Poetry

1. Them

2. Goodbye Kisses

3. My Fate Lies in My Own Hands (or does it really?)

4. birthed in death

Prose

1. i can’t do anything

2. i never wake up

3. a hatred of words

4. loss & grief

Our Rotten Virtues

Character Introductions:

Rheia Caeli Neysh

Jaddrian Tarmehi

Keyani Castan

Plot / Worldbuilding Introduction

OC-tober 2021:

i) Day 4: Medicine (A Rheia snippet)

ii) Day 7: Power (A Zia and Ciaran snippet)

Prologue

birthed in death

you were birthed in death untold

the first cry merely spread the cold

your skin was a map of devastation,

the crimson blanket covers you still.

soft voices never burnt the guilt

unlike the pyre that you built

the ashes rain to paralyse,

no tears could quench these flames.

he craved to finish the race

and tried to overwhelm the chase

shield you from the empty heart,

but the voids imprisoned him first.

there was no blame, only light

he paved the sole path in sight

shadows guide you to the fate

sculpted for its deserters.

no memories of her can you recall

as the pleas of presence start to crawl

but ink on page is all you leave behind,

only those could ever bear the weight.

the past is crimeless, yet it reeks

of greed that never lets you speak

of desire that festers to destroy

and numb the soul into submission.

you recite the lullabies you never heard

the hoarse cries of those you so revered

echo in the misery of that very place

you were born, you died, and you killed.

When I lost my childhood friends to time and distance, I didn’t do much about it. I had sensed it coming, and I felt that I would be able to move on and live my life without them, as they would without me. This was the proclamation of the more rational part of myself. 

When I got older and started losing my grandparents to age and disease, I couldn’t do much about it. This time too, I was convinced that this was the nature of life, and it would go on and on, regardless of the demands of the people who are left behind again and again.

I won’t say that I hadn’t felt pain. In fact, for a long time, that was the only feeling I experienced. But that pain, the long months of expecting the inevitable, were shared. Somehow, I’m sure that during our last awkward greetings, my friends too wished they didn’t have to lose me and our friendship. When I used to sit by my grandparents and recite to them the forgotten stories of my childhood, they too wished to stay just that bit longer.

There are various kinds of losses in life. If you are lucky, they will be shared, and that togetherness in slowly losing one another will end up being the window of light that saves you.

Grief, on the other hand, is an entirely different entity.

It is a common fact that everyone grieves, and should be allowed to grieve in their own, different ways. There also seems to be a popular notion that grieving is easier when it’s done together with those close to heart. Although I understand what is meant by this, it isn’t true, is it? 

Grieving is never easy, no matter who we share it with. This is because grief is more than just the pain of loss. It is the culmination of all emotions you have ever felt with those people, how you reshaped and rebuilt each other. Other emotions on their own often contradict, but grief collects and connects. Grief is the anger of leaving and the sadness of being left behind, it is the joy of a lifetime of memories and the fear of the absolute inability to make more of them.

There are people I have lost who I stopped loving before, and even people I never loved in the first place. Through them, for the first time, I got to know that you can lose people you never loved, liked, or knew, even people you hated. The part of me that is not rational and remains the child who cried at both the thoughts of living and dying whispers to me–a person’s mere existence, at times, has the capacity to impact us in ways unimaginable if not met with before.

Words which had once consumed my wholehearted existence, have now deserted me. They leave behind nothing but a carcass of jumbled letters which have nowhere to go and nowhere to live. They are destined to rot here, right in the heart of the empty, dead animal.

I had once been in love with words. Who wouldn’t be, when they were so awfully lovely? Words had lent their unadulterated strengths and weaknesses to me, they had shared their endless riches and transformed an unfeeling heart into something wonderful–an object of admiration and desire.

Yet today that heart lies bloody and soulless, inside a matching case which is just as false, just as vile. My body, the carcass is it, is a nesting doll. You peel back the layers one by one with hopes and wishes and patience, only to find the heart, the tiniest doll, in pieces so small you cannot possibly hold them. They slip through your fingers like the words that slipped away from me. Swift and merciless.

Words had been more precious to me than anything else. I had believed them to be otherworldly, and the dependence I had on them to be a blessing. It is funny how words had been invented as a means for humans to communicate with one another, to express themselves, whereas in reality all that we do is waste a lifetime in pursuit of a wild beast we were never meant to master. Words, no matter in what language or dialect, are not meant to be tamed. They are raw and free, they curse you till your bones break and then heal the same wounds with unimaginable magic. 

This is what I have learnt in my time with words.

Never.

In the afternoon, when everyone is asleep, I sit by a window and listen to the echoing cacophony of crows.

