Nivellen: A Legacy from the Frozen Barrens

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Atreyo
Posts: 68
Character: Fiat Tenebrae

Nivellen: A Legacy from the Frozen Barrens

Post by Atreyo » December 5th, 2022, 12:07 pm

Character Name
Nivellen

Image

Birthdate: 13th of Icereign, 1305.
Birthplace: Arkhess (Arkkuharjut).
Birthsign: The Mage.

Appearance


Age: In her forties.
Height: Shorter than average.
Weight: Regular.
Eyes: Brown.
Hair: Dark, mixed with quite a bit of gray.
Skin: Fair.
Handedness: Quite apt with both hands.
Posture: Lax.
Hygiene: Passable.
Scent: Unremarkable.


Physical Description:


A fair-skinned, short woman apparently into her mid-forties. Almond-shaped eyes and a generally pleasant complexion would deem her fine to look at despite a few age spots here and there. The dark of her hair has been fighting its gray counterpart for a while now.

Personality


General Health: In good health and quite fit.
Profession: Varies.
Languages: Nothryian, Decusian (only spoken and heavily accented).
Accent: Tends to emphasize the last syllable of most words, and accidentally raises her voice when excited or annoyed.

Strengths: Flexible, Outgoing, Unabashed.
Weaknesses: Flaky, Disorganized, Impetuous.

Governing and Ascendant Virtues: Compassion, followed by Humility.
Governing and Ascendant Thrones: Chaos, followed by Enlightenment.

User avatar
Atreyo
Posts: 68
Character: Fiat Tenebrae

Re: Nivellen: A Legacy from the Frozen Barrens

Post by Atreyo » December 6th, 2022, 10:47 pm

════ ★ I ★ ════


The rhythmic noise of boots against soil echoed, crunching ruined leaves onto the icy grasslands. A figure roamed about, embracing a beaten burlap sack to better ward off the cold washing against her lean shape. Though it was quite a downgrade from proper Arkkuharjut climate, Nivellen kept all measures to prevent frostbite because they were second nature to her folk. It took a good while until she spotted a pond, chilled but liquid nonetheless: the water's surface was murky with floating detrita and rotting green matter. She knelt to take off her boots, pleased with such a find.

"Fuck!", she winced as her legs went knee-deep into the pond. The shakes gave way to rapid breathing, and she finally drew attention to the sack and the reason of that all. Nivellen took a pair of objects from it, a delicate pine box and a cloth doll. Handling the toy with utmost care, she laid it on her lap before reaching for a lock of hazelnut hair into the box. There was a small rip around the doll's forehead, a perfect fit for the bit of hair the woman lodged in. She brought the doll closer and spit on her face, gently rubbing around the nose and beady glass eyes in slow circles. Nivellen repeated the same three words a few times over and waited, watching the doll in silence. Eventually she thought the doll's eyes became clearer, crystalline even.

"Sysko, paras ystävä, is that you?

I wanted to talk to you for so long! It's just that a lot happened, and I needed to get back on my feet. Yeah, I mucked up and now need to get around to make end's meet. Well, you know me! What? Oh, yeah, I'm not home anymore. Look!"


She lifted the toy and moved it around a bit.

"I have much to tell you, but I don't think we have long, so let's go for the short version, okay? A kind stranger helped me seek for a cheaper place out of the blue in the street! I had just met him and we went around checking if there was something available. You'll never guess where he was born. Damn, yep, a fellow Arkhonen! As soon as he spoke, I could tell he was one of us. Well, not one of us -like that-, but you know what I mean. His name was awfully long, but the nick was something cute, like Ani or Avi.

Unfortunately, not everybody is as nice, Heddi: there's this asshole businessman who kept pestering me when I was carving some game for dinner. Seriously, the guy wouldn't leave me alone! If only he asked if I wanted a warm drink to fight the cold or a respite by the fire since we were close to his place. But no, all he wanted was to know my name and why I was so covered up, what a weirdo! That's probably it, he was wearing a purple man-dress, who in Hel does that?

But this is why I wanted to talk to you: we have very bad people here, all emblazoned with symbols on shiny shields and the authority to do whatever they want. Just recently there was word to go see a demonstration or some such thing and, in the end, these monsters wanted us to witness a criminal be burned alive! I don't care what they did, that's as barbaric as the afflicted foes they claim to protect us from. So please work on your side and have the raven spirits guide me, it's worse than I thought down here. Love you!"

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Atreyo
Posts: 68
Character: Fiat Tenebrae

Re: Nivellen: A Legacy from the Frozen Barrens

Post by Atreyo » December 11th, 2022, 12:04 am

════ ★ II ★ ════


"Hello there. No one's seen you yet?"

Though the voice was pleasant if a bit grainy, it brusquely ripped Nivellen off daydreaming and the shock flushed over her when she couldn't quite place the unfamiliar surroundings. It took the longest moment for realization to set in: that was the lobby of the health clinic, of course. She must've immediately drifted off when she sat on the waiting bench because it wasn't even warm yet.

Escaping somewhere else when near doctors and their offices was unavoidable, Nivellen generally hated the sort: regardless of how polite or considerate they dealt with her, the image of her mother's inevitable fate was ingrained in her mind. The Redholme hospital was bigger than this, more staffed and, yet, they couldn't come up with anything useful against whatever was festering inside her. As strongly as she worked to block these thoughts, those damn smells fished her right back to the one place Nivellen didn't want to revisit.

"No, you're the first in here after me", she said, still grabbing a hold of her shoulder blade.

"Well then", the thin woman held the door open with a polite smile. She was positively gaunt but, as far as appearances go, hers was well maintained.

