confusedjester

einin and aurus

Romhilda cried tears of joy, for her daughter was all grown.

A woman long lost to time opened her arms to embrace her very youngest in the Skies.

The woman’s eyes slowly peeled open at the quiet chorus of a birdsong. She was curled up along her side, knees to chest, upon a bed of dew-drenched moss. The air was scented of fresh rain and notes of wet grass. Her joints ached, and her head throbbed, the thinning Keen carefully pushing herself into a sit. As she came to, did Heilwig begin to observe the hugging grove. Trees loomed overhead, branches and brambles forming a trail before Heilwig. Crocuses and magnolias of silvering petals scattered the woodlands, lining the path that lay there. The eternal blue of the sky she knew, now possessed the couple of Sun and Moon, whilst their children of clouds and stars frolicked about in the cosmos. It was calm and serene, with only the chirp of the songbirds to fill the void of noise… | SNAP. | Heilwig swiveled, peering off into the thickets that stalked behind her. Nothing was there except the swaying pinewoods. A quiet exhale befell her, as she turned back around… She blinked. ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣷⡀⠘⣧⣀⠘⠣⠀⠠⣤⡀⠀⣶⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠛⠷⠶⠿⠟⠛⠛⠳⢾⣿⠀⠿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢾⣿⣷⣶⣤⣴⣶⣤⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠙⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣿⣿⣿⣟⠛⠛⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣤⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⣴⣶⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣇⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⢸⣿⣿⣿⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⠃⠼⠿⠿⠟⠀⣿⣿⠟⢃⣴⣷⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⣿⣿⠟⢁⣶⠖⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⣿⠀⠀⠈⠙⣻⡗⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⡟⠁⢰⣿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⠀⠀⠀⢰⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠀⠀⠀⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠀⠀⠀⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ Centering the path ahead, stood a large White Stag. Its ivory fur, bathed in Sun and Moon’s light, and antlers, great and mighty. The dull eyes of the Stag, cerulean in hue, stared upon Heilwig with little yield. An anticipatory breath hitched in her throat, as she beheld the estranged Stag with her own Keenly blues. The Stag eyed the woman a moment longer, before turning down the path and continuing on in a slow saunter. After a few paces, it turned again, watching the animist. Awaiting her. After a beat, did Heilwig rise. Her bare feet trodding softly across the soils and moss, carrying her onward, stalking after the Stag along the path. Hours passed. Days then, too, yet Heilwig would never know. The Divide, being the Sun and Moon, reserved themselves to the skies, never changing, never moving, content with watching the mortal and Stag trail forth through the woods. It felt endless, yet Heilwig followed. It felt pointless, yet something compelled her legs to keep moving. Then eventually, the path reached a clearing. A cliff, with nothing beyond except universe at first. The Stag stopped just before, though Heilwig’s feet carried her to the precipice. Nearing the edge, in the far distance now, she could see the outline of land. Mountains, deserts, the plains and the trees- yet so far, too far. Heilwig veered her gaze down, towards what she assumed would be the steep, neverending drop- yet her own face returned to her. A reflection, a pool. One that sunk down… and down… No life possessed the waters off the cliff, nor light nor bottom. To fall would be to drown. To sink and to die. Heilwig glanced upwards once more, puzzled and confused. She looked then to the Stag, who was surely behind her. ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⣀⣴⣿⣺⣿⣿⡖⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣀⣔⣠⣴⣾⣿⠟⠋⢋⣉⣀⠉⠉⠉⠉⠒⢦⣄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣠⡴⠞⠛⠻⢛⠽⠊⣡⢴⣾⠿⠛⣷⠇⠀⢉⣉⣿⡗⠒⠾⣿⣶⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣤⣶⣿⣿⣟⣤⣂⣠⢖⣥⣤⣾⠗⠋⠀⢀⣾⢸⡀⠖⠉⠉⠛⢿⣶⣖⠺⣷⣦⣅⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢻⣿⠃⢀⣤⣾⣿⣿⢸⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢉⠛⢿⣦⣝⣮⡁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⢾⣇⠀⣿⣿⡟⠟⠃⣾⣿⣖⣂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⢹⣿⣷⣽⣿⢷⣄⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⣿⠏⠝⣹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⣿⣾⣿⡛⠁⢀⣼⣿⣯⣭⣙⡒⠀⠀⠈⠒⢾⣿⣏⠘⣿⣇⠙⣧⡀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣾⠋⠀⢈⣹⣿⡿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⠈⣙⣷⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣛⠷⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⠏⡆⠀⣿⠀⠀⢳⡀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣯⣇⡠⣾⠻⠋⠀⣸⠋⡟⠛⠿⣋⣉⣙⢿⣿⡆⠐⠾⠿⣿⣟⡛⠛⡿⠧⡀⣄⠀⠱⡀⠢⡀⠀⣄⡀⢸⡇⠀⠀⢇ ⠀⠀⠀⣀⣠⣴⡚⠛⢉⡁⠀⠈⠑⣶⣾⡯⠚⠀⠀⠀⠐⠚⠛⠷⠻⣿⡀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠙⠢⠈⢆⠀⠘⢧⠀⣇⠀⠹⡀⠸⣧⣼⡇⠀⠰⢸ ⣠⣖⡛⣿⠉⠉⠀⠀⠀⠈⠑⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠒⠒⠀⠀⣀⣀⡀⠀⠀⠙⠟⢦⣹⡶⣤⠂⠀⣄⢈⣷⣀⠀⠁⢡⠀⠀⣧⠀⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⢺ ⠻⣿⣿⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠠⣄⣀⣀⣀⡤⠖⠛⠙⠛⠉⠁⣀⡀⣀⠀⠈⠙⠀⠹⣦⣹⡿⡟⢿⣧⠀⠈⣆⠀⣿⣦⠟⠃⠀⠀⣆⠘ ⠀⠙⠯⣗⢚⣒⣿⠟⣿⣽⣿⣿⣿⣶⣍⣉⡉⠒⠊⠘⠛⠉⢹⡟⣱⣟⠁⣶⣤⣤⣀⡀⣿⣿⣅⠇⠘⠟⣷⠀⣼⣷⣿⠁⠀⠀⢠⣤⣿⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠈⠙⠻⢿⣷⢼⣆⠙⢻⣿⣿⣿⠟⣿⢢⡀⠀⠀⣠⠿⠿⠿⣋⠀⢹⣿⠀⠀⢹⡿⠈⠉⠀⠈⠀⠈⣧⡟⠈⠻⠆⢠⢀⡿⣿⢻⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⣿⠸⣦⣿⣧⢱⠀⡔⠁⠀⠀⠐⠦⣱⣾⠽⠀⠀⣀⠀⡀⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⢉⠀⡀⠀⠀⣸⣾⠁⢻⣸⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣸⠇⣹⣟⣼⠾⠀⠀⣰⠶⠾⣟⡛⢻⡇⢰⠀⢠⡇⣸⣿⣧⠀⢀⣴⠀⣼⣰⡇⠀⢰⡿⢡⠄⢈⠏⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣷⣸⠿⣴⣳⣿⠇⢀⡠⠊⠀⠀⠀⠀⢱⣷⠀⣼⠆⣸⣿⣻⢻⣿⢀⣈⣿⣶⡿⢫⢇⣴⠟⢁⡎⣰⠏⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣼⣷⣿⣿⠋⢀⡜⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⠟⣽⢼⣿⠆⠁⢸⣯⣼⣿⠟⠙⣠⠿⠛⠁⢀⣾⣿⠋⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠻⠿⠷⠚⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⠊⢁⠁⠀⣿⠋⠀⠀⠀⡈⠀⡴⠀⣠⣾⡿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⠞⣡⡴⠋⠀⠀⠇⣠⠀⠠⠊⣡⣾⣥⠾⠋⠸⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⣧⣾⡟⠁⠀⠀⣠⡼⢃⣤⡶⠟⣻⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣠⣴⡾⢿⣿⡿⠋⠁⠀⠚⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢿⣿⣿⠛⠁⠀⢸⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠻⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ The Stag was gone. What followed, caused Heilwig to still. A paleness drenched her face white. A canine of colossal girth, viciousness in its maw, strangled by a coat of black fur. Eyes, pricked with sanguine, staring upon Heilwig with nothing but unforgiving savagery. A breath held in her throat, feet stepping back, heels now aligned with the precipice. The wolf prowled closer, a low groan building in its chest. Another step… Step… Step… … The beast then launched at the woman, ready to assault! Heilwig leapt back, slipping upon the cliff, and plunging into the shadowed waters. She sank and sank, and the omen pursued no longer. She sank for hours. For days, yet Heilwig would never know. Darkness swallowed her, for the journey between worlds and dreams was a lengthy, unkind process. After what felt like eons of drowning… ...Heilwig began to float. A light cut through, and a cold began to strangle her throat, her limbs, dying her fingertips a plum-purple. She reemerged in a new pool, upon the top of the highest mountain, closest to the cosmos as her mortal self could be. Frostbite chewed at her limbs, water spurting from her lungs as she gagged. No longer serene, no longer calm. But awake once more, for her ill-fated journey of living was not yet done. OOC: To when this narrative post was put up, Heilwig has been missing for about 3-4 months IRPLY. Do with that what you will! ps she is not dead this is not a pk post - was adding spice to her revival

