multimuse

typical rules. no freaks, no drama, no problem. more in carrd.

affiliated: @/paramythas, @/pairidaezah

semi-hiatus; health issues

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The job of the guardian doesn't stop for anyone. Even on her birthday, Candace is out there on dune peaks, watching out the faintest disturbance to the village's peace. If anything, her birthday serves as an immutable reminder that this was the purpose for which she is born, and she hopes there will be many more.

But with her on her spot for the evening, right before the sun crosses into the nightly realm, is a letter she received before setting off. She sat down, taking advantage of the quieted and allowed to be alone with her thoughts, and pulled out the letter. It was from Nefer, a girl she remembered fondly, and one she also worried about.

Nefer wasn't someone she worried for because she as a troublemaker or anything, but life had not treated her well. Nefer might not say it, but over time, that sort of hardship creates... something within one's heart. Hardens it, twists it up, festers an anger that's hard to dissipate. Candace can only hope that the tone seen from her letters reflects how she is in reality. She's a smart girl, and despite it all, Candace is glad to be thought of, even if oceans apart.

Aaru doesn't receive news like the rest of Sumeru does, let alone the minutia of what goes on in the world, or the secret underbelly of things aside from particularly serious news that manifests as rumors. Thus, the world Nefer lives in is a total mystery. Sometimes, a merchant might speak of the trading guild that's up there, and more infrequently, of a desert woman who holds the strings with the slightest hint of apprehension.

A smile appears on her face while reading it, the last time she heard Nefer's voice became the narrator in her head. Her younger self would've hugged the letter tight to her chest, hoping Nefer would feel her love from all the way here. A hand softly rests above bee heart, reading the closing signature of that familiar handwriting.

Candace takes out a pen and paper, using a stone as a solid surface.

Dearest Nefer,

Thank you for your kind words. They were as lovely a gift as any present wrapped in a box. How impeccable your timing that I’ve received it right on schedule.

When looking towards the North, I often think of you. Down here, things are starting to look up. The attitude of the Forest has begun to improve, providing several more opportunities for our people to thrive in the city.

I understand your feelings towards this place perhaps isn’t the best, and to honest, it would probably do me well if I instead visited you instead. Well… after figuring out what to wear. Isn’t it colder than even the desert nights? How long did it take you to become acclimated?

A certain Eremite is insisting she’d watch over things while I’m gone. I trust it, but… I’ve decided. I’ll visit. Then, I can see the place you now call home. Seeing your face can be that year’s gift.

He's not going to pretend that he has the faintest clue of where Eula will lead him. Even in attempting to get to know her better, he only gleans as much as she's willing to reveal. He can't blame her; he's similar. Though a positive is everything being a relative surprise. A part of him has come to enjoy the back and forth, the silent competition between them, testing the limits of creativity and thoughtfulness; what would most encapsulate each other in that point in time? Perhaps repeats would be a safe, logical solution, that didn't really cut it.

Some, the unkind ones, would say that the Lawrence would ensnare him in the drudgery of some inconspicuous, dark building and meet his end as though some black widow had taken hold of him. Without knowing she has a first name.

Though Diluc must admit, the dimming sun adds a rustic atmosphere. Whatever exactly she chose, she chose in good taste with where it faced the sun's setting. Opening the door, though, all remaining light pours through the darkness, clearing the room ahead and revealing its boon. He steps in to the center of the expansive space, his footsteps on solid flooring, scanning and taking in all the little details. It's then he catches the easel, and then it slowly comes together that he has something to do with this. A hand brushes over the wood of the easel frame, and then his attention is caught.

Eula fills in the blanks, and he takes the envelope as he listens to her disclosure. It doesn't have anything in it of note, not from what he could squeeze around, but a small object. Diluc looks up to her, attentive while she speaks. It seems like even now, there's still a part of her that she shields. Her heart is like a block of ice, as though it's an insult. Hardly. Such only makes her displays of genuine sincerity something to appreciate all the more. She's so formal, he thought to himself, despite the casual setting. It's after she's done speaking that he pulls out the key and holds it in his gloved palm, then looks to the "painting area."