"Erm, what do I do?", Nivellen asked once she was inside the little office. The other woman simply patted the bed with bland sheets.

"Thought I saw you hold your shoulder... what has happened, then?", she said, starting with those odd procedures Nivellen could never memorize.

The doctor was quite talkative in a reserved manner, but it was pleasant enough: if she had to expose her weakness to somebody, let them at least engage with her on a personal level. Nivellen explained that, although she had spent the whole day before insulating her cabin from the cold, balancing herself upon a few piled crates was not the best idea she's ever had.

"Watching your Pa do it ain't the same as doing it yerself", she said, only then noticing that her fingernails were still filthy with the mud she used between the wooden gaps.

"I can imagine not. Well. With luck, it is just a bruise".

"Pray you're right. No offense, but...", she skipped for a moment, "I hate places like this".

"Really?".

"Yeah, this smell drives me nuts".

The doctor laughed quietly, either out of sympathy or sincere amusement. Maybe that one wasn't so bad, after all.

"I'm Nivellen, by the way".

"Well met. My name's Niamh. Or Knives", she said.

There was a striking similarity between her nick and that doctor's name, which prompted Nivellen to disclose it to the other. Though she still hated that place, Knives' presence didn't abhor her that much to make her just want to leave. In fact, once her services were honored with payment, there was more she wanted to ask of the educated woman.

"Hey, I wonder if I can ask for one last thing?", she said, receiving a slight head tilt in response. "Come with me?".

"Oh. All right". They traversed the Craft Hall and Nivellen guided Niamh to a large poster tacked outside the east entranceway.

"Over here", Nivellen pointed to the poster. "What does it say, please?".

"Oh... They've put up a few of these..".

"She looks so fine", she said with a slight frown, "but why do I feel it's a bad thing?".

"It says, 'She may look like a saint, but she may be a sinner. Beware witchkin in disguise' ". Nivellen noticed Niamh's quiet smile, though she didn't quite know how to interpret it then.

"Ah, it figures", she sighed.

"Were you hoping it said something else?".

"Well, kinda", she shrugged, "I thought it could be for someone who'd receive a prize, or maybe an important position in town. A powerful woman, you know?", her voice trailed off.

"Ah... yes, that would've made sense".

Witchkin...she kept that word on the tip of her tongue all the way back to her cabin. Well, the surprise of the day was tolerating a doctor without much trouble, though it was probably Knives' merit. However, she sensed these people were moving fast against these so-called threats, and there was no more of that incense. Once her shoulder stopped complaining, she'd need to make some more and draw strength from within.

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Atreyo
Posts: 68
Character: Fiat Tenebrae

Re: Nivellen: A Legacy from the Frozen Barrens

Post by Atreyo » December 14th, 2022, 7:27 am

════ ★ III ★ ════

Ma's recipe was a thing of beauty, that it was. She loved the scent of cedar and sage left on her fingers, they were the smell that immediately brought her back home. Black pine bark was much harder to find down here, but Nivellen got just enough for a fresh five-cone batch of homemade incense. They were still drying and wouldn't be done by nightfall, but tomorrow at the latest for sure; just knowing that calmed her nerves a little, these listless nights were beginning to annoy her.

Between checking on the cones outside and going back to the cabin's warmer interior, she saw no reason to keep locking the door every time; that fact quickly crossed her mind when a man covered in white flung the door open and got inside.

"Erm", she muttered, caught on her back foot. There was nothing within her reach that Nivellen could grab without turning her back to the stranger, so she folded her arms. "Yes?".

"May I come in out of the cold?", the man blurted. Despite the hurry of his voice, she picked the man's anxiety and relaxed some.

"Oh".

"I have travelled a long way on the road".

"Sure", she motioned around. "But I have very little".

"My bones are weary", he set his weapons aside. "One too many winters, I fear".

"The furs are warm, though", she gestured towards the makeshift bed of bear fur thrown on a corner as she propped herself onto an oaken chest.

"The roads are so dangerous right now", he took off his helm, setting it aside. "I thank you for your hospitality".

He was roughly as short as she was, which was a contrast to the taller folk she usually crossed paths with at the fort. Definitely over fifty, though the years could've been rougher on him.

"Travels, you say?".

"Aye, I had to get a feel for the land, having arrived recently by train", she wrapped her coat tighter around herself, but being inside surely helped to bring some color back onto the stranger's face. "But a small blizzard locked me away in the mountains for a time".

"You're talking to the right person when it comes to cold, stranger. I come from the very north".

"Frederick", he chuckled.

"Nivellen".

Some conversation ensued, and Frederick gladly took upon her offer when he admitted he could use some nourishment. There was only a brushmeat sausage left, but that was something at least; if there was such a thing as karma as Nivellen believed, she'd do everything to follow her Sisu and pay it forward to the community.

"I hope you're not a picky eater!", she handed him the parcel after unwrapping it.

"I've eaten awful things. Sausage is a delicacy".

Stories were exchanged, his about Tor and the technology that Nivellen failed to grasp much of, and hers about the ways of her people and the famous sauna shacks scattered all throughout the ice.

"Ah", he grinned. "Sauna. A favorite habitat of mine. It's quite natural and relaxing, isn't it?".

"Funny you should say that. For most of my stay here, I've been a masseuse in that place in Old Town".

"I have not had the pleasure of a sauna since before the Fall of Tor".

"Well, just like you did with me, maybe that's an opportunity knocking on your doorstep", she nodded with a snicker. "Maybe I can show you, so you at least know where it is".

"Ah, you would do that for me? Once again, I am floored by your generosity".

