THILLN'S LAMENT

[latte 1310]

 

Spoiler

 

 

THILLN’S LAMENT

  - 

 

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The Viradiraar cousins under a tree in an

Undisclosed forest, 32 S.A.

[Spreading Tree by Sir George Clausen]

 

 

[!] The following missive would be sent to various locations around Almaris, namley Haelun’or and its surrounding territories. 

 

---

 

 

Larihei’s image is what we all strive to be as ‘thill. Prosperous and Progressful . We are all blessed with the abilities to fulfill the grounds of Maehr’sae Hiylun’ehya. 

 

Yet, it is Stagnancy , you accuse. This is completely false, as when the Republic collapsed it brought on true stagnancy, and the near death of our people in the midst of a long aggravation with the ‘name of the forest. The last regime sought , and actively brought back the progress of the state as well as replenished the citizenry, Seraphite as an important Okarir’mali and I, April as her Tilruir and Head Physician. The city was brought back into existence, from the brink of extinction. 

 

 

-

 

 

Karinah’siol

-

 

 

But now, we are headed back in time, to a time of disgrace - to a plague of a regime that had collapsed all by itself in past time, more commonly known as the blessed Diarchy. Your ideals of purity are forced and tyrannical, who denounces and pits any poor ‘thill caring enough to speak up on the dreaded ways. It’s reckless and foolish, not only to bring the horrible ideals of the past (such as the return of the labs, acid pits , elimination of ‘ata) as well as public signing. It has no structure or order. You’ve fallen once, and will fall again, in due time.

 

 

We burnt the propaganda of a tyrant to see it fall to ashes. We destroyed what it was, so you wouldn’t get ahead of yourselves, because a spark will always turn into a flame, and the sparks in your eyes were enough to put out. The ashes we made are a visual of what Haelun’or is to become with the way it’s headed. A way that will not let any see the good.

 

And so, Larihei weeps. Not for the stagnation of the people she had worked so hard to bring together, but for the overall regression - for your failure. You are regressing, but we refuse to follow. For what is purity without truth, what is power without a true leader. 

 

This is not our Haelun’or. And so, we will not be returning to your dreaded Diarchist city for your trial. 

 

 

 

 

-=-

 

  Maehr’sae Hiylun’ehya.

 

 

 

Signed,

 

April Viradiraar

 

Seraphite Viradiraar

 

 

 

[SaviourMeme 690]

A Mali'ata pulls his hood off his head as he emerges from the darkness of the night near the front gate of the not so Silver State, tearing the new missive off the nearby wall he'd give it a quick read through, letting out a chuckle under his breath as he did so. 

 

Crumpling the missive haphazardly, he'd slowly slide it into one of the many pockets adorning his clothing "Its not like the fire was even that big, so what a couple stupid petitions burnt up, its not like they even got any signatures, there's no one left in this city to sign them" he'd say matter-of-factly to no one in particular, since there was no one around to hear him. With a dry laugh and the dawning of his hood he'd disappear into the darkness of the night once more.

[chezel_ 264]

Seraphite was present over her lari'maronn's shoulder the entire time, the two of them tossing words back and forth like oem'iian would pass a ball. They spent awhile in that forest, their minds running miles per second.

 

April was the one writing, her much nicer script, even when panicked, better than Seraphite's scrawl. A long while they sat, under that tree, conversing about their future. Together, the two of them produced a letter against the city they once called home, many feelings running over them.

 

And so, the two cousins ended their day together, laid back in the grass behind them. They were silent. No words uttered between them, the realisation of what they had done soon dawning on the Viradiraar's. But in the grass, they laid together, just the two of them in a foreign moment of peace.

 

The silent tears streaming down Seraphite's face were an interesting thing to see, though neither her nor anyone else would be able to figure out why they were there. Whether they were tears of joy or hate, anger or pain, they were hers. 

 

And everything she'd do from that moment forward- every decision and action, every step taken, whether it was forward or back- they were hers.

[TheCapybara 1803]

 
“The bastion of purity is gone, but it has always been gone once we had stepped onto this giant rock. Shame.” Spoke a Seregon while traveling back to Ando Alur while in a fancy carriage. As the carriage would ride upon the dirt, the ‘aheral would be reading the notice while keeping up a wine glass on their other hand. After finishing the paper, she’d toss it out and then take a sip from her wine glass. 
 