"No, this is..." He careful decides his words (struggles to fit all his feelings in a neat sentence), stroking the key between his fingers "...more than fine. It's incredibly thoughtful. The space will be used to its fullest, make no mistake."

He's surrounded by considerate people who never stopped believing in the person he's always been, deep down. That he is still deserving of it, despite all his attempts at distance. And this quiet thing he's developed with Eula, something to tend at their own pace, and how far it's even come as she shows him a homely dessert, to then speak his name without titles. In the end, that's all they are. People.

"Thank you."

Larger hands overlap her smaller ones holding the box, warm as gentle candlelight, and leans over to place a chaste kiss upon her lips. The mirrors preserve this moment from different angles, triplicating infinitely in their cool reflection.

Now, to inspect the dessert itself, opening the box with one hand and balancing it with the other. The immediate aromas are enough for anyone to reach and grab uncouth.

How much do you edit your replies before posting?

Smile. Ummmmmmm </3 Not much. I give the post like two passes before I hit post, thinking I fixed any typos or awkward wording. I did not. But in that moment I genuinely think the post is ready only for after the fact, where a better way to say something hits me or I finally notice the mistake. 💀

What’s something small that instantly makes you excited to reply?

Usually, it's when I have an immediate idea for how I want to reply. So long as I have the energy and not busy, I will reply almost instantly. When I don't have an idea, it's not because there's something wrong with the reply itself, but more I need to think about how I want to tackle the reply. But never, in any situation, means I'm any less excited about a thread. I see that notification and I zoom so very fast to read it. But not everything clicks in my head right away. People replying in general makes me excited.

Do you have any pet peeves when it comes to RP partners or threads?

What’s the saddest scene you’ve ever written?

Last year, I wrote a great RP with my buddy Noir between Lucilius and Lucifer GBF. Honestly any interactions between these two make me insane because they're a very troubled pair of characters with a lot of baggage and psychological things going on, but anyways. So it was a fight thread, and it was essentially perpetuating a cycle of killing each other. How one side came to hate the other, and one side never letting go of that, instead needing to move on. I love doomed dynamics saur much. Is it the saddest scene I've ever written? No, but it's the most recent. I don't actually get the opportunity to write sad stuff often.

Do you like doing random starter calls or planned plots more?

RP is actually a gateway for me to learn about different topics! I'll invest a lot of time making connections and taking notes and trying to apply that in my writing somehow. I know.... an embarrassing amount of Egyptology, for example, culminating over the years from characters and being in media spaces that are thematically tied to that (like most recently, Nefer, who's the one Sumeru desert character explicitly tied to an active god; Cyno sort of counts but not really and I also don't write him). It never has to be 1:1 ofc it's all artistic liberties, but the connections are nice to make all the same. You actually learn something, even if it's useless. Helps you practice your skills of research and deduction especially in the age of Aye Eye.

For me, it's very fulfilling to do this research. Genshin was definitely a gateway to the expression of native Chinese culture in a video game, for example! And even now, with the likes of Xianyun who's heavily tied to ancient heritage and practices, I gain something.

🤔 What’s something you’ve never tried in RP but want to?

good question. i've done a little bit of everything over the almost two-decades of me writing, so it's mainly like... interactions that i've never had. some between characters that are important to each other. for example, i've never had a dehya to write candace with, lol. i think you can deduce why.

🌐 Do you enjoy crossovers with other fandoms?

At first, the ever-so-dignified Borrower of the Wind, inventress of the Enlightened Adepti put on a little pout when Prodigious Architect of Paradise told her that no, they weren't going to cheat by using her cooking mechanism to solve every problem. Apparently, there wasn't any "fun" to be had. She could argue on about how it's not cheating, that she worked very hard to make a devise that could conjure any food with some concentration and power, but... she understood, also, that this was an activity less about cooking itself (as much as that too was enjoyable), but the time spent with the other person. She's beginning to understand this as she lives amongst humans, how Shenhe seemed to enjoy it and teaching it to Shuyu herself. Perhaps it was the same with other company, too.

