[center][h1][i][color=#0AE6D3][b]𝒞[/b][/color][color=#423f85]ath[/color]  [color=#0AE6D3][b]ℳ[/b][/color][color=#423f85]elainea[/color][/i]
[/h1][sup][sup][img]https://i.imgur.com/g3AJZo1.png[/img][/sup][/sup][/center]
Cath Melainea was born as the Shard of Temperament, formed deep within the psyche of the Monarch long before she was ever expelled to express herself as an individual essence. So it was that she was borne unto the firmament as a roiling iridescent flame of violet hue, a coiling fractal of experience. Coalescing after many of her siblings, Melainea came to know herself only in those moments that followed, as if every instant before had been spent as a growing babe, coming to understand herself and her place in the world to come. Thus, as she was borne unto the Palace of Creation by her father--where for a brief time she remained--she ruminated her existence.

As she pondered, her Father--indeed, the Father of All--let her be, having greater endeavors than soothing his newborn daughter*. So it was that she came to understand that from which she had been wrought.

Consciousness.

Her essence, having remained within the Monarch of All's embrace for longer than most, had been condensed and tempered into a specific form and within this vessel--this Crucible--it had become another thing completely.

Emotion.

As the goddess of such a potent phenomena, this great tempest of experience, Melainea understood herself for what she was: An agent of change. Through the rising and falling tides of sorrow, joy, and rage she could inspire--nay--[i]invoke[/i] in others a shift. With subtle grace, or careless abandon she might tip the scales and insight in others grief, reflection, or even understanding. Her Shard--her [i]Aspect[/i] was that of Temperament and so, as she once had been, she decided then to be the Crucible within which Galbar--and indeed its inhabitants--might become ever greater. Through her will she would foster greed in the heart of lords, driving them to steal from and trample others. On her command, love might surge forth in the hearts of many, and inspire an age most golden. Through her touch, the esoteric power of her ethos might be infused unto a stone, its essence that of heartbreak, of sorrow, and woe unyielding. So twisted by such a burden, the stone would warp and twist and shatter, becoming a collection of many rings.

Smiling at the thought, the Goddess rose from the flawless surface of the palace and gazed down onto the world that was their birthright and soon her second home.

[color=#0AE6D3][b]“Rings to bind together when worn in pairs; rings to bend and break when fractured by life's affairs.”[/b][/color] Her violet eyes shone with glee, and then with malice, then with an almost mournful contemplation.

Temperament, a thing forged in the great tempest of experience, a reflection--an expression perhaps--of consciousness, and in its changing, a thing that might be refined and tempered into an ever greater form.  She was a confluence of these ideals. In that instant her perspective expanded, blossoming into yet still a greater form. Violet eyes blazing as she transcended her former self, Melainea laughed, her voice soaring within the cavernous halls of the Palace.

She [i]was[/i] emotion, the font from which it flowed, and its purest manifestation. Rage and Bliss; Hate and Love; Contentment, Apathy, and all things between. Through her will, others could find their innermost worlds expressed tangibly upon the firmament. Yet, this ability to twist and warp the fabric of the world was itself another facet of her shard, it was not of Temperament, but of Tempering. So forged in the divine womb of their genderless Father, the Monarch of All, she had been crafted for this purpose and turned into a thing of ascendance. To be infused with, or indeed to bathe within her quintessence was no mundane thing. Where a taste of rage gifted unto a mortal might instill in them a righteous fury, a burning desire that could carry them through life, to bathe in the Crucible's core and know the esoteric source of such a feeling would be to change utterly. A Homuran might thus enter the Crucible of her being, only to emerge entirely renewed, as a caterpiller is remade in its cacoon, emerging a butterfly, so too do those things touched or suffused with her divine ichor.

Raising a hand before her she gazed upon her open palm, and within it was conjured stone. With a gentle caress, the stone crumbled, as heartbreak touched it, guiding it to shatter. Watching the small stones tumble through the air, she flicked her wrist downwards and for a flickering instant there was no hand, but instead a fractal of experience, a rift upon the world playing as if it were as a thing of mortal make. From it spilled flames of indigo and violet too. They fell upon the stones midair and before they'd touched the earth, what they once had been was burned away. What remained were several mournful crystals, shining dully upon the ground. Kneeling, she cupped them in her grasp and imagined what they might do.

[color=#0AE6D3][b]“Sorrow's Ore, thy name shall be,”[/b][/color] she whispered, her fingertips stroking across the stones as if they were some favored beast. The stones hummed, and their voices were deliciously full of woe, they danced within her mind, conjuring images of mortals collapsing at the sound. Tears pressed at the edges of her eyes and spilled over, yet a smile remained upon her lips. [color=#0AE6D3][b]“Ah, but what might your touch incite,”[/b][/color] she mused aloud, running a  perfect nail over the surface of one smooth stone.