"Why not? I'm rather fed up with my chores for now", she cast a disdainful glance at the wooly pile tossed on the floor. "But take some rest first".

"Well...", Frederick seemed to consider it.

"That wasn't a magical sausage-".

Nivellen immediately drove her palm up to cover her lips and darted her eyes to the window. He chuckled at first, but soon approached her with a quizzical expression.

"Are you feeling well?".

"Old habits. I just forget that this place is really dangerous sometimes".

"How have you survived all this time in this wicked place?".

"Fair question, I suppose. Maybe I don't strike anyone as important...or threatening", she shrugged. "Women don't draw as much attention once they pass a certain age".

"Well, the scrutinizing gaze of the public is no kinder to men", he scratched his beard with a soft chuckle. "I was driven from my profession after Tor fell".

"Which profession was that?".

"I...worked for the government".

There it was. Of course, why would an interesting man with such baggage not work alongside the oppressors? Nivellen felt her paranoia resurface in the back of her throat, cursing herself silently for not paying close attention to what sort of weapons he put away earlier. Was he a hunter? Was all of this an elaborate setup?

However, she relaxed after a moment because it didn't make sense: who would eat from her hand if there was suspicion of witchcraft afoot? While feeding her paranoia brought her quite far along the way, she must never allow it to dominate her as a cloak of fear.

"There was no more work for a northern bumpkin like me after Tor fell".

"So you're a man of culture, is that it?".

"Something like that", he said through a faint smile. "Right now, I am just a weary traveler".

"In that case, you can repay my generosity and call it quits with me now, if you're up to it".

"Why not?".

There was a bridge just to the south that led to a dense thicket where Yew trees were plentiful. She walked fast with Frederick in tow, excited to finally make sense of the hasty letters painted in that odd poster. Or she would, had it been there.

"Erm...", she gasped.

"Is that paint?", Frederick was looking at the bridge floor.

"There was something here before!".

"You must be joking".

"Do you doubt me?".

"Well, there is this on this bridge...", he gazed down at the paint stain.

"I was gonna ask you to read what it said...", her voice trailed off.

"You are not a woman of letters?".

"Not this language, only the old world's", she wrapped her coat tighter as the wind howled.

"This cold weather is killing me".

"Sure, there's nothing here anymore. Let's get out of here".

Instead of going back into the cabin, Nivellen took upon herself to take him to the boarding house near the Foundry. If nothing else, it'd be interesting having Frederick close to keep an eye on, regardless of how civil he had been with her from the start. If only he didn't rub shoulders with the republican hounds...

Goodbyes were exchanged and she was on her way back, though her timing was rather fortunate: her sides were aching again, and the energy coursing through her was assuredly not the Bog Queen's. She'd need to be alone and deal with that somehow, and fast!


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Atreyo
Posts: 68
Character: Fiat Tenebrae

Re: Nivellen: A Legacy from the Frozen Barrens

Post by Atreyo » December 28th, 2022, 10:03 am

════ ★ IV ★ ════

Her hands were bruised, worn down. The days preceding the Rub and Scrub big night went by quickly, and Nivellen brought a basket filled to the brim with dirty towels everyday once her shift was through. What did people do with some of these!? Roughly half of them went straight to the bin, utterly unsalvageable; the rest needed mending, or at least some patching for wild threads. The needle twisted and turned quickly in her hand, her thoughts drifting to what sort of people would stash towels that had been through lots of ass and no water.

On top of that, what was left was probably not enough, so she bargained sleep for long knitting sessions as she made new ones. She might have crappy hands for finer garments that drove women (and men) crazy, but blankets and towels were her thing. By the course of a whole week, Nivellen had tight bandages down to her fingers and wrists, but also a hearty stack of towels these people most likely have never laid eyes on; as much as she loved the cotton craft, once the last one was done, Nivellen tossed her needles out the window and couldn't care less if she'd see them again before the new year reared its ugly head.

Laying on her makeshift fur bed, it took a little while for Nivellen to realize she was actually smirking: there was not an inch down her forearms that didn't ache or burn, yet she was satisfied. The bathhouse thing was quite the hit, and just what she expected to happen: some folks were mindful of their collective company and wore bath suits, while others went one with nature and just let everything breathe. Though she wasn't thrilled to see anybody naked per se (it was ancient news at that juncture), Nivellen loved when people let their guard down for a change; it was hard to talk politics and survival when one's half-asleep relaxing by the pool side.

The thought of the nice fellow with the book dashed through her conscience. What was his name again? Breegan? Bogan? Whatever it was, her gratitude was surely his, for without some oil the cogs with these filigrees would never have taken place. Nivellen had to admit they weren't the stuck-up, stuffy sort she dreaded: both red-haired sisters requested massages, and there were no complaints even though her grip was far from perfect. They were clearly enjoying themselves, and the initial worry just rippled away in the water and disappeared. There was even a bulky, pompous fellow who offered her a cigarette! What a pleasant gesture, she remembered thinking; some people just got it.

"Ugh!", she moaned, curling into a ball on the fur. Not again! Nivellen lied to everyone there when she left: her shift wasn't over, she had to get back because she felt it coming again. The cramps gave way to nausea ebbing in waves, ravaging her to and fro, sometimes for hours. She sensed something untoward coursing through her, unhinged and uninvited. When the scorching smell reached her nostrils, she gazed down at her shaking fingertips: the straps were blackened there, and she could hear the static hissing by her nails. While she didn't know what it was, it tasted raw and out of tune.