Once the ride was finished, the ‘aheral would settle into a high class hotel within the capital of the Holy Orenian Empire. As the woman got towards her room, she’d snuggle into the soft sheets of the bed within the fancy room and fall off into a slumber while they snuggled into the sheets.

 

[Gandhi 2658]

Carlos Mendez began eyeing up the letter curiously. His hand slowly lowering to pick up a quill, moving to dip into some ink as he began to write a letter to Seraphite. About the aforementioned charge of Arson.

[TaytoTot 1127]

[!] The following would be sent to the two Viradiraar in question.

 

As my kin and lliran, you two are always welcome to reside within the walls of Elvenesse with promise of protection. I may ne have much say or power within the Woodland Realm, but it is the least we can do to protect those who may become ones in harm's way. 

 

Signed, 

Her Ladyship, Head Steward of Elvenesse, Maehr'evar of Elvenesse

 

[Twinny 1617]

"Diarchists, nothing but trouble since their return it seems, either from them or caused by them." Sighed Ivarielle.

[Ryloth 4312]

Haskir leans back as he reads the signatures. "Why involve yourselves in politics like this? Reckless. We will not return?" He quotes, sighing aloud. He folds the paper before shaking his head. "What is that supposed to mean?" Frowning, Haskir began to wander off.

[XoxoMinnieXoxo 351]

Kolvar would read the missive while seated on top of her balcony's surface, with a glass of freshly poured whiskey besides her. Placing the letter aside, and picking up her glass to gaze over the city that once meant so much to her-now its barely recognizable. "Wherever you end up my dearest, know I have your back; Always and forever" Kolvar would say softly before taking a sip from her glass. "This place isnt the home I once loved so much-surrounded with the people that I cared so much for-Time is changed, and this change is grim and darker now" With that, Kolvar continued to drink from her glass while still gazing out across the night sky. 

[Amyy 908]

Ro'ya Nullivari emitted a deep sigh as she regarded the missive. Having spoken with her lari'onn earlier that day, she'd known to expect this announcement, though it thoroughly plagued her still. Thus, the woman paced back and forth within her home, her brows tightly furrowed as she read what was written upon the parchment. 

Tears welled from deep inside and silently coursed down her cheeks, like a river escaping a dam. On this day, she'd lost her most dear friend, one whom she considered family, a sister. Ro'ya sat upon the floors of her manor in a disheveled heap as her grief poured out in flood. As one of her small sons approached, concern for his mother embedded into his features, Ro'ya took a deep breath and spoke,  "One of the hardest things you will ever have to do, my dear, is grieve the loss of a person who is still alive."

[Polysemic 798]

Telos Andria'liene read the letter in silence. He recalled when he destroyed a petition himself. It had not been out of hatred for the Diarchy, even though that was something that lingered in his mind. He remembered the diplomatic meeting he had attended the other day; The trust he'd built, the trust he'd lost. "Bridges will be burned eventually," He assured himself quietly, before he returned to his work. There was still so much to be done, but soon it would all be over. Soon he'd be able to leave Healun'or behind again. "The endless cycle continues."

[puffables 1125]

[!] An open missive would be directed to the authors of this piece, hopefully finding them well. 

 

[_Sug 2554]

"You may flee, yet be labeled fugitive. You may run, and be labeled coward. You may change, and be considered grown. You may hide, and be labeled gone. Yet, you may change allegiance but always be labeled friends of mine."

~.~

Wrote the Okarir'tir of Haelunor in a brief, yet understanding manner. For, he whom was once-lost understood this feeling of foul taste upon palate in regard to the mechanisms of government. Politics and unhappiness often came hand in hand to those of Silver, with that one Thalon Nullivari had seen since the Silver State was conceptualized once more in long continents past. He was not angry, nor vengeful at these words of the departure of the duo of kin, but almost filled with excitement for their journeys to come as when he left home he was able to experience the world. In his mind he saw departure as a way of growth of the self and lamented those days of when he once was Necromancer, Shade, Mystic, Dark Shaman, Blood Mage, and most of all Undead of Iblees, all byproducts of leaving home for him, yet somewhere in the corner of his mind, he knew the forlorn women would be well and not stray from morality as he did. He would be there to ensure that they strayed not and were protected.

