Demented_Delila

Dread was most definitely the best way she felt when the news of Alvah’s death reaches her. Guilt, too, rises in her throat like bile. She’d been so horrible to her earlier, because p some reckless mistake. Now, she couldn’t apologize for that. The emotions weave into some awful tapestry of words as the sleepless elfess mourns the third death of someone special in the last five years. “... I hope you’re listening... I hope you know... Mayan’s gonna miss you.... you idiot sandwich….”

The letters are found, sometime in the evening of her return home, licking her wounds. A daze had settled upon her in this cursed hour of her life, eyes watering as she reviewed the letters. She begins to shake, the tears coming all over again. They’d had a duty to do there- she’d held him in her arms while he died, his body shutting down because of the events that occurred. Reckless, they’d been, in the pursuit of Maehr’sae Hiylun’ehya. The nightmares started again, just as they had when Silir had died. They grew in intensity. Her sanity was slipping, fraying at its seams. Shadows grasp at her vision, his visage appearing places he’d once frequented. She couldn’t help but begin to break down. The bottle wanes of its contents as she cries in their bed. A ragged old penguin, older than their son, older than their daughter, ever older than their marriage, lay within her reach, soaked by her mourning. “....I’m sorry….” The words leave her a mouth a dozen times over. The painting in their bedroom, no- her bedroom now… It taunted her, with his beaming pride and sapphire eyes. Faustien was so young when the painting was made, his young face fat with his toddler-hood. She flees into the night, the desperate need to scream and be free overwhelming her. Like a specter in the night she disappears from the city. She cannot help but scream up at the night sky, violent and uncaring- frenzied in her despair. There was nothing she could do. Her cries echo across the Silver Forest, her mourning rattling the trees. Everything that had been was ripped away from her in a singular bolt of lightning. The last pieces of her life seemed to just slip away from her. Haunting melody echoes through the woods, ominous and foreboding, as the elfess plays from her coral whistle. The tone is warped by the pines and their unforgiving reaches. She returns, in the morning, as if she’d not disappeared in the night, as if her hair was not wild and her face was not grimed with dirt and tears. She disappears back into her room and returns to the civilized world, without her sunshine by her side. The shadows haunt her, whispers scorning her ears, visions of things not truly there bewitching her eyes. A small price to pay, in the end…

[!] Start before reading... For maximum sadness. Occurred the 13th of Malin’s Welcome, 1752 Into the woods they went, with solemn burden carried between them. A polished walnut coffin, sized just right for a soul gone too soon. They’d deliberated this. There would be no pyre, there could be no pyre. The Impure did not get the burial of a ‘thill, after all. Out iron gates they went, down the hills and through the forest they went, to a place in the deep woods. “It seems an unbearably lonely place to bury him…” Under a tree, far from the eyes and roads- a Silver Fir waited for him near a pillar serenely abandoned in the deep woods long begotten. “Things have been so awful ever since…” Came the elder elfess’ words, slumped upon the coffin lid. The younger just began to dig into soil with her spade, brows furrowed in their determination. “It won’t get any easier.” The younger elfess said at last. “It is unfair… I’m sorry Silir- Forgive me. For all I have done, and will do.” The words are spoken with pain as the elder elfess rises to her feet. The time had come, but it was just the beginning, even if time had passed since the day when crimson had come from his neck like a waterfall came from the hills. The younger kept digging, cold sweat building on her brow in the cool Northern air as it blew down from the mountains. Alone they’d come to this place, long abandoned and overgrown. Yet, they’d decided, he deserved to be somewhere beautiful. The younger knew this place to be serene, even if danger had once loomed here in the years past- somewhere they’d fought side by side by fae and monsters alike. It would be enough, they hoped, for Silir Uradir. “I can’t-” “It’ll be alright.” “It will not be, it cannot be.” “It won’t be right now, no…” The younger pulled herself out of the hole she’d dug into the cool earth, awaiting for her gift of the casket they’d brought. The Silver Fir swayed in the breeze, branches creaking with its ancient wisdom. A fitting place for Silir, the younger thought, somewhere so full of secrets and knowledge- it would surely be alright for one like him. “I’m sorry Dele-” “None of this is your blame.” The elder had said hours before- this was all they could give him. If he could not be burned on a pyre before his fellow ‘thill, he would not be burned at all. This would be his resting place, so far off in the shadow of the Silver State, glowing on the horizon with all her splendid lights. The younger felt guilt writhing in her stomach, bile creeping in her throat. The splendid glory of the city was not right, not for this occasion. “Lets get him in the ground, yeah...?” “...Yeah…” The sun was rising as they put him down in the earth with the Silver Fir swaying overhead. The elder fell to her knees beside the maw of soil as the casket settled. The younger leans on the spade, dug into the ground nearby. “First handful of dirt on his casket usually goes to the wife… But you’re his sister, so I reckon that means a lot more than a wife he never he never had.” Came the younger, eyes bleary in the early morning chill. The elder nods, coming to stand once more. “I’d appreciate that…” The younger pulls the spade up from the ground, holding it out to the elder. A solemn task lay ahead as the elder murmurs under her breathe, inaudible to the younger. Down came the first of the soil to lay atop the casket’s lid, delivered by the elfess who called him brother. There were no witnesses to the sadness that hung in the air like frigid chill. “You want me to get the rest…?” The elder just nods, handing the younger back her spade as she came to fall upon her knees once more- weeping into her palms. The younger bows her head as she sets to task, tears dripping down her face. The sun was set at mid morning when the task had come to pass. “Shame I’ve no flowers to lay here… Not even a rock to mark his headstone…” The younger’s nose was pink with the morning chill of the northern air, sniffling slightly. The elder still sat in her silence, face stained by tears. In this light, the bags under her eyes were more visible. Her golden eyes glance at the covered hole, the earth that held her brother. “...Let's get back home now, aye?” “I don’t want to leave- just a minute please…” The younger waits her time, waiting for the elder to prepare herself to leave the graveside. Time ticks by slowly, unfeeling and unnoticing of the plight of the elder. After a while, she’d look up, standing as she brushes her knees off. “I am ready to return- it just feels as an injustice to do this to him…” “It isn’t anything we can help… Come on, let's get you home…” There isn’t much else said after that, as the younger grasps the elder’s shoulder and guides their unsteady feet back home… There is a headstone set, at some point- with words on the stone reading… Silir Uradir A Butterfly lain to Rest Blue flowers bloom there, deep in the woods and far from prying eyes.

