Hi there! The name’s Nyles. (26 | they/them, it/its)
I write stories and RP now and then (Semi-selective); sometimes I even post art. Who’d’ve thunk. (Follows from @nihilistic-body.)
[Want some art from me? Check out my commissions here!]
Content Warning: My blog will often contain depictions of violence, blood, dark themes, possibly suggestive content and just generally terrible things. By no means do I condone it, as this is fiction.
It is recommended that minors do not follow. I can't stop you, but know I will not RP with minor muns. (I block liberally!)
Ask box is always open, both in and out of character. However:
I don't do M!A's
There's a real person (me) that has to read your asks. If you abuse anon privileges, I will be turning that off.
If you've come to spread drama or rumors anonymously about someone else, it'll result in an automatic block.
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(The following entry has been translated from an unknown language.)
Entry #216
Some time has passed since I took on this job of trying to aid those two in their curse. And while I have gleaned a fair bit of it, I still feel lacking in the base knowledge to fully treat the root of the problem.
If it were merely a wound, or even a creep nestled in the self, it would have been easier to take care of. But this is something else, unfortunately. A marring of this type is not going to part as easily as I would have hoped.
Since this discovery, I have turned my attention back to studies of the composition of the soul to try and find a better option than excision and regeneration. My descendant has aided somewhat in my understanding on this manner, as their perspective is somewhat different from mine.
I have taken great care not to repeat past mistakes, and have been putting my own soul on the line for study- which, as an aside, has been very helpful in the understanding of my own magic. (Even though I have more questions now than I did before. Alas, something I will have to look into later.)
But I digress.
I have found I can generally split the composition of a soul into three main components.
There is anima, as I call it. Commonly referred to by others as a "will to live", or life force. It is the energy that effuses every living thing, allowing it to move and grow. It appears to dictate lifespan, and there is some correlation to the amount of it present within a person to the power output they're capable of- either with psionics, or magic. Though, I have not had much opportunity to study this point- so I could be wrong.
However, I do know that as you age, your anima tends to deplete itself. Which makes sense- as a fire burns its fuel to keep alive, so too, does one's soul. Which releases its energy back into the closed system that is life.
The second part, I simply call the self. It is the spark given to every living creature- a seed of possibility. Of change. The growth of which is determined by many external factors. One's genetics, for example, or their environment. The others they met, the events that took place in their lifetime. Potentially a gift (or curse, depending on how one sees it) from the being formed at the very start of the universe. Regardless, the self is what veritably makes a living thing unique.
The third component, arguably could be rendered as exactly the same as the self. But I separate it, as it seems to be separable from the other two components. And that, is memory.
It would seem that memories are carried in three places of a living thing- its mind, its soul, and its body and muscles therein. Though, all of these containers appear to be imperfect and prone to flaws. They are prone to forgetfulness in varying degrees- though the mind and body seem capable of remembering- even through the loss of the soul.
Meanwhile. The soul must constantly be maintained by something- usually the body and mind- lest it lead to decay. An example of this includes shades, lost souls that is, which appear to be souls who have lost either most or all of their memory (as well as a significant amount of their anima.)
If the soul's memory is prone to this decay, it stands to reckon that it may be influenced by a new or different vessel. For example, a possession. No wonder it's easy for a demon or the like to access the memories of an individual this way. However, a less powerful ghost or spirit may have to suppress this vessel's memory, if there is any.
What would happen if they failed in this endeavor? Or if the transition wasn't perfect?
I suppose it would be no different from what happened with Caliro. A loss of one's sense of self, a loss of the memories their soul contained. Or, should the body carry existing memory, one would have to wonder if its memories would mingle with the new resident's.
A rather unsettling thought. Maybe worth studying- perhaps there's someone living this fear already.
i can't express how absolutely important it is that when you make an edgy, brooding, badass character who's tough as nails and good at fighting and whatever, you HAVE to give them at least one reason to become completely helpless and pathetic. you have a panic attack quota to fulfill.
my "hot take" (read: room temp take) on quads is that well. They're all romantic. That's kind of the point
People seem to mostly be on the same page re: moirails being an important partner who's just as close as a pitch or flush interest would be. Arguably closer, since that's your light, your world. Your confidant. Perhaps silly rabbit.