Despair tore at her heart, and then indeed her flesh, splitting her fingertip oh so slightly. Joy surged behind her eyes, burning away the sadness as she sucked in a startled breath. Astounded, astonished, pleased she withdrew her fingers and rose from the cold stone of Creation's Palace. With a flourish of her palm as it fell to her side, the stones vanished through a rift.

Through that tear upon the firmament, she gazed down upon the world, before prying it further open and stepping through.

[hr]
Night had long since fallen and the young man was only out on account of knowing that the next day would be the Long Rest–one of oh so few days that the men and women both spent time to recuperate from the near-constant work that it took to survive in the wilds at the edges of the great Eidolonian Plains. He'd snuck away from the sleeping bodies of his family, desiring some solitude in the gentle embrace of the night. Brushing his fingertips through the tall grass of the land he'd always known as his home, he stared off into the distance, the stars laid plain upon the heavens above. They were beautiful, those swirling flecks of light painted on a canvas of blue, and black and purple. There was a mystique to them and though his people had stories for what they were, he had never quite believed them.

As he stared into the night, pondering small things, and considering what might lay beyond the far horizon, that young man's mind went mute as he noticed the sudden absence of sound. A shiver ran up his spine, and the hairs at the back of his neck stood on end. The chirping song of the crickets had grown still, as if all at once they had tired of the tune they'd sung for every night from the evening he'd been born, to just a moment prior.

Turning about, his motion slow and deliberate as he bent at the knees, using the tall grass to obscure himself, the young man peered into the moonlit night, a subtle dread growing in his heart. There were stories of the things that sometimes prowled the plains and though they often knew better than to stray too close to the village, there were always exceptions to the rule. Suddenly, his desire to be alone seemed an awfully foolish thing as he found himself crouched within the grasses, peering blindly into the black.

Then he saw it, not aground, but a league or so away, hovering within the air. He had no word to describe the thing, but it reminded him of a day now months past when his tunic had been snared by the thorns of a bush, and turn as he ran an errand for his gran. For it was like that, a tear in the fabric of the sky. It widened and in a flash, something dove through it, falling down towards the ground. The tear slowly closed, its strange light dimming with every moment.

Quietly, Somni crept towards it, careful not to rustle the grasses as he moved with practiced ease through the field of plants. Strangely, he'd heard no thump, no sound of one thing striking the next as the unknown had fallen from the sky-tear and towards Galbar's soil. Eventually, he noticed something strange, the closer he got to the area he'd surmised the object must have fallen, the easier it became to see. Frowning slightly, his brow creasing as he considered this shift in circumstance, Somni considered that perhaps to approach this complete unknown was not a terribly wise course of action. Yet...he felt compelled to find out what could possibly have emerged from such a strange phenomena as a tear in the world.

In that moment, as he considered his actions and debated upon changing course, a sudden shift occurred. The sky was suddenly above him, stark in its swirling display of light. Then the air was driven from his body as he hit the earth, skidding back a pace before a weight settled upon him and a silhouette of pitch blacked out the sky above. Wheezing as he tried to pull air into his lungs, Somni tried to strike the figure above him, only to find his wrists pinned to the ground by slender hands. Then, as he watched--a panic overcoming him--two violet orbs opened in the night, as unseen eyelids slid away. Calmly the regarded him and slowly he regained his breath and again tried to struggle.

[color=#0AE6D3][b]“Cease thy struggle child,”[/b][/color] a woman's voice chided, cutting at the silence. Gradually, a faint violet light filled the air, illuminating his assailant's visage. Heart in his throat even as it beat a feverish rhythm in his chest, Somni went still as the supple outline of a feminine form made itself known in the low light. Yet, he did not recognize her voice, it was nothing like any of the girls of the village, nor their mothers. Nay, this was a stranger come into their fields, now atop him, preying upon his foolish inattention.

[color=#A187BE][b]“Wh--,”[/b][/color] he began.

[color=#0AE6D3][b]“Shhh…”[/b][/color] she replied, cutting off his query. Gradually he became aware of an entirely different discomfort. In the low light, he saw her smile and he swallowed hard in response.

[color=#0AE6D3][b]“Such a strange thing, thy body,”[/b][/color] the woman said with amusement in her tone. Slowly, she released his wrists, tracing fingertips over his chest before pushing off him and to her feet. The light dimmed as she retreated. Somni did not wish to see it go.

[color=#A187BE][b]“Wait,”[/b][/color] he said, finding himself almost breathless, his voice weak. Propping himself up he met the eyes of the woman, who stared back, her violet gaze seeming almost to bore through him.