Dele seeks the writers of the missive, signing her name too. She had noticed such odd changes in dear Alaion, the revelation made only brought these actions to the forefront of her mind. The oddness of his ways as of late... she seems sad, but she signs none the less. Lareh’thilln seemed to be wading in blood now, and she wasn’t sure if she was ready for the tidal wave that is to come.

Grief. This would be the only word that Dele could use to describe the way she felt. The heaviest weight yet added to her heart. Silir Uradir was gone. Not just on his travels, not on some journey. He was gone from her life, from her gaze, from the gazes of those around him. She doesn’t pay any mind to the blood on her clothes now, or the way that her hands begin to shake when she tries to comb Anethra’s hair post washing of it to remove his blood. The blood of her brother, spilled by his own hand. It was all too much. She cursed herself for tending to a letter that could’ve waited. It was that night she sat upon her bed with that bottle of Uradir Cherry Wine, drinking from it deeply, as she lit a bundle of Eternal Leaf. She could feel him scorning her for smoking but Larihei, she didn’t care now. A box, with two posthumous letters already inside, sits beside her as she reviews his letter. It would be tucked away safely when she finished reading it. ”Maehr’sae Hiylun’ehya, old friend. May an afterlife greet you with all the love you deserve... All the praise you did not recieve. They’ll do right by you there- I’m sure... Tell Maleos I said hello, won’t you? Tell Gusten I’m sorry, and that we miss him down here.... Larihei- We’ve lost so much... You deserved so much better...” Sure there had been times in her life when Silir was like a pest that she quarreled with, but with his absence... She begins to regret all the times they quarreled. She tries to forget, finding him forgiven for these petty fights. She focused instead on the passage of time as it crept by in her room, oozing down the walls with the hours that tick by. She begins to laugh the deeper into the bottle she gets. She recalls his thinly veiled marriage proposal, once upon a time in a kitchen so long ago. She recalls his love of baked goods and his passion for words, his zealous love for the truth. She begins to weep, however, as guilt wracks into her. She feels guilty, feeling as if he had needed help the whole time they’d known each other. She didn’t know anymore. The candle burns late in her window that night and by the witching hour, she had fallen asleep in unease. The ease of sleep would not return to the troubled Laurir who had been there as he breathed his last breathe before her on the table. Horrid nightmares plague her with all the taunting thoughts of what could’ve been done. She has taunting nightmares of Anethra rotting away from her grief, just as she asked her to let her do. Yet she doesn’t wake... No, not tonight. There are terrible visions of maggots and worms, of gasping breathes and things that cannot be undone, things that cannot be unsaid ”...I’m sorry...” Were the final, restless words spoken in her sleep before all was quiet. A bottle of empty wine sits on the windowsill with a candle stump, long burned down. A flame gone out with little more then a whisper, just as Silir had done. A butterfly gone on the breeze.

