#wctd.misc

Happy STS and thank you for the ask!!!

The "ill omens" part is, honestly, up to interpretation. As much as Fenice and much of society internalize her being an omen-bringer/harbinger of misfortune, much of that reputation is really rooted more in superstition than it is fact.

When the Trinity came together to fashion humanity from the earth, life-giving Meidther used a drop of her own blood to bring Their creations to life, and in doing so blessed them with a fraction of Their own divine power. This was what the magi called arcanum, though to the layperson it was known as simply magic. Though only few would be able to wield this power beyond the simplest of spells, everyone that walked the earth and drew breath had some measure of magic running through their veins, for it was proof that the goddess gave them life, proof of their creation at the hands of gods. But in rare occurrences there are those who would be born without that divine blessing of magic, and in their weak and sputtering wails would soon perish in its lack. Deadborne, those pitiful creatures were called. The ones born already destined for death. Incomplete creations, some called them. Divine mistakes. That was until enough people realized that the birth of a deadborne oft times preceded some great change, a disturbance in the status quo, and from then on decided to call them something different. Omen-Bringers. Harbingers of Misfortune. The birth and death of a deadborne spelled certain calamity in the future.

-- When Comes the Dawn, Chapter 5: Pitiful Creatures

The superstition goes that a deadborne in the family usually means some great change/upheaval to come in the future. Kind of like a human canary in a coal mine haha. Whether one would interpret that as an "ill omen" is really up to the person.

(Not sure about the question of bad vs ill omens though? At the very least I use them to mean the same thing).

04.01 — Happy Birthday Aretos vi Aetier!

IN ANOTHER WORLD THERE MAY HAVE BEEN a different victor of the Agonia. Had a single person stepped out or stepped in, or the winds had blown east instead of west, or the Thousand-Faced God changed their whims, or the Fortune-Weaver favored a different heir, perhaps there would have been a different person on the throne of Aetier. And in that world there would have been the happiest prince in all the realms-- beloved, cherished, and so certain of his own place in the world. Behold the reilma-imperessor Aretos vi Aetier, prince of princes, son of Astaria the Great, he who stands heir to the throne of the empire eternal!

But this is not that world.

And instead, there is you.

-

psd coloring by cavalierfou and tuschen

🌧Rain: What is one thing that can immediately ruin your character's mood?

For Nike it's his in-laws.

- @akindofmagictoo

Thank you for the ask @akindofmagictoo !!!

🥀 — A memory that still hurts

[This is an excerpt from Dantalion's unfinished character study]

HIS PARENTS DO NOT SEE HIM the day Dantalion is sent away. There are no letters or last words, no passing glances through a window; there is only silence and a heavy understanding that Dantalion may not live to see his home again.

“They’re only grieving,” Astaria consoles him. She—a decade older and with far more responsibilities at court than leading a lamb to slaughter—takes his hand in hers, rubs circles on the back of his hand with her thumb. She does not look at him. “It is difficult to see their own child leave. Be understanding of them.”

But the truth is, he does not know how. If it’s so terrible to see him leave, then why send him away? Why Dantalion, of all people? Why him out of all the Vasilier’s children?

These are questions he would ask his mother…if she were here. Instead she is probably curled around His Majesty, draped in glittering jewels and spidersilk and honeyed words, salvaging what remaining influence she has over him in pursuit of her noble cause. Not the salvation of her eldest son, no. Dantalion is a lost cause, but her youngest child, Andras, has potential yet to succeed him.

Their progress to the south-eastern borders of the Empire is slow and arduous. The trek is difficult enough for most seasoned adults, but for a boy of ten it was unbearable. There is naught much else to do but think. Astaria is his only source of company, but they had never been particularly close despite being half-siblings, and this forced proximity has done nothing to endear themselves to each other. There was no point in it, in the same way it was futile to love a pet that would soon be gifted away.

Astaria does not mock him, at least. The others would have. Would have jeered and teased and celebrated his downfall, would have spent the hours waxing how the Iskavaar would flay him alive or grind his bones for meal.

Areiona would have mocked him, were she still alive. In his dreams, she does still. She looms above him, faceless and grinning, woodsmoke hair spilling impossibly long from her skull in tangled, brittle strands. Serves you right, she croaks, crimson-stained fingers pulling back his eyelids and forcing him to look. Look and behold the creature his mother turned her into: no longer human, but instead a writhing mass of slow agony.

Did you think you would go unpunished? She hissed. You and that conniving bitch that spawned you? Funny that you thought our father loved you enough to forgive you.

And maybe that is the answer to his question. To kill the beloved child of the empire’s god-son was a heinous sin, and for which the only recompense is that age old adage; an eye for an eye, a life for a life.

A child for a child, his father must have decreed. Dantalion’s mother dared to take away his eldest, and so now the Vasilier will take away hers. Slowly, painfully, and all done in the name of politics. That Dantalion is of his blood—is his son as much as Areiona was his daughter— was not enough to stay his hand.

Thanks @thewritersplace for the tag! You can check out her entry here!

We're going for just one line this time because the stuff before that is a work in progress still lol

“Do take care not to disappoint me in the future, little harbinger.”