the gardens and the forest by her swan sisters who smile and chant and laugh, it's called the Parade.

The solstice queen has big responsability, being the personification of the sun she must perform a very specific ritual, guided by Mother Supreme. The purpose of this ritual is to see how far the allegiance of the Solstice queen can go and how far the allegiance of her sisters can go, as well. They only remember the ritual as being the apogee of their faith as their memory the day aft'er seems completely gone. They don't remember the scars, they don't remember the blood, they don't remember the torture, they don't remember the sacrifice. Another glass of nectar is served and their smiles are back on their lips.