Edited July 9, 2021 by _Sug

[chezel_ 264]

6 hours ago, _Sug said:

"You may flee, yet be labeled fugitive. You may run, and be labeled coward. You may change, and be considered grown. You may hide, and be labeled gone. Yet, you may change allegiance but always be labeled friends of mine."

~.~

Wrote the Okarir'tir of Haelunor in a brief, yet understanding manner. For, he whom was once-lost understood this feeling of foul taste upon palate in regard to the mechanisms of government. Politics and unhappiness often came hand in hand to those of Silver, with that one Thalon Nullivari had seen since the Silver State was conceptualized once more in long continents past. He was not angry, nor vengeful at these words of the departure of the duo of kin, but almost filled with excitement for their journeys to come as when he left home he was able to experience the world. In his mind he saw departure as a way of growth of the self and lamented those days of when he once was Necromancer, Shade, Mystic, Dark Shaman, Blood Mage, and most of all Undead of Iblees, all byproducts of leaving home for him, yet somewhere in the corner of his mind, he knew the forlorn women would be well and not stray from morality as he did. He would be there to ensure that they strayed not and were protected.

 

11 hours ago, Amyy said:

Ro'ya Nullivari emitted a deep sigh as she regarded the missive. Having spoken with her lari'onn earlier that day, she'd known to expect this announcement, though it thoroughly plagued her still. Thus, the woman paced back and forth within her home, her brows tightly furrowed as she read what was written upon the parchment. 

Tears welled from deep inside and silently coursed down her cheeks, like a river escaping a dam. On this day, she'd lost her most dear friend, one whom she considered family, a sister. Ro'ya sat upon the floors of her manor in a disheveled heap as her grief poured out in flood. As one of her small sons approached, concern for his mother embedded into his features, Ro'ya took a deep breath and spoke,  "One of the hardest things you will ever have to do, my dear, is grieve the loss of a person who is still alive."

Light was a word she'd use to describe the morning she woke. Airy, dreamy. Seemingly better than most she had woken before. The Viradiraar would get up from her rest, only to check in on her cousin in the room next, just to find April [@latte] still asleep, seemingly exhausted from what had occurred over the past days.

 

With a gentle close of the door, Seraphite made way back to her own quarters, slowly stepping to a book shelf and pulling off a book she remembered reading many years ago- one that reminded her of the gentle times of her oem'iian years. The mali' made way for a chair placed by the window in her room, placing the book down on the seat once she stood in front of it, lofting her hands to open the curtains laid over the glass. She then reached over, pushing the window open as a soft laugh left her lips, the smell of a new morning hitting her- the smell of a new beginning. A gentle breeze alongside the sweet smell of salt- much different than the bitterness of the scent that cascaded off the east waters. Seraphite picked up her book, sitting herself on the chair and turning to rest her weight behind her on the back of the seat. She went to go open the book then paused, a certain family flashing over her mind.

 

It seemed long ago, that she began conversing with the patriarch of the Nullivari. She recalled on their drawn conversations, his help he had given her in her times of need- his bed they shared on days they couldn't be bothered to deal with others. The times together they would say nothing, yet everything would be understood. How he welcomed her into his family, practically with open arms. As sorrow mixed with love filled her, the mali's thoughts drifted to the patriarch's mal'onn- one Thalon Nullivari, who she still held close in her heart. It, too, seemed like long ago they begun to talk. Words traded from time to time became talks of their daily business- talks of his family- of their family. Talks of her possible matriarchy, of her thoughts and feelings- of his too. They would converse, neither feeling weirded or concerned- simply talking as lliran would- as Talonnii would. From Thalon, her mind moved to her lari'onn, the bright blonde locks taking her mind. Seraphite grinned, thoughts of her and Ro'ya meeting, of Ro' being there for her when needed, and vice-versa. How great of a mother she was, how much she had been through and survived- how she was still so strong after so much. The Viradiraar thought of Ro'ya and how even after she left the Silver State, her lari'onn still came and talked to her.

 

With a sigh, Seraphite opened the book cover with gentle fingers, her movements slow and precise, as if holding a priceless item. Her eyes scanned the first few letters before she sunk fully into the chair under her, lost in the book until her lari'maronn woke.

                                                                             

[!] A depiction of one Seraphite Viradiraar, what she may look like after the events above