More than once she stuck her neck out and retched, despite the raging blizzard that assaulted her cabin. Nivellen nested in a corner, her back propped heavily against the wall. Her eyes studied the small crate on the far side as she wiped bile off her lips. It was preferable to use her homemade incense being fully rested, or at least in a more agreeable state. However, she knew this could escalate and get out of hand, so it was actually a straightforward gamble to take.

She was still out of sorts, and the effort to rise offered enough proof of that. Nivellen knelt by the crate, picking up a wrapped bundle and a heavy jar. Freeing her hair from the constraints of her favorite ponytail, she positioned herself before the jar and repeated a few words under her breath; words passed through hushed lips in her coven since times not even the elders would remember. Her hands dipped into the jar, returning with fresh mud which was then applied onto her hair in generous servings. The rich smell didn't affect her, for it was as welcome as it was familiar.

It was almost time. The Arkhonen double-checked if the door was locked and bolted, then proceeded to stoke the embers in the pot-belly oven that kept her warm; it was uncertain how long she'd be stuck in a trance, so keeping the flames alive was a must. Save for a comfortable skirt, she stripped off everything else and reached for an incense cone from the bundle. The coven sisters taught her that seeking answers within oneself was a necessary evil in times of peril, so she hoped whatever memory she'd land when under would assist with this intrusive energy that was making her ill.

It didn't take long for the thick sage smoke to fill the tiny room and, as the foggy tendrils rose, Nivellen descended into degrees of stupor, guided by the Bog Queen's influence. Unlike slumber, her conscience was not pushed aside to be replenished, being allowed free rein into the recesses of her own mind. Whether Nivellen would find what she needed while in there was another matter altogether.

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Atreyo
Posts: 68
Character: Fiat Tenebrae

Re: Nivellen: A Legacy from the Frozen Barrens

Post by Atreyo » December 31st, 2022, 11:11 pm

════ ★ V ★ ════

Traversing through her was always unsettling, to say the least: if walking was a good enough analogy, it felt like crossing unsteady and firm terrain at the same time. She lay with eyes shut somewhere back at her cabin, but not exactly asleep: the ritual allowed her to dig up old memories she otherwise couldn't the ordinary way, though the result was always unpredictable. The mind is a tricky thing, and Nivellen's was no different.

She didn't even know what she was looking for, but her gut told her there was something here to be found; something that could help, even if she remained clueless as to what that could be. A few life lessons were deeply ingrained in the Arkhonen, one of those being to trust a hunch when she had one. Female intuition ran strong on her mother's side, no wonder both her mother and little sister were no strangers to the Old World's incantations.

As soon as these thoughts struck her, the scenery shifted and adapted accordingly, moving to bland landscapes of ice to foggy chambers which smelled of sweat. Actually, now she watched a dying campfire close to dawn break, her father almost ready to start the last leg of the journey back to Kujda. The imagery kept changing rapidly as Nivellen's mind wandered to familiar events, significant or trivial. It was nigh impossible to decide where to go in that kaleidoscopic cornucopia, and so she came to accept the role of a bystander to whatever her mind chose to play out for her.

Sometimes, however, she could interfere if she rejected the chosen recollection strongly enough, just like now. Nivellen recognized the memory taking the form of the shack back home. In a flash, she was inside and realized her sister was already dead by then, given the sole small bed on a corner. Was her mother already ill at the time? The question took less than the fraction of a second, but the answer came even faster: a figure lay wrapped in blankets on the master bed, barely moving save for the regular cadence of strained breathing.

No, she didn't want to stay there, of all places. Even if there was something to be learned with the inexorable disease eating away at her mother, Nivellen put every ounce of energy to refuse that stage; it was too painful, she wasn't mature enough to explore that yet. Eventually, the shack wavered, its outlines oscillating weakly at first, but soon vibrating so violently until everything dissolved into nothingness. Well, not exactly.

Dry cedar trees shared the environs with the ubiquitous taiga, and there was a wide open space in a clearing that looked awfully familiar. Not looked, actually: it felt familiar, as it affected more of her senses than just her what the eyes could perceive. Then she spotted them not too far ahead, the silhouettes she came to know so well: young women of her coven, the nameless sisters who joined her to pay homage of what the Angel God's truculence couldn't stifle. Nivellen's heart filled with joy and delight at first, but soon it all degraded into bitter resentment: Heddi was among them.

Why was her mind so ruthless this time? First her languishing mother, and now this? The sight of her actual sister brought everything rushing back, no punches pulled: Heddi had always been a little different from them, stuck in her own world of drawings and wooden toys. Nivellen had taken upon herself the role of her guardian, more out of pity than proper sisterly affection. Heddi was the little freak, the runny-nose girl who never looked anybody in the eye. She brought her to the coven just to make her belong, maybe connect to more people. Her mouth still soured when she remembered that day, and it was about to be reenacted right before her eyes. There was no strength left to fight this one too, so it gradually came into focus for Nivellen to relive the phantasmal memory.

"Will you paint her too?", a lithe brunette asked, looking at Heddi.

"Maybe. Do you think it's a decision I can take on my own?", Nivellen looked at her sister, then raised her glance to focus on a far figure amidst the haze.

"I don't know. Better run it by the Crone".

She crossed the frozen clearing, approaching a hunched old woman that kept her distance from the others. There were about six or seven women, all of them wearing jute skirts but nothing from the waist up except for drawings of crude symbols. The older woman shifted slightly to face her as Nivellen approached.

"Terveisiä, Crone", she kissed the woman's hand when she approached. "I have my sister with me tonight, should I paint her?".

Other than staring at Nivellen for a long moment, there was no answer. Suddenly, the old woman leaned forward, pressing her weight on a gnarled staff for balance. Her expression was usually inscrutable, but there was a hint of impatience in her grimace, perhaps even annoyance.