An auspistice mediator is just as involved in a relationship- normally, anyway. There's a lot of nuance in any relation of course, and maybe someone would be interested in a completely neutral third-party rather than a closer mediator. But still, that's romantic involvement. They're not any less of a part of an ashen quad.
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"Yes, I like ╪o blind people. I╪'s ac╪ually a hobby of /\/\ine. Clearly."
=> You don't go wandering anywhere without a source of light anymore for good reason.
"I didn'╪ lose shi╪, I'/\/\ jus╪ looking for so/\/\e╪hing. ╪hough╪ i╪ /\/\igh╪ have been around here and fell in╪o ╪he da/\/\n wa╪er."
"Hopefully i╪ didn'╪. I'/\/\ no╪ going for a swi/\/\ ╪onigh╪."
=> You pass the light over the canal again, wincing. It had better not have fallen into the water at some point. You let the light dangle from your wrist again as you dig through one of your pockets, pulling out a mildly wrinkled photograph.
=> You amble towards her, offering it.
"Seen any╪hing like ╪his? I╪'s i/\/\por╪an╪ I ge╪ i╪. If you have i╪, well, I can pay for i╪."
=> The photograph quality isn't very good, marred by motion blur and bad lighting. What can be made out is a rectangular, lantern looking object, the glass on it somewhat dusty. The casing around it is silver and marked with green etchings that don't seem to resemble any actual letters. The flame inside is currently lit, and is clearly being carried by someone, but the photograph is too zoomed in to see who it is or what the background is.
=> The longer the photograph is looked at, the more it looks like the flame inside the lantern is dancing.
=> You elect not to take the photo, not really willing to just. Grab things, handed to you. But you do take a look at it from where you are, quiet for a moment as you study it.
"....."
"nope. never sseen that before in my life. but it sseemss fancy sso I guessss I can ssee why you'd want it."
=> Fancy, sure- and something clearly of import to someone with the way it looks. Reminds you of some stuff historic stuff you've seen. Like, of the occult.
"though. it alsso sseeemss like thiss thing has ssome nasty vibess to it. i wouldn't dissbelieve that it'ss dangerouss."
"but the way you're talking about it makess it ssound like it can move on itss own."
=> Weird. You wonder what he could be, looking for something like that. If that's the case. Not that you're feeling particularly obligated to help, but...
"... i have to ssay, bud, thiss iss one of the worsst photoss of a target i've ever sseen. you might want to get a new photographer. or camera."
=> If he was the one taking it, that is. You're also just bitter about getting startled and the light shone in your eyes, still.
=> You skid down the bank of the canal, cursing slightly, using your cane to keep your footing while a flashlight dangles from a cord tied to your other wrist.
"Shi╪ass ci╪y can'╪ even afford a god da/\/\n s╪airway, ough╪ ╪o s╪rangle..."
=> You stop before you topple into the canal proper, flicking the light into your hand and sweeping it over the water. No luck. You'd heard something fall into it but you didn't really think you'd find anything regardless.
=> You hawk a defiant wad of spit into the water for your irritation. Well, you can call it defiant but spit is only defiant in other circumstances. Even after perigees of recuperation you can only manage a mild 'indignant' sort of spit in most scenarios.
=> Dissatisfied, you turn the flashlight towards the bridge, immediately illuminating the person underneath it. You jump slightly, turning the light away from them.
"Fuck! Shi╪, you ╪rying ╪o give so/\/\eone a hear╪ a╪╪ack hiding down ╪here?"
"Was ╪ha╪ you ╪ha╪ ╪ossed so/\/\e╪hing in ╪he wa╪er? ╪hough╪ I heard so/\/\e╪hing fall in."
=> You bring up your hands to shield your eyes briefly as the light turns your way, and hiss lightly in pain. So absorbed in your thoughts, you didn't hear anyone approach.
=> Not like you.
"fuck'ss ssake, you trying to blind ssomeone the way you're waving that thing around?"
"i wass here firsst, n' wassn't expecting vissitorss."
=> You speak with just a mild amount of venom in your tone.
=> It takes a second for his other question to process, and another for you to roll your eyes at it.
"yeah. you heard rockss. i wass throwing rockss."
=> That and some broken hopes and dreams. Maybe yourself later, depending on how the night goes.
=> ... Don't say that. You don't know this guy. Don't need to be garnering any sort of pity, or look more pathetic than you probably already do.
=> Instead, you just sigh to yourself.
"what'd you even climb down here, for. losse ssomething?"