In the evening, when the streetlights get switched on, I sit by a window and stare at their haloes of light.

At night when you can still hear the distant rumble of vehicles, I sit by a window and count the seconds passing by.

Tick-tock. Tick-tock.

A minute.

Tick-tock. Tick-tock.

An hour.

When I go to bed, I don't fall asleep. And when I do, the last thought to consume me is,

"I want this to be the last."

My nightmares are an eventuality and a constant comfort of ice-cold hands on feverish skin.

In the morning, thoughts I do not want haunt me. They jab and leer, and I think,

"I want my dreams back."

I spend time with my family. I talk to my friends. I study and answer questions and attend classes. I eat and bathe and dress up.

The mundaness of it is something that used to choke me, when it wasn't something I had harnessed and learnt to tame.

"I want this to be the last".

I never wake up.

Have I tamed something I can never enjoy, just for the sake of remaining sane?

Everything is fine.

A year or two ago, when my eyes used to shut at midnight, I would think,

"I want today to be the last.

Please God.

I want to go away.

Take me where you are."

When I fall asleep tonight, that is not what I will think. Instead, I will repeat the same lines I have been telling myself for quite a while now.

"I want today to be the last.

The last day I spend in this haze.

I want to wake up tomorrow.

And finally say goodbye to the mist that is always clouding my vision."

Somehow I have given myself a bud of hope, although I do not know if it will ever bloom into a flower.

When I speak with the ones closest to my heart, and they listen and I do the same, the flower is watered. When I take care of myself and when I pay heed to my needs instead of burying them, the flower is fed.

I can feel the petals starting to open.

And yet. And yet.

Where is the light?

Words float around inside me without any shape or pattern. They form phrases, sentences even, but then fall apart again and again as I fail to rescue them.

They are ceaseless creatures, swimming in me, holding on to each other for dear life.

And I am afraid that I will not be able to save them from drowning.

What will be left of me then?

When what I think and feel will die inside of me, and not bleed onto paper? When my words will breathe their dying breath buried somewhere deep inside me and never be uncovered by another?

What will happen, when the bud that has slowly been blooming into a flower, does not get the light it needs so desperately?

Will it wither away like all the other times?

Little by little, you will be able to see its petals droop, then its colour fade, and finally it will fall off and merge with the soil as if it had never really been there at all.

But, no.

I know how to swim now.

I know how to save the light that the flower needs.

At times, it is so hard to look inward and see the words piling up there. At times, I wish I could just pluck them up one by one, like tearing petals off of an inconsequential flower, a forgotten game of "he loves me, he loves me not".

But these words are not single flowers. They are daisy chains, hydrangea clusters, sunflower patches. You cannot take one without ruining the other, without leaving behind a hollow.

You cannot just save one of them.

But I have taught myself to swim.

I know what I have to do to save the light.

Even though I have never known the flower to bloom before, I can try.

𝐎𝐂𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐃𝐚𝐲 #17

Organised by @oc-growth-and-development.

Prompt: Embrace

Hi yes so I missed most of OCtober because of Pujas and everything but I'll make up for it on the last day ;). For today, have a small snippet of Jade and Rheia which, I would like to think, completely captures their essence. It also takes place in the first book.

And right now, he was absolutely certain that he knew where he would find her.

He got up from the bed, careful and awake enough to not make too much noise. The door to his assigned room was wide open and the end of the hall wasn't too far from it either, but even without this additional assistance he knew she could easily figure out if he was trying to escape the hellhole of a plaintive "room" he had been put in. She might not have been Zia, but that girl had the instincts and quick observations of a fox.

Spending such a lot of time with animals would do that to you, he guessed.

Yet as Jade pulled his discarded brown sweater on over his shirt and walked quietly out of his room and down the hall, he found her standing in front of the row of windows. She was looking out through them as soft moonlight flowed in and outlined her, her hair shining all around her in the glow of the brightest constellations, with a small smile on her face. A smile that said she had known he was coming, but still she had stayed.

Rheia looked like a goddess, he thought.

"Here again?" he whispered as he stood next to her, looking out the windows as well.

"I can't sleep. Again", she whispered back.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"Not really, not right now."

A moment of silence. Then, "Maybe tomorrow morning?" she added, hesitantly.

"That's alright", he smiled. "Do you want me to cook something for you?"

"When do I not?" she smiled again. Although it was more of a smirk now.

But as they made their way towards the kitchen, he could only think that that sunset smile held more feeling than he had known for the entirety of the last four years.

And that was why, before he set to work in the kitchen, he blurted out a question.

"Do you want a hug?"