"Should 'ave brought 'er soonur", she waved the staff dismissively, slowly making her way to the other women.

Well, that would suffice. Nivellen and the brunette relieved Heddi off her smock and used the rudimentary paint to depict an oak tree. She didn't even flinch, completely absorbed watching a few of the women who were already dancing in the circle; whether she was trying to memorize or anticipate their tribal moves was unclear.

"It's time", the brunette nodded, her drawing of a silver moon still fresh. Nivellen cast one cursory glance around and went towards the circle, a marsh exposed on her chest. They merged with the circle seamlessly and, except for Heddi, all surrendered to a frantic rhythm that favored shoulders and hips. Her stomach began to knot beyond the figments right before her mind's eye as she could never forget what took place next.

Heddi joined them and began dancing, her arms propagating the waves from her shoulders as if they were there for this purpose alone. She was lost in her moves, one among the others, even though that was her very first gathering. Nivellen's pride swelled within her, she had never seen anybody attune themselves so quick to any ritual. The crescendo of eerie drums had just started, their spectral play only reaching those who were painted and the Crone rooting their safety.

Those drums fueled the dancers to their fullest, their heads banging forward and back and trickles of sweat glistening under the moonlight. From the corner of her eye, Nivellen noticed the Crone rising and walking towards their circle; that was very untoward, and she had never seen that happen before. Her coven sisters must've had similar reactions as their moves subsided, their expressions struck with awe and curiosity. However, the Crone only had eyes for Heddi, as if nobody else existed at that moment. Her staff lodged on the small of the little girl's back and suddenly yanked her skirt to the ground.

"Paint the rest", the leader said, her gruff voice barely containing the excitement. No one could see what the Crone saw, but Nivellen could tell her eyes were hungry for something bigger. The women exchanged glances, but proceeded to expand Heddi's drawing down her legs. Full body paint? On her first dance? Was her sister that good a vessel?

Nivellen relived the sting just like on that night: the awkward freak, her own flesh and blood protégé, swiftly outclassed a cluster of far more experienced witches. When she assumed there was no more room for astonishment, again she was proven wrong when the Crone drew the wrong symbols onto the snow, or at least not the expected symbols. Quite a few of those were foreign to her knowledge, but one could at least fathom such complex lines to mean they dug deeper, perhaps overly so.

If not the Bog Queen, what were they trying to invoke into their presence? Why was the rest blocked in her mind? That fact only heralded that she didn't even know just how bad it was about to become.


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Atreyo
Posts: 68
Character: Fiat Tenebrae

Re: Nivellen: A Legacy from the Frozen Barrens

Post by Atreyo » January 2nd, 2023, 9:34 pm

════ ★ VI ★ ════

Time elapsed differently whenever she was under, and there was no way to tell if Nivellen had been scouring her memories for ten seconds or two days. Undergoing such a trance unassisted could prove dangerous, but she took the risks given the circumstances. Back into the physical world, her body squirmed as she was still subjected to the nightmarish recollection she couldn't free herself from.

"I've never seen these symbols before", whispered a fair-haired young woman barely past her teens. Gecko was her name in the coven; they all had animal monikers of some sort, usually birds or reptiles.

"Me neither", Nivellen shook her head to the wide-eyed fledgling witch. The air felt heavy and, even though they kept chanting and dancing to some degree, the uneasy atmosphere was palpable.

A gust of wind started to blow the other way, rustling pine leaves which were at peace the moment before. Everyone noticed the change, and whatever was now crossing the threshold radiated a presence very much unlike the one they oft summoned. Clods of dirty snow and twigs slowly clumped together in the middle of the chanting circle, rising in height and volume as it assumed an earthen hue. When thick elk-like antlers thrust from the shape's head, she was positive that was not the entity whose presence they were all so familiar with.

The Bog Queen was bulkier, though not as tall as this thing, and rather docile as marsh elementals went if properly contained. What stood before them, however, bore itself in a more dominant stance, stooping to cast its sickly-green gaze upon them. Nivellen recalled a drawing from an old book they studied once, and that entity was probably referred to as Raukka in their language: The Wretch. Its page was closer to the end of the book among the other treacherous invocations, which only added to her mounting anxiety.

Only when she looked at her leader, she was sure they had opened one door too many: the Crone's face was contorted due to sheer exertion, her sweat trailing down her cheeks to pool around her chin. It was unmistakable that their spiritual guide couldn't fully hold the entity in place, only hamper it to a degree. It must have noticed it because the thing veered towards the Crone with a hint of what could have been curiosity; if Nivellen took her guess, The Wretch seemed more amused than annoyed by it.

The supernatural being suddenly shifted dispositions and turned backwards, focusing intently on Heddi. A puff of hot steam left its nostrils, and it took a step toward her; it was a heavy step, resembling an eight-foot cypress lumbering about. Their circle was long undone, but Heddi seemed stuck on her feet and merely gazed at what should have been the thing's mouth. The entity definitely felt like a male, for it radiated waves of a raw, primal desire.

"Heddi!", Nivellen screamed when Raukka sniffed the girl's neck with that repugnant snout. Her sister still didn't budge an inch, either frozen by fear or simply stuck in that private world of hers.

"Kurja, katso minua!", the Crone's voice slashed through the creature's fascination for the bare girl and glanced back. She held her talisman high above her head, and the elemental hissed menacingly. It followed the talisman with its gaze, so it understood what it was.

Nivellen finally mustered her guts to dash to Heddi's side and drag her away from the creature's vicinity. Torn between Heddi and what the Crone held in her hand, it chose the latter and lunged against her in wide strides.

