A STARS DISSOLUTION

[Frisket 4537]

“Hmph…. Time will tell what the future brings”

 

Ember collectively mentioned as she read this missive. Brushing her hair in her quarters.

[gremlockgremlin 755]

A Sarir within the Celia'driaar who have been out on travel would receive a letter in hand as he traveled the road the officer would then proceed to read it. His face teared up as he lamented the news. Melatheon would ponder what his father would think of this... something he may never know. He would keep his uniform on as for he was still a soldier within his heart and soul. The young high elf would let out somewhere in the wilderness one last salute for maybe the last time. 

 

"Ay'Celia'nor! Ay'talonii Py'lrie! Ay'Siria! Ay'Atheleon! Ay'Irelia! Fih'kaleh..." 

[Turtleofthewoods 106]

reads the message while cleaning some glasses in his tavern" i had not expected those of celia'nor to give up" he then sets the glass down" this is a sad day, and what will become of those who choose to flee".

[Samler 1564]

The ancient Seth Calith read the missive, a quiet sigh was released upon finishing it. "They got off easy." He muttered to his conjured panther within his home in Haelun'or. "Unexpected. Valah suffers from greed and are blind to the darkspawn corruption within."

[CaffeinatedCrow 259]

"I had hoped for peace or a way out for those of Celia'nor, I suppose this is as much as my hopes are going to be answered. I hope those scattered find a home worth calling theirs. That's all I can really say." Ac'Sullii, who was raised in those walls once called Celia'nor, utters in both bitter and fond memory. "Haelun, I hope this provided you solace in turn... wherever you are in the afterlife." With such words uttered, she goes back to writing in her journal.

[JoshBright 3014]

"you where the one person who deserved none of this" he said with a sigh

[Cozy_Tea 276]

"After all that suffering and effort to regain this place, it has fallen," mumbled the exhausted elfess as she read the missive while holding a cup of valerian tea. The sun shone, and a gentle breeze stirred the air that day. Llora shrugged, folded the missive, and placed it on her table. "Oh, well," she commented with a brief sigh.

[RedResult 573]

the wynasul would look towards the missive with a frown as he would go towards his desk and begin to write "To the blood of the innocent that has been spilt. i am sorry for you.. for a new age has been brought forth by the reconning of your leaders. it is not your fault but the ignorance and false idea of bravery that these leaders believe they held. merely a pawn in someone else's game my friends." he would stop to think but for a moment as he would begin to look towards the missive once more. reading over it carefully and the choices made that have led to this moment. "I believe there is salvation for some. yet for others there will be nothing but fire where they so step. time will only tell what to make of those flames"

[Mayios 542]

Ser Brandy of Numendil stood idly by the front gate, staring off inside the nation she once served. As much as she hated it there, she could not deny everything she's done for the land - and got back in return. Celia'nor didn't just accept her, but treated her as their own. By all means, Brandy's allegiance to Celia'nor was one of a broken home. Originally being used by royalty for the alliance between Numendil and Celia'nor, became and led to her getting high positions in both nations. And now, the side that gave her the most - honored her the most - promoted, awarded and remembered her.. Was to be gone. It was bitter sweet, she hated the lands but somewhere deep down enjoyed the work, perhaps even the people too. The Parir no longer had to worry much of her duties, rather can focus on the title Arathor gave her many years ago... the title of Knight of Numendil, not just of Numenost.

And to think, she would've never been a knight to begin with if it wasn't for the silly elvan nation. 

 

Brandy snapped back into reality, with out a word said or second glance, she left with her usual yawn. .

[Cepheid 4304]

A creak of the floorboards echoed through the lonesome tower that stood tall amongst trees and the glimmer of snow. A singular candle remained in her hands as she navigated to the depths of her home with a letter in hand. What an aged thing she was now, not physically but in spirit. She reflected over what she had once been- the life and death of Leandra Laraethryn and Ithirnaktar, the rise and fall of Valyris Wynasul. Now, she simply was. She took her time before reading the missive, only knowing of its title yet inferring its contents. The elfess reached for the last of her wine within storage that had been waiting labeled "Celian Merlot - 1891", peering over the bottle's age as if wondering whether or not it was too expired. Nonetheless, it was still the time to open it if there ever was one. She flicked her wrist, and a few sparks shot out until the cork lifted from the bottle with a resounding 'pop' to fill her glass. 

Her accursed eyes finally wandered over the missive's contents, saying nothing. What was there left to say after all? All she felt was nostalgia for what once was. She had come to terms a long time ago with the fact that it was not the place she had built, but something different- yet even still, she felt responsible for the weight of what it had become. She pondered over the friends she once had, the people she met, the countless memories that played throughout the strings of time. The glass remained filled and left on the desk as if an offering for a soul which she knew she would not see. She replayed the last sentence of the missive over and over in her mind, yet for the first time, it was no longer a burden but rather peace that she felt - forgiveness. She only hoped that after all this time, they felt it too. 

Finally something came to her mind, perhaps the last thing that need be left said; "An oath fulfilled, a promise unbroken, a legacy turned memory, a burden lifted. Wrongs have finally been made right with this final act." With that the candle blew out and she was left in silence, and a hope lingered that they could find that same peace that she had found. 

[Onnensr 1908]

One born abomination, more fortunate than others in his aberrations, stood out on a hill far from Celia'nor, and watched in the night as light after light vanished from homes, luggage moved, titles changed. He deliberated whether he was satisfied or not, that this unclean country that he was breathed life into was at last ruined. Long fingers, too long, reached out and pinched every light, sometimes guessing rightly which one would go out and when it would do so. An eye without a white, the whole thing subsumed by the color of his iris, looked through the city into the memory of childhood, into the pre-born memory of a greater abomination that poisoned his fetal self with cosmic rays. The shape and the horror and the imprisoned conscious mind brought prematurely into sentient thought. 

At last he splayed his fingers and closed them over the whole of the metropolis. It would all be gone, soon. 

[Morigung-oog 5697]

From the comfort of the Silver Citadel stood the Venerable Sohaer, looming over a map of the entire continent. An illusory spectacle of flame, engulfed what was once Celia'nor, that fire reflected in the nigh mirror-like shades the 'fenn wore. One might assume Valindra to be conflicted, as the hand that once helped create now served to destroy...

 

Yet she stood more resolute than ever. 

 

A copy of the missive was pinned next to those flames, serving as a trophy. The miniature replica of the Celian throne that she'd led the heist for served as a paperweight, tipped onto its back so it could not rise up to run amok around her carefully orchestrated war plans. 

 

A number of portraits lay scattered to the side; some crossed out with black ink, others embedded to the map with a blade. 

 

"I am not done with you yet."

 

 Once a politician forced to be a warrior, Valindra Nullivari-Atmorice-Liavyre-Drakon served now as a warrior in the position of a politican, the roles reversed in a wicked twist of fate. 

 

If there was one thing the 'fenn were good at, it was war.

 

 If there was anything she was good at, it was vengeance.

 

"The Silver State shall have its justice. Ivarielle shall have her mercy. She would have never allowed such rot to fester."

 

The once Blade of the Royarch turned, casting a letter; a cry for help into the flames. It served as the final tie to the nation, and was severed in full by the fury of the flame.

 

"Maehr'sae Hiylun'ehya.'"

 

 

[Daisy 9725]

This thread has been voided.