Rheia looked at him then, and the sudden eye contact felt so intimate in the dark that it made him want to crawl back to his room for a second.

But when she blinked and looked away and swung her arms awkwardly, her mouth set in a stubborn line, he realised he didn't mind being here at all.

"Maybe", she huffed.

And then she leaned down and thumped her head against his shoulder.

Jade had worried about Rheia this past week. He knew she could take care of herself. He had even had firsthand experience in witnessing her strength and determination, but nevertheless. He was worried that she was barely getting any sleep, but he was even more worried about the fact that she wasn't telling anyone, except him, about it.

However, as his arms wrapped around her shoulders, and hers, around his waist, all he could do was smile into her hair.

"You better not bring up anything about me not getting sleep in front of the others tomorrow" Rheia murmured, face still pressed against Jade's left shoulder.

"Does that mean you're basically giving me permission to speak about it after tomorrow?"

"I am definitely not in the correct mindset, and nor do I have the willpower to debate technicalities with you right now, so shut it, Jaddrian" said Rheia, apparently annoyed.

But Jade could feel her smiling too.

𝐎𝐂𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐃𝐚𝐲 #7

Hosted by @oc-growth-and-development.

Prompt: Power

For today, I'm here with an even tinier snippet of Zia and Ciaran and an edit (? moodboard?) of them. It takes place in the second third of the first book approximately.I hope you like them. 🥺

𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝙐𝙎𝙏-𝙋𝘼𝙍𝙀𝙉 𝙎𝙄𝘽𝙇𝙄𝙉𝙂𝙎

Zia sighed deeply, and an exasperated Ciaran struggled not to roll his eyes at her.

It was one of those sighs which reminded him of when they were young and beautifully oblivious, chasing each other around everywhere and secretly being the other's favourite person. He faintly wondered if they would ever be allowed to have that again. That sense of fearless acceptance and late-night comfort you only found with siblings. Their childhood that had been seized from them, but especially Zia, at such a tender age as the price for power and influence by the country which was supposed to be their home. The happiness of their family, together and getting along for once in the quiet, familiar warmth they had had in the past.

"Do you ever want to go back?", he asked.

"Hm? Go back where?"

"Not 'where'. When."

"Oh."

"Well, then?"

"You really need to learn to be more patient, Ci."

"I am a very patient person and have no idea what you mean, thank you very much."

"Ohhh, alright then. I guess it's just that Amien has already rubbed off on you quite a bit."

Ciaran ignored her even with the soft, rising burn in his cheeks. He knew that she was only deflecting and would eventually answer him.

So, he waited.

He would always wait for Zia.

And after a few moments of comfortable but weighted silence, she did speak up.

𝐎𝐂𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐃𝐚𝐲 #4

Organised by @oc-growth-and-development .

Prompt: Medicine

For today, I'm sharing a tiiiny snippet from the first chapter of 'Our Rotten Virtues' #1. (I will name the individual books this month, I promise.)

This is not the final version, so please don't be too upset if the final draft ends up being somewhat different from this. However, the actual scene altogether, will definitely make it into the final version.

Rheia approached her tentatively, her feet soundless against the ground after a decade of practice, and sat down on the edge of the bed. She continued to remain silent and yet, she thought distantly, the faint sound of the spoon striking against the walls of the cup as she stirred the medicinal mixture, had always spoken enough for the both of them.

She stopped when the liquid reached an appropriate consistency, put down the cup on the bedside table, and turned back to her again.

She watched her for a second, taking in just how hollowed and weary she looked. Sunken eyes, weakened body, tired bones.

Then Rheia reached for her mother and took her hand in her own.

And with a tearing feeling in her throat, realised that she could not do this anymore.

Her mother's hands were as cold as the unforgiving, vengeful tears that had threatened to spill and mark her since the first day, as cold as the ice water in Ghefya during winter, as cold as the depths of the Brihyan were rumoured to be.

But Rheia controlled herself, as she had for the last decade. The cold had only made her more and more certain that there would be another merciless time for her tears.

So, for now, as her mother still breathed, as her hands still shivered and irises still moved beneath wrinkled eyelids, she would hold on as long as she could, no matter how much the cold numbed her.

And holding on to her thin, near-lifeless fingers, she whispered a single word so, so softly, but just as firmly--

"Ma?"

Worldbuilding

Countries

1. Feonar:

It is a constitutional monarchy, and largest in terms of area. Accordingly, the monarch only represents Feonari power, but the actual running of the country is done by Keyani' parents and numerous other important subordinates. Prolonging feud with Lirsten which has been somewhat, but not fully resolved after the election of Keyani's parents in Feonar and Zia and Ciaran's mother in Lirsten. It is known for it's intricate and outstanding architecture. Apart from that, other kinds of art forms are not very well known here.