"Go back to the Mother!", the old woman yelled and let go of the talisman, smashing it squarely with the hardened staff. The Crone recoiled and doubled over, but the summoned entity immediately lost whatever was holding it in one piece and gurgled away into lumps of frozen soil. Nivellen's shock at the entity's dismissal was no greater than witnessing the Crone's sacrifice: that charm she wore on her neck had been with her for as long as she could remember.

"I'm sorry", Nivellen said, an arm around Heddi's lean shape. "I know what you lost".

"My fault", she looked at the shattered amber by her feet. The others were slowly gathering around, some of them bearing tunics and smocks. "I got greedy, thought I could handle 'im".

"Maybe y-".

"Enough. Be this a lesson for all", she gazed at her novices. "Only take what you need, no more".

They got dressed in silence, but the Crone didn't leave as usual, darting her glance a few times towards herself and Heddi. Nivellen sensed she wanted to impart something on them and chose to approach her when the others were long gone.

"Mistress? Do you have need of us?".

"Two things", she showed two fingers before continuing, "your sister is stronger than you. Much stronger".

"I know, Mis-".

"Deal with it", she cut through, her countenance severe.

"I will", Nivellen touched her own forehead in a humble measure. "And the other thing?".

"I saw things, before he started to battle me", she motioned with the staff. "Visions of clarity. One of them is yours".

"I don't understand".

"There's more 'ere than you know", she poked Nivellen's chest above the sternum. "It's dormant now, but will see the light someday".

"What sh-".

"Shush", the Crone raised her index. "I won't be there with you, so listen. I saw a winding path, coasted by torches on stakes. The path leads to colorful tents and beasts on display. Seek this place when it wakes inside you".

The knot in her gut refused to unfold, the emotions of the disastrous night piling upon her. What did she mean, she wouldn't be there? Where would the Crone be? Or would she be somewhere else? If so, why?

Heddi was melting into the deserted clearing, as so was the Crone after her. Everything faded in unison, and Nivellen's mind eased her into mundane unconsciousness. However, she sensed her goal there had been fulfilled: as she drifted back, the last words resonated in loops, ebbing far and crashing back again. Winding path. Colorful tents.

She knew where to go to get help.

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Atreyo
Posts: 68
Character: Fiat Tenebrae

Re: Nivellen: A Legacy from the Frozen Barrens

Post by Atreyo » January 7th, 2023, 3:30 pm

════ ★ VII ★ ════

It was such a long trip, and the cold wind bashing her face didn't make any of it more tolerable. Even if Nivellen enjoyed the frost, that experience on horseback riding was a whole different beast: her lips were chapped despite the protective cowl that covered most of her face, and if her eyes didn't tell otherwise, she'd have to guess where her hands were because she could no longer feel them.

Still, this was no promenade and the horse's speed was a must; debilitating cramps took over her every other day now, and her nails acquired a sooty hue she was dead tired of scrubbing off. Nivellen cupped her scorched ear, remembering the incident two days ago with a sour expression on her face. Whatever there was for her past those doors, it better be good.

The winding and well-lit path was safer than expected this time of day, though she took caution to be there and back before the heavy mantle of night befell the valley. Some hubbub poured over as she neared the wooden enclosure, a much welcome chatter after hours of anxious contemplation. Buying something she probably wouldn't need was the top bullet in her plans, just an excuse to deal with a fellow human being.

Though not her first time with the gypsies, the entrance never failed to be quite a sight for sore eyes: the heavy use of colors and generally frowned upon practices back at the Fort were commonplace there. Some crazy soul even had the guts to teach a killing machine in the guise of a bear to balance on a huge ball! Whoever these folks were, they were alive (not just living) and nobody could convince Nivellen otherwise.

Now, where to? She looked from side to side, half-expecting some sign to fall on her lap and tell her the next turn. Nothing. No murder of crows flying nearby to extract some semblance of hint; no diviner of omens around either, reading one's near future upon fresh entrails or lithomancy. So, it'd have to be done the old-fashioned way: prying and sticking her nose in every cranny until she found something worth double taking.

An hour later, Nivellen was sort of crumpled on a log bench, her ears still ringing from the non-stop offers she'd heard the whole afternoon; the street surgeon was particularly annoying, and she swore the guy was still peeking at her from afar. Was this thing messing with her intuition too? The trance led her to such a clear message, or at least that's what she thought. And she had looked everywhere, hadn't she?

Actually, she was mistaken: as the light dimmed all around, subtle flickering drew shadowy shapes inside a small wagon Nivellen didn't remember checking. It was quite small, and she must've missed it because there was no one desperately trying to hook her inside with ludicrous merchandise claims. Mustering what was left of her composure, she approached the tent and stepped inside.

Immediately her eyes watered and she gagged, a deep frown over her features: there was more smoke than air in that place, which was astounding considering the entrance curtains were tied open. Nivellen enjoyed a cigarette off and on, but that was ridiculous! Once she could see something again, there was just a wide cherry table and a woman sitting across it.

No wonder it smelled so ghastly in there, a plate-sized ashtray was full to the brim with more cigarette stubs than Nivellen could count at first glance. There was a deck of neatly piled cards right next to it, though she didn't pay as much attention to them because of the woman's stare directed her way.

"I just waltzed in because the curtains were open, excuse me", she said, half-turned to leave when the gypsy motioned to the vacant chair. Instead of replying, she was lighting yet another cigarette. Nivellen was crying inside when she took the seat.

"I usually read cards for people, or read their hands on occasion", she started, her words carried through a throaty and somewhat disinterested voice. "Though in your case, neither will help with the questions you have".