"even if you did, it'ss not worth hopping in for it."
=> These things are flowing fast and sometimes turbulent enough to drag you down and out to the runoff. Which is why no one really comes down here, given the danger posed.
Running around behind the scenes of a few of my oc's lives is one guy named Siilas Edacio, "Gluttony." He has been traveling the world for a long long time thanks to some stupid bullshit (which involved extending his life through having eaten a number of folks. Like cannibalism in a sense, yea.)
As he would say, the hunger of gluttony is closely related to the hunger of lust. Which has led him to some. Interesting places.
But so has general curiosity. He doesn't ever stay in one place for too long just because he fears getting tied down (in one way or another.)
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=> You sit on the grassy bank of one of the few canals running through Atecastar, just under a bridge. It's gloomy and cloudy out, like it's just about to rain. But, you don't particularly care.
=> Picking up a rock, you toss it in to the flowing water. Thinking to yourself as you watch the ripples dissipate.
=> Evicted- from that shitty place, no less. Apparently out of the landlord's hands, who was, again, apparently not paying his own fucking bills. You sold a majority of your 'trophies' and... things you could spare. And others you kind of couldn't but didn't have any choice but to spare. And you still didn't have enough to buy the space from the bank.
=> 22 nights left to get your shit together and vacate. To tell someone else you're absolutely fucked and maybe get some help- though you hate the idea.
=> Where are you gonna go? How will you keep getting to work? You have like nothing to your name now. Had nothing much, to begin with. You hate everything about this. About your luck. About your life, even.
=> You pick up another rock- a larger one this time- and aggressively throw it towards the water again.
=> It all feels pointless, and you wonder how it could possibly get worse.
=> At least no one's here to see you sulking. So you think.
"Man. While I Miss CoMing baCk hoMe and seeing everYthing for the first tiMe in forvever, I Can't help but hate it too."
"EverYone asking: 'Oh, where've You been? You still have that pipe dreaM of being… what was it again, a MeChaniC?'"
"Or being all like: 'You never reaCh out or talk. You never do this or that. You left Gitana hanging, You know.' Like I had anY Control over that until reCentlY."
"Not that I feel like handing MY life over to beCoMe a Meathead quadded to soMe posturing bulgewad with onlY their naMe going for theM."
=> Not to mention, your little 'visit' to Chirannajit went less than smoothly. You had to pretty much fight your way back out since the place was a den of tigers.
=> But you're back in your hive, now. As far as you know, there's no pressing issues here. Unless one of your clients comes a-knocking, or something.
=> While you have been busy helping the twins as of late, you've come upon more time set aside for yourself now-
=> And you have no idea what to do with it. Your current projects are uninteresting, for some reason. Your quads, busy per usual doing their own thing.
=> You have, though, been re-reading through your vault of books and personal journals you've preserved. And you've realized something- not one of said journals turns attention on to your own magic.
=> Have you really not written anything down about your study to keep? You mean, sure. Your memory is like a steel trap and most of this stuff, only relevant to you. But besides basic forays into the field of soul magic, you find it hard to believe you've not written anything down. Studied it in detail.
=> ... Turned the metaphorical 'knife' on yourself. Maybe the literal one too.
=> .........
=> Well. You could change that. Maybe you'll learn more than you had in the early sweeps of your life, training.
Bellam does occasionally bring his lusus to work with him, since she doesn't get out much otherwise. A large, fat gila monster that's grey with white patterning. She's slow and lethargic most of the time, but does occasionally seek out attention (read: scritches) from suckers those she takes a liking to
.. Bellam has definitely warned against picking her up though, unless you can do it correctly. Otherwise, you are asking to be bit (and therefore envenomed.)
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It is funny to me that like the Kelters, he can shrug off (or at least, hinder) a significant number of supernatural effects trying to gather information on him, or affect his faculties.
Mostly, this much is something his body does passively. If used actively, he could do more with it. But that's just the thing- he has no idea how.
Bellam honestly is a kind person who cares about others. I wouldn't say he's self-sacrificing, but he definitely offers help where he can (within reason) and actually takes things in stride quite well. Has quite the handle on his feelings.
However. The lot of this is buried under a million layers of cynicism, pessimism, sarcasm and other things. Expectations placed on him as a highblood, the bullshit he's been forced to endure. Disillusionment with the imperial system.
Alas, there aren't any other choices but to take part in it.
