STAGE CALL!

☾ Literate and Exandrian based fool OC. [ While her main verse takes place in said universe, this doesn’t mean you have to know of Critical Role. It’s just her backstory ties. Eve is more fandomless fantasy than anything. ]

✧ Multiship and multifandom friendly.

✩ RULES. || EXANDRIAN VERSE [DEFAULT].

𝐂𝐔𝐑𝐓𝐀𝐈𝐍 𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐋!

c: brokaru

“Oh?”

The scent of the flowers were so nice and fresh — and for a split second, the sheep-esque urge to graze on them almost comes to fruition.

Fortunately, she shakes off the internal thoughts. Better to not kill the moment.

“Why, thank you, sugar plum ~ ! How do I look? Devilishly gorgeous ~ ?”

She strikes a pose, the corner of the flower crown drooping enough to awkwardly cover one eye.

“…I meant for that to happen.”

There’s a flinch, having been lost in many, many, many thoughts — but upon realizing it was only Sylphrena, Eve calms instantly.

“For…me? Oh no — nononono, please, my bluebird! These belong on you!”

Carefully removing the flowers, the fool turns to place them upon the other’s head instead.

“There…it looks way better on you, yanno? Ahah — my horns will get in the way and I’m not nearly as pretty as you are for this to work.”

Tucking a strand of hair behind Sylphrena’s ear, Eve hums,

“Beautiful as reignin’ chaos…”

[ Cont. ]

“Sounds marvelous.”

Her tone drips with sarcasm — though she accepts the affection nonetheless, her eyes fluttering closed.

“It huuuurts…and I miss performiiiiin’…now you’re hoggin’ all the attention and I’m mad. You already were everyone’s favorite.”

A childish pout.

“Startin’ to think you knocked me up on purpose so you could be the only star.”

And moody, clearly.

☾ TWILIGHT CLERIC / OATH OF THE FEYGUARD PALADIN : DEFAULT ORIGINAL. EXANDRIAN. CHAOTIC NEUTRAL.

⭒ OATH OF THE CARNIVALE PALADIN : ARAMÁN VERSE. CHAOTIC NEUTRAL.

☾ COLLEGE OF JEST BARD : TFC/FREAKSHOW VERSE. CHAOTIC NEUTRAL.

whereas the other verses are somewhat sound, deceit couldn’t stand all the responsibility and relentless prophetic visions that she let herself be consumed by madness in order to forcibly drown out the fates’ voices. that, and all the backlash and death became too much to hold, and she had no one to turn to who still had faith in her. the fates fucked with her whole self image and were so adamant on choosing the jester for their prophet that it tried to break her into place each time she refused the prophecy — but alas, freedom comes with a cost. so eve broke herself enough that the fates could no longer accept her as the prophet, rejecting destiny and paying for it dearly by going mad.

she tries to convince people that she’s only capable of being a clown who takes nothing serious at all, but it’s so far from the truth. she feels everything so, so deeply now. and my god, the sadness and loneliness is so sharp that she’s willing to go great lengths just for the bare minimum of positive attention.

then spend the last half hour showing her shadow’s origin and his apology video + tier list and she goes I’m won over. no apology video needed, he did nothing wrong.

most of it is from the deceit verse because I am a sucker for unhinged laughter ✨

“…What? What the fuck?

No. No, that’s not — that’s not right. This HAS to work. It SHOULD HAVE worked! I — I RESEARCHED IT FOR A WHOLE MONTH!”

It was a rarity for Eve — as unhinged as she was now, especially — to openly express distress to this degree. She had sworn off solemnity when seeing just how independently carefree Sylphrena was, willingly trading large portions of her lucidity in favor of becoming one of her jesters. But with great power came great responsibility — and when Eve needed her soundness most, it failed her entirely with tv static and mind blankness.

Shaky hands dropped the vial of vibrant liquid, wide eyes staring down at Sylphrena’s still monstrous hands. Still just as large and deadly as ever — still as abnormal and out of place on her elegant body.

No. It doesn’t belong there. It’s too ugly to be on such a divine body. It’s just a reminder of her being an EXPERIMENT. A daily reminder of the ATROCITIES the Dark Enchantress committed — a daily reminder that Eve was no longer as stable as she used to be in order to focus enough to make this WORK. Why won’t her magic just WORK? Why won’t her MIND WORK?

“I can fix this, Mistress Deceit. I PROMISE I can fix this! I was once a cleric — I…I can heal!”

Once upon a time. She traded her divine truth for DECEIT, after all.

Pressing her palms flat to Sylphrena’s stomach, Eve focused every last bit of her willpower into the most powerful healing spell she could wrack her damaged mind to remember — and pushed. Pushed herself past the limits. Pushed through BLINDING PAIN, TEARS, EVEN A TRICKLE OF BLLOD FROM THE MOUTH.

Once soft pumpkin light was now a murky, inky blue as her magic encompassed Sylphrena’s body — and beginning to spat and fizzle as it struggled to reach the host. Still, Eve let out a garbled cry as she forced her body through the TEARING AGONY, determined to FIX HER.

The sound of applause boomed throughout the vast halls of the grand circus, creatures of every kind screaming for more gimmicks and tricks.

It was Eve’s greatest pleasure and dream to bestow the art of theatrical whimsicality upon the masses, leaving no portion of her residence untouched with magical essence. In her newly improved tent, folks got the opportunity to throw away reality for a good few hours and succumb to the pull of fantasy, aiming to leave each audience member with a memory not even a modification spell could erase.

“How are we all feelin’, folks? Free? Joyous? Chaotic?! Let me hear those oh so DELIGHTFUL SCREAMS ~ !”

The ringleader was loud enough that she didn’t even need the assistance of thaumaturgy. Once more, the audience erupts into buoyant merriment.

“For this next act, we’re gonna need TWO volunteers!”

Scanning the sea of faces, Eve’s gaze locks onto the two blue skinned siblings, stars jumping into her eyes.

“YOU TWO! Please, please! Join my nonsensical crew and I on stage!”

With a snap of her fingers, twin clown illusions appear side by side, bowing respectfully before holding out their large hands to the elves.

Eve kicked her legs as she dangled over one of the stunt bars, her cheek squished boredly against the cold metal railing.

Every day was a bore now that her own tent was repurposed and she was forced to man the dumb gift shop. As if retail couldn’t get any worse. She was created to entertain the masses with whimsy and laughter — not stand at the front and look pretty while dealing with snotty children fighting over a toy.

“It was one mistake, Jester,”

The sheep groaned, nudging him with her hoof,

“Honest mistake! I was doin’ it for the greater good too! Those schmucks were harassin’ one of our family — what, did you want me to just look away and pretend everythang was a-okay? NO, I had to OBVIOUSLY make sure they never try somethang like that ever again! And now two of ‘em won’t — yanno, ‘cause one got squashed like a pancake and the other went up in flames.”

No remorse. She’s even smiling fondly at the memory.

“And with one quick modify memory, the last guest on stage got away scot free and unscathed and didn’t have to call the authorities on us and force us to move again! Win win!

…What’s family mean to you anyway? I think we have two different definitions of safety precautions. Let’s start with that.”