A candle burns out late in the night, framed in the highest window in the Seregon home that night. A whiskey glass sits beside it, on top of the missive, and a Laurir slumbers in her bed with troubled dreams. There was far too much chaos for her tired mind to sleep well. She’d known before the missive had gone out but it didn’t soften the blow any less.

Dele would examine the document, fingers twitching as she does. It falls from her fingers as a sob rattled from her lips. Nelgauth was supposed to get through this... He was supposed to still be around. Her heart seems to shatter and she slowly comes to kneeling on the floor by the window, gazing out across the street to a house she now knew empty undoubtedly. “...stay safe, Nel... Stay safe for me... stay safe for Rhael’lle... might you be wise enough to seek out the Paladins and save your soul.”

The Laurir Seregon would review the missive, viewing it thrice before putting it away in a cabinet for later. She’d step off, quick to begin to stockpile medical supplies for the inevitable fight to begin. She frets somewhat at the news beholden unto her in such a time when she had long thought the darkness driven out but buries her head in reviewing suturing techniques and preparing salves. A pale dark elf glowers at the missive as it flutters its way into the caves of the sanctum, her one eye flicking across the paper. Red painted lips draw into a growl, white teeth bared. She tosses it into the kitchen fire and goes back to making a pot of herbal tea to soothe her son’s headache. ”Heretics will burn and come to the blade, one way or another… There is no mercy for a heretic who forsakes Luara and accepts the parasite that grows within soul, leeching them like some foul lamprey of grisly dark origins.”

Delphi is confused, as this is not a High Elf Festival- its A Dark Elf and Co. Festival.

[!] Parchments would appear in cities as if overnight! ☽Festival of The Blue Moon☾ Ministry of Legacy - Asimu’lei Once in a fair while, the Spirits bless our Moon Glade with a Blue Moon in our night sky. It is cause for celebration, a time for renewal and rejoice. This Blue Moon, in particular, is quite special however. It comes in the beginning of a new age for us as a growing nation and a new age at the end of the war. With the defeat of our enemies at the Voidal Tear, where Grief and others like himself, were defeated and sealed back into the wretched existence from which they came, that war had come to a close. We, for the first time in many years, may breathe freely in a sky unmarked by purple taint on the horizon. It is a call to celebration! To our allies from that day…. We cordially invite you for this festival, the first of its kind within our walls. This invitation is extended to, but not limited to: To Fenn and her citizens, we beckon you forward to our walls To Aegrothond and her citizens, we invite you once more within our city. To Urguan and her citizens, we invite you to be merry with us. To Renelia and the Onyx Sanctum and their citizens, we invite you to enjoy this time with us. To the Druids and their Kin within the Mother Grove, rejoice with us in this time of great renewal. We look forward to seeing you dance within our halls and drink among friends. On the subject of our allies, the Ministry of Legacy invites merchants too to this festival. We hope to see our friends and our kin mingling and sharing what they bring from home, wherever that might be. To apply for such matters, I ask for you to fill out the following and send it to the Ministry here. All will need to be approved, just to make sure. (OOC) MC Name: Discord: IC Name: Homeland: Race: Goods Offered: ---- In the Matter of Events For this event, which I hope to last two eleven days [January 11th through the 12th], there will be events! Music, dance, even stories to be told. [Stories By Moonlight] I open this event with Daichia Jusmia to share the story of Luara with both the citizens of Asimu’lei and our visiting friends. When his tale comes to a close, I open it to the others about us to share their own stories and ask questions, even. [Fallen Stars] A time for us to take to remember those we have lost from our lives in both the fight against the Void and the fight to stay alive in a world that seems to tear itself apart nearly every half a century. We invite you to light candles and release lanterns for those you have lost with us. [Merriment in The Tavern] If the festival grounds begin to bore you, we offer to you the tavern which you will undoubtedly find food and drink special to the city, with a most courteous staff. [Tavern Brawl] A small competition held in the pit in the basement, built by our beloved Tavern Owner Narline. A fee of 25 minae must be paid to enter, with a grand prize being 500 Minae. [Blue Moon Ball] At the end of our festival, I invite you all to dance and rejoice, and be merry in the ways that matter most. With friends. Regalia of blues and silver are asked to be worn, though it mustn’t be terribly formal. It is a time to be with kith, kin, and countrymen. And of course, there will be socialization and maybe a contest or two! Signed, The Grand Sage Karthus The Ministry of Legacy [OOC] This event will start January 11th around 12pm and end in the evening hours of January 12th, about 6pm EST. If interested in merchant goods, please reply to this post with that and it will be run by Yuki and the Ministry. We would like a general idea of how many are interested, but know that not every request will be accepted. We hope to see you in our growing little nation for the festival.