He shuddered.

[color=#0AE6D3][b]“Bold,”[/b][/color] she said, her tone carrying only the barest hint of its earlier warmth, he found that he did not know quite how to respond. She glanced away, casting her glowing gaze elsewhere, though she did not leave him. Rising to his feet, Somni covertly tried to brush himself off. He found that they were of a height with one another and yet...beside her felt so [i]small[/i]. Why was that?

[color=#A187BE][b]“Who are you?”[/b][/color] He queried, his words filling the empty air. She chuckled, and with that melodic sound, the crickets once more began to sing. Somni glanced around, confused. The woman turned, reaching out to him and he found himself rooted to the spot. Her velvet palm caressed his cheek and then coy words teased his ears in kind, "Mmn, twice you ask the wrong question." Lightly, she patted his cheek, seeming to forgive him. She paused a moment and heard his breath catch within his throat. Again that bewitching smile. Yet, there was something strange in her violet gaze, emotions he could not quite fathom. Her clothes too were elaborate and foreign, now that he took the time to notice. Still, in the faint light, he could ordain very little.

[color=#0AE6D3][b]“Cath Melainea,”[/b][/color] she said, as if in reply. He blinked and he watched as she rolled her eyes.

[color=#0AE6D3][b]"Tis my name."[/b][/color]

[color=#A187BE][b]"Ah. Somni's mine."[/b][/color]

The amusement returned, and her eyes burned, flaring with violet flames. He found himself taking one step back.

[color=#0AE6D3][b]"I know,"[/b][/color] she replied. Dumbfounded, Somni felt his mouth go suddenly dry, his breath hitch. Why was it that he hadn't fled? Hadn't asked her why she'd pounced upon him. How had she gotten here, surely she had not entered through the tear he'd seen. No, surely not, for what mortal could do such a thing.

[color=#0AE6D3][b]"Ah, what mortal indeed,"[/b][/color] she purred, and then in a sudden flash of light, she burst aflame. Burning away all semblance of familiarity, those violet fires they engulfed her form entire, rising into the air and setting even the sky alight. The stars danced far above, and so too did the wind join them, kicking into a gale. He stumbled away from her, mouth agape, eyes wide, the only thought in his mind that she hadn't screamed. Then the fire moved, but not as fires do, no it shifted as if it were itself a woman's silhouette, but burning against the black of night, consuming the darkness.

[color=#A187BE][b]"What is this?!"[/b][/color] He demanded, terror in his visage, voice filled with conviction.

The burning figure laughed, and the sound was perfectly resonant. As he heard it, it tickled at his mind, tugging a smile onto his lips as if against his will. It became a grimace.

[color=#0AE6D3][b]"Closer have thy questions have become, thus a gift you shall receive. As I said, I am Cath Melainea, the Exalted, a daughter of the Monarch."[/b][/color] She gestured with a hand composed of flame, indicating her form, [color=#0AE6D3][b]"...and this a form truer to my nature."[/b][/color]

Confusion crossed his guise, then filled his mind. Her form glided across the field and the tall grass parted to let her pass. where she touched it, not a single stalk was singed. [color=#A187BE][b]"What...I. The Monarch? There is no lord in these lands. What do you mean? Are you some fell witch come to prey upon my people?"[/b][/color] Though his chest was tight with fear, his loyalty won out, and he raised his fist, as if he were not powerless before her. As if somehow a man could strike at flame.

She paused in her approach, regarding him.

[color=#0AE6D3][b]"Admirable,"[/b][/color] she crooned, sounding almost impressed.

Then she drew herself up and the flames winked out.

Somni's vision flashed, his mind filled beyond its limit with a feeling. Cloying fear, overwhelming terror. Then another joined the fray, deepest joy, adoration, love, and contentment too. Surging, warring within his mind, his psyche seemed not his own. Reeling, he fell to his knees and distantly felt tears slipping down his cheeks. A terrible whine reached his ears and he realized it was his own whimpering, subdued scream. Before him stood a glowing metallic flame, teardrop-shaped and spinning. In it he saw himself reflected, and within himself, he felt the reflection of that thing. Coiling flames reignited, snapping outwards from the floating metal heart. Their amaranthine hue took away all other sights until it was all that he could see. No longer were there stars above, or grass on every side. There was only flame and spinning metal. A burning figure torn into the world, feminine and pure. Behind it, within that rift were fractals endless and true and awful to behold. Like peering into an endless crystal he lost himself. Like bathing within a pyre, he felt himself consumed. Like drowning beneath a boiling lake, he burned and felt his lungs fill with bile. His mind screamed, his voice gone ragged.

