#they found a really strong magick user and when he died the gods martyred him and turned him into an honorary god among them

[daughter-of-inklings]

🧢 and 💍 from the random WIP ask game? :3

@worldofthraeia

💍 JEWELRY: What are considered luxury items in the world of your WIP?

It honestly depends on the species of character, and where they live in the world. I think, generally, I can say... magick. Which isn't an item, but it is the biggest.

The way the worlds are designed, they all grow and expand on different branches of Yggdrasil, and the closer they are to the body of the tree, the closer they are to the gods, and therefore the more access to magicks they have. This particular world is so close to the gods, that they can nearly touch them, and so the magick in this world for centuries has run rampant doing what it pleases.

Recently, though- by which I mean the past centuries- the people here have found that their magick is growing both weaker, and more unstable, so that they're not really sure if it'll do what they want it to, or if it'll just kill them. They don't know why (it's 'cause the gods are being hunted for sport, and whenever one dies, the sphere they influence is thrown into chaos; the god of magick died a bit ago), and so have shied away from using magick, so that now it's become more of luxury that either idiots or the rich indulge in. If you have money, you can probably afford to send your kid off to study with a practiced wizard or witch or demon that will help them potentially not blow themselves up, and you can presumably hire things like clerics and provide the ingredients they need to perform miracles.

🧢 CLOTHING: What is your MC currently wearing in the most recent scene of your WIP?

In the last one that she was in (the previous chapter- a masquerade), she's described as so (love interest pov):

Nicholas’s gaze wandered over the owl mask– it wasn’t lace as the others were, it looked to be made of sanded wood, painted to resemble a barn owl. She wore a different cloak than the usual dark blue, one that looked as though someone had cut a piece from the night sky and fashioned it into cloth tailor made for her person. It pooled behind her when she stopped, gliding along with her stride in small ripples of shimmering stars whenever the light caught the fabric. It concealed all of her, shapeless and imposing in a sea of bright colors, only a silver crescent moon clasp to fasten it in place. [...] The corset of her dress had been laced wrong, too tight, and dug into her skin. He made quick work of it, untying it and using its ribbon to tie his hair back. He dug a claw through the cloth, poking a small hole first, then tearing it across the length of the wound at her side.