2. Ghefya:

Ghefya is a democracy. Though it has never been officially recorded, everybody knows it has the support of Neikshans all around the world due to an age-old alliance between the the two. (This will be explained in more detail in the main story). So, all the countries have a certain sense of respect for Ghefya. Fundamentally the most developed country although no one will admit it. Known for it's natural beauty and resources; has the cleanest freshwater sources and natural medicine substitutes.

3. Lirsten:

Lirsten is also a democracy, but runs on a vastly different system compared to Ghefya. Largest country in terms of population. Historically very conformist and traditional, though Zia and Ciaran's mother has been trying to enforce some changes. More people have started moving there after recent reforms enforced by her. Can be termed as the richest country. Known for its economic assets and unique settlement system.

4. Vecilia:

It is an oligarchy. It’s the smallest country in terms of area. Vecilia was much more populated when the "leaders" took control a few decades before Jade’s birth, but since then, the numbers have decreased to the point where it is also the smallest country in terms of population. Known for its eerie peace and charm, Vecilia also has rich history in art, and paints and dyes of the best quality are manufactured from here and exported to other lands.

5. Zimane-Sol

Zimane-Sol was previously a monarchy before the events of the story, when it was just known as Zimane. Currently, large-scale revolts have been going on throughout the territory, and the monarch’s power has been depleting rapidly over the last few years. The public reclaimed their country with the name ‘Zimane-Sol’ a decade ago, but legally, officials still have to refer to it as Zimane. It is known for its access to and invention of the world’s major modes of transportation.

Others

1. Brihyan

The Brihyan Ocean is the largest waterbody and technically the only ocean in the world. Long channels separating each of the countries lead to the Brihyan. There are many rumours surrounding the Brihyan, some of them including people being drowned in it as punishment and their souls resting there, waiting to latch on to and destroy anything that dares to cross the ocean. The channels are quite odd since they form perfect barriers, almost as if they were formed to separate the lands themselves.

2. Mordynn

Mordynn is the largest desert, and it's in Zimane-Sol. There are not many people living here due to obvious reasons, and those who do are mostly trader nomads. Some of them have also taken up hunting and fighting in the recent past to show their unspoken support for the Sol revolts.

3. Neiksha

The Neiksha forests are divided into three different parts, located in Ghefya, Vecilia and Feonar. The one adjacent to Ghefya is the largest in terms of area, and it terms of population, there are all more or less the same. There are a variety of tribes living in these forests. Most of them are usually peaceful, but reserved and protective. Communication between the clans living in different forests is done with the help of the Paeryz--medium sized birds which fly long distances.

Plot

There was one person, millions of years ago, who was believed to be inhumane.

He had strange abilities...he was a commander. He spoke of what he wanted and it was done--always, without fail. He was a God.

Until he wasn't.

He morphed into the Devil and made his blood run though the innocent. He took hold of their minds and clawed at the insides. He made them forget and change.

And as we all know, in the end, good presided over evil and he was rightfully punished. Drowned, in the middle of the ocean, a lovely blue to a lovely red. A world finally put to rest.

Or in the very least, this is the story that will be passed on between generations, peacefully unknowing of the damned truth.

But what we all don't know is that that wasn't the end.

His spirit tore itself into six and every millennium they would remerge. He would be rebirthed again and again and again. But, not the children.

The sweet, poor children would die again and again and again. Not one lived above the age of five. Always, without fail.

Until now.

Until Amien Yīkào, Ciaran Ust-Paren, Jaddrian Tarmehi, Keyani Castan, Rheia Caeli Neysh and Zia Ust-Paren.

The only ones who ever survived.

And now, they have finally been offered an undeniable, golden opportunity--a choice that can change everything for them. A choice where, in return for just a rulebook, however illegitimate it may be, they will be rewarded with any one thing they want.

They accept, of course, desperate for rare chances to answers. But what they don't realise that not all friends are loyal, not all siblings are loving, and not all parents are trustworthy. No one is what they appear to be.

(x)(x)

Keyani

Keyani's full name is Keyani Castan. Technically her homeland is Zimane-Sol, but her ancestors moved to Feonar centuries ago (you can think of them as the main founders of Feonar). Hence, her family is the oldest and most respected family in the whole country. She is an only child and appears to be quite close to her parents. She is often caught up in political affairs because her parents occupy central roles in the government (Feonar is a constitutional monarchy).