Yet he desired nothing more, he deserved nothing less, would not settle for it in fact. The coiling heart, the burning rift-torn figure embraced him then and as if given a final release, all thought fled his psyche.

[hr]Oblivion. He had surrendered to the darkness of the sleeping mind. Chuckling, her voice the crackling of fire, the soothing sound of a woman's gentle laugh, the bending, grating, dripping sound of tearing molten metal. A crack of thunder, closing eyes. The Crucible died down to a simmer and she allowed her form to calm, rendering itself once more into a mortal guise. Gently she knelt before the unconscious man who now lay upon the grass and in the dirt.

[color=#0AE6D3][b]"So fragile, these mortals are,"[/b][/color] she mused, brushing hair from the human's cheek. [color=#0AE6D3][b]"Tis but a strand of feelings,"[/b][/color] she said the words gently, soothingly, almost as a mother might to a fearful babe. Yet he did not wake so she took him into her embrace, lifting him from the soil. Lightly and with inhuman ease, she carried him home.[hr]
In time she arrived, the stars still twinkling far above, the wind a gentle caress upon her flesh. However, it seemed that they'd been noticed, for within the hearth she spotted a flickering mundane flame. A man and woman rose, seeing the boy she held in her arms; seeing Somni. His mother rushed over then, abandoning propriety and any fear of the stranger who had brought her son back unto the fold. Fussing over her boy, she beckoned her husband come, and he shook his head. After a moment to assess the stranger, he sighed and then obeyed, joining his wife before the figure. So offered, the father took from her his son, carrying him back to the warmth of the flame. Yet, the mother remained, staring up into the eyes of the Violet-eyed woman.

[b]"Thank you,"[/b] she said, her relief almost a tangible thing between them. Melainea smiled and nodded, placing a comforting hand upon the woman's shoulder. She shuddered, but could not know why. Not yet.

[color=#0AE6D3][b]"Think ye not of this. Remember only that he is yours,"[/b][/color] the woman replied before she turned and walked away.

Somni's mother only frowned, confused, but shrugged it off swiftly and returned them to the fire and her kin. The coming day would reveal the truth of things.

The younger sister looked upon it all with an aloof gaze, taking in the sights and sounds of the truly strange interaction. So it was that as they settled in by the fire, the mother spoke,

[b]"What a strange, yet kind woman,"[/b] she muttered, stroking the cheek of her sleeping boy.

Her daughter replied, her tone distant and small.

[i]"She had glowing violet eyes…."[/i]

Both her parents slowly turned upon her, staring.

[b]"No, 'twas simply the moonlight."[/b]

[u]"Nay, it was the stars."[/u]

Both parents denied the truth and so the daughter relented. Still, she knew in her heart of hearts that had not been [I]just[/i] a woman, nor a mortal either. No, this encounter had been different somehow, something other had touched their family and she knew not what it would soon entail.

Doom or Glory?

This they would know in time.

[hider=Summaries][hider=Narrative Summary]In which Cath Melainea comes to understand the essence of her nature and enters the scene on Galbar. At once, a member of a closely-knit community of outcasts has a harrowing and incredibly significant, encounter with the Goddess. Such things will shape their fates far more than any could have guessed. Herein are introduced, Somni and his family.[/hider]
[hider=Resource Summary][u]Starting Vigor:[/u] 4/4

[b]Create a Champion (-1 Vigor): Somni.[/b]
[indent][i]So forged in the purest essence of Melainea, Somni is transformed into the first of her champions. So tied to the physical world by his experiences, he has two notable capacities beyond generally enhanced capabilities. The first of these is his voice, which has been enhanced such that it carries far more emotional resonance than normal, allowing him to more easily influence others who hear him. His other ability is another manifestation of his voice's potency, allowing it to carry such emotion that it resonates with the world around him. This power allows Somni to wield magic through the lens of emotion, accessing the True Cathyrian Tongue. This language is one that any can glean meaning from, though none may truly understand its words. It is a divine language crafted in the core of the goddess. Only the Resonant may tap into its might.[/i][/indent]
[b]Bless a Mortal (-1 Vigor): Somni’s Mother - Athia.[/b]
[indent][i]Having come into physical contact with the Goddess, and thanked her in an expression of significant emotion, Melainea deigned to bestow unto her a gift beyond her son’s own. This blessing allows her not to influence others, but to project her emotions more poignantly. This can result in physical effects, such as subtly increased healing or pain and harm depending on the emotion.[/i][/indent]

+1 Spirit for starring in the post.
+1 Spirit for it being a medium-length post.

[u]Somni’s Spirit Earnings:[/u] 2
[u]Ending Vigor:[/u] 2/4[/hider][/hider]