"What? How can you tell? You don't even know me!", she said, shifting exasperatedly on her seat. What Nivellen found most annoying was that the buxom gypsy across from her remained utterly unfazed during their exchange, merely flicking her cigarette.

"Sure, we could go the long route and discuss your particulars for half an hour, so you can be more at ease", she puffed a smoke, her eyes glazed still, "or we can bring to the table this new energetic presence that's been making you ill. Your call, love".

Stunned was a sorry understatement for the Arkhonen's state of confusion at that point, and a long moment ensued before she could assemble a new sentence in her own right. "How-! Who are you?".

"They call me Dealing around here. Of course, that's not my name". She just smoked, glancing at her in silence to indicate the answer was over.

"How did you know?".

"Is that not why you came all the way over?".

"Yes, but-", Nivellen cut her own reply short, folding her arms in an attempt to shield herself. "Well, what can you tell me?".

"Do you want the long or short version?".

"The long or-", she frowned. She didn't cross the whole valley to leave stuff to chance and regret later. "Hit me the long one".

"If you please?", she gestured towards the curtains, giving Nivellen a meaningful glance. She rose on cue to close the drapes. "Thank you. So, you have been wondering what's that accursed feeling overtaking you every now and again".

"Yes, putting it lightly".

"Lightly is a good word, dear", she nodded, arching her eyebrows while holding her cigarette loosely. "It's bound to get worse if you keep fighting it".

"But what -is- it?".

"You went through this when you first matured into a woman, it's the same thing", she clasped her hands over the cherry table. "Only different".

"That doesn't make sense! I've-", only then Dealings' words hit her with their full weight. "What do you mean, 'I went through this before'? How can you possibly know that? I'm not from around here".

"Sweety, do us both a favor, will you? You obviously went through a lot to be here, and it'd do wonders if you could just accept that I see many things. You should make most of it, not everyday I can do so with as much clarity".

"I see", she sighed, unable to hold her concerns any longer. "Please tell me".

"Some people have none of it, which makes for most of them", she gestured lightly, and Nivellen didn't fail to grasp she said 'them'. "Some have, let's say, the right lock for one type. Some have more".

"A lock? How so?".

"Take you, for instance. The older lock draws energy from the natural world, that which comes from earth itself and dwells therein. But it's just the older lock", she nodded, flicking the cigarette again. "You have two".

"But that doesn't feel like what I know! It's lacking, it's...".

"Hollow".

"Yes, exactly!", she nodded, then tilted her head. "How do you know?". Dealings just blew smoke through her nostrils.

"So this is your second awakening, dear. This is also who you are, as much as you'd like being the one from before".

"Why now?".

"We have rules in place, though they can be as varied as they are punishing. Yours, however, are mercifully straightforward: one of them opens when you became a woman, the next one becomes viable when that cycle folds into itself".

"What do you mean?".

"Your womb's done. Not that anything would come out of it, ever. But I'm sure you already know that, considering your line of work back at the land of ice caps".

"I realized I could never conceive into the world", she nodded, scanning the gypsy's expression thoughtfully.

"Be that as it may, there is a master clock ticking for everybody, and yours ran down despite some of that machinery never getting to work properly. This is the second milestone and, in your case, the last one".

"I see", Nivellen said, blinking as a tight knot set into her throat. "Can I reject it?".

"Yes, you can, but hear this", Dealing finally pressed the stub into the tray and leaned backwards. "There are no guarantees that you'll successfully block just the emerging one".

"Meaning-".

"Yes. You can sever your connection to the earthen rites as well. Now consider how much is it worth to run that risk, it's up to you".

The Arkhonen just sat, staring at her lap for what must've been a few minutes; no matter how experienced, the brunt of bad news can never fully be warded off. She rose heavily from the chair, at first nodding, but it turned halfway into a bow.

"Thank you, miss. I've found my answers".

"Don't mention it", she said, reaching for another cigarette as Nivellen aimed for the exit. "You've been carrying something else for a long time".

"Beg your pardon?", she turned, her hands already holding the curtains.

"Don't you think it's time to ask about your deceased sister?".

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Atreyo
Posts: 68
Character: Fiat Tenebrae

A Better Moon

Post by Atreyo » March 23rd, 2023, 8:32 am

════ ★ VIII ★ ════


The earthen smell inside the cabin was pungent, yet it did not strike her nostrils as unpleasant. Nivellen had always been fond of mud ever since she was little but, even if she hadn't, the importance of ritualistic measures would easily overrule personal taste.

Her hair lay soaked with the rich, lumpy clay she brought home from the river bed, and she just sat in a corner to idly contemplate the towel rags draped everywhere. There was an old doll on her lap, getting smudged here and there as she made slow circles on its face with brown slob still drying on her fingers. The wind wasn't particularly fierce outside, but her nose caught traces of foreign fuel being fed into the bonfire not that far from there; some theatrics of burning confiscated belongings were taking place, and that distraction was very welcome if it meant she'd have the privacy to carry on undisturbed.

As much as she enjoyed being around her peers, a hiatus of solitude was in order before ceremonies, and this was quite a meaningful one: it'd be the first time she'd greet the upcoming moon in the presence of a stranger, both to her customs and her ways of drawing Nature's attention as a conduit. Nevertheless, as devastating a faux pas that might be under the wrong conditions, Nivellen felt in her gut it would bring more good than harm allowing the ranger to partake in her rites.

She stroked the doll's hazelnut hair, gazing down at the toy at her lap. It took longer than when she dipped her feet in murky water, but the contact with rich soil did its job: the doll's eyes somehow appeared clearer than the moment before, though the change was subtle under the flickering candlelight.