Keyani has deep brown hair, black-brown eyes, and dark brown skin. Her height is 5'6. Keyani is quite extroverted. She is influential and outspoken, though people think she is vain and materialistic just because she likes to look good and dress up. She likes attending parties and important gatherings, making contacts, and proving her power subtly, but steadily.

Keyani has a sharp tongue, but most of the time she just likes to flirt and have fun--another reason why people think she's shallow and can't be trusted. On the contrary, she loathes vanity and people who are interested in getting to know her solely because of her looks, money, or status. She would gladly hatch a plan to get rid of them if not for her parents.

Keyani is 17 years old in the story. She is pansexual. Her pronouns are she/her. She has the ability to manipulate speech and it's a long-range power. Although her parents often let her know of their more private operations to some extent, she feels that they're always keeping something from her, and not letting her know the full magnitude of what they're trying to do. But this is probably because her parents are quite reserved in nature, even when it's just the two of the two of them.

And this is Keyani's moodboard:

(x)

Jade

Jade's full name is Jaddrian Tarmehi. He is half Ghefyan on his mother's side, and half Vecilian on his father's side. He has a little brother who is twelve years old and he grew up in Vecilia surrounded by the support of his family. This support was especially needed when his best friend died four years before the main story takes takes place. Sometimes Jade even thinks that there's more to her death than what he knows.

Jade has overgrown, straight, walnut brown hair, which he often pulls back into a very small ponytail. He has heterochromia--his right eye is purple, and his left eye is dark brown, and he has light brown skin. His height is 5'10.5. He is a very lively and active person most of the time, though he does need his space too, and he absolutely loves making new friends, though he hasn't really had a close confidante in a long time.

Jade can be very inarticulate and blunt at times. But overall, he is a very gentle and sweet person. He is quick-witted as well. He hates people who belittle others and make them feel inferior, one of the reasons being that it reinforces his poor self confidence. He likes wearing soft clothes like wool sweaters and turtlenecks.

Jade is 17 years old in the story. He is greysexual. His pronouns are he/him. He has the ability to manipulate emotions, but like Rheia's, this is also a close contact power. He loves his parents to death, but he often feels like he can't speak with them about the things he wants to talk about the most, and which his brother is too young to fully comprehend. So, he pens down his thoughts as letters. But ultimately, he chooses art-- sculpting and painting, to be precise-- as a way of expressing himself, since he feels that he is not as good with words.

And here's his moodboard:

Hii Vi thanks for asking 🥺

'ORV' stands for 'Our Rotten Virtues' which is the name of the whole trilogy(?). I have not decided the names of the individual books(?) yet.

Here, we have 6 MCs: Rheia, Jade, Keyani, Amien, Zia, and Ciaran. None of them really know each other, except Zia and Ciaran are step siblings and their and Keyani's families don't like each other all that much.

The world is mainly divided into the countries Ghefya, Feonar, Vecilia, Zimane-Sol and Lirsten. We also have the largest forest, ocean and desert-- Neiksha, the Brihyan, and Mordynn respectively.

So basically, the 6 MCs each have one of these abilities (which you'll learn more about in the separate intro posts):

Manipulate sight

Manipulate emotions

Manipulate thoughts

Manipulate hearing

Manipulate speech

Manipulate movement

So, together, they can more or less control a whole person, and at the height of power, the whole of humanity.

And this is the basic premise of the story (there is a whole lot more going on, which I can't say because is spoilers):

Rheia

Rheia's full name is Rheia Caeli Neysh. Caeli means "air" and "heaven" in Latin. She was born and raised in Ghefya by her father. Her mother has been sick since she was very young (about seven to eight years of age), so she has spent most of her life looking after her. No one knows what this illness is, or how to cure it, even though Ghefya has the best health resources and also has the support of the Neikshans.

Rheia has long, wavy, dark black hair with ocean blue highlights which comes down to her waist. She has also has black eyes and medium brown skin. Her height is 5'9. She is quiet and observant most of the time, which people often mistake for subservience and timidity.

Rheia can also be extremely cunning and resourceful when she feels the need to be so. However, she is overall very kind and polite. She is not fond of people who are selfish, but she can respect someone who knows how to prioritise and take care of themself. She is a very "rules are made to be bent" kind of person.

Rheia is 17 years old in the story. She is demisexual. Her pronouns are she/her. She has the ability to manipulate thoughts, but since it is a close contact power, it only works when she is near the particular person. Rheia is moderately fit because she loves running and swimming. But after taking care of her parents on her own for so long, she really does not have the energy or time for hobbies, though she would like to try out a lot of activities including, and especially, painting.

Finally, here is a moodboard for her: (click for better quality because tumblr hates us all.)