[!] The note is pasted about a few places across Arcas! Help Wanted Hello to whomever decides to read this! I ought to explain myself for this ad. You see, I am a Laurir in Haelun’or, seeking out a domestic servant for my family’s home. Our family is quite large, I might add, pertaining myself, my husband, my two children, two wards of the state, and extended family. My eldest child, a son, has requested that we have no valah or mali males apply for this position, as due to the worry of impure trifles being incited within our house and I fully understand this concern. It has been decided for our family a Non Druidic mali, valah, or a halfling (male or female) would be most preferable! I will apologize in advance for the state of our home, as we are still finishing up the insides. some qualities we look for (not all of them must be met): - Not Allergic To Animals (We’ve a few) -Good with children -Can cook, you will usually be cooking alongside family members as most of us enjoy the practice -Can clean - Good at escaping, climbing, the likes. There is bound to be a bonus if you’ve skills with a weapon (This will be discussed during any meetings) - Patience is a virtue we would love for you to have, we’ve two younger children in the household, not to mention dealing with High Elves is not everyone’s strong suit. -Basic First Aid Training (however, this is not necessary, there are many physicians within the household) -Hard working - Polite and Courteous We look forward to meeting you and reviewing! Please send me a bird (forum reply) if you’ve interest in this job listing and I’ll get back to you as soon as possible. If need be, housing may be provided as we work through the city’s reconstruction. Signed, Dele Seregon Head Physician of Haelun’or, Seregon Matriarch [!] Many of the parchments have now been marked with the following Position Filled! Need Not Apply!

RP Name: Delphi Saoirse MC Username: Demented_Delila Discord: Delila#0510 What Nation Are You Affliated With?: Asimu’lei Why Do You Wish To Come?: To learn more of the past, least our future be endangered by it. Besides, it’d be pretty cool to meet a Dragur. Also gotta keep an eye on Daichia and other Asimu’lei folks... What Skills Can You Bring: Medical skills, motherly life, I’ll be able to use whatever you throw at me! Also have a slayer steel pole spear (oocly lost due to shitty chunks)... so that should help somewhat?

Dele Seregon, a long time supporter of the Diarchy, wonders what ******* crackhead has been writing these missives. “Idiot mali’ata... This is how the clinic gets new pets and new displays!” She chortles, tucking the missive away into a folder before returning back to cleaning the clinic’s favorite new display- an actual skeleton that she has affectionately been calling “Bones”.... Bones used to be a living ‘ata once. Don’t be like Bones!

Who gave you the right to be so sweet and kind? Goodness, and don’t you know the creed? Do no harm but take no ****, and frankly you’ve never given me ****. Anyways, I don’t think i’ll ever quite forget all the silly thing you do that make me laugh. Doesn’t matter how shitty a day I’ve had, you always seem to deliver quality memes when you’re around. I wonder if I can find that picture of Talareh opening up on the table like the funky lil space worm he is... Seregon-Miravaris-Aldin Mafia forever, lots of love, your favorite elf doctor https://media.discordapp.net/attachments/625735929549553694/644336556093734932/image0.jpg

A High Elf Physician cries softly as she boils water to pour over her table for the sixth time that day. Where is the soap she swears she had some years back? She does not remember... it was but an odd, distant dream- one that she misses dearly. Anything would be better then this. In between it all she does her best to stay clean, pouring hot water and plant oils all over her body. What ever happened to the blessed thing that seemed to only exist in her dreams? What of the missive she wrote, warning for people to properly dilute lye when using it for cleaning? She doesn’t remember. It never existed.