"Sysko, paras ystävä, is that you?

Forgive me for not reaching out sooner, everything moves so fast in the land of the living. I don't know if this means an hour or ten years on your side, but I'm here now. How is everything?"
.

She smiled, eyeing the toy intently for a bit.

"I'm not sure that I understand, but maybe I'm not supposed to. Still, it feels like the Heddi from before, so that can't be a bad thing, right? I have some news to share! The first good moon after fucking winter is almost here, and guess what: this time I'm gonna have company from someone in the valley! Yeah, his name's Bogart and he's been around enough to know how to keep his scent off the bloodhounds' trace. I even made him a mask, too!".

She tilted her head, then nodded on cue.

"Yeah, it was so fitting too. Considering he's a ranger, there wouldn't be a better choice for his animal. Speaking of which, thanks for suggesting my own mask, sis, maybe it'd take me longer to reach the same conclusion; it feels right for this stage my life's in, at least for now".

She paused for a few moments and then broke into accidental laughter she had to choke immediately.

"Aren't you the little rascal! You're quite on top of things, aren't you? Yes, I miss Wesley like crazy, so what? I feel like I dropped the ball on this one, maybe if I wasn't so careful I could've told him about the scion business before he got busy with that whole covert shenanigans. I was -this- close, too, but fuck it! He'll be back".

Nivellen rubbed her wrist on the bridge of her nose, sniffling as she took a deeper breath.

"You're right, I've been seeking her to make amends for a while, but these doctors are complicated and Zeela is surely no exception. Maybe if someone hinted about Red Frenzy sooner I wouldn't have made that huge a mess, but intuition is not mind reading, for heaven's sake! She actually reminds me of you, but for all the wrong reasons. So, okay, point settled. Moving on".

The Arkhonen's eyes glistened as they began to well up, but she shook her head promptly to shake it off.

"Heddi, please just listen. I spoke to a wise gypsy woman a few weeks back, and she even knew everything that transpired between us. It was a grueling conversation, but I suppose I needed to hear it from someone. We need to address this, but not like this: too many leeching eyes and ears about, it may not be safe. When the time is right, I'll meet you in a dream".

She nodded to the toy, rubbing its cheek lightly.

"It's that important, yes". And smiled. "This is very tiring, so I have to go, sis. Keep the raven spirits watching over me, I feel I've been luckier than I should expect, and probably that's why. Love you!".

Before curling into a ball and surrendering to slumber, she took due time to store and lock away the old doll. While other chests were cluttered with all manner of miscellanea, that trunk was meant for her most valuable heirloom alone.
Last edited by Atreyo on April 27th, 2023, 5:54 pm, edited 1 time in total.

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Atreyo
Posts: 68
Character: Fiat Tenebrae

Reflections

Post by Atreyo » April 4th, 2023, 11:41 pm

════ ★ IX ★ ════


The days had been long lately, and unwinding by the old countryside pension was quickly becoming a habit. Nivellen had her bare feet up on the table, a half-burned cigarette lazily slotted between two fingers as she watched the dwindling movement as dusk settled. She had worked the wheel for what must've been hours straight and even her sandals started to bother her, so she crossed most of the way barefoot on the soft grass where there was any.

Deep down, she knew she had no reason to complain: spinning endless wool at the wheel was only a thing because folks wanted stuff she could make in the first place, though it did strike her as ironic that it was rather hard to earn a foot massage when one's in that very business.

Her mind swiftly fluttered off to more pleasant surroundings, the main one being the successful moon celebration that took place the other day. Bogart's presence wasn't a hindrance at all, but a boon on its own; whatever rites he brought to the table that night, they surely felt both genuine and privy to parts of the world she hadn't been yet. It was difficult to prevent a smirk to slowly curve her lips, such free-flowing sense of belonging was one of her dearest feelings in this life.

The verdant scent of green corn tethered her back to firm land, reminding the Arkhonen why she loved that porch that time of day, the smell fitfully accompanied by sudden gusts of wind that ruffled her skirt. Random faces popped in her head while she released long puffs of smoke through her nostrils, with no apparent order or meaning. Nivellen just let her mind wander freely, merely a bystander at wherever it wanted to go next.

Inky popped first, that endearing slurred speech as if he was constantly about to drop asleep right there. While their encounters had been good (except for that weird skin thing that made her stomach turn), she knew there was much more beneath the surface, though that usually was the case with westerners. She wasn't in a hurry to delve in it, her experience taught her to let time do its thing until it was right.

Zeela came right after, with a heart-to-heart sandwiched between both hiccups of that evening back home: while the first had been her fault, the other one was surely the doctor's entirely and Nivellen was not guilty at all to blurt out that earful. It was inadmissible, especially under her own roof. Still, she was hardly mad, even if she had to throw away the unused pie batter she intended to cook by four hands - it finally went sour, unrealized.

Even Jerkyll hopped here and there, with his questionable life choices alright, but also his company that always stung her in the chest like that unruly nephew that keeps screwing up. Only when he finally kept a low profile, Nivellen realized how she missed nagging at him for the little things. Watching her cigarette's dying embers, she wondered where he had huddled up.

Wesley walked back with her as she headed home, his presence probably coming to and fro in her mind the most given the circumstances. Had she offered a good enough parting trinket to him? That question kept resurfacing, regardless of how hard she tried to kill and bury it. But had she? There was obviously something better to give him as he was about to leave her cabin for the last time; something much more meaningful. But at the cusp of it, she grew afraid and hated to admit it.

Had she lost that chance on Wesley, it'd be another in a long series of regrets gnawing away at her insides, for as long as time allowed her to play her part.

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