im dead what the **** is wrong w u phersades

Aged, weathered hands accepted her cherished sister into an embrace, once finally reunited in the Skies.

Sidhiel smiled as Sofia was granted the title. She had been Sidhiel's first pick, after all.

❀ The Passing of Titles ❀ From the Offices of the County of Ildon Penned on the 7th of the Amber Cold, 279 Upon the passing and abdication of MAERIL-EMIGLIANA O’ROURKE, the ownership of the County of Ildon had been passed to me. However, I, EÍNÍN-ALWETH O’ROURKE, shall be passing the title of the County to my son, CATHAL O’ROURKE. While I retain the title of Matriarch of the House Rourke, per our tradition of such title to be possessed by the eldest, active woman of O’ROURKE blood.. ❀ …Ownership of the County, and title of THE RIGHT HONOURABLE shall be handed off to CATHAL O’ROURKE. I shall instead retain the place of his Right Hand of the County. ❀ Should he bear any children, per the will and our traditions, his Heir shall be his first-born daughter. ❀ Furthermore, CATHAL O’ROURKE shall need to take the Oath of Tar-Numenetar, honoring the wishes of MAERIL-EMIGLIANA O’ROURKE. ❀ Signed, THE RIGHT HONOURABLE, Eínín-Alweth, Matriarch of the House Rourke, Fairy of the O’Rourke HIS LORDSHIP, Cathal, Heir of the County of Ildon

As yet another letter, stamped with the brand of Burgundy, arrived by courier, did Romhilda's hands tremble. Her father?- Yet, it was not. However, no relief bore on her features. The death of her aunt weighed heavy on her shoulders, slurring her mood. The closest thing Romhilda ever had to a mother was gone. Rain weeped upon the Duchy of Lorraine, masking the bereaved wails of the van Aert amidst its fall.

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“Please!” The O’Rourke shrieked, clawing at air as she was forcibly drawn away from the onslaught. As she watched her grandparents part unto her, their final words loomed, features unseen by her metal helm. Einin was dragged south, strangled by a stranger as they carried her off. “What are yea doin’! Dont do this! Please!” Maeril, and Edwyn, disappearing from view, as Einin’s cries and anguished wails were muffled by the rainfall and the ghastly squelches of viscera-spray. “Ea need you!” Einin rested upon the cot in the Alduun clinic, dark ichor staining her cheeks. Her Ildon plate, broken and worn, splattered by rainfall and salt. The O’Rourke, now bearing a face carved with tearstreaks, sagging skin, and unsettled eyes. Her gaze swept the crowding clinic, yet she heard nothing. Saw nothing. The O’Rourkes’ world was silent, eerily so. As a flame died elsewhere, did Einin’s world dim forevermore. ⚔︎

To Announce the Passing… From the Offices of the County of Ildon Penned on the 11th of the Amber Cold, 277 SA It is with much sorrow that the County of Ildon announces the official passing of MAEVE GREYE-O’ROURKE, the third-eldest child of EÍNÍN O’ROURKE and AURUS GREYE. After contracting a terminal illness, MAEVE had spent her last months wanderlust, exploring the continent of Azuras that she held so dear. MAEVE, in her final hours, returned to Ildon, to then journey into the Skies. GOD embraces her, and we take comfort in the idea that she is now eternally at peace. A funeral shall be planned and held in the near future. GOD be with you. Signed, The Offices of the County of Ildon --------

nah this ones funny asl

Grief was an unwelcomed stranger in the life of Romhilda. She had been blessed with an existence free from sorrow and misery, though one can only avoid the inevitable for so long... It had been many weeks since she had last regarded her uncle. Once, a man she trailed nigh everyday of her youth. Young Romhilda would chatter endlessly in his ear, and he would listen along intently, sparing her those precious moments of incessant, one-sided blabbing that meant the world to her. As she grew taller, that generation of Hounds grew even older. When Romhilda received that waxed-sealed note, she assumed the worst- yet the name had not been her father, but the prince-uncle of hers. The wash of relief was drowned by her quick remorse. Fear, for the next letter Romhilda surely knew who it would be for. Grief, then belatedly, entered Romhilda's heart.

Romhilda huffed at sight of the missive, sadness quickly wrot upon her brow. She merely prayed for she, as another of her most cherished raisers was sentenced to death.

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The Lechian youth began his preparations, quilting his knapsack full of supplies, rations, and other belongings. By the end, his pack was filled to the very brim with equipment! ...At the very last minute, did Ansel decide to snag his oil paints and charcoals, along with his pocket-canvases. The sea would provide the most striking of scenes, he concurred.

Einin gives a big ol' thumbs up!

i luh every1

Jolly would’ve responded, just to say hiiii, but she can’t read. Or write. Or think most of the time. She’s kind of stupid.

have any of ur personas made it past 25 yrs old

"What a sad excuse for a woman and a mother." Einin grimaced upon reading the name Cesia Maravilla. She could not stand to look at such a parchment any longer- as if the Maravilla name that was etched into it, visibly pained her eyes and churned her stomach. "Disgustin'." The Heiress then scrunched her nose, poison dripping from her sharper tongue. The missive was fed to the flames thereafter.