Besides: she can't really make anything in the Supreme Cuisine Machine if she did not know a meal's construction begin with! Sumeru's cuisine was unlike Liyue's, so it's worth following his every technical instruction... except some of it wasn't necessarily technical. A lot of "with feeling" measurements...

"...Which isn't a measurement at all!" she would squawk in slight protest. Only slight.

Today, they were making fatteh and basbousa. Kaveh didn't want to hang out in his shared home, so Xianyun took it upon herself to conjure into existence an outdoor kitchen with everything they needed (which she dubbed the Masterful Meal Maker, just outside the city center so they can hang out in peace between nature and people. He brought the ingredients, of course. She wouldn't know the first thing about it.

She watches Kaveh put together the fresh tahini for the fatteh, while she went about preheating the oven and then getting together the semolina base for the basbousa. It's al very involved! But she's no doubt keenly paying attention to every minutia. The smells are definitely new to her ancient senses, her excitement beginning to bubble up from this new venture she has every intention of mastering.

Raziel was, for all intents and purposes, the perfect person to call upon for this type of thing. Technically, something that is "lost" constitutes a as mystery; its location itself is the thing to uncover. But, from a Divine General, the alliance of anti-Astral warriors, the very same who hate and despise Primals?! She's not the strongest angel around, not like the heavy hitters and their dazzling six (or even four!) wings, even if she has her own hidden strength. She's just not built for that!

But... Lady Payila was so kind... and regal! And this thing she was looking for was pretty important to her (or so she made it sound). So, she won't deny helping out someone like her! Especially if it gets her closer to her shikigami. They were so cool! How do they work? Who was the first one to harness this power? Do they have feelings? Are they similar in constitutions Primals? The questions swirled around in the little angel's head so fast they burnt marks around her brain.

The object itself seemed innocuous, a tuanshan fan with gold inlays and delicate pattern. A plush crimson tassel, too. When she found it, she delicately traced her fingers upon it as gently as possible as to not accidentally damage it, her light eyes widening at the marvel towards its craftsmanship. She just had to ask about this! There's so much she wants to ask!

Dutifully, Raziel nonetheless fulfills her request. Clutched between her crossed arms and pressed against her chess was the very thing Payila asked for. With a gentle flutter of white wings she lands before her and hands the object over with both arms outstretched with a pleased smile. Being of use lets her feel like she's still needed around, of course. Or at least, in a way that wasn't so passive like her programmed purpose.

To be honest, prowling around the hours of morning before the sun rises is the ideal time to seek out business that would have normally concluded hours ago. Some call it the witching hour, her culture had its own term for it: when all is revealed. When Al-Ahmar rests, the power of the Underworld seeps into reality where the viel of Order is suspended, if for a moment. Of course, this is all local folklore, and her time at the Akademiya did little else but affirm her atheism towards the dependency towards such stories. Folklore is a powerful tool, though. Ultimately, they're stories to explain reality. Even Candace, for all she clings to her side of the Wall, is shrewd enough to know the difference.

Folklore is the same no matter where you are, Nod-Krai especially with their peculiar cultural situation. Unlike her own people's absent god, theirs can be felt in the land, around them, with such diligence to faith. And in the people, Fae linger in the background, unnoticed as much as they desire. It's that mythical status Nefer is passively intrigued by, remnants of an old world that still walk among the present. Flins' courtesies, as much as they already represent bygone tradition, still yet betray his reality. Even more-so, his fundamental inhumanness.

Ashru is ahead of her, tail up high and ears perked, until rounding a corner and being immediately off-put by what was there. She runs and climbs up Nefer's body to her shoulders, and Nefer, now immediately curious, takes a peek. She too jumps, but for a second. The familiar sight is ghastly. Familiar, but still ghastly. She gives a small laugh. He doesn't seem tired or even caring of what time of day it is. What must life be like for those who call "immortality" their normal?